#i’m referring to the murders

[fullnameandaddress]

honestly odysseus is so valid for that

[afterartist]

Another addition to the “why Killer is banned from the kitchen” series

+ frames as always :3

[groovygladiatorsheep]

If only you could see what I see. | Driller nation always should need more content….

Well !! I watched the new mha episode and went a bit crazy at the one where it’s Toga and Ochako I MEAN LOOK AT THEM !!

I saw a wonderful unfinished wip of an utmv artist I’ll tag in credits, made me want to do it with Driller ! ⭐️

───── ⋆⋅✦⋅⋆ ─────

Credits.

Dream belongs to - Joku.

Killer belongs to - @/rahafwabas

Inspiration - @cinnamonstickks

───── ⋆⋅✦⋅⋆ ─────

OG panel under the cut -

[mawlaeina]

отчаянный | Desperate

(adj.) having a great need or desire for something.

🍊 content: Obsessed! Childe x fem! reader, implied red string of fate (sort of)

✦ content w: religious themes (if you squint), praise and worship (if you squint?), implied violence and murder by Childe, general angst

Childe had to fight.

Ajax was not older than 14 years old when he suddenly fell into the abyss on a regular snowy day in Snezhnaya. He closed his eyes for one moment, and the next thing he knew he was falling down towards dark colored waters of what looked like a dimly lit cave.

In seconds, Ajax felt himself crashing down harshly against the surface of the water before he began to slowly sink. He shivered, the water constantly staying icy and cold even when he was below the surface, and there was also an uncanny atmosphere that he felt as he continued to sink.

In a panic, Ajax swam up—the feeling of such a heavy weight on his entire body almost choked him off of oxygen as he managed to break to the surface of the water.

He gasps for air as he steadies himself before be swims to some nearby land. He clings to the sandy ground once he was out of the water, choking and gasping as the density grew greater on his body—as if it was going to crush his lungs and ribs at any given moment.

But he manages to grow accustomed to it a bit as he composes himself once more. He lets out an exasperated sigh as he asks himself what was happening.

He looked around for a moment and realized that the entire place was packed with wolves with shadow-like features that were focused on him upon his arrival.

The creatures were simply staring at Ajax with some kind of dark madness and hunger—albeit slow, some were already approaching him on the little island that he was on.

He had nothing to use to defend himself with—no armor, no shield, no weapons. When one of the wolves finally dashed forward with a jaw slightly hanging and ready to bite, all Ajax could think of was to run.

And he did run away—his legs moving light and fast as he tried to avoid all the other wolves that were coming in front of him. He was running even though his legs were tired, even when his lungs started to feel like they were bursting again.

For a moment, he was happy as he managed to lose sight of the wolves.

That was until he tripped.

He tripped over his own feet and began to roll down painfully against the rough and rigid ground. Once he finally landed at the bottom, his body had taken multiple fractures on the torso, and bleeding wounds on his face and arms.

Ajax groaned in pain, reaching and placing his hands on his hair before weakly clenching his hand on it. Ajax could hear the wolves coming as they howl with distorted voices from the direction he was just running away from.

He began to panic again, his breathing frantic and scattered all over the place. He closed his eyes for a moment as the darkness began to settle in his vision. For a moment he saw glimpses of mental images of his family—his mother, father, older and younger siblings.

Was this it? Was this his demise? He felt like crying, he didn’t want to die, not now, not when he was this young.

Why? Why? Why?

He questions desperately to the gods and celestia.

Fight.

His eyes opened, widening in shock as he wore a stunned expression on his face. He heard someone—the voice clear as day, with words spoken firmly as the frozen ice of Snezhnayan fjords, yet it was somehow spoken with the same desperation that he felt.

Fight, please. I’m begging you.

The voice’s tone broke momentarily, and Ajax could somehow picture someone in front of him as he lay on the ground—the person pleading, their warm and ticklish tears fell from their eyes and onto Ajax’s cheeks. Though their face was blurry and could be vaguely seen, he sensed some familiarity coming from them—even though he remembers no one with such a voice.

I don’t want you to die.

