#pff the dream looking like robert pattinson is my longest that's so sad lmfao

[brick-a-doodle-do]

I posted 1,658 times in 2022

That's 1,658 more posts than 2021!

313 posts created (19%)

1,345 posts reblogged (81%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@baka-monarch

@brick-a-doodle-do

@.utahlive

@beckyu

@data-expunged-0

I tagged 803 of my posts in 2022

#ask - 201 posts

#talking brick - 118 posts

#nmw - 105 posts

#g/t - 92 posts

#mcyt g/t - 77 posts

#mw - 68 posts

#ask game - 67 posts

#dsmp g/t - 60 posts

#dream smp g/t - 59 posts

#brickfic - 50 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#tbf this has nothing to do with anything cause it was the photo that looked like robert not dream himself but now dream does look like robe

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Aha I’ve got something written! Finally! I’ve had this idea for a while and I finally got the motivation to put it on paper, and even more motivation to actually post it. If it does well I may turn it into an AU, but for now this is just a one shot. :]

Briefly read over, if you see any grammatical errors, nope, you don’t!

Curiosity Killed The Cat

_WC 2.4k

_TW: Mention of death, swearing

———————————————————————

Close-minded or not, the house was unsettling. It stood out like a bruise, its darkened color palette failing to blend in with the much warmer colors the rest of the street had. Various vines wrapped the house, some looking to come from the windows. Now, the house wouldn’t be as weird if it was abandoned, but someone clearly lived here. The only way to tell was through the way lights in different rooms would flip from on and off from time to time, but the point still stood — someone lived there. 

Personally he hasn’t heard anyone speak of the resident leaving the home, so either they were fucking immune to eating, or some paranormal shit was happening. 

Tommy had gotten hired as a newspaper boy a few weeks ago through a friend of his, who was looking for jobs himself but thought it would suit Tommy since it was primarily a quiet and easy job. He did enjoy it, sure, but it got boring.

He wanted some excitement, so excitement he decided upon.

He had tossed the second to last newspaper onto a porch when he was forced to face the dark house. There was no ominous streak of lightning when he gazed upon it’s curtained windows, but he swallowed as he looked at the growing pile of past papers. They were there when he originally got the job, so he wanted to make sure he could end the one-sided cycle before it got too overwhelming for the old house, and before it was too big of a collection; he really didn’t want to end up spending longer than he’s comfortable with while trying to clean. 

He bit at the inside of his lips as he silently complained through his thoughts. 

He scoffed at his worry and stepped onto the concrete path leading up to the house, at one point stepping on a flower he didn’t know could even begin to thrive on the nearly dead lawn. 

Tommy placed his foot onto the first step leading up to the porch, applying pressure to make sure he wouldn’t fall through the damn thing. Once confirming he wouldn’t commit property damage, he climbed to the top slowly and crouched down to gaze at the papers covered in plastic. He brushed a bug off of one gently and picked it up, cringing at the date from two months ago. 

He guessed that was the last time someone took the opportunity to clean it, since the entire street would’ve been bustling if someone came out of the door leading into the house. He took a plastic bag out of his pocket — Phil originally told him to bring it in case he decided to do what he was doing now, since he’d been bugging Tommy about it for a while now — and shook it a couple times to make it unfold. Once it did he started shoving papers in as quickly as he could, grabbing as much as four at a time while trying to make more room in the bag. 

It filled up at about halfway through the newspaper, so he tied it and opened the flap of his satchel and began removing the other half. When his job was finished he stood up, plastic bag in hand as he prepared to leave. He got down one step before his phone buzzed a custom ringtone set for Tubbo only. He looked into the closest window of the house and muttered to himself, setting the bag down and sliding his satchel off. He took his phone from his hoodie pocket and unlocked his phone, scrolling through pages until he found the Discord app. He looked at the house again nervously while he waited for it to load. 

tubbo    Today at 8:27 AM

hey did u get to the house yet? is it still covered in the newspapers? 

tommyinnit    Today at 8:28 AM

yeah i just cleared it off

it’s creepy as fuck dude why’d you make me get this job??

tubbo    Today at 8:28 AM 

stfu 

Tommy smiled slightly at his friend’s text, shutting his phone off and moving to grab both bags. When the light that once shined through one of the windows turned off, a wave of curiosity spread through him. The logical thing to do was run, but.. only satisfactory brought back the cat that died of curiosity, so clearly he should definitely be the biggest man and check it out so he can live to tell the tale of whatever he does find in there. 

The bag and the satchel were rearranged to where they were hidden in a corner. He picked his phone up from where he’d set it down and he stepped onto the dull, flat welcome mat, where he felt through his hair for the bobby pin he kept in there for the usual event where he forgets his house key. Techno taught him when he was around four years old how to pick a lock, and ever since it’s his go-to thing to do, even if it’s when he’s breaking into Tubbo’s house because he hasn’t answered any texts. 

He eventually found it and pulled it out slowly while being cautious of either dropping it or pulling his hair, then stretched it open so he could have a better grip on it. Tommy put it in the keyhole and pushed it around for a while, and let him say he was completely aware of every little noise that happened around him while he did it. He had to erase his progress once because he was convinced someone was coming outside across the street. 

Once he did get it, though, it was only smooth sailing from there. He pocketed his phone and returned the bobby pin to his hair after fixing it, put his hand on the doorknob, and slowly turned it. The door opened with ease, and he sent one more glance behind himself before finally slipping in and shutting the door. 

