Thank You To Every Single Fucking Person On This God Forsaken Site That Has Ever Posted Your Own Art

“So this is what you do? You find little broken dolls, fix them up only to break them again?”

Prrompt (566)

An explosion shook the house. The door went flying from its hinges. The hero didn't even flinch. They kept eating their breakfast.

"Honey, your experiment knocked down the door again," they called.

The villain poked their head out of the lab. Their goggled were covered in soot. They lifted them onto their forehead.

"Sorry, babe," the villain said. "Can I put it back later? I'm really close to figuring out the formula."

The hero yawned. "Sure. Just don't let the dog get in. We don't need another pet with wings."

The villain gave the thumbs up and ducked back into their lab. Another explosion went off. The hero rolled their eyes, but they couldn't help smiling.

I'm sorry but you are 'open minded' about cutting and not smoking or drinking? That's just another double standard! Cutting is just as therapeutic as smoking and drinking so should I get environmentally conscious and people-around-me conscious over either one WHEN I AM IN SO MUCH FUCKING PAIN

Why do people react so strongly toward cutting? To me it's an equivalent of smoking or drinking so it's just another coping mechanism. It's not that serious. Chill the hell out

writing? oh, i’m definitely writing. in my head. during the most inconvenient times. like in the shower or when i’m about to fall asleep. actual typing? no, no, we don’t do that here.

they should make a saluting emoji that looks tired. exhausted even. one that got to the airport at 3:30 AM perhaps. dare I say a saluting emoji that's about to stuck in an overnight layover in dallas. hypothetically!

“What have they done to you?”

Whumpee breaks free from their captors grip - but not from the base they’re held in. They find a small desk against the wall and collapse underneath it, frozen with fear.

They hear footsteps hunting, looking for them, but they have yet to be found.

They don’t dare look, even when whumper’s noises go quiet. Hours pass and they’re paralyzed, the footsteps have changed to not one, but many. Frantic, heavy, with voices shouting their name. 

Eventually, the desk gets grabbed and yanked from over them. The atmosphere changes from safe, to a cold wave of dread.

“Whumpee! Whumpee look at me!” A voice shouts. Two hands grab and shake them, trying to get them to uncurl.

“Whumpee it’s me, it’s me. Please look at me, I’m not going to hurt you. Look at me-” Caretaker frantically cries, wrapping them in their arms and pulling them out of the corner. They cradle them in hopes they’ll snap out of it, they can feel whumpee shaking and panting, but still locked away like they’ve dissociated.

“…What… Have they done to you?“

genuinely fucked up that if i want to interact with someone online i have to say words and have a conversation instead of just mashing my face against them like a cat

Whumptober2024 Day 31: Asking for help

"Dad...they’re asking what his condition is."

Whumpee breaking things in whumper's house as an act of defiance.

Whumper watching and waiting patiently for it to end, drink in their hand, smiling as they think of how much fun will punishment be.

How it feels to read a really good fic and find the author has dozens more like it