junix-has-moved-pls-see-bio

[junix-has-moved-pls-see-bio]

Relocating!

Heyo! Junix here. Since tumblr doesn’t let you change your main blog once it’s been set (as far as i’m aware lol), I’ve decided to make a new blog under the same name. It’ll be all the same content and stuff, I just want my whumblr to be my main. So if you happen to follow me on this blog and like my content, head on over to my new blog! It’s @tormentum-ab-intra , same as this blog used to be. I’ll be reblogging this post on the new blog as well so as to make it easier to find.

#relocating #tormentumabintra #Tormentum-Ab-Intra #update #dunno what else to tag lol

[junix-has-moved-pls-see-bio]

This is Sekti! I have nothing to say for myself other than that I’ve decided they’re much too cute not to torment in as many different ways as I can think of.  Sekti’s pronouns are they/them! They do have a mouth, but they won’t be offended if you think they don’t at first; it’s a common mistake. If you happen to see their partner, Terrence, please do point him in their direction. They’d like a hug right about now, and Terrence hugs are the best hugs.

#Sekti #art #junix draws #Sekti's pronouns are they/them #oc #Tormentum-Ab-Intra

[junix-has-moved-pls-see-bio]

“Can’t you try to behave? Please?”

“Down.” Master Deleon snaps his fingers, and points to the floor.

There was a time in which Ankhir might have ignored the command, but now he knows better than to rebel.

Atticus would never have treated him like this.

With blazing eyes and gritted teeth, Ankhir sinks to his knees. His features are set in a scowl, but he keeps his gaze downcast. Oh, how he hates having to do this. He hates how weak and compliant he’s become.

Ankhir allows himself one careful glance, his eyes flicking up to try and gauge his master’s mood. He regrets it almost instantly, because Master looks so pretentious, so self-satisfied and arrogant and infuriating. 

Anger and indignation simmer dangerously beneath Ankhir’s skin. He bows his head and lowers his gaze before Master can catch sight of it.

He wishes he could tear that smug look right off of Master’s face. He’s sure he could do it if he tried. It wouldn’t even be hard. Fear, however, keeps him in place, treacherous and invasive and so very deeply ingrained. He’s learned the hard way that insubordination earns nothing but pain. Even if he managed to hurt Master, or even kill him, someone else would step forward to make him pay for it. 

Ankhir tells himself his tenuous obedience is merely a measure of self-preservation, that it isn’t because his master has him trained like a dog. He behaves to stay alive and avoid suffering.

That doesn’t make it any less humiliating.

Ankhir scowls as Master pets a hand through his hair. He stubbornly refuses to lean into it, even though it’s the most comfort he’s had in weeks. “Ankhir.” Master’s hand slips down to cup his cheek, thumb brushing so gently over his skin. “Tell me something.”

It takes all of Ankhir’s willpower not to sound snarky or sarcastic when he asks, “Yes, sir?”

The hand on his cheek moves again to grasp his chin, tilting his head up so that his eyes meet Master’s. “Are you angry, Ankhir? Do you hate me?”

Ankhir wants to spit a retort, wants to spite his master with pointed words. I wish I belonged to someone else. I wish you’d just die, he thinks, but he knows he can’t say it. He mustn’t speak out of turn. He doesn’t want another night in the Quiet Box. “Yes, sir,” Ankhir says stiffly, because he’s not allowed to lie. He tries to decipher what he sees in Master’s eyes, but the bastard remains unreadable.

He knows Master will read his own emotions like an open book. He wishes he had Master’s ability to hide what he’s thinking.

“Why?” Master asks.

“You’re…” The question is a simple one and Ankhir knows his answer, yet he feels stuck. If he tells the truth he is certain Master will be angry. If he lies, Master will be angry. If he fails to answer, Master will be angry. No matter what he does or says he’s going to be in trouble, he just knows it. Words hover on his tongue, but he’s too afraid to say them, and mad at himself for being afraid. 

“I’m...what? Tell me.” Master lets go of Ankhir’s face, but makes no move to put space between them. The maintained proximity makes him fidgety and uncomfortable. “Now, Ankhir.”

Ankhir takes a deep breath and speaks quickly, before he can lose the nerve. “You’re unfair, sir!” As he speaks, frustration builds and builds until it feels like a dam, liable to break. It feels like a lump in his throat, like gritted teeth and clenched fists. “You’re nothing like my old owner! You make me feel worthless and treat me like an afterthought and punish me for things I can’t control!”

Tears, pained and furious, threaten to drip down Ankhir’s scarred cheeks. His face feels hot and his eyes sting. His breath hitches, but he keeps going. “No matter what I do, I’m not good enough for you. I just want to be good enough! Why does Antali matter more than me?!” He’s crying, now -- sobbing, really -- but he doesn’t have the energy to care. “Everyone loves Antali. Antali gets to make their own choices. Antali’s allowed to make mistakes. Why aren’t I? I hate Antali. I hate you!”

The moment he says it, I hate Antali, Ankhir feels guilty. He doesn’t hate his friend. He hates himself for not being more like them. Maybe if he were like them, Master wouldn’t think he was a waste of time. He wishes he could be good so his master would love him and he could love his master in return.

