Ill Try To Draw Myself In That Ms Paint Pixely Art Style, Wish Me Luck Chat
ill try to draw myself in that Ms paint pixely art style, wish me luck chat
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it doesn't look like it but this is a comfy drabble, i promise!! the inspo (and wish for some comfort) is from @whumpcloud. you've read this already but here <3
CW: dehumanisation, abandonment issues, pet whump, self-loathing
It is still dark outside when Mutt wakes up, drenched in sweat, panting from memories that haunt his brain. A moment later, he realises what woke him up, as the night sky is lit up by a flash of lightning, a growling thunder following only moments later. Mutt can feel the rumbling deep down in his bones, making him shiver.
He had been locked outside once during a thunderstorm, the punishment still fresh in his mind. Bound and gagged, of course, so he couldn’t draw attention to himself with his pathetic whimpering and keening.
There had been rain and hail, soaking him to the bone, making the Mutt even more susceptible to the unforgiving cold seeping into his joints. He had wanted nothing more than a shred of his old Master’s mercy, as the thunder rolled over him.
Mutt shakes his head to rid himself of the memories, his fingers twitching. He won’t be able to fall back asleep, he knows, but he needs to be fit enough to serve his Master in the morning!
Almost on auto-pilot, Mutt gets out of bed. He has to be careful when standing up, his mangled legs still struggling to hold him up. When he walks to his door, he no longer avoids stepping on the rug.
Aimlessly, he wanders onto the dim corridor, the old wood creaking under his irregular and heavy steps. Mutt tries not to be too loud, lest he wakes Master up. Fatigue tugs at his eyelids, making them droop, and his stroll does little to clear his muddy mind. He stumbles around, losing time.
Suddenly, he feels something cold and hard and when his eyes focus again, he is holding the handle to his Master’s bedroom in his ruined hand, the door already opened a crack. Just barely, he can see the sleeping form of his Master, curled up under the covers, her hands loosely clasped together in front of her face and oh–
He is Atlas now, isn’t he?
As if in a trance, Atlas enters her room, still not quite here, not quite there. Something pulls him forwards, a pressure getting stronger with each step, like a moth fluttering towards the light. He forces himself to stop a couple of steps away from her, ignoring how empty it makes him feel.
Hasn’t she given enough for him? Must he now also take her sleep? Her rest?
Atlas forces his mind to blank and himself to stop, to turn around as silently as possible. She needs her rest for all the troubles he’ll inevitably bring her in the morning, when he can’t get a hold of himself, can’t do the things a human is supposed to do. He can’t keep taking and taking and taking from her, but some part of him craves her presence so much and he despises himself for it. Maybe he will never be anything but a Pet but for some reason he can’t place, that seems so intrinsically connected to his very being, he only feels whole when he’s with her.
For a moment, he is outside again, chained and gagged in the freezing rain, thoroughly unwanted. This time, it is Atlas who holds the key, dangling it just out of reach from his desperate self. He understands his old Master now, he thinks, understands why he locked a creature like him out. It is only right.
Before he can take another step, he hears a sleepy groan right behind him, freezing up. Atlas fears looking around, fears seeing Master’s hateful gaze, even though he can’t conjure up a fitting image, no matter how hard he tries. He still does –of course he does– his breath catching in his throat.
With her eyes still closed, Aveline has lifted one arm to hold her blanket up, as if inviting him in. Like a man dying of thirst discovering a miracle oasis, Atlas stumbles closer. It seems too good to be true and if there is one thing he has learned, it’s that no good ever befalls a Pet like him. Still, he wants to hope.
“For me?” Atlas croaks into the dark, as hushed as his damaged vocal cords allow him.
Her response is nothing more than a drowsy mhm and a light, lazy gesture with her hand. Hesitantly, Atlas steps closer. He shouldn’t know how this goes, should be overwhelmed with the very real possibility of doing this wrong and subsequently being thrown out. But he isn’t.
The movements feel like second nature, even as he navigates his bulky frame first onto her bed and then into the embrace of the much smaller woman. Atlas doesn’t have to think, his body moves on its own, which is undoubtedly a good thing because if he allowed himself to process what he was doing, he’d surely panic.
