#not his worst bad time

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Okay so you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to obvi but can you write a thing for today’s (7/7) figuwhump drawing with Cerus? i’d like that very much 🖤

ooh yes! pairs with this image

Umbra: Cold Spell

cw: environmental whump, cold whump, referenced torture, slight drowning

Penumbra Masterlist

§•§•§

Cerus had never realized how chilling summer could be.

He'd never experienced the so-called cold days. He'd heard of them certainly, but such things took place high in the mountains, in villages the royal family could never be bothered to visit.

The mines he'd been condemned to, however, allowed him to feel the chill firsthand.

A cool morning soon after midsummer wasn't unheard of, even at lower altitudes, but the mountains gave a combination of height and summer storms that led to days where the sun rose on a lightly-frosted wood. Cerus learned quickly that the cold didn't sit well with his poorly-healed bones, and walking and working became so much more difficult than normal. Fortunately, he'd overhead some of the miners talking amongst themselves about how the cooler weather wouldn't last, and that the men should take it as a reprieve from the final heatwave that was to come.

Rather than a reprieve, Cerus viewed it as a prelude. A glimpse of what would befall him in the winter. Mornings spent shivering, sharp pain echoing footsteps, fingers that would hardly bend at all.

But then, he wasn't meant to survive til winter, was he?

That epiphany was made all the sharper when he was dragged out of his bed the eve before seventh day, dragged down a craggy trail, into the trees, not asking where they were taking him, or what he'd done wrong, knowing that knowing the answers wouldn't matter.

They would do what they would do, and they would think themselves righteous.

Cerus didn't struggle or offer protest as he was shoved into the icy waters of a creek, his breath stolen by the freezing temperature as the water struck him. He pushed himself up on arms that shook terribly, only to be forced back into the murk with a boot to the back of his shoulders.

It didn't let up.

Though in his mind, Cerus knew it would be better to drown now, to spare himself from what tomorrow and the next day and the next and the next would bring, the surging human panic that came with a lack of air flooded his senses, driving reason from his body as he thrashed uselessly against the weight of the man who pinned him. Numb fingers sank into soft mud that offered him no purchase, but his stupid body scrambled and fought anyway, his lungs burning white with a lack of air until at last, the pressure let up, and a hand tangled in his hair, yanking him back above the surface.

Back where he could breathe.

And in that moment, nothing else mattered. He sucked down air, not even sparing the miners a wary look as they wrapped his wrists in rope that was thin enough to cut, and pulled his arms wide, immobilizing him knee-deep in the muddy waters.

The feeling of having his arms splayed open was a familiar one, an echo from his time spent prisoner in his own dungeons, tormented by rebels who now dared to call themselves a council, and Cerus shuddered more from the memory than the cold.

He could still feel the crunch of his bones, hear the taunting of the rebel general, the tremor in his voice that had begun that night and never truly gone away.

So when the miners left him there, shaking in the cold mud of the creek, all he could feel was grateful that they hadn't sought to do worse before abandoning him.

No whip came down to meet taut flesh, no fists or sticks or boots to bruise his skin. Only the chill. It lazily drained away the heat that remained within him as the last of the daylight slipped past the surrounding trees.

In the dark, what little portion of Cerus's mind that was unoccupied with the thought of how cold he was listened to the croaking of the creek frogs, a choir that didn't seem to care about the freeze.

After all, it was still summer.

§•§•§

tag list:

@whumpwillow @rabbitdrabbles @kixngiggles @honeycollectswhump @chiswhumpcorner @whatwhumpcomments , @dont-look-me-in-the-eye , @turn-the-tables-on-them , @pigeonwhumps , @itsmyworld23 , @andromeda-liske , @starlit-hopes-and-dreams , @haro-whumps , @kira-the-whump-enthusiast , @whumpedydump , @mannerofwhump

[somegrumpynerd]

Thinking about how Nightmare has 4 mortals and 3 of them are so so bad at taking care of themselves

[figmentforms]

Part 245 of  “A Tale of Two Rulers” (Sept 5, 2023)

I'm sorry this was so late. It's no excuse, but I've been struggling with some things and it's slowed me down. I should be able to keep up with the usual update schedule now though. Thank you so much as always for your patience! I hope you enjoy the belated update! (Even though this is Gan at one of this worst moments)

For those who may be interested, I still have copies of my comic and my new art book for sale in my Etsy store right now.

( www.etsy.com/shop/FigmentForms )

★ Webtoon-  https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/a-tale-of-two-rulers/list?title_no=292453 ★ - I’m still building up this archive.

