robin-the-toy-wonder

[robin-the-toy-wonder]

This means everything to me and a very specific type of lesbian

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biblically accurate laios touden

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it’s like the one human in a cast of muppets dynamic

[now available as a print and sticker! shop in bio]

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This is a neutral post

Feel free to stop here and rest before journeying to the posts below.

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Everyone is talking about John Fetterman wearing a formal suit for Netanyahu’s genocide apologia but Rashida Tlaib is actually the only one wearing an acceptable outfit to the speech.

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Rescued Pt. 7

This is the second to last part! I never planned it to get this far, and it was starting to feel unorganized and overwhelming. But, I've pulled it together into what I hope will be a nice ending for the few of you who've stuck along with this, even though the updates were slow.

Thanks for sticking with me, though! I appreciate everyone on the taglist (and anyone who reads this, of course)! Pt. 8 will be out sooner rather than later, because I already have it planned and know what I'm going to do, unlike all the other parts.

Part 1 | Part 6

Recap that Villain=Pet and Whumper=Supervillain (the difference is how the narrator knows/thinks of the person)

TW: Suicidal Ideation, mentions of death, torture, beating, blood, minor gore, explosion, fire, kidnapping, dehumanization

“Is he dead?”

The whip stopped for a moment. Pet could feel the intense stare on his bleeding back, but he persisted. “Is Hero dead?”

There was a low growl before the steel tip of the whip sliced into his flesh again, with renewed anger. Pet didn’t scream, barely even flinched, at the biting pain. “You shouldn’t be asking those questions. You shouldn't be speaking at all!” An unexpected kick lands on Pet’s spine instead of the burning sting of the whip, forcing him forward with a yell. “You’ve been out of my grasp barely a week, and you’ve become a brat all over again!” 

More kicks land on his back, then his side as he turns to defend himself. “Master please!” The bloody whip is forgotten on the floor, his Master prefering to pummel him with his own hands for the first time in years. “Master!”

A fist landed on his jaw, sending his head back, and effectively shutting him up. “If I hear another word out of you, you’re going to wish you were dead!”

“I already do!” He tried to scream, but only blood and gore came from his mouth. And when he spit, something more than just blood pooled on the floor. This time, both stopped and stared.

He’d bit off part of his tongue. 

Whumper practically barked at him. “HA! Now maybe you’ll shut your damn mouth, you ingrate!” He crushed the severed flesh with his shoe as Pet stared on in absolute dread, blood flowing from his mouth in excessive amounts.

“Master, p-please…” Every word causes him to spit out more blood, specks flying into the air in front of him, causing intense pain to shoot through his mouth.

Another kick landed on his ribs, and he felt the sharp pain of something breaking. Pet just stayed down, swallowing the blood in his mouth with a grimace every few seconds. He didn’t say a thing.

He focused on the trickling red on his back and chin, grounding himself with his own impending death. He should be used to this. This had filled his life for years at this point, but the anger emanating from his Master and the unknown of Hero’s status keeps Pet in a state lost between resignation and determination.

The blows slow to a stop. Pet slid his head sideways across the floor, smearing blood with every stuttering motion. His Master was staring down at him, huffing with anger, but said nothing. Pet didn't either. 

Then he walked away, leaving Pet alone bleeding out of the floor. And as soon as he heard the basement door lock, he cried.

Pet wasn’t allowed to cry, but he didn’t care anymore-he couldn’t care. The sobs came out all choked and wet, his vocal cords drenched in blood and bile. He was all alone, though, and neither breaking the rules nor sounding disgusting didn’t scare him right now. 

He’d tried to behave, he really had! But it didn’t matter, did it? It had never mattered. If his Master wanted him hurt, he would be hurt. Stay quiet, be good, he said. Until I find you. Until I find you. Well, now he was found.

And he certainly didn’t feel like being quiet anymore.

-

Hero crawled out from the rubbish and ash, watching as Supervillain's car sped away with Villain. He escaped with minor burns and scrapes, but now he could barely breathe. His vision blurred as they disappeared from his sight, far from his reach. Regardless, he kept crawling, inch by inch to his car, with a pained smile on his face. Hero sat in the car, leaning against the seat to catch his breath. He dialed 9-1-1, claiming arson was committed on the organization building, but he wasn’t going to stay for their arrival. The building was still burning down, but that was not his top priority right now. The fire department could deal with that without his help.

He had to go get his Villain, and as he looked down at his charred phone at the little dot, his grin got wider. He’d felt terrible when he did it, sticking it into his skin that night. Villain hadn't even noticed a difference when he stuck the little device in his skin, and neither had any of the nurses. The second he was told they weren’t going to let him stay, he decided it was a precaution he needed to take.

Besides, these trackers were in inventory specifically for villains anyways.

