#my little freakazoid <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[the-worms-world]

this crept into my head while i was listening to the anarchist's cookbook and i Had to make this Immediately

(they're besties, your honor)

@mongo-the-liensis i think you would enjoy this tbh

[rkisbddzir]

neeeeed your thoughts on riki's dick plsplspls

─── riris thinking space .ᐟ

i see some you little horny freakazoids want to know my opinion on what i think riki’s dick looks like and i have reference photos down below, (as in his dick showing through his pants).

im giving you guys free gooning material omg 😭.

anyway if i was guessing it would be like a 7 incher maybe 7.5 when hard. but like this one user commented on one of my posts and said he would blow a LOAD which is so true.

whether hes masturbating or he’s inside you or pulls out, i feel like he definitely spills a bunch of his kids out their home.

and i bet its as veiny as his hands are when he’s hard and leaking with precum. making me shiver just thinking about it.

there’s no doubt its big as fuck and i can prove that with the pictures above because like you will see his dick peeking out at least like once every two weeks when enhypen releases videos.

i also kinda have a feeling he’s the kind of guy to get a full on erection so easily. you could accidentally swipe your hand across his dick and now he’s leaking with precum

maybe he’s just like naturally really horny guy cause he did say he likes sexy girls, but i also don’t think he’s ever gotten laid.

the chances of him actually fucking someone and giving them an nda or something is like just slim because around the time he could’ve gotten laid he was touring the world and whatnot.

or maybe he had his first time with some girl at an after party and got fucking wasted. (might make a short story on that)

either way i can tell its definitely large and veiny. i wouldn’t say it has girth but it does have some interesting length to it.

ik he’d fuck so good though like even as a virgin i just know he’d genuinely know how to fuck a girl. like the way he like rocks or rolls his hips while he’s dancing i can tell he knows how to do it.

or he might not even know it. riki would be the kind of person to be worried and he’d be like asking if you can take it and if he’s fucking you okay.

riki would 100% kiss you to swallow your moans while he’s sliding in you for the first time. he acts like it isn’t super big but he knows his dick is big. he’d talk you through it during your first time i just know it guys!! he would ask you how you want it, keep going and ask you if you’re okay or if you want just the tip.

he’s the kinda guy to act all innocent for the next few times you two do it, but slowly he’s gonna show a dominant side and open up to you.

but im not here to talk about how he is during the first time.

im not sure if he’s barefaced here but it’s close enough. this is basically like a layout of what shade his dick is.

so we have 3 colours.

#DFAD8A #DAA77A #ECBC98

i would say like dfad8a is his base colour. and then daa77a when he’s hard and ecbc98 is the tip colour.

it might be vice versa with dfad8a and ecbc98.

but bro despite the allegations and the japanese men have small dicks i refuse to believe he doesn’t at least have a 7 incher. i don’t care.

[cryptidstealingyourcreditcard]

What things in HTTYD 3 do you feel like should have been different/fixed?

OH BOY DO I HAVE SOME OPINIONS ON THIS BRACE YOURSELVES

also thank you so much for asking me

let’s start off with the characterization. first, hiccup. where did that pathetic little freakazoid from httyd 1 go??? where did his sass go?? why is he just a cookie cutter stereotypical hero now?????? and i’ll talk about the fact that he just let toothless go later.

fishlegs- it’s been a while since i watched this movie, and if im being perfectly honest i don’t remember much about him in it. but im pretty sure he was kind of just there, yk? like he wasn’t as anxious or funny or nerdy or caring or sensible as he was before. he just seemed kind of bland to me.

snotlout. this fucker. this little bitchboy. he was done so fucking dirty in this movie. why was he so pathetic???? like yeah i get making him mess up occasionally cause haha funny comedic relief. but like. he’s not helpless???? like this is the kid who was literally trained to be the perfect picture of a viking his whole life. he’s the model viking. this is the kid who single handedly took down multiple full grown outcasts on their own island with nothing but a small metal rod and spite at the age of fifteen. he won every thawfest game for years! he’s a good fighter! he’s not useless. and his personality???? GOD. WHAT THE FUCK. why is he flirting with valka, someone who is much older than him and widely viewed (out of canon) to be his aunt??? why the fuck would he say “who died and made you chief?”????? he cried at stoicks funeral! yeah, maybe he would’ve been that much of a dick in the first movie, but there have been three shows, one movie, four(?) shorts, and multiple comics since then!! he’s has so much character growth that they just threw away because haha funny. also his beef with eret was completely unnecessary like even when he was beefing with dagur at least there was some previous thing that started it. his beef with eret just came out of nowhere??

and astrid. they just turned her into the stereotypical hero’s wife. where did her personality go???? and i get the symbolization of her hair progressively getting looser as she gets less uptight and chills out and matures but like… i miss her fuckass emo bangs. give them back. her whole character isn’t supposed to exist solely to support hiccup so why is that the only thing she does in the hidden world???? justice for my girl

now. the twins. oh boy do i have some opinions here.

they were done so fuckikg dirty i’m going to crash the fuck out like why. just why.

let’s start with tuffnut.

starting strong with the fact that he loses his own twin sister who shares a whole dragon with him. then there’s his whole beard thing, which like, isn’t entirely out of character but it sure as fuck wasn’t in character either. now let’s circle back to losing ruffnut. because WHAT THE FUCK TUFF. and then when he realizes she’s gone he just says he’s more worried about her captors?????? DUDE. BRO. MY MAN. WHAT HAPPENED TO THE TUFFNUT WHO FAKED HIS OWN DEATH JUST SO THAT HIS SISTER WOULDNT FEEL PRESSURED TO STAY FKR HIM. WHAT HAPLENED TO THE TUFFNUT WHO, WHILE STUCK IN A DRAGON TRAP IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE, HAD AN ENTIRE IMPROMPTU CONVERSATION WITH BARF ABOUT HOW RUFFNHT MAY FEEL TRAPPED AS A WOMAN IN A MANS WORLD. WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO THE TUFFNUT WHO LOST HIS GODDAMN MIND WHEN RUFFNUT GOT CAPTURED??? WHAT HAPLENED TO THE TUFFNUT WHO HAD WHOLE ASS HUNTERS RUNNING FROM HIM SCREAMING BECAUSE THEY CAPTURED HIS SISTER???? “that’s my sister out there, astrid. and if this goes wrong, and we don’t save her, i couldn’t live with myself” MY FUCKING ASS. just like snotlout, he was so uncharacteristically insensitive it was insane.

and RUFFNUT.

MY GIRL WHAT DID THEY DO TO YOU????

they literally just made her a dumb blonde. she’s not that fucking DITZY. barring httyd 2, she had never previously been boy-crazy. she’s not a flirt, she’s not thirsty, she doesn’t care about romance. and the fact that she said she “never looks back”???? WHAT???? what happened to my girl who faked a breakdown to steal a key from a guard??? what happened to the ruffnut who is constantly giving hiccup inspiration for new inventions????? the fuck do you mean you never look back???? and the fact that she thought she annoyed grimmel into letting her go?? come on ruff. you’re better than that.

and speaking of grimmel. what was that weak ass villain???? dude was just a normal guy. even johann was more intimidating than him. you will never be viggo grimborn. bitch.

and toothless. TOOTHLESS. toothless.

first of all, they flattened his nose. he’s so squished now. on top of that, they rounded his head more, gave him much more prominent brow bones, and pushed his eyes entirely too close together and made them SO square. he’s supposed to look sleek and scary, not boxy and nonthreatening.

and why is he acting like a horny dog??? he’s literally never done that before. the slobbering, and dancing with his own shadow, and ditching hiccup without a second thought was so not like him, and not in a “he’s in love” way. it was in a “the writers don’t know the character” way.

and the fact that he left hiccup once he got his tail????? there was an entire short (gift of the night fury) dedicated to hiccup giving toothless an automatic tail and toothless saying he didn’t want it, he wanted hiccup. be so fucking for real rn dreamworks.

the whole ending was just stupid asf low key

[mediumgayitalian]

do you have favorite appearance headcanons for will and nico? always super fun to see how other people imagine them

i do a lot of imagining everything @cometjuice and @skysmadness draw. however im going to start typing and see what my subconscious says:

WILL SOLACE

he's tall. altho he grew up short as shit so he's humble. except when bothering cecil but that is unrelated. short jokes made at cecil don't count.

forearms and neck are Covered in burn scars as a result of his harnessing the power of the sun to heal. they are unfixable and obvious (consequences of divine power in a mortal body). they expand and thicken every time he heals. he wraps them with bandages as often as he can. he is ashamed of them.

(none of his other siblings were so weak as to be burned by the gifts their father gave them.)

blue eyes that are the exact color of the sky at all times.

big hands.

freckles on freckles.

doesn't resemble his mother much which bothers him. but he has her hair exactly -- NOT apollo's. it is curly as fuck and frizzy and a little bit sentient?? once he was forced into a haircut bc he wouldnt brush his hair (hates it) and no matter how much silena cut off it just didn't get shorter. he has not been forced into a haircut since lol.

likes to wear his hair in pigtail braids when possible. it's very cute. he uses those little charm elastics to tie them back. his favorites are skull charm elastics nico bought him as a joke.

he is his mother's mirror tho. copies her mannerisms EXACTLY and has no fucking clue. (everyone else is well aware)

he is red green colorblind and it does indeed impact his ability to dress. (well theoretically. seeing color might not help with that battle LOL)

long long LONG and strong legs.

front teeth are just a littttttttttle bit endearingly big.

can't wink. (THINKS he can wink. cannot.)

athletic and hot.

it is news to him that he's hot. because his experience has been 1) cecil (dumb & ridiculous) 2) drew (disaster & for the ritual) and 3) nico (burning the torch since age 10 & no one agrees with him)

strong arms. perfect hug pressure

air hands but massive.

always smells like sunshine, even if it's been raining for a week. he's one of those people who always smells like they've just been outside. he also smells like lavender, which is intentional, because he uses lavender soap knowing it can have calming qualities. he smells like peppermint, sometimes, but if he smells strongly of peppermint it means he's in the throes of a nasty nasty migraine and hurting.

(his totally plain skin smells like strawberries on the wrong side of overripe. he is aware of this. he despises this. he spends a lot of time making sure he smells like anything else instead, including antiseptic.)

(nico likes the smell.)

NICO DI ANGELO

short. unfortunately. and NOT humble

fine hair but a lot of it. kind of a wave to it also.

hairy generally kind of u should See his eyebrows.

greek nose.

three distinct scars across his face and also in many other places. he doodles on them. badly. like little stick figures use the scars as spears or swords or whatever lol

committed to the punk loser aesthetic. never brushes his hair band shirts exclusively disgusting combat boots aviator jacket swaggers everywhere etc etc

fire hands

very strong but not a lot of muscle definition. will kind of limp into the ampitheater to get the ares kids snickering then BAM hell's fury. he kicks their ass. and the pathetic wet dog look works for him every time. it doesn't matter how many times he destroys his enemies. he walks into a fight looking like he was just drowned in a bucket of milk and he is underestimated. and then he does insane unprecedented things. it's great.

