I Love Your Comics!!! They Are Always So Adorable!!! They Really Help Me Through The Day!!!

Fuckin Rad! I especially love her first look!

That tux? très magnifique!!!

My Lord Inquisitor girl, Bianca Orso! Ideally, she would be also wearing a polar bear pelt, as her name literally translates to "white bear", lol.

She is 146 years old, but looks about in her 40s thanks to the rejuvenation treatment. She is a daughter of a Rogue Trader (father) and a Commissar (mother), however, both of her parents fell during the battle against an Ork invasion. Bianca keeps contact with her father's side of the family, but, usually, mostly for business, as she has no desire to become a Rogue Trader. She is, however, close with her maternal aunt, who is part of the Ecclesiarchy.

You may be thinking right now "Wait, Moociao, she kinda looks like how you draw Big E, but with boobs! Are they connected?". And to that I say: no! Literally just a coincidence she looks like Big E, but with boobs, her parents are in no way connected to the man on the Golden Throne. Malcador's spirit is still giving Big E a stink eye.

I require the absolute bare minimum in life... this is that

girls be shaving

Like we said in a previous post. Terrible day, and this idea was too cute not to draw. Wanna do more tomorrow

Konrad raised by a feral mama cat on Nostromo. That's it, that's the idea.

I made human forms for my sona and their dear husband Baphomet.

One piece of lore I am going to carry over to all my deamon Lords and their human forms is that they all are going to have their associated symbols somewhere on their body's.

They also keep some representation of their unique characteristics.

Baphomet keeps his arm tattoos, my Sona's extra eyes are scars on their faces, and they have more lioness like teeth.

Like Mammon ( greed) will have it on of his left hand. He always seems to have an overcoat or similar with long sleeves on his shoulders to represent his 4 arms

Beelzebub's (gluttony) is on his stomach or maybe tongue (but FMA already did that). Everything about it is grimy and greesy. Its voice has a slight buzz when he talks.

I didn't show it but my sona's is on the nape of our neck

Also, no, these aren't their "weak spots" or, I think, not. I'm still working that out 😅

Well, I can now!🥹😭

Can you imagine having trouble sleeping, insomnia, nightmares, etc., and Magnus coming to your bedroom because he senses your distress? Then he would tell you to just... relax and close your eyes, and he would use his powers to put you into a deep sleep, personally shaping your dreams into something nice and comforting. He would leave after he's sure you're taken care of, and in the morning, you'll wake up refreshed and loved.

I have too many fucking things to draw HELP MEEEEEEEEEEEEE

This story was written by the super talented and amazing @utterimmolation

"A Chance at Redemption."

The first thing Horus noticed was the quiet.

The Warp whispered, barked, *screamed* to him constantly these days. It was harder to hear himself anymore. The Gods told him secrets and truths, but his own thoughts became quieter and heavier. He was so much more nowadays, but there was a tiny gasp buried deep within that dared to murmur that he had only diminished.

He's gotten used to pushing that doubt away. The Gods assure him of the righteousness of his path, his legacy, his drive to see the False Emperor dashed from his ostentatious chair.

But here, on one of Etheria's twelve moons, standing across from his lone sister, his head is shockingly, disconcertingly ~~mercifully ~~, *quiet*.

The siblings study each other in silence for several moments. This is one of the least developed moons of the dozen, which is no doubt why Adora had chosen it. He briefly wonders if she had rigged it to blow or perhaps intends to repay him and his Sons in kind for Istvaan but dropping nuclear armaments from orbit but dismisses the idea. Adora can be surprisingly ruthless, but she would not dare risk damage to the moons and especially not Etheria and its people.

It is a character trait that makes her predictable but dangerous, much like Vulkan: their love of mortals makes them easy to maneuver, but strikes against them must be fast, hard and final, lest they rise again with greater and overwelming fury and unfortunately, that last part has proven remarkably difficult to overcome.

"You know why I am here," he finally breaks the silence.

Adora's mouth twists. "I do," she acknowledges.

"And?"

Adora takes a half step forward, her honor guard shadowing her every twitch, like children hiding behind their mother's skirts, unwilling to let her be parted from them. He hears Abaddon scoff quietly, his First Captain disgusted at the weakness he perceives.

Horus sees what it truly is. Love, beyond reason or doubt, beyond sense. The Sons of She-Ra love her, with such intensity that to lose her risks triggering a fury to rival that of Angron himself. Of course, perhaps that is not so surprising. The Slave of Nuceria hated so much only because he had once loved so fiercely and completely that its loss had stripped him of all humanity and rendered him little more than a beast.

"You come to me with a proposition. Let me give one instead: turn away from your Rebellion. Disavow the Chaos Gods. Disavow the Emperor. Disavow the butchers and sadists and monsters you've aligned yourself with. And stay here."

Horus blinks, surprised beside himself. An appeal to him hadn't been unexpected. An opportunity to be granted asylum had. "You would welcome me to Etheria?"

"You would have to pay penance. To even *begin* to pay for the crimes you've committed, the atrocities you've done... would take millenia. But you would be free and protected from both the Warp and the Emperor. I would stand with you. You could find redemption. Could help me build a universe of connectivity, communication...love. You could find peace." The Princess of Power slowly extended her hand. "You need only ask."

The voice that has been silenced and stifled for so long under the burning Gaze of Chaos is screaming at him now, louder than it's ever been. He is abruptly aware, for the first time in weeks, how grimy and heavy his armor feels, how hungry and thirsty and tired he feels. He...he cannot remember the last time he ate. Slept.

He looks past his sister, up at the distant glow of Etheria, and remembers the peace of the world. The smiles of children. The brotherhood of Space Marines, learning, training...living. He remembers being...happy.

He looks at his sister's hand, and his soul screams at him to take it.

He swings Worldbreaker instead.

It meets her golden shield in an explosion of rainbow Warp energy, and both Primarchs are pushed back several feet. Their respective sons stumble, and many fall.

Horus looks at her and sees only sadness and pity, and he feels a hate to rival that which he feels for his very Father.

Abaddon must give the order, as the Word Bearer ships and that of Etheria's fleet begin to fire at each other. Adora has her sword now and she's coming towards him but he ~~doesn't want to fight her~~ can't waste time now, not when the Emperor's gaze searches for him and Ultramar's fleets grow closer to reinforcing Terra.

He presses the teleporter on his belt and slams back into his quarters on the *Vengeful Spirit* only to fall to his knees as the protective aura of Etheria's territory disappears and the God's Gazes return to him with renewed focus and force. They see his doubts, his fears and they sooth him even as they shred at him for his impudence.

He does not know how long he kneels in his quarters, body, mind and soul wracked by agony. He only knows his fury is incandescent when a Son arrives to inform him the World Bearer fleet has been defeated and they are in-route to Mars. He dashes the Marine and two dozen serfs against the walls before the rages abates itself even slightly, and as he makes his way ti the bridge he promises himself this:

When the Emperor lies dead at his feet, he will return, with all of his forces, and lay waste to Etheria, until its seas run red, it's sky turns black and Adora's wife is nothing more than a new carpet before his bed.

--------

Okay, I wanted to try actually doing some depraved art. Thanks to all my moots for finally pushing me over the edge.

I call it

"Fulgrim and her failed Ferra clones"

She had Fabius make her clones of Ferra, but none matched the original. But why be wasteful?

Costume. Chitons.