#chewie barks

[cobelschewtoy]

Ms Cobel study me under a microscope WHEN

[cobelschewtoy]

I agree so hard but also I want to add that people seem to imply Reghabi gave her an ultimatum. She didn’t. She heard the name Cobel and dipped. She didn’t even give Devon time to process that she (Reghabi) was leaving. How was Devon meant to choose between them when Reghabi didn’t give her a choice to begin with?

I've seen a lot of confusion over why Devon calls Harmony and the idea that its bad writing but honestly? It makes a lot of sense to me if I'm considering Devon's POV. She goes to her brother's house to talk corporate espionage, and all of a sudden he starts SIEZING ON THE FLOOR, only for a random woman to emerge from his basement and start scolding her, telling her that her brother is in the process of reintegrating, does not seem too concerned with getting him medical attention, doesn't answer whether she's actually a doctor, you get the idea. THEN this lady confirms to her that her sister in law and close friend is still alive and trapped at Lumon. That is an insane amount of shit to take in! And so Devon basically thinks of the only other person she knows who has been on the severed floor and tries to make shit happen.   And this is crucial: Devon has never interacted with the person WE the audience  know as Harmony Cobel, she has only interacted with Mrs. Selvig, the eccentric woman who owns the shop, a woman she actually spent time with. Mrs. Selvig genuinely, tangibly helped her when she was a new mother! She told her funny stories, she built TRUST with her. Devon thought she kidnapped her baby when she discovered she had been lying about her identity but then Harmony actually just put her in some random room, so truly the worst thing Cobel has done at this point is lie about who she is, from her POV.  Devon has never been exposed to who Harmony actually is, and neither has outtie Mark, if we're thinking about it. Devon also JUST met Reghabi and has literally no real reason to trust her implicitly. She sees Reghabi as the person who is putting her brother in mortal danger. Imagine the terror of seeing your sibling collapse on the floor like that and not knowing WHY. Devon doesn't have the information that the audience does. When Harmony answers the phone in this episode, Devon literally calls her Mrs. Selvig! She knows that's not her name, but that's who she is when Devon hears her voice. It's actually not bad writing at all, Devon is literally just operating on the knowledge that she has as a character! Of course WE know its not a good idea, but her character doesn't. And of course we get why Reghabi would dip, but Devon doesn't

[seeds-is-dead]

guys meet the love of my life

[rockn-rule]

Silly Game Time: I dare you to bark like a dog out loud right here and now.

Did you do it? If so, how loud on a scale of 1 to 10? And which kind of bark sound (ruff, woof, arf, etc.)?

I was just barking at my goats because it's the only way to get them back into the coop,, there was a pretty good echo since we're on a hill so 10/10 free therapy lol

[thebibliomancer]

101 Dalmatians was a documentary in this world

[vamp1re-bait]

taking an edible and turning into an ouppydog when it finally kicks in (<- curling up on the couch under a soft blanket and nuzzling my face into the pillow while nonverbal)

[jackals-ships]

autism therian overlap actually i need to find it Again bc messy room help me but i have a chewy ring

actually it's This One

biting and shaking it is a) soothing when im overwhelmed b) Just Really Fucking Fun

[milk-and-cosmo]

Pet Gear Cat Stroller

Today's blog is about this awesome Pet Gear Cat stroller (can be for small dogs as well). I purchased this on chewy a few years ago and have put it to good use. So far, only Cosmo have gone on it (Milk's been too scared/shy). He makes a bit of a fuss in the beginning but once we are on the trail, he loves it! He enjoys looking around and enjoying the scenery, the sounds and smells. There are dogs barking, cars going, trees rustling, birds chirping, bikes rolling by and just oh-so-much to see! He would be a little anxious in the beginning and then he would settle down and observe. I think he enjoys it a lot ! Anyways, this is a great stroller, sturdy and I love the big basket at the bottom for your jacket, cat treats, water bottles etc. Well worth the investment to bring your kitty out into the world!