(it scares normal people. luckily for him his freakazoid boyfriend thinks it's hot. lol)

calluses on calluses on calluses. from cooking from his sword for his general vibes. rough ass hands fighter hands.

just The brownest eyes you'll ever see. dark dark dark dark. almost black. STUNNING in sunlight. they go golden brown when will looks at him, too.

wears his hair in a stubby ponytail whenever possible. (for 'fighting'. and not at all bc will gets swoony or anything. obviously. nico would never do that to his boyfriend of course not)

slightly crooked inscisors.

weird weird accent when you listen closely. because there's a little tinge of stretched vowels from his childhood but he almost has like. a transatlantic drawl?? from the casino?? and of course he spent so long on the streets and in the underworld that his vocabulary is unhinged and insane.

got bullied by hazel into actually taking care of his hair. it's really nice now. shiny and everything. he tries to now bully will but that is useless will is a 3-in-1 shampoo truther until he dies ("It's efficient! Hair is mostly dead cells! I am not wasting money on dead cells!" "William I am going to shear the fuckin dead cells off your scalp how about that.")

since he is a menace he frequently smells like sword polishing grease and dirt from the amount of time he spends Dragging percy and jason and any other person who challenges him across the amphitheater floor. but when he cleans up he smells like woodsmoke, a little bit, and leather from his jacket.

(his plain skin smells like dirt. grave dirt, if he's feeling sullen, but will insists it's more like the soil right when you're weeding your garden. like the soil right before plants grow, when it is most full of life and water and waiting. nico shoves him and calls him a sap. but it's nice to hear.)

[waylamia]

All Bark

hey so this one is a doozy. and a significant departure from my previous work so just be mindful. of that.

recommended listening: Bite The Hand by boygenius, Crybaby by Nanna

You have to be equal. You need control. You don't know how to have both. You pull out your phone, open your messages. You hear his chime through the door, pulled from his pocket when he saw you typing. Pips 🧡: ur sleeping outside. He glances up at you, then back at his phone, expressionless. Yours vibrates in your hands. Cay ✈️: D: Cay ✈️: y?

-> You begged Grandma for a dog, growing up. You've always had one.

reader experience notes: reader is mc, reader is gender neutral and not physically described in this fic

MDNI - minors do not interact with this work

content: emetophobia. nonsexual petplay with sexual implications. a teeny tiny bit of NSFW content. I don't know what else to say about that. post homecoming wings, post lucid dream myth and painful signal, pre relationship. spoilers for most of his cards probably but its all pretty vague (lucid dreams myth, painful signal, and hidden waves off of the top of my head) completely unnegotiated kink that isn't like. engaged with AS a kink... YET. uh. strange and peculiar d/s coded dynamics?? theologyless catholic style guilt. heavy usage of pip-squeak. pip-squeak nation RISE. MC and Caleb are just both freakazoid weirdos there's no getting around it. some. nonsexual feet stuff. at the very end. not a lot. my bad. mc/reader is trying to process big, conflicting feelings and is having a not great time about it. Caleb and MC were raised as siblings and we are in the nuance mud about it. get messy or get gone my friend. mc/reader needs an attitude adjustment and TRUST 🙏 they are not going to get it JGDJSGJKDFJSJFJFS. very cool and fun finally writing grown up Calebmc. I heart them. they have issues. in the wise words of Saucy Santana... walk em like a dog <3 LMAOOOO

approx. 11k words

also on AO3 (available to registered users only)

The thing about Caleb is he's annoying. This fact is made worse by another: no one, in the lifetime you've spent together, has ever sided with or believed you on this. Not even Gideon, who has suffered the only experience remotely similar to yours-shared space, the closeness that comes from it-could be coaxed into saying a word against him. God knows you'd tried, back in their DAA days.

Catching his eye while yours twitched, in the brief moments when Caleb would leave the room. 'Did you-' and Gideon's gaze would drift to the window without a word. Rude, but in these moments you'd always be too irked to care. 'He just- He is so-' and every time you'd be met with pursed lips and silence, a clear indication that one way or the other, he had no desire to be involved. So you'd huff and cross your arms over your chest. Wouldn't stomp your foot like you'd really have liked to, lest you be accused of throwing a tantrum at the fine age of 18 and 1/2. The fraction included for accuracy and not any arbitrary attempt to make yourself seem more grown up.

Now, if you're being honest with yourself, you can admit the obvious lie in that. In your mid-to-late teens and early adulthood everything had been about proving yourself. Caleb has always been bigger than you, and back then, for a long time, you worried you'd never graduate from his shadow. Worried no one would be able to see you in it. Worried that, if you weren't careful, if you weren't loud, he'd forget to look for you in the dark too.

He never did, of course, always smiling a little too knowingly when you'd remind him or yourself how old you are, how strong you are. At the time, you'd thought he was mocking you when he'd only respond with a laugh, messing up your hair and carrying on. Only when you look back on it now, can you see it for what it was. Cherishing, endearment, warmth. Maybe that's part of it. The annoyance, you mean. The gap in your understanding. He's always known more than you. More than you about you. And though you know him better than anyone-always have-you've never been able to boast the same ability to know exactly what he's thinking, like hes always seemed able to with you. You suppose it actually makes perfect sense that that gap in comprehension has only grown, since you helped bury the idea of him. Your perfect brother, in an empty grave in the ground. Your perfect brother, and you left behind.

'Always left behind.' You brood to yourself. And maybe that's not fair. But Caleb has never asked or expected 'fair' from you. Instead, you've spent a lifetime encouraged to take and take and take from him. You don't know that you could do anything else, after all these years of programming, think that a part of you is always going to be his spoiled little sister, forever. The thought sits in you like rot. Stuck in his shadow, still small. Afraid that that's how he will always see you, too.

Maybe being brought up together actually made all the difference in the world. Maybe that was another thing you had to be honest about.

About the fact that he came back, from the dead-not-dead, after you'd mourned and surrendered yourself to a life without him, and told you he was never your brother. About how it had hurt. Wounded you, left you reeling like the blast. Sent immediately back, standing in the wake of it not knowing what to make of yourself, what you felt, what was real.

Really annoying.

Caleb is just a really annoying person. You don't know how else to explain it.

And honestly? You would never allow anyone else to agree with you. 'Annoyed with Caleb' a secret emotion only applicable and accessible to you. You think upon hearing it said-after that brief, beautiful moment of feeling finally vindicated-your mouth or fists would start flying. Because how dare some hypothetical whoever think that they know him, could speak ill of him? What could anyone say to you about the man you have trusted intrinsically since before you could even spell the word 'codependency'? Not a thing.

And then, of course, who would be the one to pull you from the word or hand or both fight?

Ugh.

Then, it's the principle. That maddening, planted seed that never sprouts but stays ever stuck in you, dug into you. Caleb is incredibly fucking annoying. And, if you are being honest with yourself-it's something you've both been working on, since he came back-dying made him way way worse.

There is a tenseness between you, something that was simply not allowed to exist before he disappeared. The security you felt in each other, the closeness that never left room for anything else to take root. When he'd been dug up, taken half of your root and soil with him, room was all that was left. Now every day it is harder for you to make a distinction one way or the other. What you were and what you are and what you may be, may be in want of, all coagulating into something phlegmy and stomach-turning. It is a change you don't know how to swallow. It chokes you, like the look on his face, the sound of his voice, back in the interrogation room. Sometimes, it feels like you're still there, taking turns strapping each other down for questioning. You still feel the weight of that collar on your throat. It feels how his necklace felt, in the year you were left with it, and so you know he feels it too. There is an ache and comfort in that thought that grounds you. It's always the same, you cling to what makes you equal.

And so, there is another thing you must admit to yourself.

The thing about you is you're annoying.

It is a fact that has never been stated to you directly, and yet you have always known. Needy and bratty and emotional and demanding and kept all to yourself for all but one pair of eyes to see. One pair of ears to be chewed off. Everything that's about him is about you too. And you're both working on being honest, but only to each other. And you've always favored actions over words. Or maybe, you just find it's easier to be honest when you don't have the chance to open your mouth and fuck it all up. You think maybe you aren't any good at this. You wonder if he thinks the same thing too. And that's the problem isn't it? You wonder. You don't know.

You don't know that you ever did.

The point. Is. You're in Skyhaven. You'd gone to the Fleet HQ first, tracked down Liam-knowing that The Colonel was in a meeting-and had him escort you to Caleb's home. Now, you're standing outside of his front door. All that expended effort, for an unplanned visit, because you're mad at him. And when you're mad at him you want to be close to him. You don't know who to attribute that quirk to. Him, for refusing to give you any goddamn space all of your growing years. Or yourself, for getting into the habit of screaming into his shirts pulled over your pillow in the one he was gone. Whatever did or didn't do it, its done now, and the pattern has been established. One of many, for the two of you.

And so, even without Liam immediately reporting back, you know you won't have much time between pressing your finger to the lock on his door and him calling out to you while he peels off his boots, irritatingly unbothered by your uncommunicated arrival.

But that's fine. You'd had time to think on the ride over, as long as you work quickly you'll get done what you need to do.

A press of your finger, a soft chime and a click, and you push your way into the quiet of his home. Almost immediately distracted from your mission by the hairs on the back of your neck raising, the thought that you need to open a window. Even with the adjustments you've both made since he first brought you here, the atmosphere is stifling. The air is stagnant and oppressive, the walls are cold, the space occupied by an emptiness no amount of furniture or plant life or plushies could overcome. That's the problem. His arm that can't feel you and his home you fear you'll never fit into. There are parts of your lives that aren't shared. More now than ever, more every day. You shake your head, efforting to evict the thought and focus.

You force yourself into action, marching like a good soldier straight to his bedroom. Ignoring, along the way, the pristine kitchen and its empty sink, the layer of dust on the shelves, the closed curtains, the way even your breath seems to echo. You are completely certain that without the falling of your feet, you'd hear your heartbeat bouncing off of the walls. You don't know how he can stand it. The silence. You'd leave your beating heart here to fill it if you could. You'd feel better, you think, knowing he had it.

Maybe you could trade. Matching pulled open ribs for matching beating heart homes. The finger you'd pressed to his door lock tingles. You know that everything that's his is yours. You know that everything that's yours is his. So when you feel yourself suffocating in this empty fucking house...

Empty house like his empty grave. It's funny, you had wanted to follow him there too.

His bedroom is the closest this place comes to not feeling like a morgue to you. You hadn't put together, until you came back to Linkon, after that first eventful visit, why that is.

It was set up just like your old room, back at Grandma's. Bigger, differently-lifelessly-styled before your interference, but with all the furnishings in the same locations, facing the same ways. You wonder if that was intentional. You wonder who it was all for. If what he said to you was true, and he really had planned never to reenter your life, then-

He's annoying. You're angry. You have to be close to him because the distance has been killing you. It's an excuse you can use to explain your being here, but not what you're about to do.

