#i got stuck on this for a while

[honeycollectswhump]

Nothing but Art

[masterlist]

CW: pet whump, dehumanization, conditioned whumpee, burns (branding)

A sense of foreboding washes over Ashtray before he can even process what is happening, as his Mistress rips open the door to the room he is kept in, grabs him by his golden collar and drags him through the halls.

Even though he can barely breathe, gasping for air with every intake, he keeps his eyes low on the ground where they belong. It most definitely looks ungraceful, the way he can’t even properly get his legs under him to crawl along with his Mistress’ relentless pace. Instead, he is pulled along like a disobedient dog, and that thought alone makes him try twice as hard to keep up.

The entire time, his Mistress’ is hissing words Ashtray can’t even begin to comprehend, her usually angel-like tone seeps into his bones like poison and makes him shake. Still, he knows –he hopes– she hasn’t called him a Bad Boy yet, so maybe, maybe he still has a chance to make this right. 

Suddenly, there is a jerk and Ashtray’s head collides with the ground. The whole world spins and lurches and for a moment, all he can smell is smoke, yet the familiarity doesn’t bring him any comfort. Desperately, he tries to get his arms under his body to push himself up as quickly as possible. He needs to please her, he needs to be good, and he needs to do it right now. 

Ashtray gets into position, kneeling, eyes on the ground, humble, submissive, and hers. 

Part of him wants to grovel, to offer himself up in the name of his eternal obedience or to read her thoughts and act accordingly. If he could change himself to be an even better Ashtray for her, he would, without hesitation, no matter the price. It is his duty as her Ashtray and beyond that, it is what his soul strives for.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see the fireplace, with flames dancing in it. His beautiful Mistress is standing right in front of it, wearing a stunning dress, adorned with gems, red like Ashtray’s blood, a sight which she enjoys occasionally.

In her hands, she is gripping a strange metal rod. There should be a word for it in his mind, yet nothing but a grave emptiness comes up. 

His Mistress silently stares down into the fire as if she could get it to burst and devour everything in her path with her gaze alone. Ashtray scrambles to come up with a reason, with anything that might have caused this. But then again he wasn’t made to think, he was made to obey.

He can only hope that he didn’t cause her displeasure and that maybe, he can be useful for her now, in any way she desires, hope that he can make her happy again. There is a chance this might not be a Punishment, considering she hasn’t even used Ashtray today. 

But when his Mistress’ gaze falls on him, it is cold, devoid of any of the adoration it usually holds for her Ashtray.

“Back.” she seethes. 

Despite the underlying, prickling fear that still hasn’t left him, Ashtray beams at the familiar word and the chance to make himself useful, even though he can’t yet see a cigarette. He will be used and he will be Good.

Ashtray complies immediately –of course. At this point, it is barely a conscious thought, his body just moves on its own, the way it is supposed to. Ashtray straightens and turns around, pulling off the loose shirt he is wearing with all of the gratefulness he can muster. Each movement is exceptionally trained, from the way his thin fingers grasp the fabric of the shirt, to the way his muscles work when his back is bared. 

It’s how he was designed, ingrained into his very being to make the perfect product for his Mistress.

Ashtray does his best, as he always does for his Mistress, but it’s not enough. She doesn’t even look at him for more than a moment, doesn’t stop to appreciate the display she spent so much money on. 

With every second, Ashtray’s hope of doing something right, of earning her mercy dwindles and instead leaves him with the harrowing knowledge that he is failing at the single purpose of his life. 

But no matter his already insignificant feelings, no matter the fear that this is a Punishment, he has to behave. Obedience is his first and second nature. It doesn’t depend on rewards or Punishment or any of his Mistress’ graces. It just is. 

A good Ashtray is used but not noticed; a good Ashtray is still and silent. A good Ashtray doesn’t move even though he knows his Mistress is holding the metal rod into the fire. A good Ashtray doesn’t twitch in anticipation when his Mistress lays a hand on his bare shoulder to bend him over slightly for easier access. 

A good Ashtray doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even think when burning hot metal touches his skin for the first time, when his Mistress presses the edge into his skin and drags it down in a straight line and the fire follows–

He is a good Ashtray. He is a good Ashtray. He is a good Ashtray. He is a good Ashtray.

