(hes on his period)

ayee wassup gang

it's so skrunkly, my beloved 4_O7Z (also known as Oz 7)

MANKIND IS DEAD. BLOOD IS FUEL. HELL IS FULL.

From the screen to a physical lego form, Give it up for everyone’s favorite vampiric GoPro! V1!

idk if I have any ULTRAKILL fans on here but here u go :3

The ULTRAKILL brainrot is really getting to me girlies

And yet again we see a mark improvement.

Separated by a month or two, This Sketch of V2 that shows just how quickly my ability to draw robots had gotten. I’m still quite impressed with this one. 

Get Bent, V1.

Preemptively downloading a game to play after I’ve finished this commission. knowing it’s going to give me a migraine. Literally no one to blame but myself

I get to see the boyf for a whole week!!! Yippiee!! Also wow dose my phone destroy the quality of everything lol

EVERYONE KILL EACH OTHER!!! NOW!!! DO IT!!! YOU GET A STYLE BONUS FOR HEADSHOTS!!! BLOOD IS FUEL MANKIND IS DYING ROBOTS ARE RISING!!!

Fanfic - Credits Song for Gabriel's Death

A steady, yet incessant high pitched noise rings out through the Gabriel-sized tunnel.

You have been following this widening, bloody trail for days, through the great underbelly. Featureless boxy tombs awaited you at first, lining the walls, then fluorescent hallways, then the scattered remains of what could perhaps be called a corridor. Now, even those are gone. Nothing except an unending grey with scattered bits of beautiful crimson to lead you on. You stopped sliding after that; it became taxing on your limbs without blood to fill the gaps in your design. You are made to bathe in blood, for even the smallest of faults in your mechanics, hydraulics, limbs and weaponry to be mended by violence. It is paradoxes that keep you going, and you are deprived of them.

The worst of it is, since the last demon to fall at your hands in the tombs, since that fluorescent hum faded from view, all the sound to accompany you has been that of your subtler mechanisms; the dull whir of servos and the near-staccato of your own footsteps. It reminds you of your origin, in the most sickening way imaginable. Each errant rock wastes ammo, each sudden movement- even some of your own- may risk collapsing the tunnel and crushing you beneath glassed rock, your innate bloodlust demanding a vent for that urge.

It's strange, to be a machine made in imitation of man, yet bearing their weaknesses all the same. Weaknesses neither have.

Compared to the silence; to living with nothing but yourself, the careful rhythm of that plipping noise has injected life back into you.

You came to finish what you started, after all.

Fresher liquid coats itself on your feet, staining the ground even more than it already has been. Light approaches. You quicken your pace.

Ahead, you sprint into a large room, completely dark besides a slight glow at the other end of the room.

You see him.

The Angel. The Knight. The Enemy. He doesn't stir. Gabriel leans there, his face being barely visible by only his own light. He is covered in blood, standing far and away above you. Blood drips off of him in a slow, lethargic movement.

You've discovered what the noise was.

"Machine." He addresses you, all too suddenly. "I've... waited." His echo exudes a fraction of the authority it used to. His voice is stripped bare of his former malice. His veneer of civility and poise with which he held himself has been abandoned. You look on, and what stares back is a dying man; a man who lives with the fact that he is to die.

He is no less weak for it.

"God's light has left me." He admits, the pitch in his voice all too high, his very being wavering with such a phrase's utterance. His holy gleam has grown weak. You- V1- stare on with apathy. You're the one responsible for his suffering, but you have nothing to offer in apology.

Both of you were made by and for violence. V1, made by and for man. Gabriel, made by and for god. It is tragic, then, that neither yet lives. Both failed their creators, in one way or another.

And so, only a single purpose remains.

Gabriel continues in his throes, his voice of a seething temperament. "ME! GOD'S MOST RIGHTEOUS SERVANT! HIS GOLDEN SOLDIER! GABRIEL, WHO HAS NEVER, NEVER ONCE LOST TO SUCH INSOLENT, HEATHEN SCUM!" For all his rage, he weakly rises, releasing a roar as he tosses a faded blade of light. You remain rooted where you stand, as it entirely misses you- no, it hits a circuit board on the wall, and electricity arcs away from it in a dark swell. The room is bathed in light, revealed to be far larger than it had initially seemed.