You run your hand over each of the pillows on the bed, searching for traces of warmth, looking for fallen strands of hair. You are unsurprised when all evidence points you to the one on the far left, closest to the door. You've seen the way he sleeps, like even unconscious he was ready to fight, poised for it, tense. You snarl as you pluck his pillow up, along with the comforter, and stomp out of the room.

There isn't a yard at his house but there is a balcony, and it'll have to do. Your brow furrows as you slide the glass door aside, stepping out and unceremoniously dropping the pillow and bed cover onto the ground. You stand over them, attempt to make some sense of your actions to yourself.

Stepping outside hadn't helped you ease the dread and discomfort that came with being alone in his house. The sun is starting to set. It's still warm, and the breeze is soft, just like it was at his funeral.

And the bone deep cold you feel in you now is the same as you felt then.

You think maybe the problem isn't the house, maybe it's always just been you. You, all needy and bratty emotional and demanding. The thought festers as you stare at the bedding at your feet, and finally you have your answer.

More than closeness, what you need is control.

Your stomach drops. You don't get time to process it.

There's a chime and a click, and the front door opens. He never gives you enough time. He always gives you too much.

Can two things be true at once?

"You here, Pips?" He's unzipping his boots. You don't feel the need to respond, he'll find his way to you. You're expecting him to.

Big feet pad through the house, purposeful, with a distinct lack of wandering. Like he knew exactly where he'd find you. Though you think he should have no reason to expect you out here. He's still in uniform-obviously, since he'd come straight from work to you-and he looks tired. You are surprised, ashamed of yourself, to find that doesn't deter you.

He's just looking at you, like always, and you know he's waiting for you to say something, to over-explain yourself like you tend to when you're nervous or caught off guard or just caught. All you can bring yourself to do is stare back, face blank. The sliding door is open, with you on opposite sides of it. You're gaze darts to the threshold and back up and you almost want to look away again. Coming up against the resistance you usually do when he wears his old face with his new uniform, head at a slight tilt, eyes wide and relaxed. Like he's smiling even though his expression is neutral.

"Yooou okay?" He looks you over, gaze falling to your feet, to the bedding beside them. You tense up, immediately drawing the conclusion that what you were about to do was crazy, and you absolutely needed to rein it in and back down. You sniff, shaking your head like a dog trying to shake off water, your face heating as you open your mouth to do the usual song and dance of rambling and excusing. The sooner you start it, the sooner it will be over. If you tell him to forget it happened, he will. Or, he'll pretend he will, for you. It's been enough before. Maybe pretending is enough.

You're interrupted before you can start.

"...if you're doing laundry, generally speaking you want to take the pillow out of the case first-" He steps beyond the threshold, outside, kneels before you to reach for the pillow. "-and nothing is gonna get dry all bunched up on the ground." He thumbs at the comforter with his glove, looking at you with raised brows and that too-aware-too-familiar smile that makes you feel like he can see inside you. To the meat and marrow, all raw and ugly. You're brain catches up to his words and an indignant laugh is choked out of you. Obviously you know how to do fucking laundry. Obviously the blanket is completely dry. Obviously he knows all of this. Why is he always so-

Oh.

He's giving you an out. A chance to undo what you've done, whatever you've done. To pretend, if pretending is enough for you.

He sees you. It's comforting, familiar. He tilts his head curiously, angled away from you, exposing his throat.

'I've always held myself back and endured day, after day, after day. It was suffocating.'

Annoying.

You see red. Meat and marrow. No. You won't play pretend anymore. You need to know who he is. You need to know who you are.

You've been working on being honest.

You step around and over him, back into the house. He watches you as you go, smile dropping with your continued silence. As he moves to stand, you slide shut and lock the door. He blinks at you from the other side of the glass. Mouth parting in confusion.

"Okayyy. Are we.. gonna talk about it?" It. He says, muffled by the glass. Implication being: he doesn't know whats going on. Good. You almost smile. A sick thrill running through you, followed quickly by the sorrow, the guilt. That he doesn't know what you're thinking, that you've made it so.

You realize you haven't spoken to him since his return. You open your mouth, only to close it again. You don't have the words. You don't know how to say them. The collar tightens. You want him to choke too.

"Pip-squeak." His garbled voice is firm, but not stern. Anchor to your brewing storm. You realize you've been looking just past him, and let him pull you back. When your eyes drift to his its still his face, not the Colonel's, that you're looking at. The funhouse mirror that is your Caleb in the Colonel's uniform. This is good. This is the right way for this to happen.

You have to be equal. You need control. You don't know how to have both.

You pull out your phone, open your messages. You hear his chime through the door, pulled from his pocket when he saw you typing.

Pips 🧡: ur sleeping outside.

He glances up at you, then back at his phone, expressionless.

Yours vibrates in your hands.

Cay ✈️: D:

Cay ✈️: y?

And. Well.

...It is at this point that you realize you cannot remember what made you so angry at him in the first place. There had been a specific something, but in the time it took you to get from your place to his you'd gotten a bit distracted by everything else about the both of you. Together and separate. Meat and marrow. You know too much about each other, you don't know enough anymore, you can't think about him too long without all that you've ever swallowed trying to come up. Bring the bile with it. All of the ugliness in you.

It's his. He's the only one who gets to see it, to hold it.

You'd gotten sick on the ride home from the orphanage. It was your first time in a car, and you'd been watching the world speed by through the backseat window. Caleb was holding your hand, watching you. That had ended up being a good thing, when the wave of nausea came. As it often went when you were little, he noticed before you did. He'd shouted something at Grandma, and she'd responded in the calm, even manner she always did. None of their exchange made it to you, discomfort in your body quick to turn to gagging, heaving, vain attempts to swallow it down. Caleb was quick to turn your body to face him, away from the window, and cup his hands.

Grandma did pull over, just not fast enough. By the time she made it around the side and opened the door it was already over. Her eyes scanning from your exhausted, shaky body, to the spared interior of her car, to the bile pooled in Caleb's hands. She'd sighed, rubbed steady, gentle circles into your back as she reached for a bottle of water that had been left rolling around at your feet.

She made her way around to the opposite door, poured water over Caleb's outstretched hands until they were clean, and told him not touch anything until he could wash them properly at home. He'd nodded and kept his word.

Even though you spent the rest of that trip with your head in his lap, eyes closed to keep you from getting sick again, he didn't touch you even once.

You'd thought it was silly. What did it matter? All he had on him was you.

...You don't know how to say any of that to him. You stare, untyping, at your phone. Will yourself to respond. Honestly.

Cay ✈️: ...because I canceled our plans yesterday?

He beats you to it. Rather, he beats you to saying anything, because you're sure that wasn't the thing that set you off. He'd already apologized for it and you'd ended up having to work late anyways.

...But it would have to do.

Pips 🧡: ding ding ding!

The embarrassment has set in, total awareness that you are being ridiculous. But the noxious cocktail of shame and frustration and anger-always, these days, the anger-are at the wheel. You've done it and it's been done. You can't take it back. You won't.

You are so. Goddamn. Annoying.

You turn to walk away before you can second or fifth guess yourself when your phone vibrates again.

Cay ✈️: if i'm out here who's gonna make dinner?

---

It is decided that you will make dinner. Mostly because you know if he gets you to unlock that door and let him back in you won't have it in you to shut him out again, which is not an option when you've already committed to... whatever this is. You're fine enough at cooking, you've had plenty of practice since Caleb first left for the Aerospace Academy, though you don't think you'll ever be able to match his skill. You're clumsy with a knife, more prone to over-seasoning. Everything is a reflection. You, ever careless and dramatic.

You're still trying to figure out what you were mad about as you stare into the empty fridge.

Empty, again,like his stupid grave. Which you cannot stop fucking thinking about today. Standing here in his house, kicking him out, trying not to lose him. What are you even doing? What do you hope to achieve here? Do you want him mad at you like you're mad at him? Whatever you're mad at him for? Has it always been like this? You lashing out for something you're making up as you go? And him, always just-

"Stop." It comes out with your voice, from your mouth, but it's not your thought. Caleb used to be the only one who could cut off your endless rumination, coax you into sitting still and staying your hands and 'copy my breathing Pip. In-one, two, three, four-good. now slower.' It had been one of the harder things to teach yourself, when he left you. Harder than the braised chicken recipe, which you still can't get right. "Stop." You're talking to yourself, but your gaze turns to the sliding door anyway. Where Caleb is standing at an informal sort of attention. Arms folded and head cocked, observing, smile rising to his face when you catch his eye. You turn back to the fridge.

It isn't a difficult puzzle for you to solve. He doesn't cook much when your not around, you've talked about this. But even still the state of the thing is dire. Three protein shakes, two eggs, and an apple. What does he even eat? You know he's meticulous about his diet, so there's no way he's just eating out. You pull open the freezer, not even a frozen chicken breast. Is he just inbetween grocery trips? With his salary there's no excuse to let it get this bad. You're pulling open and checking cupboards when your phone vibrates on the counter.

Cay ✈️: I've moved some stuff around since you were here last. If you let me back in I can show you?

Cay ✈️: ...and then you can scold me for doing a bad job taking care of myself >x<

...As enticing as the idea of reprimanding him is, you aren't a fool, and you aren't falling for it. All he's done is confirm to you that he knows you know you won't be able to push him away again if you let him through that door. Just like you know he knows you know he could come in whenever he wanted, lock be damned. They've hardly stopped him before. You can't suppress the smile that thought brings to your face. Truly, it should worry you more how giddy it makes you. You're older, the game is different, but one thing remains ever unchanged: Caleb will always play with you. Always. Even when you shut him out.

Food. Dinner. The fridge.

Grandma didn't raise a quitter, but she did raise someone with solid deductive reasoning. The situation is hopeless, and you are fucked. By the time you find the half empty box of cereal-the processed-to-hell sweet crap that was only here because of you in the first place-tucked high, hiiigh up in one of the cupboards, you are already resigned to your fate.

Caleb is distinctly unpleased when you approach the glass door with two bowls of stale cereal. No milk. Milk is for Caleb's that don't die-not-die and for You's that don't go on weird ends-to-the-means-unclear power trips. Also there wasn't any. You stand opposite each other, separated by the door, you with your cereal bowls in hand, actively trying not to laugh at Caleb. Whose still crossed arms are now accompanied by a single rhythmically tapping finger and an impressively unimpressed scowl.

"'s not dinner, Pip." He's speaking low enough that you almost can't make it out through the barrier. You sigh, aggrieved, like someone who didn't start this.

"I'm not the one with the empty fridge." You make an attempt to balance both bowls in one arm with little success before deciding against it, sighing once more, at your unending trials. You move to lower one of the bowls, yours, to the floor, to free a hand. "'m gonna open the door but you better stay-" Caleb undoes the lock, slides the door open with his evol, stands back, still, and stays.

Not without sort of glowering, mind you.

"That's not dinner." His voice is clear, with the door open, so you know he's just choosing to annunciate like you can't hear him. You have to fight not to roll your eyes.