In an instant, Ajax rolls to the side as he avoids a claw strike from a wolf that had already came up to him. His back bumps into a nearby stone wall, but he manages to take a sharp rock before standing up with haste.

His hands are tensed, clenching the sharp stone and wielding it like a kitchen knife. Despite the state of his body, he felt the urge, the need to move and survive against the monster.

Ajax dashes forward as the shadow-like wolf lunges towards him. Before the ruined animal could bite his head off, he slides under the wolf and stabs its hide before slicing through its underbelly using the stone. Once the wolf’s body passes over him, it collapses onto the ground with a pool of blood quickly forming under its lower half.

For a moment, there was some sort of adrenaline that came over Ajax—one that made him feel stronger, more confident to survive, and his fresh kill ignited a newly sense of pride of winning.

He liked how it felt for some reason.

It wasn’t until the adrenaline wore off rather quickly. He coughed out some blood as he drops the sharp bloody stone to the ground, just before he fell to his knees—eventually, his body collapses onto the ground just like the wolf before passing out.

—

Childe had to survive.

When Ajax woke up, he found himself laying on the ground—his body covered in bandages. He groaned as the pain began to strike all over his body. He looked around for a moment and saw numerous wolves laying dead and bloodied everywhere.

He doesn’t remember doing any of this, and it somehow bothered him.

The next thing he knew, he was took in by a stranger who introduced herself as Skirk. He was taught multiple skills on how to survive in this place, which was called the Abyss. Skirk teaches Ajax how to survive and pass through the regions of the Abyss unharmed, and how to wield his hydro vision in the abyss—even though he wasn’t aware that he received a vision at all in the first place.

After a month of rigorous and intense training, Skirk teaches Ajax to wield Foul Legacy. For the first few tries, transforming and using Foul Legacy for even just a few seconds put such a heavy strain on his body, and he eventually ended up in critical condition every time.

When he passes out, he dreamt or had short visions. He saw someone making tea on a kitchen counter, their faces were blurry and could be vaguely seen but he could feel some sort of warmth emanating from them. Ajax somehow knew it was the same person who talked some sense into him on the first day that he fell into the Abyss.

He holds his hand out, reaching it gently towards the person.

He wakes up, his breathing heavy as he sweats profusely. Skirk was confused as to why Ajax woke up in such a way, yet she dismisses it as an insignificant nightmare that the young child probably had.

However, in Ajax’s case, he wanted more of that warmth that he felt just now. How long has it been since he’d touch something warm after falling into the cold Abyss? He doesn’t recall, he doesn’t remember—so, naturally, as a young adolescent, he wanted more of it, he craved it.

From then on, Ajax began to train harder, harsher—pushing his body to his limits everyday. He got stronger, and that’s what he told himself what his training was for—to get stronger, to be stronger.

To conquer the world.

A merely shallow form of self-manipulation to deny a more selfish reason he had in mind.

In truth, he wanted to see and feel more of that person, and he did—so long as he passed out. He passes out more frequently now as he continuously extends his limits—pushing himself until his body was in pain from just moving a hand.

Everytime he would pass out, he would constantly try to reach for them when they weren’t looking, he would try to see their face clearer, hear their voice clearer as they talked to him for even just a second. Eventually, he realizes they were a year younger or older than him—if not, they were perhaps the same age as he was.

But as another month passed, he began to pass out less, and when he did pass out, if wouldn’t be long enough to see that person again. While it confirmed that he did get stronger, he was irritated by the absence of such a warm presence. The only light that he had in the Abyss, and now it felt like he was losing it.

Stronger, I need to get stronger.

Ajax thought to himself angrily as he began to train even without Skirk. He continued to push his limits—training in the dark and heavy waters until his lungs almost gave out, training against stronger enemies using his Foul Legacy form, training against every other weapon that he could find in the Abyss. His bloodlust began to grow by the day as he relentlessly hunted the monsters that resided in the Abyss.

Yet for some reason, he no longer saw that person when he passed out. Did he recover too quickly? Were they going to leave him behind now? They wouldn’t right? Right?

He could feel himself losing his sanity, his thoughts full of silent pleas for that person to appear at least once every other day or so.

No, no, no, please. Don’t leave me here, come back.