He was still smiling at his phone when there was an explosion in front of him. It flashed in Hero’s vision so all he could see was white, then red, as he ducked below his dash. The windshield shattered and sent glass rain onto his back, and he cursed. He could feel the heat, and as he tentatively sat back up, he could see why. 

Everything, the entire parking lot, was on fire. The building was crumbling dangerously, as if it would collapse any second, as if that was what the explosion was meant to do. Supervillain must have poured gasoline on the concrete, must have set the bomb, all before even going inside, before Hero would have even gotten Villain inside. How far ahead had he let Supervillain get? 

He couldn’t dwell on that now. Hero looked around fast, assessing his situation. If he stayed in the car, the fire may make it explode - and what if Supervillain put a bomb on his car? If he jumped out, though, he would catch fire, and it was a long sprint to the grass at the edge of the organization's property. Cursing under his breath, he reached into the back seat, grabbing his bag, and forced himself into the fire pit that was the parking lot.

-

The dark space was absolutely silent. It was as if he had already died, had been lowered into the warm Earth, laying gently on soft wood. How he wished that was the case.

Whumper had already returned to stitch up the end of his tongue, the part he had bit off. It hurt like hell, and at first Pet clamped his mouth shut, so Whumper had to clamp it open. Now all it could do was sit, its mouth in pain and tasting of iron, and imagine. His mind had never wandered before. It remained blank, too exhausted from hours of pain, from his body trying to heal, from the pang of starvation in the pit of his stomach. It was day one again, kind of. All he could think of was Hero, and that car ride. That song. He couldn’t recall where it came from, why he knew it, why it made him feel safe. But it did. 

The face Hero had made, or rather the face Pet imagined him making, made him melt, and his silence - Pet had felt like the sun had stopped, just to allow the warmth to shine on them. For those two minutes, then it was gone. 

So he started to hum it, not caring if Whumper returned, or heard. He closed his eyes, lay his head on the concrete, and let the notes flow out from his achy throat. He could remember, now, the early days of his captivity. When he clutched so desperately to his life, to any thought of freedom. He no longer remembered who he was, but this song was the one thing that tethered him to that long-gone reality. And it made him smile, despite the pain and dizziness. 

He wanted to remember, he really, really did. Hero remembered him, remembered Villain, but Pet didn’t. He wished he could. 

There was a slam somewhere upstairs, followed by stomping. Whumper was pissed, for whatever reason. But he was on the other side of the house, from what Pet could hear. Still, he found himself shaking with his back against the wall, the open cuts stinging at the content. But he never stopped humming, no matter how broken and shaky the notes became.

Even as the blood flowed from his back, and his ribs stabbed his lungs, and his jaw hurt, he kept going. Repeating the chorus, then the ending. Starting it all over again, even as the key shifted far passed recognition. The basement got darker, and he smiled. At least this part of him would follow him into death.

He imagined the stone was wood, and the blood was rain. He pretended that the pain in his chest was from running too long, pretended he was taking a nice long nap after a good couple miles, like he used to. He pretended his tears were from joy and not from pain. He imagined Hero, wiping them from his face.

But none of it could exist in reality, so, as his Hero was brushing his hair and humming their song, he finally, finally let his eyes close.

taglist: @alwaysalilhigh@nicolepascaline@whumped-inc@littlespacecastle@hollowgast1@edkore@ramadiiiisme@writereleaserepeat@when-no-wings-do-broomsticks@robinwrites@aswallowimprisoned@whumblrwork@cepheusgalaxy@tedrakitty @delicateprincepaper@alwaysalilhigh@0eggdealer@subval01@ifthisislifeidontlikeit

@books-are-everything @whumpsoda @robinrites

@wildcard-whumps

[robin-the-toy-wonder]

another option:

turning it into a windows 95 logo is also acceptable.

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i wish every engineer a “try going around your building in a wheelchair”

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the idea of a podcast having dynamic ads that relate to you even when the episode came out years ago is so perverse. like it's a sound file a podcast is just an audio clip. and you're telling me before the audio clip reaches my ears some algorithm is poking around in its guts adding things and taking things out. you're ravishing it. it's obscene

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Person who wants to do stuff trapped in a body that needs to lie down

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this disability pride month, extend your thoughts to all the disabled people in palestine. all the disabled people that aren't getting the care they need, and all the people that are becoming disabled due to the genocide.

consider donating to crips for esims for gaza this month, and if anyone has any other disabled run groups or causes that help disabled palestinians feel free to add on.

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"nobody is judging you" wrong, my mother is seemingly always judging every single stranger she sees

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Disability will have you thinking shit like “I’m not even that disabled. I can manage as long as I limit myself to very specific careers, never go shopping for more than an hour or two at a time, keep my plans open so I can cancel and stay in if need be, and only go out a few nights per week at the most”