"If you wanted food you should have had food in your house." You set the bowl down just beyond the threshold, ceramic making an aggressive clink that you feel appropriately conveys your annoyance to him. "Bon appetit." You gesture at the dish, sitting down on your side of the door, already spooning the sugary, grainy, nutritionless pellets into your mouth. Caleb huffs, moving to sit as well, to be level with you. You mistake the movement for an advance into the house.

"Uh uh. Stay." His arm freezes midair, where he was reaching for the joke of a meal you prepared. A single finger twitches, a shaky breath is exhaled.

"'m not goin anywhere Pips..." It's difficult to tell, with the sunset glare at his back, but you'd swear his pupils are dilated.

"Okay." You release him, he doesn't move. "Caleb, eat." You reach a hand beyond the threshold, push the bowl towards him. Finally, he stirs. The way his fingers brush over yours as he grabs the dish is familiar, so much so, that the complete innecessity of the action doesn't even occur to you. Instead, your focus falls on his continued avoidance of the sugared cardboard crap, even with the bowl now in his hands, even with your command. He stares at the bowl in a daze. "Dude. You will survive one cheat meal, I promise you."

"I don't care about me." He shakes his head, raises the offending dish, glaring at the cereal like it was was responsible for all the evil in the world. "You need to eat something with substance." He raises a spoonful only to pour it back into the bowl in distaste. You bite down on your own spoon, teeth clinking against the metal gratingly. That is the problem. That is always the fucking problem.

You could actually strangle him.

"Caleb." You say, stern.

"Yup." He pops the 'P', like an asshole. Annoying.

"Shut up. And eat your food." You reach up to pull the door back shut, flipping the lock.

He sighs, but doesn't say a word more. Just picks up his spoon and eats, like a good boy.

---

Beyond dinner arrangements, Caleb doesn't complain. When you've both finished your bowls he pushes his right to the door, to the place where it opens. Sits, leaned back and relaxed, when you unlock it to take the bowl. He doesn't scold you, or shout at you, or call you ridiculous even though he probably should. He doesn't even try to bargain again. Just looks up at you smiling as the lock slides back into place.

You think that's the end of it, that the night will pass like this and you will both wake up tomorrow, pretending it never happened. You think that, until you're washing the dishes and hear a knock at the door. The main door, not the glass one Caleb is standing, watching you from behind. You checked, to be sure he wasn't messing with you.

Your brows furrow, because you're on a fucking private floating sky island with some sort of forcefield disguise mechanism wrapped around it, who the hell could possibly-

Your phone vibrates.

Cay ✈️: its okay.

Cay ✈️: you can open it :-)

You scoff, head darting to look at him incredulously. Locked out of his own damn house and still acting like he's in charge here. Annoying annoying annoying. You march over to the front door, throwing it open like you own the place. Because you can, not because he told you to.

It's Liam. With takeout.

"When did he even-?" You head whips to the balcony door before turning back to your unexpected guest, stunned. You move yourself to block his line of sight to the glass door as you try to recall Caleb pulling out his phone even once. You come up empty.

"Have a good night, miss." Liam says flatly, extending the bag of food to you. Paper, which you interpret to mean posh. All of the little places you frequent still use plastic. And it would certainly track for Caleb to pick something needlessly high-end. Like his stupid, expensive car and his stupid, dreary house. You take a deep breath, recognize that you are being kind of a dick.

To Liam, of course. Not Caleb, who you don't even have a last nerve for, right now.

You relieve him of the bag.

"I- thank you! I'm sorry you had to come all the way out to-" You speak up, frantic and embarrassed.

"It's no trouble. Goodnight." Mission completed, he turns to leave without ceremony. You stand still in the doorway. Your attempt to process the interaction interrupted by muffled laughter.

"Motherfucker."

Your phone vibrates.

Cay ✈️: shut up and eat your food xP

---

Back in the kitchen, your assumption is proven right. Needlessly fancy food from a restaurant you aren't even going to attempt to sound out the name of. With the logo embossed, not stamped, onto the side of the paper bag. A single serving, you note, with great irritation. You're convinced now, he is actively efforting to dig himself a second grave. You grumble obscenities to yourself as you pluck the same two bowls off of the drying rack. Distributing the to-go box's contents equally between them. You, pointedly, do not look towards the balcony, as you know exactly what you will see if you do.

How can he possibly be so smug, locked out on the balcony at his own home?

You know, have known, have been saying it all night, have been saying it for years.

Caleb. Is. Annoying.

And, as you make your way over to the door, bowls in hand, a perfect replication of only an hour before, you know you can't let him get away with it.

He's grinning as you approach the door. You reflect his earlier glower back at him, and then the idea strikes you. You look into his eyes, focused and intense, and will him to guess your next move. You drop the bowls in your hands, and they fall no more than an inch through the air before being stabilized. Floating gently beside you, as you unlock the door. Something stirs in you and you swallow it down, along with the satisfied smile you don't want him to see.

"'Sposed to be for you Pip." He hovers the bowls towards your face, as if to clarify the point of discussion. Again, he is so-

"Well if you'd gotten two I wouldn't have to share." You huff out, with a roll of your eyes. Annoying.

"Didn't know if I'd earned it." Something in you stirs, at the acknowledgment of your roles in this, heat in your stomach immediately beaten down by shame, and the part of you that wants him to fight back. But he won't. You don't know if there is anything you could do to him that he'd protest to. It frustrates you. It scares you.

"You wanna come back in the house? Then you'll eat it." And you're at the door again. Not the one between you, to the balcony, but the one in your heart. You have your fingers on the lock, you've been trying to be honest. "And you couldn't have had it delivered before I went through the effort of washing the dishes?" You fail.

"Fair is fair." He shrugs his shoulders, you don't need him to elaborate. He's spent years cleaning up your messes only for you to make them again. You're only just beginning to take your turn.

You eat your second dinner in silence. This time, you don't shut and lock the door between you. You take turns pretending not to watch each other. Cornered animals waiting for the other to bite or fawn, in your view. You don't know how Caleb sees it. Sees you. You worry that he thinks of you as something other. Something lesser or more, and either way, different from him. Not his sister, not a woman, not-

"You're anxious." Any other voice, cutting through the quiet like that, would make you jump. Not his. Not with the way he says it, all low and certain.

"When did I say that?"

"You don't have to say something for me to know." That thing stirs in you again. A rumble of satisfaction at being known. And then a prey animal, seen. Ready to run. You tense, looking away from him, eyes landing on his pillow. Remember your role.

You scoff, voice mocking, a challenge. "Okay. Then why are you outside?"

He pauses, hand raising to his chin in thought. "...don't know. Haven't decided yet." Not he doesn't know, and not he hasn't decided yet. Which leaves... which means-

"I'm not doing the dishes again." You don't have an answer for him.

"I'll do em." He grabs his bowl and chopsticks, leans in, arm over the threshold, to take yours too.

"No, sit down. Stay." Your hand raises in a stopping motion between you, just nearly touching his chest.

"You said if I ate I could come inside." He grumbles, whines, leans into you, closes the distance between his body and your hand. You can feel his heart, the beat of it thunderous. You pull away as though burned.

"I said you'd eat if you wanted to come inside. That's not the same as an invitation."

A disbelieving laugh escapes him as he pulls back. "Yeah?" His grin is wide and manic. "You're being particularly cruel tonight, did I really upset you that much?"

"Yup." You nod, slowly. Pop the P, like an asshole. And suddenly you know that he knows this isn't about whatever made you mad, not anymore.

"Okay, okay. Colonel Pip-squeak, I'm staying." And an old thing is made new again, he speaks to you like he knows something you don't. Caleb is older than you, a distance of only a few years that he has never let you forget. It had mattered more to you, when you were small. One of the first ways you learned to be annoyed with him. You remember struggling after him, to climb as high on the orphanage garden tree and every tree you could find after, with him teasing all the while. He was older, his hands were bigger, that was just how it was. An insurmountable distance, established between you from day one. It was easy, in your agitation, to forget that he'd always pulled you up to meet him, in the end. There's a symbol in that, you think.

"Where'd you go Pip?" Your drawn back to the present moment.

"The playground." You don't have to say which, though you've been to many, over the years. He just knows. The way that he always knows, when it comes to you.

"You should get some sleep." 'We can talk in the morning, we can talk when you're ready.' Goes unspoken. He removes his hat, sets it at his side. Yawning, but still sitting tall. Still, somehow, accepting of this. Of you. "Be sure to lock the door."

In lieu of a goodnight, you do as told. Sliding the door shut, letting the lock click solidly into place, while he watches your hand, dazed in a way you refuse to attribute to anything but exhaustion from his work day.

You turn away from him without a word, making your way through his house to get yourself ready for bed.

---

You're in his bathroom, glaring at his toothbrush laid flat on the counter. Yours, which had been stood up nicely, in the cup by the sink, is now being used to scrub much too aggressively at your mouth. Brush and bristles catching on your cheeks and teeth like you find yourself caught on his brush's needless separation. If you didn't know better, you'd think he wanted to be apart from you. Your heart stutters. Because maybe he did. Maybe that was the thing you were missing, in your desperation to be close and close and closer still. He wasn't going to find you, that's what he'd said, if you hadn't stormed the Fleet yourself you'd never-

Your phone buzzes on the bathroom counter.

Cay ✈️: Goodnight Pips, sleep well.

Cay ✈️: [Sunny Apple: G'nite]

You exhale. No. No. He'd wanted to protect you, you know that. You spit into the sink, rinse your toothbrush clean and place it back in the cup. You wipe the toothpaste at the corners of your mouth onto the shirt you'd pulled over your head to sleep in. One of his, now stained by you, like many others before. You creep out into the hall, peak around a corner toward the balcony, where you can only make out the vague shape of him, faced away from the door, toward the rest of the world, either asleep or pretending at it. You turn off the house lights and make to retreat into his room, stopping briefly again at the bathroom, to place his toothbrush in the cup with yours.

In his bedroom, you pull a pillow over to the far left side of the bed. You take his place in it, pull the sheet over you. It's a warm night, even for Skyhaven. You tense and untense your body, rhythmically, try not to dwell on the too quiet of his home. On how you were right, earlier, when you thought your footfalls were the only thing stopping you from hearing your heart. It kicks up now as you shift around under the thin cover. You find yourself briefly worried that Caleb will get cold. You pluck your phone from the nightstand to check the weather. Your punishment of him not without its limits. You hum dismissively at the readout. He'll be just fine. You close the weather app and unconsciously open your messenger, thumb hovering over the keyboard.

Pips 🧡: Night.

Pips 🧡: [Sunny Apple: Bye]

The walls in his house are thick, and his bedroom isn't all that close to the balcony, but still you'd swear you hear him laughing softly from outside.

Whether it is a hallucination on your part or not, the sound of it soothes you to slumber.