COME BACK!

—

Childe needed to breathe.

When Ajax came back to Teyvat, he returned to his family cabin in Snezhnaya—to which he was welcomed back warmly and gladly with thankful sobs from his family members. Much to his surprise, he had been only missing for 3 days in Teyvat despite having trained for 3 months in the Abyss.

While Ajax missed his family so much, his thoughts were still plagued with the unknown warmth that he felt in the Abyss. Yes, he enjoyed the warm hugs and such affectionate love coming from his family, he enjoyed the warm sensation of his hands when faced to the fire of the cabin fireplace—but those, for some odd reason, could not compare to the comfort that he felt and witnessed first hand in the Abyss.

They were simply not enough.

It was a week after his return that Ajax looked up to the sky. The last shimmering gloss on his eyes reflected the clear blue skies of Snezhnaya that day, and he wondered if that was just the Abyss playing tricks on his head.

He sighed as he plopped down on the snowy ground. The Snezhnayan cold no longer affected him—not when the Abyss conditioned him with colder temperatures.

His hands twitch for a moment, just like it had been for the last week. He needed to move, to fight. He thought he could control himself, that he could return to just being his mother and father’s son.

But he couldn’t, and on that day, he ended up massacring all the ruin guards he could find in his region using his Foul Legacy form.

Ajax, stop, your body can’t handle any more stress.

His eyes widened after hearing a worried voice just as he was about to move to the next region—a small wave of warmth passes by him, the sensation was weak but familiar. He pauses for a moment, waiting for them to speak again—but there was only silence.

Where are you?

He looked around the snowy terrain, still in his Foul Legacy form. It took him a few seconds of silence before his body began to feel heavy—coughing up blood and collapsing onto the snow as he turns back into his normal self.

Where are you?

He repeats inside his head with desperation. He stood up and began to walk around, his other leg limping as he does so. His mouth was slightly agape, taking in shallow breaths of the thin air as blood trickled down his mouth.

Please, please. Answer me, where are you?

When he finally turned his head, he saw you.

Clear as day, warm as the sun.

His breath hitched as he felt your hand on his cheeks, your warmth constantly emanating and burning through his cold skin. He felt like crying right then and there, but he wondered if you were real—if this was real. He raised his hand to touch yours, and it did.

“Are you okay?” You ask him, your voice full of worry—yet its so soothing to his ears. It’s that same voice that Ajax could never mistake for someone else. Ajax just stares at you for a minute, too stunned to speak as he takes in your face. “Hey, you’re badly injured, we should take you home.” You suggest.

Ajax seemed to realize something for a moment. While he knew that the person he’s seen and heard in the Abyss was you, you were acting like a stranger to him—it confused him.

“You’re injured.” Ajax pointed out abruptly as he gently takes your hand off his cheeks and spins you around lightly, which catches you off guard for a second. “Who did this to you?” He asks, his voice low and angry as he runs a finger down your back—your spine crawls at the painful sensation.

“I got hit by a ruin guard earlier and passed out by that tree earlier.” You explained rather awkwardly. “But I’m fine now, so you there’s nothing to worry about. We should get you home since you’re in an even worse condition.” You say as you turned around to face him. “Can you tell me where you live? I’ll help you get there.”

Ajax tells you where he lives, and it surprises both of you that you two were neighbors. What a coincidence, how come you never saw in each other?

It was already midnight when Ajax returned to his family cabin, with you supporting him from the side. His mother was relieved to see his son back, but her concerned grew when she saw him covered in dirt and blood. She thanked you for accompanying him during his journey home.

You told them that you were going to leave, and Ajax couldn’t help but feel devastated by the idea—so he speaks to his mother, saying how you were also injured.

Naturally, as a loving and concerned adult that she was, Ajax’s mother told you that she could at least treat your injuries before you leave, and that you could stay the night in their cabin and return home the next morning.

The look of reluctance painted on your face somehow ticked something inside Ajax’s mind. He never questioned about what happened in the Abyss—how he heard your voice when he was on the brink of death, when he was barely going to survive. He simply concluded that it just happened, that your fates were intertwined so strongly that your voice reached him even when the two of you were worlds apart.