Ankhir knows he should love Master anyway, but he doesn’t have it in him to love someone so biased and cruel. “I hate you,” he repeats, whimpering. He just wants his old master back.

-----

“Ankhir?” The familiar voice is unexpected, but comforting. Ankhir wishes he could hear it clearly, but the voice sounds muffled and thick. “I know you can’t answer, but...Master Deleon said you were in here, so...I hope you can hear me.” There’s shuffling outside the Quiet Box, and Ankhir imagines Antali sitting there beside it, beside him. Close. Safe. He scoots over to the side he thinks Antali is nearest to, leaning against it.

“Listen, I know you miss Atticus -- believe me, I do too -- but you have to understand that this is the way things are now. Master Deleon’s rules are different.” 

Ankhir scowls and straightens up indignantly before remembering that Antali can’t see him. He knows all that, dammit! Why do they think he’s so resentful in the first place? 

“I just want you to be safe, Ankhir. Our master, he’s really not so bad as long as you behave; he can be nice! He lets me play with his dog and sit at the table now. I want you to be able to join us! Can’t you try to behave? Please?” 

Easy for you to say, Ankhir thinks. I’m trying so hard to be good! I’m doing the best I can! No matter how he tries, no matter what he does, his best never seems to be good enough. Antali is Master’s favorite. Ankhir’s hardly more than an afterthought. Antali gets all the special treatment, and Ankhir gets put in the Quiet Box for truths he was forced to speak. 

The dichotomy makes Ankhir resentful. Jealous, even. It also makes him ashamed, because he knows it’s no one’s fault but his own. He doesn’t like the way Antali talks as though it would be so easy to gain their master’s favor, but...he also knows Antali’s only trying to help, so he can’t stay mad at them for long.

There’s a long pause. Ankhir hears Antali sigh. “I wish you were out here with me,” they say quietly, so quietly that Ankhir has to strain his ears to hear them. “I miss your voice.” Ankhir imagines the small thump he hears is the sound of Antali resting their head against his temporary prison. If he closes his eyes and leans his head against the Box’s wall, he can almost image that they’re touching, leaning on one another for comfort. He can almost imagine they’re back in their old room, in their old master’s house, living their old life happily and blissfully unaware of how cruel human masters can be. It’s nice, in a melancholic sort of way.

It’s almost enough to let him forget how Atticus gave them up to save his own skin.

#antali #ankhir #deleon #atticus #original characters #pet whump #whump #punishment #deleon plays favorites and atticus is a sellout #inhuman characters #antali's pronouns are they/them #resentment #jealousy #crying #the Quiet Box #Tormentum-Ab-Intra

[junix-has-moved-pls-see-bio]

o just look at how gorgeous this is 😍 😫✨✨

@tormentum-ab-intra ‘s ocs!!!

[junix-has-moved-pls-see-bio]

@mottinthepot 's ocs Trillion and Rayla! I had so much fun painting them ❤️❤️

#art trade #other people's ocs #mottinthepott #trillion #rayla #artistic nudity #i mean there are no nips but #just in case #gotta tag it #nudity #nsfw? #possibly #watercolor #art

[junix-has-moved-pls-see-bio]

Painted @friendlylocalwhumper ‘s oc Nadeem! I had a lot of fun with this one

#other people's ocs #friendlylocalwhumper #nadeem #watercolor #art #painting #had a lot of fun painting him!

[junix-has-moved-pls-see-bio]

apparently food inspections stopped bc of the shutdown so things bout to be real fucked up for some of us

[junix-has-moved-pls-see-bio]

Tag 5 folks you want to know better!

Hoo boy did it take me forever to get around to this or what

my bad haha

Tagged by @ to-hurt-and-comfort 

Gender: a boy? A queer? Heck if I know, man

Star sign: Scorpio

Height: 5"5.5

Sexuality: Bisexual

Favorite animal: Crocodiles

Dogs or cats: Hmm. I’m fond of both, actually!

Number of blankets: So many, okay, like So Many

Dream trip: Daegu, Korea, the birth town of my mother

Dream job: Animator!

Favorite song of the week: Kingdom Come by Jon Bellion

Things I find comforting: My cat -- her name is Mochi -- and drawing, and writing. Hugs are great, and sweet tea. Bibimbap.

Tagging (and I apologize if any of you folks that I tag have already done this thing before):

@clockworkgalaxies

@friendlylocalwhumper

@whumpxng

@whump-for-the-whumpscord

@crash-bump-bring-the-whump

[junix-has-moved-pls-see-bio]

Being a fan of a series for so long that the characters who used to be older than you are now younger than you.

[junix-has-moved-pls-see-bio]

Please write stories that are problematic. 

Stories need conflict.

Write them to show what’s healthy. Write them to show what’s unhealthy.

Write them because problematic behaviors exists, and writing is a medium to explore and show– to teach and make the reader think. Shying away from these topics only creates ignorance. 

I see so many people telling writers to avoid anything that could be problematic, like writing about it is supporting it. They fail to see the importance of writing with depth and meaning. 