[eevyerndracaneon]

How can one tiny dog manage to bark for over an hour with no stopping

[foxxypaws]

How to feel more like a puppy / doggie 🐶

Custom dog collars / normal collars

eating out of custom human-made dog bowls (I must express this: do not eat out of a used dog bowl)

get a chewy ball!

get a dog bed or if you feel comfortable with it, a dog cage (with blankies + pillows)

barking as much as you can

doing tricks

flops

chasing things (not other animals as you may scare them!)

eating doggy-like food (scooby snacks, beef jerky, peanut butter, biscuits)

going for walks and play times at the park

rolling around in the grass (if comfortable you can do mud as well!)

having baths instead of showers

furry paws

clip on tails

crawling on all fours

curling up on your caregiver's lap

jumpies

wiggles

lays at their caregiver's feet

spins in circles

using hands to eat / trying to eat even without hands (like licking the food off the plate)

[cobelschewtoy]

Severance Yuri Board

Thanks to @helly-ena and @spareham for the help <3

[libraford]

A lot of my friends have celiac, and since my usual holiday gifts are cookies I'm trying to find gluten free baking projects.

These look fucking delicious.

So far I'm thinking these and peppermint bark, but I'm also open to suggestions that aren't just "the cookies I already make but with different flours."

[1800titz]

TDIAG extra | temperature play extra

10.7K on patreon

Check out the rest of the TDIAG masterlist on tumblr & the patreon masterlist (with 354.6K WC and updating)

main masterlist

His ring-clad digits are wrapped over the handle of her overnight duffel, and as the pair amble into his home, the man sets the bag onto the closest cushion of his sprawling, burgundy sectional. It’s an old sports bag his girlfriend had utilized since childhood, toting it on through the years and refurbishing it through variable purposes it had been called for. An assortment of charms still accessorize it— ones she’d been too lazy to remove: a crystal-beaded keychain, a miniature dog figurine the length of his pointer digit with matted, gray fur, and an empty leather slot for an ID card that’s speckled with aged, partially torn stickers. He thinks it’s cute— it’s an endearing mosaic of pieces of her that existed before he knew her, and her lack of removal of the childish decorations makes his chest feel soft the same way old photographs do.  Anyways, it’s a half-shame he’ll be unraveling its owner into a soppy, pleading mess. 

1.9K preview

Harry blinks flatly from behind his sunglasses, pocketing his cellphone unceremoniously and shifting in the seat before he obnoxiously stretches one of his legs out beneath the table. Instead of toying with the obvious thread she’s been tugging at, he kicks his foot in between her own and huffs, “Alright, budge up, bigfoot.”

The way Isla’s self-satisfied smile melts clean off her face almost draws a bark of laughter from him. Harry, however, has mapped nonchalance down to a science, so it sits on the back of his tongue before he swallows the mirth back like a shot of undiluted glee. 

An offended squawk falls from the girl’s mouth as she sits up straighter, pouting sulkily at him for the mean tease, “I have— perfectly normal-sized feet.”

The moody defense does cause his mouth to quirk, though the curly-haired brunette is quick to school it down before sighing dramatically and sinking lower in his seat (effectively encroaching into more of her territory with his own big foot), “Yeah, that’s why it felt like I had an anvil on my toes. Fucking enormous.” 

“Fuck you.”

“They’re heavy, too!” Harry continues, absent-mindedly picking at the discarded wad of paper she’d planted onto his plate, gesturing out with his hand for emphasis before he lobs the balled wrapper back at her, “How do you get around on those two-ton flippers?”

As the little ball hits her between her clavicles, Isla blanks, unable to even tail the piece with her eyes before it rolls off somewhere onto the ground. Meanwhile, Harry drags his fingertips over his lips. Behind the tinted lenses of his shades, his eyebrows quirk pointedly. The nature of the performance is to emulate her— a little taste of her own petulant medicine. He’s purposefully mimicking the same annoying mannerisms she’s been throwing into his direction, and the realization finally dawns on her when the foot that’d slid between her own starts tapping against her own bare toes. 

“Alright,” Isla deadpans and folds her legs back to tuck her feet under her chair, just out of reach, “I get it.”

As his girlfriend does so, Harry sits up, pursing his mouth in feigned contemplation before he plucks a crispy piece of calamari from the corner of the pile. He picks the breading off as he bobs his head in confusion, popping the chewy middle past his lips and flinging a piece of the breading at her almost absent-mindedly, just as he’d done with the straw wrapper. 

