#new punching bag

[glittergummy]

[artschoolglasses]

Americans not giving a shit about the wildfires burning down forests and homes in Canada until smoke starts spreading across the border. Meanwhile Indigenous communities across the country are far more likely to be impacted by the fires and I’ve seen all of one link to a charity and about nine million memes. 🙃

[pieruru]

fuckass creature

[artzybumpkin]

i feel like it would take a/llan a while to get used to the baby moving - I think it would be cute to see him trying his best to get used to it at work ! :) (love ur art btw)

Oh you know it!!😂

It takes him a good minute to get used to the sudden pokes and jabs. Especially in the weeks following, as she starts getting bigger(and stronger at that hehe)

It's obvious when she's active, as throughout the day he'll consistently flinch and/or shudder at the feeling. And while it's not painful (yet >>'), it's intense enough to become a distraction a lot of times

Peanut's discovered she has legs, and by God she's gonna USE 'em!

[whumpzone]

Linden & Colton - 29

(masterlist)

CW: pet whump, dehumanisation, vague allusions to past noncon, self hatred

-

Colton woke. His palm was sweaty and hot. A headache was slowly draining from his skull. There was no morning light, and no… bedroom. Instead, there was the dark living room. He felt as if he had slept for years. 

Shifting slightly, he realised two things: he was sweaty all over, his palm particularly so because his Master was holding it loosely. 

Col’s eyes followed Master’s arm up from his hand, and he saw that he was unmoving, breathing evenly with his eyes closed. 

Safe for now, he lay back down. He was absolutely exhausted, although he had no right to be. All he’d done was cry and slept- slept- on the furniture. 

He gasped, then pressed the knuckles of his free hand to his mouth to shut himself up. He felt so dizzy and disoriented. What time was it? Why was it dark? What on earth had he been thinking, getting up on Master’s sofa like some stray?

He suddenly realised he was squeezing Master’s hand, and Master, in his dream-state, was squeezing back. It shouldn’t have, but it made Col calm down. 

He had made an absolute spectacle of himself. Crying, howling, begging Master not to leave him. 

And Master had kept his promise. He was still here. Col felt a surge of gratitude, different to how it usually felt. The familiar gratitude that ran through him when he was allowed food, or sleep, was utterly eclipsed by this. Master had no need to stay. Col knew that his old Master would have kicked him in the stomach until he shut up, or just gagged him and locked the basement door.

Here, Col had been held, comforted, and now Master was still with him, like he was protecting him from something. 

His old Master’s friends. He winced as he remembered exactly what had set him off in the first place. No, no. I don’t want to remember. 

It was just what bad dogs got, but Master had seemed so genuinely disgusted- with Col? Disgusted that his pet was even more used up than he’d thought?

His mind whirred until he felt his brain would overheat. Master was horrified about what happened, part of him said, the part that was softer and further away, that was so naive it made Col cringe. He pictured himself - his most pure, real self, his sanity - curled up in his mind, shielding his face with his arms, his legs pulled up to protect his stomach. Things didn’t hurt as badly as they could when he was like that. If he started to believe all of the kind words that Master said, and the thoughts he sometimes had in his weaker moments, it would be like letting his inner self relax, just a bit. Taking away some of the tension in his legs, maybe even lowering his arms to look out at the world. Once he did that, it would hurt so much more the next time. Col wouldn’t let that happen. 

He frowned deeply and tried to regain some composure. Master had fallen asleep out of tiredness, not because he had granted Col’s plea to not be left. It was Col who had engineered this, who’d taken advantage of his Master’s kindness and spent the entire night curled up beside him, holding his hand like a loved one when he was, in fact, nothing. Master would wake and be so sickened that he would finally kick Col out. 

And Col was weak. He was cowardly and scared. He just couldn’t handle it, not yet. Not yet, he repeated. Soon he’d come up with a plan. He’d figure out what his next steps would be once Master made him leave. 

He once again became aware of the feeling of his hand in his owner’s. Master’s grip was light with sleep, purposeful enough to be holding him, but not pressing into his injuries or pulling or hurting. That could, would, change when Master woke up. How could he ever think he was safe? How deluded and complacent had he become? 

You’re not a lap dog, he reminded himself, although it was his old owner’s voice he heard. You’ll never be one. You’ll never be loved, or treasured. Do you understand that, Pet?

Yes, Master, Col had replied when he was first told this. The words hadn’t stung. It was important that he knew. 

Good boy. You know your place. 

His training was starting to stumble, now that he was in Master’s house. He so wanted to believe all of Master’s kind words, to slip into them like a quilt and bury himself in their warm folds, sinking deeper, deeper, believing that he hadn’t deserved what happened at those parties. 

You hadn’t, the other voice said again, and Col screwed his eyes up, because it hurt to have to fight it off. But what choice did he have? 

Slowly, hardly daring to breathe, Col slid his hand free of his Master’s. The only sound was his own heart, pounding at the sudden tension. How could he have woken up and ever felt calm about this? Why had he lay there, thinking, deciding what to do next as if he ever had a choice? His own hatred for himself was growing in density. He hated the darkness, and the silence. He had endured enough of both to last him forever. Things were so much more simple when it was daytime, when the sunlight spread over the house like a balm, and his Master was happy and calm and talking to him.

God, but it was night and he was alone in the truest sense of the word, and he just couldn’t stop fucking thinking.