Really, this shouldn’t be too different from the cigarettes he was made for. But no matter how hard he tries, he cannot find the same comfort in the sizzling burning. It might not be a Punishment, his Mistress’ effort and care are too great for that, but it’s too close to one, with the cold glint in his Mistress’ eyes and her cutting voice.

Even now, one of her hands rests on his shoulder, maybe to keep him perfectly still, even though Ashtray would never move away from her, no matter if it's affection or a Punishment. With the other, she carves a design into Ashtray’s back, which is already full of perfect, round scars.

Mistress’ nails dig into his skin. Ashtray finds joy in whatever makes his Mistress happy, but somehow he thinks this isn’t an act of pleasure, not how it is supposed to be. Nevertheless, he wishes using him this way pleases her. 

There’s only a brief pause, in which his Mistress lifts the burning rod from his back and he dares to hope it may be over. But then it starts all over again.

This time, his Mistress takes her sweet time, tracing a circle on his back with precision, and Ashtray tries to cling to the underlying message that he has become her art piece. He still fulfils a purpose and that is more than he could ever wish for.

Yet, it is nearly impossible to form thoughts beyond the pain and the sizzling smell of his own burning flesh. Ashtray wonders if his Mistress smells it too, if it disgusts her or if she doesn’t care.

By the third time she lifts and brings down the fire again, Ashtray is barely here or there, stuck in his own body and trying to stop it from twitching or shivering. His back is burning, but his limbs feel deathly cold, and beads of sweat cover his forehead. 

His Mistress is drawing something, making her Ashtray into her canvas, each stroke filled with intention. He isn’t made for this but maybe it will make him pretty nonetheless. If he is pretty, he is worth more and that is half of his function. 

He is a good Ashtray, he is a great Ashtray, and he is burning.

Just as abruptly, his Mistress stops, or at least Ashtray thinks she does. Still, the fire lingers, eating itself down to his bones.

She stands up, leaving her Ashtray kneeling on the ground; The sound of her heels echoing through the hall. Only when the door closes behind her does Ashtray allow himself to gasp for air, shivering and trembling with exhaustion and pain.

Eventually, one of his Mistress’ servants comes to collect him. They know not to speak with him, it has no use, even though they sometimes try. He never understands them. Now, Ashtray can’t even muster up the strength to listen to the servant's hushed voice, as they pull him up and examine his back. 

He isn’t being used. No one but his Mistress and those with her explicit permission are allowed to use him. So –for once– it’s okay when he disappears into his own body for a while and into the numbness in which his consciousness is already being pulled.

Ashtray is nothing if not obedient. Ashtray is nothing.

And for a while, everything is muffled…

Halls, halls, then The Room. Alone then not. Bandages, but no cream. He must not have been good enough art then.

The disappointment that should be intertwined with that thought barely registers in Ashtray’s mind. He’s Art, he’s Ashtray and he is Nothing…

Eventually, as the pain dulls and melts into the background, Ashtray comes back. It is a relief to be a part of his own body again, to be conscious not only of pain but of his emotions. 

He checks his body but the bandages have already been taken off. Some part of him is thankful for the mindfulness of the servants, keeping his Mistress’ objects clean for her use.

The other part of him starts to feel curious about his Mistress’ artwork, the design she needed her Ashtray to portray for the rest of his existence. 

There is a mirror in The Room, where all of the precious objects are kept, to make sure they are presentable. Now, far removed from any person’s view, Ashtray dares to use it for his own little purpose.

He stretches, uncaring about how it pulls on the new burns, to get a good look. It must be beautiful if it was hand-drawn by his Mistress, and that alone is worth all of the pain. But to his dismay, the only thing he can see are letters. Three of them. 

Even though he recognises the letters, the word is another one of those mysteries that are unsolvable for mere objects like him, or maybe just him, and not for the first time does Ashtray wish he could understand. 

Nevertheless, he knows the word must be special if his Mistress deemed him worthy of it.

T.O.Y.

Whatever it means.

taglist: @whumpsday, @2in1whump let me know if you want to be added or removed

[joshuamj]

Hero.