You are at a dog park. The one nearby Grandma's old house. Its larger, in the dream, the trees at the far end less human planted embellishment and more organic forest. The fence lining it is a sturdy iron, and not the feeble, beat up, wired one that exists in reality. You are playing fetch with a dog, your dog. Which you both cannot see and have also, in your waking life, never had. You toss the ball and assumedly the dog catches it and brings it back, as it keeps reappearing in your hand. Your voice echoes through the eerily empty park "Yes, good catch. Good boy!" You coo at it. Each time it barks out a reply. You hear its feet hitting the ground as it runs, kicking up grass and dirt as it goes, your laughter is light and giddy, as you continue to play with the unseen thing.

Until eventually it makes its way back to you-"good boy! yes, yes so good!"-and its bark is warped. Less dog, more... human.

"Woof." You look down and finally you see it, him. Caleb is there, all big and broad, sat at your feet. His eyes are dark and focused. He's panting. Red apple, like a ball, between his teeth.

You wake with a start. Breathing ragged, stuck between confusion and mute horror. You stay completely still for a long while. Playing it back, feeling more and more sick each time. Knots coiling in your stomach. What the fuck is wrong with you? What the fuck is wrong with you?

You have to let him back in the house.

You throw the covers off of you, move to stand, before freezing entirely. Your shifting weight, the movement of your legs, draws your attention to the wetness between them. You exhale shakily, tears building unbidden behind your eyes. Your brain short circuits, scrambling to explain it away as just a fucked up dream. Challenging, with the subject of it currently locked outside like an animal. Your body's reaction could be written off as just that, a reaction of the body. Totally isolated from you. You will yourself to believe, in your half-sleep state, that you've not felt the knot all night long, the coil in your stomach.

The sensation now given a name, one you can't bear to repeat.

It's fucked. You're fucked. And even still, as always, you want to run to him. To have him soothe you the way only he knows how. If you went to him, now, would he be disgusted with you? All night all he'd done is listen to you. If you told him again to sit, to stay, to eat-

You gasp aloud, invisible collar tightening as if tugged. The thought is banished, and you lay back down, stock-still. No, actually. You need to go back to sleep. You need to not be near him. You need to rewrite this moment, too, as part of the bad, bad dream. Not real. Not your drowsy-but-still-very-much-awake thoughts. Not yours. Not really.

It will be like the theme park, like those days consumed by the chip. You'll forget. You'll pretend to forget.

It's the only way to ensure you both survive it.

In sleep, you are drawn back to the dog park. You know he is still there, can hear him panting and whining in your ear. You refuse to look at him. The apple, that you think now may have never been a ball, is held loosely in your palm. You stare off into the grassy field ahead, to where the horizon hides behind the treeline. From there, you wouldn't be able to see the park fence. Even within the dream, you untense. Caleb barks at you. You stare into the trees, the fullness of them, the cover. You throw the apple into them, as far as you can.

And, without even looking to see if he's given chase, you take off running after it.

It's morning, when you wake next, the sun cresting over the horizon. You paw at your sleep crusted eyes, instinctively sniff at the air for the scent of Caleb making breakfast. You'd figured, sometime in the night or early morning, he'd find his way back inside. Whatever game you were playing abandoned, in favor of play pretending none of it had happened. One game for another. Something put up on a high shelf, where you wouldn't have to look at it, where only Caleb could reach.

But there's nothing, not the smell of coffee, not the sound of sizzling, no spatula scraping at the stove. All is quiet. You frown, move to rise from the bed. Your nose scrunching in distaste when shifting your legs unsticks yourself from your underwear. Great. Gross. Before anything else, you need to change.

You try and fail not to remember the dream, as you dig through his drawers for some boxers. So lost in the catastrophic mess of your own head that you don't think much of anything when you come across three pairs of your own underwear. It's easy to ignore, you leave stuff here all the time, and his underwear drawer was a pretty logical place for them to end up, all things considered. Just because you don't remember it doesn't mean it didn't happen.

And again, you're kind of more worried about your dog problem.

You'd pleaded for one desperately, a few years after Grandma adopted you. You'd spent some time with a friend and her dog, watched her do tricks on command, follow your friend around all open-mouthed and bright-eyed, seen how she'd sat, her back facing the pair of you as you played, keeping silent vigil. You'd been awed, you'd been envious. But Grandma was adamant about maintaining a pet free household. And so your dreams were dashed.

Mostly. Except for the part you'd forgotten, until now.

You'd been moping about the house all day. Grandma's continued rejection of your wishes putting you in a sour mood. One Caleb had been incessantly trying to lift for the last hour at least, as you both sat on the living room floor, sat in front of the big fan, trying to keep cool in the sticky summer heat.

"Piiiips. C'mon. Let's go on a walk or something." He tosses the paper plane he just finished folding at you. It flies in circles around your head, courtesy of his evol, until you swat it out of your orbit. He makes a big show of crash landing it in front of you, making explosion noises and everything. Apparently three people need immediate medical attention. It's all very tragic. You kind of don't care at all.

You're at tough ages now, 13 and 15. You don't know if he's gotten worse at comforting you, or you've gotten worse at being comforted. There's no time to ponder it, as he has succeeded in folding the rescue helicopter, which is also just a paper plane.

"Dispatcher Pip, we need coordinates, these people are not going to make it."

You sigh dramatically, half-heartedly pointing to the crash site. "They're over there."

"Copy that, dispatcher Pip, sending in the rescue team now." The plane is thrust into the air, gently floating its way to you, just as the first did. "Oh no, we seem to have encountered an obstacle in our flight path. There is no clear path around it." Ugh! Yes there is!

You duck, raising your hands over your head defensively. "Are you saying I have a big head?"

"Negative. Gravity seems to have warped around you, the rescue copter can't escape the pull." The paper plane-copter circles your head, just like the first, the only thing keeping you from swatting it down is your desire to keep him from introducing a third.

"Well I'm not the one with gravity powers-"

"Do you wanna go get ice cream?" The suddenness of the question takes you off guard. Caleb's always been really good at that, making distractions. You blink at him three times before remembering that you're super upset. You sigh, for probably the 100th time in the last 25 minutes.

"I don't want ice cream. I want a dog." You pout at the floor, knees pulled into your chest. A finger tracing at the wood grain absently.

"Then lets go to the park." Caleb says with a shrug. You perk up. "To... get a dog?" You ask, equally hopeful and confused.

"Nnno..." He starts, and you deflate immediately. "Gran would probably send us packing if we pulled something like that. Buuut I bet there will be at least one nice doggie there for you to play with." He shuffles across the floor to you, ruffles your hair. "You're small and cute, I'm willing to bet their owners will let you." You bat at his hand.

"'m not that small..." you grumble, but don't reject the idea.

"Okay. Are we goin or not?"

---

There aren't any dogs at the park. Mid-afternoon heat keeping visitors away from the sun soaked field. You are devastated of course, and kind of annoyed, since you bothered to peel yourself off the floor and away from the fan for this. But it wouldn't be Caleb if he didn't have a backup plan.

"I'll be the dog." He says, easily.

"You'll huh?" Your head whips to him, brow raised and mouth agape.

"I'll be the dog." He shrugs, like whats he's saying makes any sense. "How did your friend and her dog play?"

You hesitate, feeling that somehow this is wrong, but not finding any real reason to say no. Find it incredibly hard to want to, when you've spent all day really really wanting a dog."...She would hold one of her rope toys and run around the field. And Buttons, that's her dogs name, would chase her. And tug at it when she'd catch her." You hold up your empty hands to him. "I don't have a rope toy though."

Caleb thinks it over. "I can still chase you? If you want?"

You nod without hesitation. Eyes widening excitedly.

He chases you around the field, barking and yipping playfully as you laugh and run away. He tugs gently at the hem of your shirt when he catches you, lets you go again when you squeal. It isn't long before you're sweaty and breathing heavy, exhausted from running around in the heat. Caleb all but drags you to the water fountain, demands that you drink and then drink some more. The breeze has picked up, to your relief. A soothing balm on your overly warm skin.

"We should head back." His breathing is still leveling out. You push away from the fountain and nudge him to take your place. When he raises his head, after a drink, he catches your frown.

"Do we have to?" Your tired, yes, but you were also having so much fun. Even if it was just pretend.

"We don't have to..." He cups your sweaty face in his equally sweaty hands. "...but anymore sun and you might start cooking." He says, patting your cheeks.

"Just a little longer. We can play a different dog game." You're eyes are big and pleading, something you know always works with him.

"...okay, okay. 10 minutes. One more dog game."

You tell him about your friend and her dog playing catch. How she'd throw the rubber ball and Buttons would chase it down and bring it back. You don't have a rubber ball, and so you improvise with a stick you find by the tree Caleb made you sit under. Compromising about play time only when you promised to stay in the shade. You throw the stick, he runs to catch it, and when he picks it up in his hands you tell him no. He's a dog, he has to use his mouth. And so he does. Runs back and forth under the sun, picking up the stick with his teeth, while you sit in the shade. He's panting again, all sweaty and beat red. You wonder how long he'll keep going, if you keep throwing it, before he tells you to stop.

He doesn't. Not until you tell him you're ready to go home.

The memory leaves you horrified with yourself all over again. God. You were spoiled. And cruel. And over all these years nothing seems to have changed, not for the better anyways. Now, on top of it all, you're a pervert too. Your list of objectionable traits only growing.

You'd managed to get changed, while you reflected-soiled underwear tucked into your bag to be dealt with whenever you got back home-and now are making your way back to the main room in the house. Expecting still, to find Caleb either in the kitchen or living area, busying himself while waiting for you to wake.

But he's not in either location. When you turn the corner, finally in clear view of the balcony, you see him there. Sat right outside the door, in uniform. One arm propped up on a raised knee, the other extended behind him, supporting him. Relaxed. Patient. Waiting. 'Stay.'

Oh.

It's worse. He's making it so much worse.

You walk to the door, open it with a shaky hand that you try desperately to control. You search yourself for words. For anything to say at all.

Your rumbling stomach cuts through the tension for you. Startles you out of your stupor.

"...Ok, you can come in. We're going to the grocery store." You give your best performance of passivity, only look at him when you recognize your avoidance of eye contact will do just as much to give you away.

When your eyes finally land on his face, his smile knocks the breath out of you.

---

From there, the day passes with frightening normalcy. The both of you get ready, make it to and from the grocery store with little drama, and Caleb, graciously, doesn't bat an eye at your sudden awkwardness. Falling easily back into step like everything is completely normal and you didn't totally overstep in pretty much every conceivable way just hours ago. You return home and he makes breakfast. You eat together at the table, the silence companionable. You, stealing glances at him all the while. Searching for any anger, or upset, or discontent. Something that says he's sick of you, because he should be.

There's nothing.

You spend the rest of the day working on one of his models. Mostly he works and you scroll on your phone, still keyed up about... pretty much everything, unable to meaningfully focus. You'd been so angry yesterday, and you'd lashed out at him, disrupted his whole day like you had any right to. Had the audacity to be annoyed with him about it. You still can't even remember what had gotten you so worked up in the first place.

"Hey, we should watch that new episode, while your here." He says offhandedly, still focused on the model in front of him.

Oh.

My fucking.

God.