Don’t you feel the same? Why do you want to leave?

He wanted to be angry, but he can’t find it in himself to be angry at you—not when he thinks you’ve done so much for him, not when you saved him from the brink of death in the Abyss. You were his salvation, his one and only savior in this world—not even a single person from celestia came to put him back into his senses at the time, and for that he no longer believes in them.

He believes in you.

When you finally agreed to his mother’s offer, he felt glad—an understatement to the joyful emotion that he had swirling in his chest. He lets you sleep inside his room after being treated, and when you fell asleep, he took it upon himself to watch you.

He was kneeling on the ground, arms and head resting on the side of the bed. He continues to watch you in silence for a moment before he briefly caresses your cheek.

My god.

He lifts himself up a bit, enough that he hovered over your sleeping face. He plants a chaste kiss on your forehead, feeling the comforting warmth that you had stinging his cold lips.

My universe.

—

Childe suffocated.

When he finally got recruited into the fatui, he was given a nickname, “Childe”.

Acknowledged by the Tsaritsa and the organization for having great strength at such a young age, he was given a chance to be promoted—to become a harbinger, but he had to sacrifice something or someone.

He was made to choose.

Blinded by the loyalty that he swore, he chose to sacrifice someone who would get in the way of the fatui ambition that he had. You.

With fates intertwined as strong as celestia, he was told by the Fatui that you would hinder his progress, his strength.

You were a distraction.

While Childe did return to be a fairly normal person ever since he had you by his side, the warmth that he felt from you slowly faded into something more common. Your warm hugs no longer felt special over time—it was as if you turned into another fireplace for him to stare at.

Snezhnaya was not as cold as the Abyss, and so he disregarded the need for something as warm as you.

So there he stood, in front of you with a knife held dangerously close to your neck. His hands trembled, and he seemingly fought every cell of his body from hesitating.

I just have to kill her.

He thought to himself, his inner voice lacking any sense of determination to do so.

You, yourself, was not surprised that he had come to kill you.

You knew this day would come, and you just hoped it wouldn’t happen to his family. While you were clearly against him joining the Fatui, you said nothing—a decision that you’ve come to regret every day.

As his hands trembled, you smiled sadly—closing your eyes as you held his hands. For a moment, his eyes widened, and everything turned silent as the sound of blood splattered on the ground.

Childe did not come home to his family that day like he said he would.

—

Childe has forgotten how to breathe.

“What do you mean you don’t know about big sister?” Teucer pouted, and Childe simply laughed confusedly at the young ginger.

“Who are you talking about, Teucer?” Childe asks his younger brother without a single shine of sunlight reflecting his eyes.

“You know who I’m talking about!”

“Big sister Tonia?” Childe raises a brow, but Teucer shakes his head with a frown—he was getting upset with his big brother now.

“The one you always brought to go ice fishing with us.” Childe doesn’t know what his younger brother was talking about.

“I don’t recall bringing anyone other than you when we go ice fishing by the lake, Teucer.” Childe spoke honestly and knelt down to Teucer’s level. “Buddy, are you sure you aren’t tired?” Childe asks worriedly.

Teucer shakes his head, still frowning.

Everything was so odd for Childe ever since he woke up this morning. Everyone in his family cabin had asked him about someone he doesn’t know about—his family claims that the two of them were close, very close, and they wondered why Childe no longer remembers them.

Who on earth were they talking about?

Childe asks himself as he holds Teucer’s hand as they walk to the frozen lake nearby. He wonders who that person was, and how he forgot about them if they were so close.

Once they arrived to the frozen lake, Childe couldn’t help but stare at the scenery for a moment. It was as if he was stunned for a moment from the aching sensation that he deeply felt in his chest.

It was the same lake that he’d visited in his entire life, yet for some reason…

Why is it so cold?

✦ this is kind of bad.. idk how to feel about this

✦ I didn’t want to write this because I hate angst + my sweet boy, but if I suffer I’m dragging everyone else with me

✦ would rather praise and worship him instead ngl

✦ there’s gonna be an extended version of this if I don’t get lazy soon so look out for that

✦ Yes, there’s ivantill reference there

[endlesslyover]

normalise gothic terms of endearment in relationships and let me call my girlfriend my dearest maraclea in peace

[sweetpumpkinmouse]

Man, they were such good friends.

