#I’m beating up this drawing

[letswonderspirit]

Here’s some dude

[whaliiwatching]

pink kinda day

[kelpermoosee]

saw your moomin snufkin themed ita bag and the aro pins and was like "Cool Person alert" and then i saw you like pikmin too and like 🥺✨ !!!!!

HEHE THANK YOU!! I’m a big fan of (quite literally) tiny lil’ forest guys 💚💚💚

[sosilliest]

Gosh… rung is all over my notes right now, i can’t stop drawing him!!!! The scrimblo…?!?!?!?!??????!!!

more silly doodles ^^^ oh Man!!

rung on the hamster wheel. this should be a transformers trend i want to see Every character on a hamster wheel.

[sufbino]

maxsh

[ponpasta]

i’m trying so hard

[spooky-activity]

Sorry Himeko, you really aren’t great at single target damage and Kafka is an actual assassin

[seagull-scribbles]

what if they where T4T?! What then?

[dykevanny]

i love ur glitchtrap i want to give him a pie to the face. he deserves it <333

HE DOES<3

[battle-subway-ghost]

So the Pokémon battle got cancelled lol. We decided on a regular fight instead.

[jacketpotatoo]

Hey @thehomelybadger , thank you for breaking my heart

[yuriyaoijesus]

doodle dump >____< Yay

[sodamors]

to be demon

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

read at your own risk. it is bad.

this fic is in the povs of Karaku and Aizetsu, being reunited after years of separation.

> recollecting them took a while. maybe I’ll write about it in the future.

> recollecting them took a while. maybe I’ll write about it in the future.

> I recommend skimming through that post before you read this one, since it provides a little more context. And angst.

his muscles ache with weariness; the day before had been full of struggle. unfamiliar figures grabbing him from everywhere, a sharp pain on his neck and chest, an overwhelming sensation of lethargy. karaku vaguely recalled getting his bounds removed, and scolds himself for having not attempted to escape. and now he is shackled once more, albeit with stronger, more reinforced chains.

his muscles ache with weariness; the day before had been full of struggle. unfamiliar figures grabbing him from everywhere, a sharp pain on his neck and chest, an overwhelming sensation of lethargy. karaku vaguely recalled getting his bounds removed, and scolds himself for having not attempted to escape. and now he is shackled once more, albeit with stronger, more reinforced chains.

the door slides open. even if he wanted to, he couldn’t bolt out and escape. his entire body felt so heavy — what had they put in him? this was maybe the worst sedative he’s been dosed with yet.

a figure steps into the room, but their voice is only muffled to his ears. he couldn’t even try listening. hazily, his eyes threatening to close, he looks up at them. they have gloves on, reeking of the same antiseptic causing him a headache. as they touch him, he flinches, their cold fingers biting his skin. they speak again, but he doesn’t catch anything.

soon enough, they turn away, only to return with a new item in hand. it’s the same colour as his bounds, a circular shape.

they click it around his neck.

oh. his heart sinks. he knows what it is, and he hates it. the collar buzzes quietly against his skin, not having been activated, but threatening to. karaku can’t help but let out a whimper.

soon enough, the figure leaves the room, the door shutting with a click. he lays there, cold and alone, for what seems like an eternally. the air conditioning blows icy air onto his bare skin, biting him, making him shiver. huddling against the lifeless metal wall does nothing to warm him. his chains restrict his movement, and every time he tries to get a better position, his collar hums, reminding him to behave.

but i am behaving. right? i havent disobeyed anyone. karaku drowsily thinks to himself, as he sticks closer to the corner of the room. his stomach grumbles, but he ignores it. he always does.

aizetsu whines as another needle pierces his neck, never getting used to the stinging sensation. he tries to writhe, but the straps bind him tightly to the table, holding his limbs in place. a cold metal disk presses against the skin over his heart, his heartbeat resonating in beeps from a nearby monitor. his breaths are short and panicked, eyes darting everywhere, pleading with all the onlooking scientists.

but as usual, they don’t care. one steps forward to inject an all-too-familiar purple substance into him, the needle pricking the soft flesh of his chest. aizetsu hisses, tears starting to form, as the same burning feeling grows from the needle.

