I'm Just Preparing A Little Project. And This Is Just One Of Its Parts. Which Is Still Being Finalized.

I'm drawing something that might be interesting. And along with that, there will be something else.

I have other developments, but I am currently finalizing this one. °^°

Just a little bit, and I'll be able to introduce her to the light!

If anyone is interested, this is my little nedo-nephilim. It's a little complicated there, but I'll explain it for sure.

My second child will soon reveal his renewed appearance!

I wonder what happens when I write a story, a little story, and show it???

Hmm...

I'm probably going to go crazy while translating this. :D

But I think there is such a small incomprehensible fragment here. It's possible?

-----

..Probably, it was not worth trying to find in her the sympathy that any living being should have felt. Especially when it refers to one's own creation. But there was nothing in her empty eyes. At all. It seems that's why he can't answer her at all. Even when she's actually looking into her eyes...

Here is my cover design for The silence and the storm, one of the greatest fanfic I have ever read.

The love I have for this project is beyond measure and outright impossible for me to put into words so I will instead use the power of my hands and make it into art. 

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.

I just recently finished the drawing for today's holiday... From 9 am., intermittently, until 4 pm. My right hand hurts from the details and further processing. For the first time, I use those black pens of different thicknesses specifically in my drawings, and not in the framework of an educational institution.

My first trio and my own "alternate self"!

And... I like it. My arm hurts, but I like it! °^°

I rarely draw two or more characters - so... Yes, personally, I like it.

So... I'm going to make salads and hot chocolate. See you again this year!

They're beautiful... You won't change my mind.

I've been drawing sketches lately, for lack of extra time for full-fledged work.

This weirdo appeared today... I don't have my own necron OC, nor do I have any ideas for he name. I don't even know which dynasties to give them to, poor devils. I have too many cryptek's that are now lost somewhere... ¬-¬"

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.

I finished it.

Beldam, my second character, my second child and in general an interesting lady - the nephilim of this Studio is ready and finished!

The second character, like Kira Krous, who has gone through almost four transformations. Here, I still made a more armor-like breastplate and opened my legs. And I could also come up with a view from the back.

The result? Honestly, I like it. The only thing was that the halo had to be prickly.

In general, this person has an interesting story. Maybe I'll tell it, or maybe I'll make a full-fledged so-called question-answer from the character itself. It won't be so detailed there, but at least I'll animate the profile from time to time.

You can do it at least from this post, or when I finish or make those very special posts for this. However... Kira and Beldam can talk to you! (I'm fine with my head, honestly.)