★Patreon- https://www.patreon.com/LorIllustration ★

Thanks so much to all my amazing supporters that help make this comic happen! ♥

[kendyroy]

very obsessed with the thought of wade coming home and logan sniffing someone else’s scent on his man and switching into jealous boyfriend mode

[doctorwhommm]

tfw you shoot your boss but he comes back to life so you organise an impromptu mutiny against your him which leads to you accidentally bringing about the literal biblical apocalypse which is only stopped by your immortal boss dying for good this time but psych he actually comes back to life AGAIN and then immediately runs away whilst you’re on a coffee run and you don’t hear from him until a few months later when he’s suddenly a wanted terrorist on the news with his toxic ex and some random junior doctor

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Bare skin, bare feelings.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[llamagoddessofficial]

A little indulgent, venty drabble.

~~~

Your bedroom door opened. You were absolutely certain you had locked it. Alarmed, you shot up in bed, looking to the entrance to see who was intruding on you when your mood was so crushingly terrible.

It was Nightmare. He had a weird expression on his face, he looked very... calm. Calm was weird for him. He was the last person you expected to see.

... Also probably one of the last people you wanted to see.

"What're you doing?" you snapped. "Get out of my room."

His voice was low. "is everything alright?"

"Uh. Yeah." Perhaps you sounded more hostile than you needed to. You were glaring. "Everything's fine. You can go."

... His lovely cyan eye lingered on you.

...

He did not, in fact, leave. He closed the door behind him.

What the hell? Indignation coursed through you. "I'm seriously fine. Leave me alone."

"no," he said, softly.

You really really didn't have the self control for this, right now. You spent every moment of every day watching your words, taking stock of everything that left your lips, ensuring it wouldn't bother those around you even if it was at your own expense. Right now, you were fraying at the edges. You did not have the energy.

"Nightmare. Go away. I want to be alone right now."

He started walking toward you. He looked so calm. He looked like he understood exactly what was going on.

Anger flashed inside you, oil catching in a pan, it spittled and flew to your lips. You did not understand what was going on, and you didn't like feeling stupid.

"Get the fuck out of my room!"

"no."

“What the hell is your problem!?" You leaned forward, voice raising, like a cat raising its hackles. "You want to come watch me at my lowest? Point and laugh, rub it in? Real fucking mature of you.”

He didn't take the anger bait. "no." 

Stars, something was really wrong with you today, because his lidded socket and soothing voice just utterly infuriated you.

“Get out!” you yelled.

He didn't respond. He just looked like he cared.

You picked up the nearest weighted thing - your matte plastic water bottle - and threw it at him as hard as you could. He paused, but only to let the bottle literally just bounce off him... it hit his chest and thudded to the floor, rolling away plaintively.

You were probably acting more like a toddler than a grown adult human right now. But you were out of self control. Out of anything, really. Tired and cranky.

“Fuck off! Leave me alone!”

"it's okay."

What? When he started approaching again, you picked up another heavy object to throw, this time it was your bedside lamp. You were shocking yourself with your own bad behaviour. When you launched that at him, a tentacle curled in the air and caught it, setting it carefully down on the floor and not even interrupting his stride.

“Go bother someone else! I’m not a child!”

Honestly? You left that one open for him. You wanted him to make the most of the opportunity to insult you - maybe he’d say something sharp like “not a child? you sure are acting like one.” Something that would bring you back into territory you felt safe in. You didn't like the way he was looking at you, the way you were the only one yelling but he looked so empathetic and gentle. You wanted some control.

“it’s alright,” he murmured. “you can say what you need to. i know you don’t mean it.”

“What - what the fuck are you talking about?!”  

Nightmare sat beside you, cross-legged on your bed. And before you could do a thing, his extremely dexterous tentacles curled around you; and pulled you in, until you were sitting between his legs.

Oh, you were furious. You weren't even sure what you were yelling, but you were definitely yelling something. If you had been a cat raising your hackles before, now you had your claws out, you were scratching and biting and yowling. You kicked at him, you slapped at his chest, you shoved him like that would do anything.

... He didn't say a thing. His arms rested on either of his knees, and a tentacle carefully brushed your back. You kept hitting him. You ...

... You started to run out of steam. Your 'hits' on his chest became weaker, feebler, until you weren't really hitting him anymore. You were just bumping your enclosed fist against his sternum. The water bottle from before probably did more damage than you were doing now.

...

... You hiccuped.

And then you just started to bawl.

Nightmare clearly had anticipated this all along. He leaned down, face closer to your level, like he wanted you to know he was there. Your head thumped against his shoulder, where it remained, sobs wracking your entire body. He didn’t interrupt. He just let you cry - getting it all out. 

Part of you wanted to be embarrassed. Assaulting him and then wailing right there in his lap. But oh... there was something so wonderful about acting your absolute worst, and yet, not being abandoned. You worked so hard to be liked; every day, you did everything you could to be the kind of person that the people around you would enjoy. So much so that you had no idea what was left, underneath all of the personalities you'd stitched together to make a quilt people would like looking at.