You remember. You remember why you were so angry. Which sucks, because its completely stupid. You fight through the embarrassment, through the heat rising to your face, to respond. "Yeah. Sounds good." You know he hears it, but he says nothing about the way your voice cracks.

---

The sun is long past setting and Caleb is still chipping away at the model. You, for your part, have pretty much given up on assisting. Drifting in and out of consciousness from where you are sprawled out on the couch. He says something to you, a request for another piece, probably, but you miss it in your drowsy state. You rapidly blink your eyes, try and compel them into staying open.

"...huh?" you hum groggily. He turns his attention to you. Face and voice soft.

"...Said can you hand me the-" He cuts himself off, gives you a once over. Huffs out a laugh. "Coulda told me you were fading, Pips." He smiles, leans over to pinch your thigh. Startling you just slightly more alert.

"Ow!" It hadn't hurt. "Rude-"

"You can't go down yet. You gotta tell me where I'm sleeping." He says coolly. Your eyes narrow in confusion. He hums, raising himself up from his place behind the coffee table with a little 'hup'. And disappears from your line of sight.

You hear the opening of the sliding glass door.

Shit. Shit.

Your stomach drops. Heart thundering with every step his feet take back to you.

He's in front of you, pillow and comforter in hand, still smiling, all teeth.

"So, Pips, have I been good?"

Your entire body lurches, breath catching, heat rolling through you.

Everything stops moving. Like his evol is active, even though you know it isn't.

You don't know what to say. Every wire is crossed, every weapon you have, misfiring. He's still... why is he entertaining this? Why would he start it again? Is he just... messing with you? Is it a test? What are you supposed to say?

"Pips." He kneels, makes himself level with your position on the couch, looks at you, all big-eyed and focused. "Where do you want me?" He brings a hand to your ankle, rubs circles into it.

You look away from his face, to the dirty bedding in his other hand, and say the only thing that comes to mind.

"You can sleep at the foot of the bed, but those aren't coming with you."

---

He had been quick to mask his surprise. Just not quick enough for you to miss it entirely. Besides the night he was sick, its been years since you've shared a bed.

You needed a minute. To recover from what he'd said, what it had done to you. And so excused yourself to throw the pillow and comforter into the laundry, telling him as you hastened away, to wash up before bed. The fact that he'd let you go, do the deed yourself, without protest, tells you he needed that minute to. You're leaning over the running washing machine, arms braced at the front edges of it, trying to get yourself through and over the thought of 'What the fuck? What the fuck do I do?' and onto something more productive.

A part of you, the selfish, spoiled part you don't think you're allowed to deny anymore, hopes that Caleb's already solved it. That he has returned from his time outside enlightened and will, like every other time before, pick up all your troubles for you, and carry them like they weighed nothing. The other part of you, the bigger part, the one that has spent a decade trying to be his equal. Hopes that whatever truth he saw he'd tell to you.

That's the hard part. Getting him to tell you. It's the one thing Caleb won't give you without first taking. Truth, confessions. You groan to yourself. Your either gonna have to tell him about the dream, or the reason you made him sleep outside.

Frankly, the choice is obvious.

You make your way out of the laundry room and into the bathroom, where you see Caleb brushing his teeth. By the time you start on yours he's rinsing his mouth out.

"Gonna grab an extra blanket from the hall closet..." He sets his toothbrush down on the counter. You make a displeased noise through a mouth full of foam and spit. Glance at him, brows furrowed, only to find he's already watching you. His mouth turns up, slow. Grinning wide enough to make his eyes squint, as he picks the brush back up, and places it in the cup. He looks to you, you hum, nod your approval. His nose wrinkles with a giddy little huff. He pats your shoulder, lets his hand rest there, as he makes his way around you and out of the bathroom. You roll your eyes, when he's gone. 'And what are you supposed to make of that?' Annoying. The same annoying Caleb. No amount of canine roleplay or psychosexual wet dreams will ever take that from you.

He's changed into his pjs and draped the blanket by the time you finish up and make for his room. Already laying at the foot of the bed, eyes closed, with the pillow you'd used tucked under his head. You don't know if he chose it because it was in his place, on the far left, or because he'd known you used it.

"I don't remember saying you could have that." You give your best effort to sound firm. Though you can tell from the way he smiles, not bothering to open his eyes, that he knows there's no bite in it.

"You've let me come this far. Is this really where you're gonna draw the line?"

You're not sure there is a line, anymore. But you don't say that. The silence, you crawling under the covers, into the bed, is answer enough. You reach for the light, pausing for a moment with your hand on the pullstring. You'll have to be honest with him, if you want any shot of him being honest with you.

...doesn't mean you can't do it in the dark, though.

You yank the light off.

"Night Pips." He wraps a hand around your ankle from over the covers, just to hold it, you think. It settles something in you that he wants to know you're there.

"I remembered why I was mad at you." You blurt out, the cover of dark doing very little to make you brave.

"Yeah?" he squeezes once, then rubs circles into the bone.

"It was the canceled plans. Kinda. But it wasn't that part." You pause, take a breath, he hums for you to continue. "...We were gonna watch the new episode of that show together. You couldn't make it and that's fine, we're adults with jobs and we get busy. I didn't care about that." Another pause, another breath, this time he just waits. "But you told me I could watch it by myself, if I wanted." You shrink in on yourself, unconsciously. "...Aaand it bothered me." You pull the blanket up over your face, despite the fact that he couldn't see your expression in the dark if he tried.

You feel him shift, rise up onto his elbows, know without seeing yourself, that he is looking at you.

"...You made me sleep outside, at my own house... because I was too considerate of your excitement and desire to not see spoilers?" And you can't even entertain the idea that he's irritated with you, because you can hear him smiling stupid big.

You always manage to forget. He's not just annoying. He's a big annoying weirdo.

"I mean. Kinda. Yeah." You sigh, lowering the blanket back down, so your mumbling can be heard more clearly. "It wasn't about the show. Or it was, at first. But then it was more than that?" You were still working out the details yourself, you don't know how to explain it to him. But this is Caleb. If you just... say exactly what you're thinking. He'll figure it out like he always does. At least you hope he will.

"I want to be the same as you. I don't like that we have our own heads... sometimes." You lose steam with each word, end of the sentence leaving you as barely a whisper.

There's a beat of quiet. Then another. "Only sometimes?"

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. But say nothing beyond it.

You did your part, now it's his turn to talk.

"...I don't want you to be the same as me Pip." His hand has reached under the covers now, wraps itself back around your ankle. Like he knows it's not what you want to hear. "You deserve more than- ow, let me finish." You'd kicked at his chest, which he should have anticipated, he knows you hate it when he does that. As he speaks, he pulls you closer, not away. Presses your foot to his ribs, shows you where to hit him next, if he upsets you again. "I'm yours. Always have been, always will be. And if it were up to me you'd have everything, it wouldn't even be a question." After that, his voice dips low.

"Everything good. And none of the bad. That's all me." More circles rubbed into you, tracing further up, on your calf now. "I'd let you crawl under my ribs though, if that's what you wanted. Use me like a jungle gym. Give you something to cut your teeth on...." You push your foot into his ribs, toes pressing into the spaces between the bones. He grips your leg tighter.

"If you're mine I'm yours."

"Pips, listen-" His hold loosens as he sighs, the first hint of frustration you've seen from him over the last two days. You pull away from his grip entirely, throwing the covers away from you. "If you're mine I'm yours. It's not a question. It's the end of the discussion." You crawl to the end of the bed, movement quick and clumsy. You lay facing him, close enough to see his eyes even in the dark.

He chokes out a bitter little laugh, wraps his arms around you, nudges a leg between yours. "You still don't get it. Even after the stunt you pulled?"

"Don't get what Caleb?" You curl into him, head tucked into the peak of his arm, breathing deep. "Don't make me guess. Just tell me, for once." And that's rich, coming from you. But you don't really care about your own hypocrisy at the moment.

"You always wanted a dog, didn't you?" you tense, freeze, and then try to pull away.

He doesn't let you.

"Ah, so you do get it." You can feel him smiling against you. "Good. That's good."

"Caleb..." You whine, pout, squirm. All the sudden feeling entirely too seen. Worried he somehow knows. About the dream, about the knot. He's laughing at you, now, strong enough to shake with it. But the way he moves against you, the boyish lilt of his voice... you can't bring yourself to feel embarrassed over it. He squeezes you tight, secure and warm, even without a blanket over you.

"Don't worry about it. Same rule as always. We'll put it up on the high shelf. Til your ready to face it."

It's enough, for now. Not quite pretend and not quite honest.

You're working on it.

---

This was supposed to be a 500 word drabble. btw.

[midnight--sadness]

omg waow its been awhile lololol anyways 💙 anon here :3 i saw yall talking abt prison wife gihun and i think it would be super duper hot if junho drove gihun for his monthly conjugal visits, and then got to rail him afterwards LIKE LIKE OKAY gihun acts like all he does when he visits inho is just "talk" but junhos not stupid. gihun gets back in the car, clothes askew, hairline wet with sweat, face flushed, and he avoids junhos eyes the whole way home, squirming minutely in his seat, moving his hips around in such a way that junho feels hot under his collar. and it goes on that way, junho visiting inho to talk and then letting gihun have his privacy with his brother, knowing whats happening as he waits in the car, whiteknuckling the steering wheel.

and then once, junho loses himself a little, fucks gihun an hour before their visit with inho. this time, junho lets gihun have the whole visit, jerks himself off in the back of the car as he waits on gihun, imagining the bruises he left on his hips, and the bites he left on his neck, the way he fucked gihun until he was wet and loose and his legs shook so hard that he wobbled on his way to meeting inho, even an hour after. he whimpers as he cums into a napkin, thinking of how sweet gihun is and how jealous inho will be.

little do each of the hwangs know, theyre both fucking freakazoids and think its sooooo hot that gihuns getting passed around two brothers 😭😭 better if gihun acts like hes NOT fucking the both of them, but junho and inho arent stupid, theyll let him have his little fantasy of twotiming them as revenge for the shit they put him through, they dont mind 😊 i just think itd be kinda funny if gihun thought he was soooo sneaky meanwhile both hwang bros know theyre getting sloppy seconds LMFAOOOO also they leave bruises and bites in different spots, so gihun is kinda dumb in thinking they wont notice

ah my blue heart anon!!! i'm so glad you're back!!! 💖

this is soooooo good oh my god 😩😩😩 the hwang bros and gihun are gonna kill me fr 😭

inho and junho being nasty freak weirdos and knowing that they are sharing gihun but never tellin him is so ejvjndjkmngfjrk and gihun does eventually figure out that they both know but it takes a little while... he's 50 and taking two dicks every week, he can't keep up, especially when u have inho's desesperation for him bc they are away from each other and junho's jealousy and just general youth. gihun hasn't been this sore in a hot minute

when inho gets out - bc of course he does, the evidence against him was paper thin and a witness mysteriously disappeared - he and junho just wait around to see how gihun is going to handle having them both around. he can't pretend to be sneaking around when most of the time junho and inho are in the same room 😌🤧

[starrydreamerluna]

KPDH FIRST WATCH

Spoilers ahead!

