Painted-clovers - -With Love, Clover!

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Hello Minos I made drawig :)

Anyways yeah this blog is a joy to view!! I love doodling Minos and this blog is the PERFECT thing for me.

Now I'm left here wondering when a sisyphus askbog will be made...

anyways idk what else to say mrow miau meow I love making art for people askboxes!!! meow miau mow

Huzzah!!! A masterpiece of the shenanigans of this little blog! My genuine gratitude upon thee, this brings me great joy and it shalt be on the fridge

Hi hi I’m Daph aka candyskooter

You may know me from TikTok and may have seen my works but if you dont I mostly draw ultrakill nowadays

I hope to see you around!

Magma with the bestie!!

Collab + The doodles im proud of:3

Hai @mercifullest :3

Agony one coming soon

Au where Minos' prime soul returns to his original, decimated body after it dissipated

Him huddling over the husks, using his body as shelter... He couldn't even soothe them, too overcome with horror at himself. He just stared at them and cried.

They gathered before him, and he dared not to reach for them.

Eventually, one husk step forward and held their arms out to him. Carefully, so very carefully, he lowered a hand to them and they hugged his finger, just like they did the day he died.

His hands were horribly disfigured and covered in untold amounts of blood, yet the motions were so familiar when he traced their face with a fingertip.

Days blend one into another as they find shelter in the ruined city. It hurt him to leave them, but he roamed the layer, seeking survivors. Every shadow that fled from him is another knife in his heart, but he persevered. He had to.

It never got quite crowded at their little refuge, but there's enough husks that the sound of people stopped getting drowned out by the howling winds. They cleaned out rooms and held each other and grieved for countless bodies. Minos knelt before the seemingly eternal pyre and ran through prayer after prayer until his mangled vocal chords gave out.

Still, he did not feel any closer to forgiveness.

Minos can barely talk with his death wounds, but he hums all the time. Lullabies, elegies, old love songs from the city's heydays. The husks join in with whatever sound they can make. Just as often, they screech melodies and make him sing along, rowdy bar songs and ballads full of dirty jokes, trying to make him laugh.

He's turned rather touch aversed, because sometimes when he's holding his people, his muscle memory reminded him of how it feels to crush them in his hands. He tolerated his people's affections because he had to be there for them.

IM AN HOUR AND 38 MINUTES LATE FUCK

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