Nightmare had just watched you scream at the top of your lungs, then sob with anything you had left. And yet? He was still there.

By the time your crying quietened down, his eyelight was glowing a little brighter. A little bluer. You weren’t sure what that meant.

“... I-I...” you rubbed your eyes with your sleeve as best you could. Your voice was horrendously hoarse and thin. “I didn’t... mean...”

“i know,” he said, warmly. Sitting this close, you could hear how his voice thrummed from within his chest, not really his mouth. Knowing his lecherous and borderline evil personality, you thought that basically sitting on his lap would've felt different. Risky, perhaps. Right now, it didn't - you felt comforted. The good kind of surrounded.

"I'm sorry."

“don't be. if there’s anyone who would know when anger is a cry for help, it’s me.”

You kept your head on his shoulder. "I shouldn't have hit you."

He tilted his face to you a little more. He was so close - inches away. You could feel his breathing. “honestly? i incited you, in the hopes you would. you just wanted to be angry. everyone deserves to feel angry, every now and then.”

“It doesn’t always feel like it is okay," you muttered.

"anger isn't something to be ashamed of. anger protects you. it tells you when your lines have been crossed."

"How can I be angry, without hurting people? If you were anyone else, I would've really hurt you."

"i'm afraid there's no easy answer to that, dear."

You looked up at him. “How did you know I didn't want to be left alone?”

"did you forget i can read emotions?"

Ah. True. You always forgot Nightmare wasn't just any old skeleton. He was some kind of God, wasn't he? A deity of negativity. He probably read everything going on in your mind the moment it arose.

"I kinda did, yeah."

His socket crinkled at the corner. “i felt what you wanted. heh, that, and... i know your insults well enough to know your heart wasn’t in those.”

You couldn’t help but let out a tiny watery snicker, at that. He seemed to like it. 

“... Thank you." You brought your legs up to your chest, tucking closer against him. "For... for not leaving.”

He finally put his arms around you.

“of course.”

[collophora]

More minibatch adventure I need a full show maybe too XD

[bixels]

Bit of a weird question, but what is your overall least favorite thing about MLP? 

Sparity.

[strawbie-doodle]

havent drawn all of them in a WHILE ✸

[beaulesbian]

THE TERROR (2018) S01E06 "A Mercy"

- It’s Captain Fitzjames’ Carnivale. - That’s tonight? - Yes, sir. All night. Until the sunrise.

[lieflipsiege]

ezmerelda d'avenir you have to stop. You smoke too tough. Your swag too different. Your bitch is too bad. they'll kill you

[fumifooms]

What if we were both magic prodigies and it otherized us in different ways and we devoted ourselves to protecting a family member who has general other goals & priorities. What if we both did self-sacrifical devotion in opposite ways.

What if we were dark mirrors of each other and where I've grown overcontrolling you've grown complacent. What if, bought as a servant into a pretty loving home, ownership and control is what love looks like to me, and to you neglected and lonely growing up, love is gratefully taking any scraps of it you’re lent.

By belonging to someone, even if she comes back injured or fails at finding Delgal, she feels like she belongs and is cherished, by owning someone he feels safe in them not leaving him.

She’s what’s tethering him do you see… And he’s the only thing giving her direction and purpose in her state. She needs a compass and he needs a support.

They’re both so out of it 😭 It’s the weirdly intense and unearned mutual trust and reliance on each other?? They’re each other’s weird little comfort codependent teddy bear. Or at least they were headed towards that before SHE DIED THEN HE DIED THEN THEY BOTH FORGOT ABOUT EACH OTHER AND NEVER MET EVER AGAIN. Though she’s also the guard attack hound keeping him safe… And vice versa he heals her and can rewrite her very being with just one wave of his hand. They’re both so so mentally and physically vulnerable both but they cling onto each other. They can’t perceive things accurately but despite it all someway somehow they stumble into something closer to resembling companionship just before they both die. Falin is just that kind and Thistle is just that lonely. Overworked. We both haven’t lived for ourselves in a very long time, haven’t we.

They both have a similar devotion to the people they love but again the difference is that Thistle starts overtsepping while Falin is self-effacing. The other difference between them is that people care about Falin <3 People have given up on Thistle long ago, and he has given people reasons to, while people refuse to give up on Falin. Yaad has a mini arc about it dw about it it’s ok he’s not all alone in the end 😭😭 He reached out for Marcille’s hand but they already all wanted to help him, they just had to be given the chance to, Yaad just had to be given the chance to, it’s okay I’m okay

Hey what if we learned to get in touch with our own identity and the world around us and living in the present again through being in the worst codependent situationship ever.

Falin and Thistle sitting in a tree, sucking on flowers together because they’re h-u-n-g-r-y��💕💕💕

I bet he’s only ever thought of flowers as useless ornaments. Weak weeds. But she shows him they’re tasty and useful and good and pretty in their own right too and deserve existing without proving their worth and waaa <33 Thistles…... Did you know thistles taste sweet if you remove the thorns and eat them?

"Even as a chimera, her kind nature remains" you can’t suppress her in the way that matters. You can’t soothe him in the way that matters. It’s doomed. You’re doomed. It’s all doomed. Save me.

[galakaz]

my understanding on how canto 6 is going to go

[myuminji]

vash who loves wolfwood who loves vash in every universe that seals his fate with death.

[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

Seeing eldritch abomination Danny is funny, but half the time I just think of the time that Danny, half ghost, with all the creepy powers he could want, LOST a haunted house competition.