#(Oh

[kasel-the-mightless]

Okay, guys, you win. I'm actually doing this-

[soulmys]

Oh amor que desastre!...estas pasando de moda, ya no me importas como antes :3

~Soulmys

[cpericardium]

[sasaleletrebol]

FOR REAL HAHAHAHA

sorry another bald tshirt post that came to me last night

[candyje11yfish]

nacho ahhahaha (i hope this looks cool)

[qvert]

Refuge at the Firelight Hideout

[catfindr]

[ramblingandpie]

Fire 😒 / BUG 😍

That looks like

PURE SHADOW 😎

pokèmonize yourself!!!!

spin this wheel to see your pokemon type

spin this one to see how you'll look like

[notherpuppet]

📻: “SO insecure, pursuing allure, flitting between this fad and that!”

🍎: “Is nothing working??”

[monophobix]

oh the jayce caitlyn parallels need to be STUDIED.

jayce, who was initially as ignorant and unknowing as all topsiders being manipulated into creating the downfall of the undercity, only to learn and realise that zaunites deserve to live just as much as topsiders do.

caitlyn, who was initially as ignorant and unknowing as all topsiders being shown the beauty of the undercity and thinking zaunites deserve to live just as topsiders do only to be manipulated and used to create the downfall of the undercity.

ooooh how their arcs are so similar and cursed.

[malcontentonline]

[salemrph]

Of all the boys, Caleb is the one who has the strongest longing for MC. I admire how he holds back, but not really hiding it. I'm still pissed about his actions, but I'm melting when he has this puppy expression... Entering the Caleb Club.

make him lose his cool.

suggestive and sexual content. mdni, ageless blogs dni.

xia yi zhou / caleb x reader.

cw. drabble (~1k wc, written in one sitting. ignore any typos.) no sex, but caleb popping a boner like a victorian man. afab reader (that also wears bras). mc=reader.

"caleb is an ass man!" "no, he likes tits!"

personally, i think caleb would have a near panic attack upon seeing your shoulder, elbow, or ankle.

he just does a really good job of pretending he doesn't mind it. after all, the two of you grew up together. he's had to put his hands on you many times — carrying, tending to scrapes and cuts, tickling you, ruffling your hair, squeezing your face. skinship was a language that the two of you were plenty fluent in.

but the year spent apart failed to maintain this, like some half-assed video streaming subscription, and caleb's the newborn fawn learning how to walk.

so what happens when he knocks on the room to his bedroom — it belongs to you now, technically — with a plate of breakfast before coming in, and he witnesses you sitting up, all sleepy and the neckline of his shirt slightly sliding down your shoulder?

he's going to throw himself off a cliffside. maybe even off skyhaven itself.

the plate hits the bedside table on your side with a loud clatter. none of the food spilled over, luckily. he has half a mind to garble some lame excuse about being busy and a quick good morning before trying to bolt.

but, caleb nearly snaps into two when you tug at the hem of his shirt, slumber still slurred in your words as you ask where he's going. there'd been no strength in that tug. yet, he stopped in his tracks all the same. he ends up listening to your grumbles, ones reminding him that it's his day off, remember? you promised you'd spend it with me.

"i gotta take a shower first," he chuckles, hoping his voice wasn't too shaky. please don't notice. please don't notice.

"but caleb," you keen.

god, it's like when he'd take leave from the academy for a few days just to go back to you and gran. always coming home to you, thoroughly acquainted with you not being a morning person but still making the effort to cling to him and savor every second you two spent together.

he assumed it would be the same now, but clearly, that was a mistake. because the coiling tension of warmth threatening to boil over in his stomach was nothing short of treacherous.

caleb does manage to escape; albeit pained by the half-awake whines behind him and the sound of you falling back into bed. god, how badly he wanted to cave into your demands. you don't even know the half of it.

he wonders if you've ever curled into his side of that bed he once slept on, seeking his cologne, his body, his warmth the same way he looks for your silhouette in every corner of this home. a melody he knows, but a name he can't quite place in this shell of a house that transformed in your presence.

regardless, it's really difficult to let this relationship rebuild organically when he was popping a boner over the slightest sliver of skin. the shower's streams are icy on his skin, the impromptu bath having thrown a wrench into his morning routine. he refuses to even touch himself. letting the proof of his sin soften under the biting cold of the water, despite the discomfort.

because nothing was more horrific than having his body react to you like a prepubescent teen discovering porn online for the first time.

caleb thinks he's safe after spending an hour in the bathroom, fingertips pruned and mind cooler than the iciest of planets. but as he's changed back into his clothes, he discovers you beside the door, a blanket around your sitting form and those eyelids droopy.

"pipsqueak? what're you doin' here?" he's crouching down — mortifying boner forgotten as he gathers you into his arms before he realizes it.

then, you stir. a whine muffled into the crook of his neck as you wrap your arms around him, the vibration seeming to ripple down his spinal column. the blanket falls from your body in the motions, and you're so soft compared to the firmness of his body.

his arms tighten around you on instinct and you let out a pleased sound and—

he stiffens. you weren't wearing a bra.

"caleb, you're done." you yawn, like the spoiled, pampered figurehead of royalty you are. you arch up into him, and he swears he feels several of his neurons die, dropping like flies in the empty cavity of his head.

"take me back to bed." he feels the air shift as you seem to inhale his scent. your voice softer, more content when you say, "i wanna sleep some more."

he's so fucking doomed.

[swiftiesbuddie]

[weltenwellen]

Ruth Awad, from “Reasons To Live”

[mellowsharkpolice]

Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 (not done yet)

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