As he lays down on his side, Aveline lowers her arm to cover him with the blanket too, then settles it over the side of his chest. It should be the worst crime a Pet like him could commit, to lay his head on her soft pillow, to curl up against her warm body, to feel her snuggle up against his marred back. But for some reason, it doesn’t feel like a crime. It just feels like home.
Atlas deflates in her arms, sighing. Her touch is tender, not restricting, tethering Atlas to this world, as sobs start to build up in his chest against his will. If he cries now, he will surely ruin the best thing his life has ever allowed him.
Maybe this is a dream and tomorrow he will wake up alone in his own bed but none of that matters in this moment. Unconsciously, his crooked hand searches for hers, clinging to it. Aveline squeezes it back, as a couple of stray silent tears start to escape his eyes.
Her body is warm and she holds him tight. Atlas can feel her resting her head softly against the nape of his neck, whispering that Everything is going to be alright.
Atlas sniffles, his tears soaking into the pillow. They lay like that for a while, Aveline’s thumb stroking soothingly over the back of his hand, careful with the raised scar tissue.
Pets like him aren’t made for this kind of comfort, this all-encompassing warmth; her kindness feels like an unbelievable gift. He’d do anything for her, Atlas decides, as his eyes grow heavy and start to slip close. He can’t hear the harsh thunder anymore, can’t feel the cold rain.
Atlas knows he doesn’t deserve it, even as he falls asleep, but–
He wishes someone had been this kind to him before.
Day 6059 of being here — forgot how to walk with human legs and walked home like a damn spider
I feel like you critters and homunculi would enjoy this
Both were made by me in procreate :3
*folds my wings over my face* *folds my wings over my face* *folds my wings over my face* *folds my wings over my face* *folds my wings over my face* *folds my wings over my face* *folds my wings over my face* *folds my wings over my face*
My name is Nour, and I’m 21 years old from northern Gaza.
I once lived a peaceful life with simple dreams, but everything changed on October 7th, 2023, when war tore through Gaza. I had to flee my home, leaving behind everything I knew, and now I live alone in a tent made of torn fabric in southern Gaza.
The constant bombings are unbearable, but being a lesbian in a society that rejects me is even harder.
I live in constant fear of judgment and violence. On top of this, I face extreme shortages of food, water, and basic supplies.
Life has become a daily fight for survival.
Dear LGBTQ+ brothers and sisters around the world, I turn to you in my time of desperate need. I have no one else to ask for help. The world around me looks at me with disgust, and I can no longer bear this life. I am exhausted, broken, and alone. Please, I beg you, help me leave this place and find safety, dignity, and a chance to live as myself. I cannot survive here any longer. Your support is my only hope.
Every day, I fear for my life. But I refuse to give up. I want to live. Please, your support can make all the difference. Every donation, no matter how small, gives me hope for a better tomorrow.
Please Take Action Now‼️
GFM Donations Link Here 🍉🇵🇸
Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
someone has a common tic: “lol why do these fakers always have the same tics”
someone has an uncommon tic: “lol no one actually tics like that”
someone has a lot of tics: “nobody actually tics that much you just want attention”
someone has a few tics: “where did ur ‘tics’ go i knew u were faking”
someone’s tics get worse over time: “ever notice how these people’s tics always get more dramatic”
someone’s tics get better over time: “they finally decided to stop faking i guess”
someone has a tic attack: “no one with tourettes is that dramatic you’re obviously faking”
someone’s tics stop for a while: “you obviously never had tics if they stop while you sing/whatever its too convenient”
someone has tics and also is online: “it’s obviously for attention”
Literally what do people want from ppl with tic disorders jfc
need an ascended kin or smt like that thing cuz how do I explain I was a human once but ascended and now I'm an multidimensional deity
Did that Pinterest thing where it’s like “type in _____ and the save the first image, that’s how your Pinterest sees you”
well I got bored and put martencore in front of it. so now it’s a kintype thing lol! so for example a wolf would be wolfcore and then animal, color, food, season, etc after it.
Left to right I did:
___core mood, ___core drink, ___core hobby, ___core season, ___core animal, ___core color, ___core food, ___core place, ___core plant
you might just get an image of your kintype, up to you if you’d like to do that or go the next image that is relevant to the prompt