[panstarry]

my final from last semester that i made into a zine. cooked this one up in a couple hours before the critique (the ink was still wet!), so it's very raw and kind of sloppy but the sentiment is there. i love you trans people of color. we are the backbone of this community 🌟

[pokeberry5]

i feel like i never draw tim smiling but bb robin tim smiles a lot! (in between angst and tragedy)

brought to you by my continued attempts at figuring out tim’s early robin hair

[krazieka2]

Here's a big old Fire Emblem Search & Find I did for the FE3H Masquerade Zine! Find the Golden Deer, but see if you can't find the rest of the students as well! For the ultimate challenge, see if you can't name every character! (Disclaimer two characters are NPCs with no names)

[doctorsiren]

paint it over

[bet-on-me-13]

Ghostly Host AU

So! Ghosts need a physical Anchor in the living world, or they are liable to fall apart and fade away if they stay for too long.

In Amity Park, this usually isn't too much of a problem. Sure most Ghosts can't stay for a week without a Host, but the ambient Ecto-Levels in Amity Park are enough that they can stay for a few days or so at a time with little worry.

This changes however, during Reign Storm.

When Pariah Dark awakens, Tens of Thousands of Ghosts use the Fenton Portal to escape the Rule of Pariah Dark, running away into the Human Realm.

If Amity Park had stayed where it was, this would have been fine. They could have stayed in the Living Realm for a few days, and maybe the Weaker ones would need to find a temporary Host, but that was fine since Amity was filled with thousands of Liminals.

Unfortunately, Pariah Darks first move was to suck Amity Park into the Ghost Zone, alongside all of the Ecto-Energy that had accumulated there.

Now left trapped in the Living Realm with no way back to the Zone, thousands of Ghosts suddenly needed Hosts or they would start dying off by the Hundreds. In a Panic, they spread out across the Planet in search of viable Hosts.

Any normal Person wouldn't do, they needed a Living Being that could actually handle their Power, or someone who matched their Soul. Preferably both. Liminals were the best since they had a durable Body and a Malleable Soul, so any Ghost could use any of them as a Host.

But outside of Amity Liminals were very rare, and finding someone who matched their Soul was time-consuming and hard. Thankfully, in recent years the population of Aliens, Metahumans, Enhanced Soldiers, and even extra durable baseline Humans had spiked across the world.

All across the planet, People suddenly found themselves stuck with a new Passenger in their Bodies.

Those new passengers thankfully weren't malicious, for the most part, but it was still annoying. The only good thing was that they now had new Powers, which neat.

They could summon the Ghosts in their Body outwardly, and then command the Ghost to use their Powers in whatever way they wanted. Only other Hosts could see another person's Ghost, which meant they looked very awkward to normal people when they fought. Generally, Hosts seemed to act more strangely after getting a Ghost, as if they lost a few of their Inhibitions.

Why did they feel the sudden need to strike a flamboyant Pose? Or over dramatically scream?

[snaillock]

“cats won’t recognize or understand the feeling of forehead kisses and might even be resistant to it at first but once they know it’s a sign of affection, they may start offering their forehead or light bump their head against you for more.”

“what are you doing?” you watched him tilt his head down in your direction, revealing his forehead to you, barely even a second after he returned home.

“huh?” he said as if completely unaware of what he was doing. despite that, he only leaned closer and looked up at you with expecting eyes. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“then why are you doing that?”

“oh.” he quickly straightened himself up only for you to cup his head and pull it back down so you could plant a quick smooch on his forehead.

you chuckled at his flustered reaction, his widened eyes and red tinted cheeks. “yeah, i knew you liked that all along,” you said with some smugness and were about to walk away until you felt a hand grab onto your wrist.

“wait, give me another. i didn’t get to fully enjoy it.”

★-KURONA RANZE, sae itoshi, barou shoei, raichi jingo, nagi seishiro, HIORI YO, gagamaru gin + your faves <3

please read and respect my byf/dni before reblogging/following

[cosmicwhoreo]

.... Okay, so I might have made a ahit oc during my downtime. Based on the idea of "yeah the idea of hat kid being a little space orphan doing a job is sad.... But what if they were separated from their family and needed to get back home instead?"

And what if their worried mother came to the planet they were on, looking for them after they'd JUST LEFT like a month ago?

SOOOOOO HERE'S SUMMER!