And, it is filled with mountains upon mountains of corpses.

Machine, man, demon- all are equal in the end. Even the severed pieces of the council bleed the same color. The high altar, which was lit only by Gabriel's dimming light, is upon the highest of those mounds. His form is bloody and battered- a result of your most recent fight.

He did not heal.

"I have fought with myself. I have bled myself in disgrace! What was different about YOU, machine!? FOUR TIMES I HAVE LOST, when all your predecessors could do was GRASP futilely at the STRANDS of victory!" He smashes his hand on the altar, and his fist cracks. It calms him, somewhat. "But one has ever survived me. They ran, and didn't look back. They were an urchin and skirmisher, a coward. Now, I am the coward- with nowhere else to run. Nowhere except downward. Nothing except one more sacrifice to make in the name of God. The first to turn their back on god, accept a final offering from... the last."

Impossibly, a rotting stench fills your nostrils. You remember you do not have a nose. Gabriel's blood begins to peel off of him, staining the ivory altar with the holiest shades of red. The five-pointed star appears around him in a dodecahedron, coming off of him in mist. You look upon the mark, and your eyes bleed. You remember you do not have eyes. Then, it expands. It engulfs your brethren, failed progenitors, ancient corpses; demons, ghouls, and long-dead kings; even the holiest of men each are torn limb from limb, uncompromisingly, as it continues sucking away at Gabriel. You watch as they disappear into that red abyss, which now grows too bright and swelled with blood to bear. A deep nostalgia takes over. You forget to remember you do not have memories. The humungous room suddenly feels so very small as titanic, charred legs step out of the dodecahedron while it rises upwards. It ascends, and more of his form is revealed. Red has replaced his all his white. His armor is fused to his skin in shattered pieces. His head comes into view. A glistening, silver skull looks upon you, his jaw set in black iron and his bloodshot eyes tear into you with more fervor than any blade possibly could. With hate in his voice, rapturous emotion in his tone, and metal scraping upon metal with each syllable, Gabriel speaks. "MANKIND'S LEGACY DIES HERE! I WILL END YOU, DEMON BATHED IN STEEL, MACHINE WRAPPED IN MAN, MAN FOLDED UPON DEMON, EVEN IF IT COSTS ME ALL THAT I EVER WAS! EVEN IF THE COST IS GOD HIMSELF!"

The First laughs. The Last roars. The lights cut. The most terrible nightmares start with threes.

~ The mashup created by Bueg is the latter end of a trilogy. You can find the prior songs in the linked video's description. The art at the beginning is by Bl0ody_Art9, found here. This is a fanmade fanfiction, and is in no way canonical to ULTRAKILL or the fanfiction that inspired it. If you ask why these words appeared in my head, I would be unable to answer.

Lmao I’ve been absent for a while. Anyways here’s V1 from ULTRAKILL, I’ll probably have some more on the way soon if I don’t fall into the void again.

Also thank y’all for the reblogs and likes, it means the world :)

The haemotrope reactor is a one of those things (along with servitors) that reminds you just how baked in the cruelty of the Imperium is. The admech mixes the blood of martyrs into the fuel supply. I don't know if this is necessary for the function or just the admech deciding the machines needed a sacrifice to run well.

Either way, I had a ton of fun painting this chunky boy up. A heavy drybrush of gunmetal and brass, some choice colors, a heavy schlepping with some dip wash and then a few weathering effects go a long way quick

hell is full

Tenebre Rosso sangue - ultrakill is stuck in my head,not that I mind.

I have the mental image of various supernatural creature beings literally spell bound to the driver's seat of racecar's themed after themselves forced to race for their lives or afterlives at the whims of ultra rich people with too much money they hoard.

The monsters race on race tracks using magic to enhance their race cars with their own essence, so , when someone describes a car growling it literally was growling,lol

Example werewolf drives this

A non universal themed swamp creature would drive something like this

A vampire might drive this