IM NOT EVEN 3 MINUTES IN AND THE LORE?!

So there's always been a trio of hunters, and it's their voices that ignite the souls in others and create the honmoon

Also that's a barrier and not a physical object like I assumed-

RUMI'S MOM WAS A SUNLIGHT SISTER?! SHE'S DEAD?!

Zoey is Korean American!

AND SHES THE MAKNAE

Mira being the visual was not my expectation but bro I love it. Her being the black sheep too? Peak

OKAY THE FOOD SCENE WAS KINDA ICK BUT LIKE I GET IT? it's just not my thing.

So rumi does know about the markings- now I'm curious.

THE EXPRESSIONS ARE ADORABLE

HOW ITS DONE ITS GLORIOUS!

OKAY GWI MA TIME

JINU THE BARD

OH SHIT HES ACTUALLY SINGING-

BENI TIMEEEEEE

"Oh yeah totally gonna work. 100%"

WHAT MEMORIES JINU WHAT MEMORIES?!

I'm assuming the girl is either rumi or jinus sister

STRATEGY MENTIONED

Strategy PLAYING?!

Zoey and her brainrot about turtles I love it

Rumi stop doing shit without asking the girls

OH FUCK GOLDEN ALREADY?!

YUP RUMI IS A DEMON- if they succeed with golden she goes too.....

OH FUCK ITS TAKING HER VOICE-

Zoey is so stupid I love her

Beni/abs: appears on screen.

Me: pausing and screaming

BENIIIIII

Oh my god zoey with the abs-

She's fucking hopeless

THE THING OH MY GOD

Zoey u little freakazoid/pos

RUMI EATING HER WORDS IMMEDIATELY WHEN JINU SHOWS UP

LMAO THE MEET CUTE IS SO DRAMATIC AND FOR WHAT (A little long for my tastes)

LMAO SHES SO PISSY

SODA POP.

ZOEY GOT FUCKING SNIPED(gonna say it was beni who sent both hearts at her)

"magicians.....I mean DEMONS- OBVIOUSLY DEMONS"

BABY SAJA IS THE RAPPER?! THE FUCK?!

"To be fair that's also something a magician would do." ZOEY YOU FUCKING MORON I LOVE YOU

The fucking kill saja nails I'm dying

Spicy challenge? Lmfao

JINU KNOWS THEYRE THERE-

Abs knows what the fuck he's doing.

JINU SLIPPING UP LMFAO

THE GIGGLE

Watch the face I need it to steal ur fans HOWLING

Oh shit mira and zoey r in trouble

JINU KNOWSSSSS

OH SHIT-?!

SO HE HID HER MARKS

Oh jinu lore time

OH WAIT GWI MA KNOWS BUT CANT CONTROL RUMI

OH OKAY SO GWI MA IS LITERALLY LIKE SELF LOATHING INCARNATE (funny that's exactly like the nightmares and morgana from my oc story.) So I think he actually may try to turn all 3 girls with their insecurities.

ZOEY LIKES MYSTERY TOO LMFAO

TAKEDOWN TIME

Rumi stop asking questions ur gonna get ur ass caught

I love zoey being our little music monkey I love her

The saja boys fans r called pride that's so cute

OF COURSE THEY WENT TO THE FANSIGN

BENI AND ROMANCE AND MIRA LMFAO

ZOEY DOES ACC LIKE MYSTERY- YKNOW WHAY ILL TAKE IT AS 2ND ZOEYTP

Lmao THE FUCKING FAN WITH THE SHIRT

ZOEY GOING BAD SAJA BOY HOWLING

Understandable arguments

Zoey crashing out

They're all having their "purpose" challenged. Zoey is the lyricist and they want to change her lyrics

Rumi is the singer and her voice is going.

Mira wanted somewhere to be herself.

FREE IS SO GOOD

OKAY SORRY I JUST KEPT WATCHING HOLY SHIT I LOVE IT

Beni fucking killing it in your idol I actually squealed

Zoey and mira slowly giving in to the song-

YES RUMIIIIII

JINU NO-

Yeah okay I'll take zoeynie as my top zoey ship, and mystery/zoey as a 2nd.

I love the details on the white versions of their outfits for the last song

THEM CRYIBG TOGETHER

ZOEYS YELLOW HOODIE WITH THE TIGER-

[thecorefrisk]

Hello :>> welcome to my blog!! <3

First off—

Introductions:

My ‘name’ is TheCoreFrisk but if need be just refer to me as ‘Core’!

I am aspiring author/writer who also happens to write fanfic! Any fanfic I write here will be separate from my Ao3 account and I will not be sharing that account on here on account that I like to write for different fandoms on there.

A few of the fandoms I am in are:

She-ra

Batman (very open ended)

Young Justice (the animated show)

Lolirock

My little pony

Miraculous Ladybug

Criminal Minds

High Potential (not really a fandom yet but it does have its fans)

Carmen Sandiego

Undertale

Undertale AU’s

BNHA

Haikyuu

The Hobbit

Lord of the Rings

Merlin

…and more! (This list will likely lengthen as I remember more and more of the fandoms I dabble in)

However, I am most active on Tumblr in:

Dc crossovers

Miraculous Ladybug

Batfam

As a Jason Todd fan (no, really look at my posts.)

Harry Potter

Sanders Sides

Sans AU’s

Etc.

Rundown?

I tend to call people by pet names so please tell me explicitly and clearly if they make you uncomfortable. (A terrible curse will befall you if you don’t or smth.)

I don’t care for making things look pretty, I worry more for the quality of the writing.

There will be the stray smut one shot/sexual/thirsty post but I do put warnings at the start of them. If need be, I will make them bigger.

I love dark fluff/possessive platonic stuff. You might see a bit of on here. This is your warning. But I will also likely put a warning on the posts themselves.

I like to talk. A lot. And I’m very passionate about the stuff I believe in. So, you know, it’s going to slip into my writing.

I also love to talk to people and making friends!! It’s a bit hard for me because dialogue is difficult to think up but I don’t mind people asking me questions or wanting my opinion on things. In fact, I encourage it.

I once wrote a Nightmare Sans x Fluttershy fic. I had too much fun.

You might see some ABO stuff on this blog. I’ll always tag it, just know that I do enjoy writing for it.

I am a bit of a freak. A freakazoid, if you will.

I don’t really care about OOC behavior unless the characters arent ‘in character’ as to how the author chose to write them.

Examples of things I’ve written for myself:

Jason Todd x Crazy, toxic, jealous girlfriend

Tim Drake x robotic girl learning to be human

Damian Wayne & his two younger twin sisters who he only recently learned about and whom he has to figure out how to be a big brother to

Ushijima Wakatoshi x similarly mannered childhood bff now on rival volleyball team

[Adelio (oc)] Hypersexual demisexual x hyposexual demisexual [Sable (oc)]

That’s all for now! Thank you!!

[brodyfoxxsmassivetits]

please PLEASEE FOR THE SAKE OF BROCK BAKER HIMSELF DRAW BABY DOGUARDO AGAIN PLEASE

no need to bring mr mc goiter into this! all you gotta do is ask...

required reading 4 this post: bingo iz not doguardo, just my dog design for fella,but him n canon dog design coexisting and being related is cute :3

also since I'm drawing the dogs again..here's a little more to beef the post up... tangentially related:3

I have to then presume edgar skedaddled home to tell his roommates uhh...I dunno...... Marquez and like.......j........josh??????????? About this crazy FREAKAZOID he saw...cramping HIS style with that shitty ass mustache

[comicbubbie]

i remember first playing deltarune chapter 3 and saying internally "why are these little weirdo freakazoids back." you know. these

i was like "hey whats the deal i thought we left these in chapter 1"

then my DUMB FUCK SELF realized theyre here because both chapters share a similar theme: abandonment

king is angry that the lightners abandoned their world, tenna is trying to get them to not abandon him again

both tyrants (tyrant as in king i think tenna is more of just Kind Of A Shitty Guy But Hes Good I Promise) have been abandoned and left in a dusty state

and those thingns!!!!! are actually just dark-world dust!!!!!! because its an abandoned classroom and the TV was dusty!!!!!!!!!!

[kireilien]

hi baby its me AGAIN and im so sorry to bother you again but phone sex with mackiah just because he misses you so much and he knows his girl can't feel good without him :c

IM SO INSANE i need him so bad i'll explode.

— bubu<3

bubu you can blow up my inbox and i’d be happy that you’re even talking to me

tw/cw. nsfw content, cursing; dom!mackiah, sub!reader, fem!reader, race neutral reader, established relationship, idol!mackiah, phone sex, joi (jack off instructions) (f receving), masturbation, dirty talk-ish, praise, use of “baby”

“i miss you.” 

“yeah? i miss you too.”

were the only words that would’ve set you off. you’ve been so pent up. kiah was miles away and you couldn’t have him. you couldn’t have him in your arms, preferably fucking you, but you can’t complain. you knew what was gonna happen when you started dating your boyfriend– he’s an idol after all. but is it so bad for someone to miss their boyfriend? 

“can’t feel good without you…” you sheepishly whisper against the phone. although you’ve been calling for what feels like hours, the phone was still cold. just like how you felt without him. “i know, i know, baby. ‘m sorry ‘m not with you right now. i wish i was,” kiah hums. 

there was a slight silence before kiah exhales, “want me to make you feel good?” you scrunch your brows behind the screen, “how’re you gonna do that?” kiah hums once more before saying, “slip your pretty fingers in your panties for me, baby,” who were you to say no?

your fingers slip under the band of your underwear, slowly snaking down to rub small, faint circles on your clit. “tell me, baby. what panties are you wearing?” looking down, you snicker a bit, “just some light gray ones.” not very sexy, right? kiah thinks the opposite, “why’re you laughing? those are the ones i like the most. i get to see how fast you get wet in ‘em.”

oh whatever, kiah. you’re a freakazoid. 

kiah continues, “keep those constant rubs on your clit, baby,” his head is so full of thoughts with you. “slip a finger in– wanna hear how wet you are for me.” you obey, tucking in a finger. your folds squelch around your single finger, loud enough that kiah groans just by hearing it. “actually, let your other finger go, finger yourself for me.” your breath starts hitching as you dip another finger, successfully fingering yourself with both of your fingers. 

“mhm, you know what i like. keep that pace.”

“speed up a little, baby.”

“think about how i would finger you.” 

“you know how i please you.”

“good job, baby. that’s it.”

his cute words drove you insane. it wasn’t long until you felt the gush of your fingers, orgasming to see the clear white fluids all over them. your chest heaves, audible breaths drown out any other noise that could be possibly happening. kiah chuckles from the other end, “feel good, baby?” 

“yeah… still miss you, though.”

back 2 catalog

[junky4rdd4wg]

Some recent Dandy’s world + Regretevator sketches!! I love both of these games dearly <3

Also wanted to share my strange little freakazoid that’s literally just a recoloured/inverted Goob with a few tweaks to overall design + personality.