“What do you mean?” Harry chews. A crease works between his brows as he goes for another, doing the same thing once more. Only this time, he breaks the outer layer apart and flings the individual pieces at her between his words, “I have no idea— what you’re talking about, sweetheart.” 

“Alright,” Isla scowls. His self-satisfied simper makes her want to chuck her water at him. She dusts the crusts that’d landed into her lap off onto the ground, the edges of her mouth twisted down in annoyance. 

Unfortunately for her, the momentary distraction grants Harry just enough of a window to pluck up his own discarded straw wrapper, stealthily tear it into two, and toss the first balled half at her. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the man pauses, tilting his head condescendingly. His ringlets are mussed from the saltwater, still somewhat speckled in sand, and one of the messy, flattened coils slips over his forehead as he tosses the second, “Is this annoying? Does this irritate you?”

“Yes,” Isla flails emphatically, shielding herself with her arms enough for Harry to pause the onslaught, his forearm visibly twitching as he stops himself (wrapper poised between his fingers, at the ready), and his semi-crescented lips twitching. Isla frowns, picking stray papers off her lap and shooting him a slitted glower, “Alright, I got it, I said.”

For a moment, Isla almost thinks he will relent. Unfortunately for her, her white flag of surrender means very little for a man who has perfected retribution to the same degree he has nonchalance. It’s sort of an infuriating talent. With his inky, chiseled forearm raised— still, for a brief, treasonous beat— he suddenly breaks and flicks the bunched wrapper at her, effectively smacking her square in the forehead with the crumpled wad. He leans over the table, ducking his chin and shaking his head from side to side (an exultantly shit-eating grin threatening to overtake his pink lips all the while).  

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Stop— I’m going to kick you in the nuts.”

Harry wraps his ring-clad fingers over his cup, relishing in the slick coat of condensation that sticks to his skin and chills it with the heat of the summer sun against his shoulder. The edge of his straw gets slotted between his lips, and he takes a long sip. Despite the way his shades cover a large portion of his upper features, his dark eyebrows climb in playful warning to accompany the thinly-veiled advisory, “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.”

Instead of volleying another half-hearted, begrudged quip, as he’d anticipated, Isla straightens out in her seat. She unfurls like something hatching, crossing her arms, and although her sunglasses obscure her gaze, and can practically feel the defiance clouding her irises (imagines the sharp, challenging curve her brow has no doubt carved into) when she bobs her head and quietly prods, “What will you do?”

And that, Harry assesses wryly (the subtle curl of her mouth like a cat baring its milk teeth), is the quiet pivot from pester to provoking. Because the way rebellion stacks on her shoulders may as well say “make me.” He observes her pensively, soaking in individual mannerisms like ingredients for a recipe of disaster: the defiant little nudge of her chin; the way she leans forward in her seat, just slightly, as if goading him with her body language; the soft way her chest swells and falls as his response pends. 

Harry can’t say the development ever comes as a surprise. Her mutinies always start as playfully soft things; harmless in a way that’s almost endearing and insinuates that all of the choreography is unintentional, like she’s doing him a favor by dampening the real theatrics. But they never stay there for long. It’s always a slow crawl towards escalation; a flippant remark here, a withheld kiss there, and then, suddenly, she’s looking him dead in the eye with that insolent little smirk that says she’s just waiting for him to do something about it. In a way, the entire experience is like a form of long, metaphorical edging— she pulls, he lets her, and eventually, he snaps. And what could possibly be more delicious than finally doing something about it?

Admittedly, Harry doesn’t expect her foot to graze his cock under the table. 

Utilizing the distracted window of his deliberation (the moment he finally, finally lets himself outright steep in the tension that’s been hotly welling between them), the girl subtly discards her sandal, unceremoniously stretches her foot forward, and gently presses between his thighs with the ball of her bare foot. The brazen maneuver happens so smoothly and catches Harry so off guard that his tummy instinctively tenses beneath the tee he’d thrown over, and he shoots a stray glance between his split legs as his breath hitches in his throat. Unwittingly, he’d granted just enough room for her foot to slot, and her fuschia-lacquered toes peek up at him as she carefully points them and fattens his prick to a semi almost instantaneously. A white hot streak of pleasure blooms in his underbelly at the filthy attention, wadding taut like a bow, and a dark, little shudder nearly wracks his shoulders as she draws her foot up and boldly caresses his rigidly growing cock with her heel. His chest grows heavy as the air sticks like honey to the nooks of his lungs, and his nostrils flare and finality settles in the pit of his chest as if it’s a back-burnered omen. He covers the tremble to his inhale with a cough and swallows the brokenly gritty moan that’s itching on the back of his tongue. There’s little he can do to hide the way his jaw slightly falls at first, however. 