He unfolded his stiff legs (they used to always be stiff, from kneeling or being bound for hours on end, but now Master let him walk and stretch them, and he was taking that for granted too) and carefully lowered his hands and knees to the floor, praying that nothing would creak. Nothing did. He tried to breathe at a normal pace again. 

His eyes had adjusted to the pitch blackness by now. There was a dip in the sofa where Col had been lying, but there was nothing he could do about that. Besides, he wasn’t trying to conceal what he’d done. He was just trying to mitigate it, because he was a good boy. 

A dog, he corrected himself. A slave. God, why did you do that? You know how ugly you are when you cry. You’ve seen yourself in the mirror, it’s horrifying, it’s like a monster. You looked like that for a good half an hour last night, and Master saw, he saw everything and he’ll never forget. 

And your body looks so bad. He’ll have looked away from your face and seen your body instead. Oh my god, why would you put him through that? 

You swore you’d keep it together in this new house, you’d be good and make it work, but you fuck everything up. Everything you touch gets ruined sooner or later. How can you even go upstairs to the room he lets you stay in? 

Col stared at the floor. If Master had a basement, he’d go there. But then again, if Master had a basement he would never have needed to give up his spare room. Col could prove that he shouldn’t have gone to the trouble. 

There was a neat little space in the corner of the living room, between the wooden TV stand and the wall, where Col would fit nicely. He crawled over and nudged himself into place. There he knelt, watching as Master slept. He would probably be angry that he’d spent all night on the sofa, but Col didn’t dare wake him up. 

He hoped he looked like a good slave, on his knees and ready to serve. It must have been the dead of night, because he didn’t make it to morning. He fell into sleep with his head resting against the wall, and although kneeling was second nature, it wasn’t the position he would have chosen if he had let himself have that freedom. He would have chosen to curl up on the floor, with his legs to his chest, and his arms around his face.

-

taglist part 1:

@newbornwhumperfly @whumpadump1939 @firewheeesky @whump-me-all-night-long @captain-seconds @grizzlie70 @unicornscotty @lave-whump @princessofonwardsworld @cupcakes-and-pain @bumbumbea @whumpfigure @yet-another-heathen @secretwhumplair @whumps-up @as-a-matter-of-whump @getyourwhumphere @itzagoodthing @whumpymirages @soapparentlyilikewhumpnow @the-monarch-whumperfly @penny-for-your-whump @legallylibra @angel-stars @loyds-of-registry @tears-and-lilies @badluck990 @rosesareviolentlyread @vickytokio @neuro-whump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumpsy-daisies @control-whump @theydy-cringeworthy @starnight-whump @cursedandtired @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @justabitofwhump @glamrockgregory @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @genesissane @justbreakonme @addyez @httyd-chocolate @littlespacecastle @haro-whumps @extrabitterbrain @neverthelass @downrivergirl914

[tr4showl]

How it feels like being a Niki fan at this point

[macabrecravings]

I’m still a Korn Listener if y’all were wondering. Here’s a thing I just drew in an hour (12am-1am) while listening to Dirty on repeat 🫡�� Sorry Ren!

[g004]

[clowningaroundmars]

i still cannot get over The Twins like.

imagine.

you have another version of you out there arguably living a life just as difficult as yours, if not more, that you can talk to at literally Any Time! and they're You so you basically already have half a convo down anytime you decide to pop on over via a portal

1610 and 42 stepping out of their respective portals side-by-side just to stroll out of an alleyway like nothin happened just going:

1610: LOUD SIGH

42: rough day too huh?

1610, brushing debris off of his shoulder: yeeep. another run-in with the rhino. again.

42: you didn't lock his dumb ass up like, last month? how'd he get out?

1610: don't know, don't care. so done with this week, i just wanna... i dunno. hibernate til spring 😮‍💨

42: man, what a mood.

1610: what happened to you? you look like you had a rougher day than me!

42, covered in visible bruises and cuts along with his bandages: mannnn... rougher week more like. well... rougher life. but. anyways.

they both nod at each other in Understanding

[quick-catton]

HAPPY ST PATRICK'S DAY INDEED. GOOD GRAVY

[wispisstillverybored67]

“We have got to get more cringe and unapologetic about our interests” Can you even handle Hellaverse fans??

[tj-crochets]

I would like to both thank and blame tumblr for the phrase "turn slow tigers into fast tigers with this one neat trick!" Like, I am grateful for it as a mnemonic that stuck that reminds me to go punch the punching bag* when I get too stressed out and can't function well from acute stress, but also I can no longer refer to it any other way because when I get that stressed I have trouble with words Which means today I was putting on my wrap gloves and my brother was looking at me like "what are you doing?" and all I could say was "turning slow tigers into fast tigers" *I think the original post was about taking a short run or tensing all your muscles and then releasing them? But my response to stress is very much not flight lol

[thursdayinspace]

already *done* with today. typical monday only five times worse 😂

[windwardstar]

it's so fucking infuriating for other trans people to try and pull the age card to invalidate you. like sorry, but i'm well aware of "and how old are you???" is something people use as a way to get me to tell them i'm like 20 and too young to know myself and make choices about my body. Telling cis people I'm over 30 gets them to shut the fuck up because it shatters their idea that it's just kids but getting the same thing from trans people is just like. you should know better than to try and pull that shit on me. esp if you then decide i'm still not old enough and it's just a silly phase of youth and i don't know any better.

[elleryhart]

i have three whole new fallen london ocs that I haven't begun to tell y'all about bc i can't think of how.

[hankandmonty]