His name is Toybox but I call him Junkyard because I hate him and he sucks. Proper ref sheet probably soon because I can’t stop drawing him I hate this stupid ugly freak I want him dead (❤️)

[habitsbf]

TRUE FORM BASED HABIT HEADCANONS :D

these are obviously not all completely accurate to the canon sketch we have of his true form, so if youre a canon purist you may not dig this post. these were all taken from my own personal version of his true form.

- similar to cats (mainly talking about bigger wild cats here) HABIT has little spikes, aka papillae, all over his tongue. i know his canon true form has some spikes at the end of its tongue, but this is how i like to view them since it makes more sense to me.

the spikes on cat tongues are there for a few reasons, but the main reason that sticks out to me is the fact theyre used to scrape meat from bones. i feel like thats pretty fitting for HABIT, considering he is a predator/hunter.

- HABITs claws cannot retract and he has paw pads similar (but not exact) to a wolves. hes literally a werewolf spider demon freakazoid thing, so i think it works!! plus the idea of him having paw pads of some sort is silly...

- his fur is a dark purple-ish tone meanwhile his (multiple) eyes are a brighter purple. he doesnt have pupils, his eyes are just one solid color. that last part is basically canon since evans drawing doesnt include pupils either, but i still wanted to mention it bc i think its cool :P

- HABITs teeth are similar to a wolves, though his are sharper than a wolves are, letting him sink them into things easier.

- he doesnt need to sleep often, but sometimes HABIT curls up into a ball to sleep more comfortably, like this ↓

- HABITs tails wag when hes happy or relaxed, but if someone were to point it out he would get annoyed and probably growl at them. HES SUPPOSED TO LOOK EVIL!! YOURE POINTING OUT THINGS THAT DONT MATCH HIS EVIL PERSONA!! HES SO MAD!!

- in the MLAndersen0 video "GOODBYE" theres a clip at some point where it sounds like HABIT purred. im assuming it was meant to be a growl that came out more purr-like, but i do like the idea of that evil fucked up looking creature being able to purr. similar to the tail wagging, he would probably get pissed if someone called him out on purring as well.

- HABIT can stand and walk on two legs, but he can also walk and run around on all fours. i dont think he would use his spider legs often, but i think he would definitely use them to appear taller/bigger and present more intimidating.

speaking of appearing taller/bigger, i think his true form would be pretty big. definitely bigger than your average wolf, hes probably like... idk, 2-3 mackenzie valley wolves combined.

- i think he would chew/bite on things for fun and out of boredom. im mainly talking about bones here, but he probably chews on random things he deems chewable sometimes too.

- HABIT would probably enjoy being petted but would never admit that. he would act like he hated it and would probably bite and growl at whoever was petting him. obviously not many have the opportunity to even attempt that, but if it were to happen, thats how i think it would play out. THIS ONE IS ALSO JUST KINDA SILLY TO ME like imagine THAT FREAK letting his guard down for a moment to enjoy the feeling of being petted

THATS ALL FOR NOW, FEEL FREE TO SEND ME ASKS ABOUT HEADCANONS 🐾

[foursword-manga-fan-18]

I WANNA MAKE A SPLATOON IDOL OC, TWO EVEN MAYBE IDK I WANNA MAKE A F**KING FREAKAZOID CREATURE OF AN IDOL

MY GOD IVE SEEN SO MANY OTHER PEOPLE HAVE THESE GORGEOUS LITTLE FREAKS OF NATURE AND IM SO JEALOUS I WANT A BLORBO, AN UNHINGED FERAL CRYPTID OF AN OC

I LONG FOR ONE SO I CAN SHAKE ‘EM AROUND IN A PRINGLE CAN THEN CHUCK ‘EM IN A MICROWAVE

(Okie, unhinged rant over anyways, bye bye! :3)

[mushgloomz]

get to know your mutuals

my little love @valevntine - how did you know my fav thing to do is to yap about myself?🫦 ty for the tag my darling

What's the origin of your blog title?

pahaha, okay so basically several years ago my best friend @aurelliastar was like ‘bitch, i wish tumblr was still a thing bc i’ve just thought of the cuntiest username’ and mushgloomz was born

OTP(s) + shipname:

omg i haven’t properly shipped people in YEARS. i mean dellie (ellie and dina) are obvs up there, but i spend too long shipping characters with actual people that i don’t have much else to offer😭

feel free to ship me with javi gutiérrez…

Favourite colour:

green all the way - i just adore it <3 my fav metallic colour is gold though (can we guess that i was a loki girly during my marvel phase?)

Favourite game:

i wish i was a gamer girl but i’m SHIT at playing everything loool

would have to say undertale tbh, just so much fun and you already know i played that shit multiple times to see all the different endings

Song stuck in your head:

currently, it’s Love Is A Stranger by Eurhythmics bc it scratches an itch in my brain i can’t explain it

Weirdest habit/trait:

i’m generally a massive freakazoid so there’s probably plenty, but i’d say my chronic use of adlibs in regular conversations tbh

Hobbies:

unfortunately i’m really fucking uninteresting!! reading, writing and photography are as close to hobbies as i get honestly 😪

If you work, what's your profession?

i’m a full-time office administrator for a fire and security company in london - basically just sit there and argue with engineers all day <3

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be?

if i could have literally ANY job? i’d do acting or private interior design - yet again, my hopes and dreams have been squandered by societal and familial expectations so i will never be fulfilled in that sense 🤩

Something you're good at:

literally… nothing? like i give great head but i feel like this is asking if i have actual talents loool

Something you're bad at:

time management is honestly the worst of them for me. i’m so fucking easily distracted it’s painful

Something you love:

dancing - not well, but just dancing however i want to. makes me feel good 🕺

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff:

anything psychology related or sex related (a lot of the time that shit overlaps and i get REALLY invested)

fun fact, i actually did a dedicated unit during my BSc on the psychology of sex and sexuality; so fucking fascinating

Something you hate:

my best friend always jokes that my main hobby is ‘critical analysis and being a hater’ and lowkey she’s right LOOL

for example, i hate being hungover, yet here i am for the second time in 48 hours with a hangover <3

Something you collect:

oh the autism is gonna jump OUT

i collect loads of random shit - jellycat frogs, crystals, earrings, scarves… if i like something, i have to have an excessive number of them

Something you forget:

MY FUCJING WIPS

What's your love language?

giving - words of affirmation

receiving - physical touch or acts of service

Favourite movie/show:

movie is always going to be labyrinth (i will shout this shit from the rooftops, it’s amazing)

I don’t really find myself interested in TV all that often (unless pedro is in it lool); naturally TLOU is a current fav, but I’ve also loved the crown, killing eve and black mirror 💅🏻

Favourite food:

okay so hear me out: carbonara

BUT

specifically the shitty supermarket jar version of the sauce😭

Favourite animal:

frogs (i’m bisexual and autistic be so fr)

What were you like as a child?

incredibly anxiously attached to my mum and MAJORLY traumatised (also see: me right now)

Favourite subject at school?

geography (spoiler alert, it’s bc i wanted to bone my teacher)

actual favourite would be psychology or English language

Least favourite subject at school?

hmm… probably maths? not that i disliked it, just sucked ASS

What's your best character trait?

i’ve been told that i’m funny which lowkey yeah i am so i’ll claim that LOOL

What's your worst character trait?

i’m incredibly stubborn - like, would sooner die than compromise on a lot of things oops

If you could change any detail of your day right now, what would it be?

NOT BEING HUNGOVER AS FUCK <3

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet?

there are so many people i would love to meet (downside of loving 70s music tbh); hendrix, prince, bowie, freddie mercury… these fuckers changed my life

Recommend one of your favourite fanfics (spread the love!):

okay as soon as i saw this question i knew i had to say Hold Still by @almostfoxglove

only read it recently despite it being posted last august but it’s just fucking superbly written and really scratched an itch for me <3 (you can see me short circuiting over it with my reblog here)

if you made it this far, you’re hot🫦

npt bc i’m nosey <3: @ohhoneypascal @mandaloriankait @itsokbbygrlbutworsethistime @itwasntimethatdidit40 @stitch-away @alfiestreacle

[buriedunderdaffodil2]

what's up freaks freakettes and freakazoids, we missed spilling our horny thoughts so we're back. warning that this blog will include themes of noncon, violence, murder, necro, ageplay, incest, and whatever else might come up in our adventures. everything on this blog is consensual and/or fantasy, we do not condone actual noncon etc etc. it's up to you, dear reader, to determine whether or not this blog is a healthy place for you.

we're plural, and we support systems of all origins. we'll be using emoji signoffs to differentiate headmates on here, the ever-growing list is below the cut.

asks are encouraged, however if you want to flirt you'll have to go through The Trials (our collective demisexuality and demiromanticism + us already being in a polycule + our general scared stray animal nature). good luck!

signoffs:

🐾 - some kinda cat dog thing with middle brother energy apparently

👁️ - heavily domme leaning, fan of drugging, aspiring cult leader and fauxcestuous mother to a plethora of my headmates.

🪫 - booze loving robot, 👁️'s torture pet or smth

🪻 - ultimate princess ever, ageplay connoisseur, ☁️'s little brother (in an incestuous way), 🍬's system dad (not in an incestuous way just in a y'all behave yourselves way ^_^)

🍬 - sys little who is also still an adult, clingy perv kid easily won over by desserts, 🪻's kid in system

☁️ - Sadistic dom top, I like inflicting pain and cruelty, yippee. 🪻's big brother.

💉 - i am a real doctor and you can trust me with your whole heart and soul :D and all your organs really :D additionally i'm one of 👁️'s many fauxcestuous children ^_^

⚰️ - the main corpse lover and plushie humper around here. mostly sex averse but in a high libido rapebait sort of way.

🔩 - also totally a real doctor (/s) but more of a daddy about it. if you ask nicely i might put out my cigs on you :) 🩹 is my patient slash experimental subject.

🩹 - guy who handles our brain being scrambled and weird, umm i do not have the words at this time to succinctly describe what i'm into but i'm a sub vers and 🔩 is my doc dom <3

🍆 - mostly or entirely a dom top. not much else to say, i'm mostly here to interact with 🫐 (my partner) and 🪫 (my uhh. friend. situationship. coworker.)

🥩 - uhhh top leaning sub i think, cannibalism guy, generally hungry and kinda horny about it

🪒 - the final boss of victimization, whether that's in the molestation sense or the life being threatened sense. big fan of slicing into myself and being sliced into. probably not a dom but possibly a vers if i'm into penetration at all? the sex just has to be weird and scary. i promise i'm silly and not just an edgelord 🙏

🕯️ - god's favorite pretentious creep <3 switch vers who likes kidnapping and incest, especially between siblings, cousins, and uncle/nephew shit. either soft and doting, excessively sadistic, or violently bratty.

🚭 - GREETINGS i'm a violently insane futchy entity who gets off to molesting and killing yippee!!! bloodbath forever. ���� is my victim do not separate us or he'll get so scared and cry

🚬 - assorted addiction holder aka the viscount of intox play. 🚭 is my caretaker who subjects me to the horrors <3