Anyways, it’s all very unfair, and throws him entirely off kilter. 

“Isla—“

“So I was thinking—“ 

When he blinks back up at his counterpart, she’s picked up another piece of squid between her fingers and is casually peeling off the outer layer, almost attentively. This time, though, she neatly sets it onto the little plate ahead of her before she stuffs the stripped squid past her lips. As his dick thickens up under her ministrations, she switches from a curling press to a dragging tread along the fat shape nestled to his thigh. A harsh crick chisels into his jaw, and Harry suffocates the pathetic sound that threatens his vocal cords when she sensually grazes his tip. 

“That thai place is kind of a drive from the flea market, right? So, maybe we should check the area tonight and see what’s—“ Isla leans forward on her elbows, then motions with one of her hands. Her fingertips are smudged with oil, and she rubs them together before she casually ducks her chin towards the appetizer between them and takes another one, “around there.”

She replicates the motion, picking at the breading before stuffing it in her mouth and chewing thoughtfully. The act is so casual, were it not for the way her foot was prodding at his dick and scrambling the tracks to his train of thought, it would appear like an entirely normal exchange. The glasses, of course, safeguard the impish way he’s sure her eyes have narrowed, because despite the way she doesn’t smile with her mouth, he’s sure her cheeky amusement saturates her gaze and crinkles the corners. 

“What do you think?”

That rumbling ball of desire is still sitting in the trench of his tummy, and it permeates as an ache that crawls along the underside of his balls. Every fibril of his being concentrates on maintaining composure, and his tongue prods into the inside of his cheek before Harry leans forward his forearms to mirror her. Momentarily, his teeth lodge into his lower lip, rolling it back before letting it fall back into place. 

The dull nip of pain does little to ground him from the overwhelming sensation between his tensed thighs, but it hardens his exterior just enough for the quietly foreboding comment to land, “You are so cute when you think I won’t put you over my knee in a parking garage.”

The brief flinch to her foot, as her toes curl against him, causes a smug sense of achievement to spool apart in his chest, although the self-satisfaction doesn’t quite reach his lips. He keeps those leveled in a line, and without access to his forest-like gaze, his countenance is infuriatingly indifferent. The filthy insinuation gives Isla pause, and knocks her off her own game for a moment, sending a razor-like zapling of lightning clambering up her spine and punching her lungs still. With as much casualness as she can muster, Isla drums a naked divot into the condensation smearing her glass with the pad of her pointer, and curls her toes in finality. 

“Hm. Yeah.”

“I wonder how loudly—“ Harry murmurs, faux-thoughtfully, before he wraps his palm around her ankle. His fingers are still chilly, and the cold nip of pressure, combined with the subtle strength of his grip— not bruising, just firm enough to stake a quiet claim— causes her own breath to hitch, “You can beg into leather car seats.”

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[regcafe]

𐔌 🦴 — PUPPYRE ; NPTs ` made to any by mod Onyx . ͙͘͡ 🎾

NAMES ; Chase, Wyatt, Winnie, Charlie, Lucy, Bolt, Fang, Bluey, Mackenzie, Bjorn, Juno/June/Junie, Pip, Chip, Tommy, Oliver, Tucker, Max, Bailey, Nev, Sky/Skye, Jae/Jay, Sam/Sammy, Bohdie/Bohdy/Bo, Cody, Cooper, Pluto, Harley, Ashley/Ash

PRONOUNS ; Pup/pups/pupself, bark/barks/barkself, paw/paws/pawself, chase/chasing/chaseself, bone/bones/boneself, paw/print/pawprintself, woof/woofs/woofself, bite/bites/biteself, wuff/wuffs/wuffself, chewy/toy/chewytoyself,

TITLES ; Puppy of the Playground, Wild Pup, (prns) Who Barks Loud (and Proud), (prns/name) who Is the Loveliest Pet, Goodest Boy/Girl/Pup in Town, The Happiest Pupper, Your Local Pup, Loveliest Paw Pal, Puppy Kennel Ruler,

[fagtainsparklez]

Apollo tell us how cork is made please

Okay so basically, cork is harvested from a cork tree. the cork tree grows, like, a really thick bark on top of its normal “inner” tree bark. The outer bark is meant to protect it from all sorts of dangers like bugs (too chewy for them), fire, and just general damage. Emphasis on the fire thing though, that’s mostly what it’s about.