[hplonesomeart]

HEYYY GUYS quickly hopping back on here, messily taping/supergluing my art onto the blog, and then promptly skedaddling right afterwards because OH BOY I need to focus this week and lock into my animation MAP part. The time crunch has gotten real!! AUUUUU!! But I had to get this image out of my system before anything else so here ya go enjoy some solitary confinement Puzzle appreciation. I’m sorry that it’s rushed!! Maybe once I finish this MAP I’ll return and make it less janky (specifically for the animated gif here because OOF that looks rough buddy. But it’s the best I can afford to do without getting totally side tracked on my goals. It looks real lazy and is low-key triggering me but I’m letting it slide—sir is mocking my perfectionism right now. Gotta focus all that energy onto the MAP instead).

Yea okay that’s all folks byeeee

Okayyyy so apparently not only is the animated gif janky in motion but also kinda broken?? It’s supposed to loop but that’s not working on Tumblr so guess the entire thing needs to be redone when I have spare time :P

I’ve decided to include a compressed version so you can at LEAST see what I was trying to achieve jksjsksp help this is a mess right now

[electrozeistyking]

Updated Uzi’s design for the Rare Bites AU.

had her teeth replaced with these big sharp ones because they’re cool and awesome.

takes a lot after her mother, but also inherited a slight interest in doors from her father (only enough to recognize a good one).

has top three favourite colours: purple, blue and red.

tends to be quick-thinking, resourceful, and smart. She can also be hot-headed at a moment’s notice, which hinders her decision making skills at times.

her eyes aren’t always hollowed out, I just like drawing them like that.

[thepineapplegal86]

I LOVE that nyarlathotep was choosing a name for himself and went “hmm. What about that guy in the weird book people obsess over (Bible) who killed his brother and has personal beef with God. And also has a permanent reminder of being the world’s first murderer. Sounds fun”

“Oh also I wanna fuck the spelling up a bit. Because why not”

[theoryofwhatnow]

i like to think that nigel does more than just follow alex.

i like to think that other students are also nauseated by what happened to him and they can almost claim to feel his presence in the school halls and in his bedroom. like there’s a soft whistle or cry near the tracks where he died or a heaviness to his name now that even someone like raj or other students who barely knew him can’t deny. his old desk feels cold and his books were destroyed because nobody would take them. the colbie house sits empty and won’t be bought because there’s just this feeling. this inexplicable grief that lingers for him, and maybe it’s his own sadness that has bled through the veil and seeps into the places he used to inhabit.

i like to think despite it all, the universe still recognizes nigel as a victim of what happened even if no one will come right out and say it.

[bleachersgirl]

ugh you can’t even float dead in the water with plants around you anymore. because of woke.

[gvnuzi]

TikTok challenge with her tall bf😇

Uzis pov(very shitty)

[afterartist]

I am fully aware that I am FAR from the first person to do this

But I haven’t been original a day in my life so >:)

I’m slowly learning how to use photoshop

[youling-the-ghost]

I infodumped about murders in space to my irl friend the other day (specifically the physics around the time fuckery in that longform) and now he’s referencing time dilution and time penetration every time I nerd out about special relativity and it’s the strangest experience ever

[ren-054]

Me: Hey I wonder what I should have for dinner today

The voices in my brain: I’m feeling dramatical

[madbard]

A continuation of that Dustplates post from earlier…

In the original Handplates, the Player’s curiosity ultimately frees Gaster, allowing him to contact Sans and Papyrus and restore their memories. In a Dusttale universe, the Player would never reach this point. Driven by their fixation on the genocide route, they would completely miss out on all the secrets a Handplates universe has to offer. Those memories would remain off limits, and those years would remain a mystery to Dust.

Until.

Until that mission to spread negativity in a young universe. Initial scans revealed what appeared to be a classic universe. The final human had not fallen yet - this world balanced on a knife’s edge and didn’t even realize it. The mission was simple - break in, cause chaos and misery, then retreat before the Stars could arrive. And at first, all went smoothly.