what even was the point of repeatedly injecting him with wisteria? they already know its effects. it burns his insides, makes him scream and squirm, body shivering and trembling from the horrible feeling of getting melted from the inside to out. his back arches off the table as he tries, even if absolutely impossible, to shake the white-hot sensations ripping through his being. aizetsu screams and cries, tears streaming down his face, unintelligible sounds resonating from his throat.

he sounds so weak. from the esteemed rank of upper moon four, he’s been reduced to near nothing, by horrid humans and their blasted plant. aizetsu gasps for air even if he wishes dearly to just suffocated, die, and for this all to just end.

as usual, the pain lasts days. his intestines rip and tear, flaring wisteria rupturing his tired body. scientists come in and out the room to take their notes, nodding away as if he wasn’t wailing for them to spare him. as if he was a document of some sort, and his agony was of no existence.

and when it does stop, he’s left gasping, heaving for air, cheeks damp, throat raw. they’ll put the shock collar back on him, and toss him back to his cell, where he belongs. the cold ground greets his sensitive skin with a bite.

a piece of meat is tossed before him. he must eat it, or risk electrocution. the scientists make him regenerate fully before they use him again — it’s an endless cycle, and he can do nothing about it.

as he slowly chews on the thick, tasteless meat, he catches a scent.

it’s terribly familiar.

that’s strange.

slowly, he looks over to where he smells it from. The medical white corridor, outside the bars of his cell, looks back at him. there’s nothing to look at — only other cells, which he’s been shown are empty. he’s in one of the more reinforced holding areas, because of his demon rank. even if it clearly meant nothing anymore.

the scent still remains. a rusty, familiar tinge to a whiff of matcha leaves. he has smelled this before, because his head says it’s a sign of solidarity. solidarity for what? no idea. but it’s something.

aizetsu continues chewing on his rubbery food, looking down dejectedly. maybe this was another of the more psychological experiments the scientists had planned.

those were always the worst. they’d make him watch some weird animation, and suddenly he was seeing nothing but live eyeballs in the corner of his eyes. they’ll play a strange noise, and soon enough, whenever he heard it again, he’ll instantly vomit. the worst part about them was he never knew what was going to happen. at least the wisteria injections had a routine.

the smell is too vivid. aizetsu stops eating completely, head more raised, body on alert. why is it getting stronger? why does he care, anyway?

out of a rare instance of curiosity, he brings himself closer to the bars as much as his chains allow. straining his arms and raising his neck, he looks over at the cell across his.

someone does lay there, and they stare back at him.

the voice is hoarse. “zetsu?”

“k-karaku?” oh my god. oh my goodness, oh my. oh my god. aizetsu brings himself further, pulling against his restraints. he wants to shout so bad. karaku, are you alright? karaku! But if his voice were to go any higher, his collar would spare him no mercy.

“hey, ‘su,” karaku says groggily, eyes half open, but desperate. his poor blue baby brother, stuck so close yet so far, shivering and cold. it’s been far too long. he had so much to say — so many apologies, wishes, screams and cries. so badly did he want to just rip away from his shackles, run over and embrace the other, apologising as much as he could. promising protection and care.

but his body refuses to move. the sedative is too strong. Karaku curses himself for being so useless.

“karaku, don’t shout or move too much,” aizetsu whispers a warning. he caught the familiar shade of black latched to karaku’s neck, and feared for the worst. “it activates with loudness, and a high heart rate. okay?”

“okay,” karaku replies slurred. “thank you.”

“please don’t thank me,” aizetsu feels tears threatening his eyes again. “don’t. i really don’t deserve it. I’m so sorry.”

“no,” karaku does his best to shift closer, seeing how much aizetsu was straining, despite how heavy his body feels. “don’t… apologise. ‘s not your fault. been too long. miss you.”

“I… i miss you. I miss you too.” and so the tears fall, and he cannot wipe them away. the corridor is soon filled with aizetsu’s strained sniffs, and karaku’s soft coos, doing his best to assure the other everything would be alright. even if it hasn’t been, for 17 years.

[sweetandglovelyart]

Knightfall in Dream Land - Page 5

Meta Knight loses a battle and his wings to Nightmare.

[chimerahyperfix]

I’m working on something. Cooking, even,,,,,,, when you make a loop version of [loud static sound]

[ptnbunnie]

Falling in Love (not)

Hella’s not homophobic she’s just done with those two lovebirds

If you guys wanna use the images here you go