The cool part about this outer bark is that it regenerates. You can rip it all off and it’ll grow back in 7-14 years without hurting the tree. It’s also made of, y’know, lightweight waterproof fireproof bugproof wood gunkus, which turns out, is really useful. It seals bottles and barrels because it’s squishy, durable, and waterproof. It’s used to pin stuff to because it’s squishy and durable, even when pretty thin. Now, people are looking for renewable, durable, waterproof, bugproof, squishy materials because that’s, like, what furniture often has to be… and turns out, we have something that fits that description pretty well…

Cork.

- Apollo 🪑

[itsblasttothepast]

To my fellow Chequistas/Checolovers: you are all amazing, and I know this has hit us hard, unexpected (even when we felt it was leading this way) and poorly handled by a team that doesn't care about their drivers.

Checo looks at peace, happy and relaxed. He is different than when he lost his seat in Racing Point, perhaps because this time it was his decision, and this has been cooking for a long time. Remember when we said Checo had been more outspoken about the team's issues with the car and the failures? When he yelled at Bird? When he marked the mistakes over the radio? Checo knew he had to make a choice for himself, instead of just staying and being miserable.

I'm happy he decided to put himself first this time, and even when there's the possibility of retirement after this, I feel he wants to retire in his own terms and with a different taste than this 2024 left.

So if you need time to regroup, to feel better and assimilate this, we are going to be here for you. If you decide you had enough and move on to other things/fandoms, that's okay too, and if you want to come back we are here with open arms. We are a supportive community, Checo has taught us the importance of being positive, never give up and keep our dreams.

For my part, I'll keep posting Checo things, updating about his social media things, and making joked about the drivers. I'll still ship Chestappen, Chewis and Hulkenrez, and I hope the authors who write amazing fics about them continue, because they're amazing and your stories cheer me up a lot.

Also I met amazing people here, and I want to continue with the conspiracy theories with my buddy @simplywrong, and having tag conversations with @your-ace-cousin-clover; I want to see @selfishpresley's posts about Checo's dick and headcanons of how to get it, and @baby-alien11 and @kirasworldofwords posts about different opinions regarding everything F1 related; I want to keep exchanging fanfic ideas (particularly Chewis) with @wishfuldivine, and seeing the Strollonso content @aston14s and Lance content @11nevergiveup11 post with some Checo appearances; I want to read @lunarprophetuwu posts about the importance of mental health and ending stereotypes, and @cherriebbyyyy posts about Carlos (I'm becoming a fan). I want to understand @vegasgrandprix Checo posts and puns, as sometimes I get lost, but it's so much fun! and see the wonderful pictures @bluebirdy04, @coffee-bulls, @rojasnn post, and exchanging opinions in spanish with @yolixpan. Seeing the amazing fanart @saicoon shares, and the sense of humor of @luna-sibuna-trying (your posts/reblogs, even when they're not F1 related, cheer me up).

And to those who are new and feel you missed the best Checo era, don't worry about it, the best is yet to come, and in the meanwhile, the Chequitas/Checolovers community will keep the Checo fever, because he's not meant to be forgotten, even the haters keep barking even when he's out of RBR.

This post is to thank you all for your amazing impact in my journey here in tumblr, I have so many people to mention, but I'm getting a little emotional and I'll ramble as usual. You made being a Checo/F1 fan a fun and wonderful thing, and I hope we can continue despite of people celebrating Checo's leaving, well, guess what? The fans stay and will continue loving him.

To those who stay, see you in the dash/inbox and messages. Those who leave temporarily, take as much time as you need and we'll be here when you come back. To those who decide to move on, I wish you the best in your journey and if you want to come back someday, we are a tag away!

Baby model Checo for all of you!

¡Gracias por estar!