Horror rigged the trap and puzzle systems scattered throughout the Underground. Cross created panic, wrecking buildings and terrorizing passerby. Killer killed Gerson and challenged Asgore and Undyne to a battle. Nightmare slunk through the Underground, feeding on fear and despair, offering assistance when his henchmen needed it. Throughout all this, Dust remained in the shadows, searching for the perfect place to strike to cause maximum damage. That’s when he spotted Gaster.

Gaster was a bit of a question mark throughout the multiverse. Sometimes kind, sometimes cruel - in many worlds the genius had disintegrated into the very fabric of reality, leaving behind only echoes. Still, in worlds like this one, Gaster served as a beacon. What better way to bring about darkness than to destroy the one who had brought light and power to the Underground? Dust gave chase.

It quickly became clear that this Gaster was not a fighter. He sent a few powerful attacks in Dust’s direction but quickly retreated, turning and heading ever deeper into Hotland, making a beeline for his lab. Watching the scientist’s desperation, Dust tempered his attacks. If Gaster was so eager to return to his lab, there must be something important there, right? Perhaps some vital research that Dust could destroy, if he found it…

He tracked Gaster through his lab, until they reached a small hallway lined with forcefields. Here, Gaster suddenly turned on Dust and attacked with all the ferocity he could muster. Pleased to have found the most important area of the lab, Dust fought back, sending attack after incredibly powerful attack until the doctor was reduced to 1 HP. Gaster looked at Dust, and for a moment something like recognition flickered across his face. He opened his mouth to say something -

A bone slashed through his chest, and Gaster crumbled to dust.

Dust took a moment to steady his magic, panting through the scarf that hid the bottom half of his face. He leaned against the wall and felt his grin widen slightly - until he heard it.

“St-stay away from us!”

Dust froze. Beyond the forcefield lay two young children. The smaller one pressed itself against the far wall, trying to disappear. The larger one stood before it, summoning a small forest of blue and white bone attacks to surround and protect them both. That voice - higher than he remembered, and it trembled like a leaf. But there it was, clear as day.

A vision of a room just like this. A force field, just like this… and a silver plate welded onto the back of his hand… just like theirs…

Dust killed them. Didn’t he? He must have… that’s what he told himself at least as he paced his room back at Nightmare’s castle, on guard for when the others returned. Hadn’t he killed them? (Or had he broken the lock on their cell before vanishing from that world forever?)

He didn’t know. And he didn’t know what it meant. Apart from those images, he couldn’t remember… and it struck him that he hadn’t remembered the human’s resets, either. Not at first. It struck him that one could be a prisoner and never know it. He ripped off his glove, and the plate on his hand gleamed in the dim light. S-1… his name? Or the name of an experiment, someone else’s property?

He didn’t know. He didn’t know.

But he knew this.

He had sworn he would never be a prisoner again.

…

That night, the others didn’t think much of Dust’s absence. He often worked alone, and after the Stars showed up they assumed he must have left alone too. So they weren’t concerned… until he entered the room and collapsed against the table.

Horror leapt to his feet, rushing over to where Dust leaned against the table, breathing hard, his remaining eye light gleaming just a little too bright. Nightmare rose soon afterwards, walking over to where the two of them stood. He checked Dust’s HP and found that it was low - not dangerously so, but too much for such a routine mission.

“What happened?” Nightmare demanded, steadying the assassin with a tentacle as Horror brought over some healing food. Dust laughed and shook his head. “What. Happened?” This time, the lights flickered. Nightmare’s magic reached out, tamping Dust’s emotions as one might put out a low flame. Dust’s eyelight dimmed and he sagged a bit. The laughter stopped. Shoulders shaking, Dust lifted his right hand out of his pocket.

The bone was decimated. Bits of it seemed to have crumbled, while others were hacked away. His ring finger was gone, and some of the others looked nearly damaged enough to dust away. Immediately, Nightmare activated his emerald healing magic. Dust watched as the wound on his hand began to seal shut and harden, leaving behind fresh scars.

The plate which had marked that hand was gone.

Dust laughed.

“I don’t belong to him anymore.”