I may have gotten carried away with myself on this idea-

[knockknockitsnickels]

I think this is one of my favorite lines from the Wraith route because of (imo) how much the meaning changes depending on if you got there via Spectre or Nightmare. For Spectre, it honestly strikes me as a genuine question. Why are you doing this to her? If you're on the Spectre route, you presumably already know the Narrator can't really be trusted, since you had to reject his reward to get here. What are you hoping to gain from continuing to hurt her? For Nightmare, it honestly just makes me sad. As the Shifting Mound describes her, "She desires only companionship, but the only thing she knows is how to hurt." This line feels like a plea from someone who genuinely doesn't understand why you keep rejecting her. She wants to be with you, but she just can't understand how to do that in a way which doesn't hurt you.

[holographings]

happy valentines day may all your love be monstrous and uncontainable

[humanmorph]

fatt pin-up week prompt 6: lingerie

millenium break lingerie shoot ?? ??? i don't know. i was having fun

bonus figure a bc they didn't fit anywhere up there

[dykedvonte]

I like to think that Curly and Jimmy had parallel lives on earth.

That Curly was an only child and his parents died shortly after he became a captain. They got to see his biggest accomplishment but he had no one to really celebrate it with after. Jimmy has siblings and his parents and they didn’t care when he got the co-pilot job cause he’s just the back up. Sure they’re happy for him but no reason to celebrate.

They could both barely afford rent. That’s how it is that late in capitalism and the world the live. The difference is Curly could down size, Jimmy would end up down on the curb. Jimmy had flings and Curly had partners. Both fleeting but Curly pulled away and they left Jimmy.

I like to think they lived parallel to each other in a way they both noticed. Curly felt a kinship and Jimmy felt resentful. Curly worked to make a good deal with what he had and Jimmy scorned his dealt cards and wanted the hand he thought Curly had made.

[scoriarose]

She came up with a new activity

[remxedmoon]

“the cautious ewe. the chime of its bell begets its strike.”

hooved

🛎️ power - 3 health - 3 blood

bell ringer - this card’s power increases the closer it is to the combat bell. power also increases for each chime on the field.

bellist - when a card bearing this sigil is played, a chime is created on each empty adjacent space. chimes have 0 power and 1 health.

hidden trait - insulating coat

this card cannot be transformed into a frozen creature. frozen creatures have 0 power, 5 health, and the frozen away sigil.

mirewebelle… she’s one of my favorites out of all the cards i’ve made. anyways!! writeup time!!

ding ding! yeah this entire card is themed around that one interaction on the first floor where mira talks about the bells on her brooch. she might be trapped in a card but i can’t take away her funny noises

the bell ringer + bellist interaction is so cool but it’s so hard to achieve ingame. with optimal placement, mira can do 5 damage on turn 1. hence why she’s a 3 blood! she hits harder than a grizzly. those funny noises are dangerous

i know female sheep don’t usually have horns but like. shsshhsshhhhh. she looks cooler with the horns. she’s like. one of those breeds where both males and females have horns. it’s fine.

i wanted to make the eyes in her alt art look like the change symbol!! because it’s fun!! every alt card has something special!

unlike sif, mira isn’t a talking card! none of the party is actually. as always siffrin suffers alone broken heart emoji.

also! that card trait huh. what the hell is a frozen creature? it’s. a reskin of the frozen opposum. i’ve got a king boss fight in the works and one of the mechanics of it is that he’ll target spaces and turn the cards within them into frozen cards. the frozen away sigil makes the card release a creature upon being killed. in this case, it’d probably return the card to the state it was in prior to getting frozen. and it’s called insulating coat because sheep teehee.

her patch’s sigil is armored/nano armor! which prevents the card from taking damage the first time it gets hit. since transferred sigils also affect the chimes, her chimes can tank an extra hit in battle! looking back though, i think leader would’ve synergized with her kit a bit better. since she can’t get an attack buff at campfire events (without glitches, at least), she’s basically capped at 5 power without that sigil. oh well! armored still works.

speaking of that patch. FUCK that patch. i had to cut out a jpeg of that thing by hand for every card because oops! i couldn’t find a png of it! only one of the card generators lets you add patches and it’s the less game-accurate one. so i had to manually cut it out for each card that had a tribe. which is most of them. hhhh at least i don’t have to deal with it anymore. it sucked.

and i think that’s all my notes on this card! here is a mirewe. observe her

[polyamorouspunk]

(Also) queer manager: if you find me walking out into the road to get hit by a truck and laying there don’t worry. It’s for the best.

Me, whose trying to get some(thing): Bitch I ain’t got time for that I got plans.