Writing has always been about conveying thoughts and ideas without fear of censorship. Being able to present problematic situations in a healthy way is important. 

[junix-has-moved-pls-see-bio]

F U C K

Max

Tight. It was tight, and it hurt, and it was tight, and it hurt, and it was tight, and it hurt-

Tears welled up in his lilac eyes. Dust floated down from the rubble around him- the- the rubble that was holding his arm down, the arm that didn’t feel like an arm anymore but just a sack of dust and pain-

Deep Breaths…

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t see the sun, he couldn’t see the dirt that he felt under his feet. His feet, his feet, oh god what if it broke his one of his feet it’d take him AGES to heal that he didn’t want a broken foot please no-

Deep Breaths…

He was so scared. He wanted to be back home, in the fields, where there was no way to get away from the sun. God, what he wouldn’t give for even a ray of sunlight, instead of the creaking and the darkness and the screaming-

“M…Mama….” A ragged cough tore through his dusty throat, and he spit up what felt like not-spit. “Mama please…Ma…Mama…”

Everything hurt.

And he was alone.

And no one was going to get him.

Because who cared about a broken domovoi, anyway?

#max #other people's ocs #whump #poor baby #whumps by beast

[junix-has-moved-pls-see-bio]

Pls I beg,,,give him a shiny new plane,,,,,,let him be happy

Bad Things Happen Bingo #1: Vehicular Accident

(First one! Whoo! Here’s yet another new character who isn’t actually new: Lauren Felix Henningsen, Arctic bush pilot!)

It’s a bright, cold fall morning in Yellowknife when Lauren sets off on an ill-fated supply flight to the Mackenzie delta. The cold has come on quick this year; the temperature sensor on his watch reads 15 degrees below zero even with the moderating influence of the still-open Great Slave Lake. It started less than a week ago, making this that precarious time of year when it might as well be winter, but the ice isn’t strong enough for the trucks yet.

And that’s where he comes in. This time, he’s carrying essentials- several hundred pounds of canned food, fresh food, bottled water, bread and meat, all packaged neatly from wholesale suppliers. And three special deliveries as well, mysteries hidden in wrapped cardboard boxes. Small online stores can’t afford to deliver so far up north, but they can afford to pay Lauren handsomely to do it for them.

It’s not a get-rich-quick scheme, but for a lover of adventure, it doesn’t get much better.

And, despite the circumstances being a little more urgent than usual, this shouldn’t be any more than routine adventure. He’s expecting a few of those turbulent moments that might frighten a less experienced pilot, but certainly no real danger.

Keep reading

#itsawhumpthing #plane crash #whump #other people's ocs #lauren #fucc #my boy

[junix-has-moved-pls-see-bio]

Why would you put that thought in my head

Venom angst where Eddie is long gone but Venom still controls his body.

#emotional whump #venom #fuck #ow #I’m cri

[junix-has-moved-pls-see-bio]

Heyo, folks! I’d really appreciate it if you’d take the time to stop and consider this for my pal! It’s real important

Hello, internet friends, internet acquaintances, and anyone else who might be reading this! I’m Lee, and I’m a university student. I take the bus to school every day, and this costs me 26 dollars a day. Today, my card got declined at the ticket machine: I am officially out of money. My bank account is a big fat ZERO. I won’t be getting paid from my job until this weekend, which means that I have 4 days in which I have no way to get to school. On one of those days, tomorrow, I have a midterm exam. So I’m sending out a message in a bottle here! My ko-fi is here and even the smallest donation will help- right now, all I care about is getting to school tomorrow for that exam. As for the rest of the week, I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. $40 is my goal.

And, if you don’t want to donate, please consider letting me draw your character! $10 will get you an inked, coloured and shaded drawing with traditional media- you can see some examples of my style here. I draw humans, animals, weird fantasy races, you name it. If you’re interested, send me a message so we can work out the details!

#art commisions #help a brother out #signal boost #lend a hand #thanks lots! #we really appreciate it #commisions open #not whump #but like #pls

[junix-has-moved-pls-see-bio]

Accurate

when im playing out a daydream scenario in my head and i catch myself trying to rush to The Good Part™:

#not whump #but can be? #me af tho #that's for sure #every damn time

[junix-has-moved-pls-see-bio]

I suggest the #womp as an alternative to #lady whump, a portmanteau of woman and whump. It maintains the distinction for searching functions, acknowledges that it is under the whump umbrella, and is subtler that #lady whump. ~ blood-on-the-snow

THIS IS SUCH A GOOD IDEA.

Seriously. It’s clever, it makes sense, it maintains a connection to “whump” but stands on its own, and it’s SUBTLE in the same way “whump” is, which I think addresses what the real problem is with the term “lady whump” - its lack of subtlety for those using it.

I hope this gains traction, @blood-on-the-snow. This is truly GENIUS.

Guys, if you think this is a good idea, PLEASE help out and reblog it so it gets seen by our fellow whumpers and lady whumpers (wompers! :) love it!).

[junix-has-moved-pls-see-bio]

an adjustment period

i drew this in like 8 straight hours and now i guess it’s time to put my face in the earth or smth