He turned around, prepared to start looking around, but he was only met with surroundings a good hundred times his size. In a panic he reached back, but he only hit the wooden door. He thought for a moment that he missed the knob but as he turned his head back he bit back a curse upon realizing the door had been scaled up just as much as the rest of the house.

“Fuck..” Tommy said in a whisper. He felt frozen in place while his eyes looked at every detail of the furniture, walls, floors, everything. He.. really let curiosity get the best of him, didn’t he? 

The best plan of action was to find an exit, like a window. However, he couldn’t really do much when he was fucking small, now could he? Stressed, he ran a hand through his hair while he thought, every idea he had being pushed into the back of his mind like a crumpled piece of paper being thrown into the bin once it was deemed useless.

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88 notes - Posted July 19, 2022

#4

not quite ready (i)

sup! wilbur chocolate au is here! fun fact: i wrote this while eating wilbur chocolate :DD (very good btw,,, some of my favorite chocolates even tho i don't rlly like chocolate)

okay just fyi this is a boring chapter—chapter two will definitely have a lot more angst. not to say this one doesn't, it definitely does.

alr, now have the fic >:))

tw !! ⚠️ mention of fatal vore/mouthplay, mention of vore, mention of su1c1de attempts, su1c1dal thoughts, mention/implication of dehumanization/mishandling of a humanoid, panic, swearing ⚠️ !!

words: 2180

—-—

There came a time, where the hope Wilbur had simply died down. It shattered to the ground, letting light for the intrusive, negative thoughts. They pushed any positivity firmly in the crevice of his mind, and never allowed them to simply take a look out. And because of this, there was no acceptance. He never would accept this hellhole of a home.

Essentially, a merry-go-round of hell, where every single fucking time a human comes by, they simply give him a hell-ride and walk off, not bothering to even notice the protests that come from his mouth. He still attempts them, despite knowing damn-well the type of store he’s in; if there is a human that steps foot into this building, they are looking for his kind. They’re looking simply for a treat. Wilbur, although he used to deny this, has finally come to terms with his ultimate fate, between two rows of teeth, completely content with shattering the bones and life of an innocent, who’s only flaw is a size not taller than a finger. Somehow, some way, it makes his life have a lesser value. And perhaps Wilbur has seen the truth to that statement. 

So, Wilbur continues to sit, counting seconds among minutes in his head despite knowing full-well they were nothing but inaccurate to what the time truly was. But, with little but a pinhole for his source of light, and he woefully admits his breathing, he’s become plenty used to error in his technique of containing his sanity. Some days were more successful than others, where he simply paced along the rocky path the chocolates created, simply thinking and rethinking over his life, wandering down every metaphorical path, as if it could change the outcome of his current life. But, there are others, where he sits against the pinhole, with his knees curled firmly to his chest, and where his hands wrap them. Where he buries his head in his lap and simply sobs. And other, more exhilarating days, where he finds the wrath in him has become tired of sitting still and accompanies his grim thoughts. 

Wilbur Soot will not deny that he absolutely despises his very existence. He loathes his size, barely the size of a human finger – making it next to futile for him to defend himself, and he often feels he’d find more peace dead than he will just simply sitting, taking in the void. Wilbur has wished so hard for it to end, but no matter how many thoughts begged the universe for it, he never got results. And he’s attempted to rid of himself, but each attempt ends in failure, where he’s forced to spend another day in an agonizing, miserable hell that is, what looks to be, a simple bag of candy. He wants it to be like that. But, alas, it is not. And he is very much still alive and sulking in the middle of the bag, just gazing at the miniscule hole, like it holds secrets he yearns to be revealed.

The lights were on – the hole was glowing a certain color that told him the store was open. Wilbur did not have a proper way of knowing how much time had passed and when, but he does understand the basics of a store. Lights on means it’s open, lights off means it’s closed. Simple. 

A shadow passes the hole, blocking the light just slightly. Wilbur’s interest perks at this, but not enough to spark any kind of hope. He knows better than to assume the best for himself. He shifts his position slightly, leaning against the back of the wall as he continues to watch the small sample of the world he’s been given. Tire nags at his eyes, but he doesn’t dare sleep. Perhaps it’s because some part of him really does wonder, really does hope, that he’ll be getting out. 

–

He’d first moved there not only to get away for a bit, but because he realized that his thoughts were starting to get to him. Constantly having intrusive and careful thoughts fighting in his mind, all while skimming the ground to ensure he wouldn’t be misstepping, was a task he did not enjoy. He holds no prejudice against the smaller beings, they are no less human than he, however it can get distressing to worry nearly every moment of the day where he’s doing a thing as simple as walking.

But, he finds that the streets of New York are unfortunately far more crowded than those in London. While trying to avoid hundreds of tourists coming at him eye-level, with the addition of tinies – it becomes overwhelming. Which is why one afternoon when he deemed himself frustrated and over-tired of worrying, he took temporary shelter in a store, located in a particularly odd part of town, yet still busy as normal.

It looked oddly isolated, like it was not meant to be seen by the public. He still managed to find it, though, so he wondered if it was that hidden. Bells chimed softly as he entered, almost startling the cashier in the back of the building. Tommy offered him a quick smile before he allowed himself to get lost in isles among isles, eyes scanning over the contents in the store. Ultimately, after he had circled the small store, he concluded bitterly that everything looked unfortunately unappetizing. 

He returned to the middle of the store, grabbing mindlessly at a bag of Wilbur Chocolate. Hopefully he’ll feel up to eating it by the time he returns home. If he even makes it home without starting a crime scene.

Tommy ambled to the back corner, where the cashier sat at a stool, looking unusually alert of everything he did. Like he was noting it in the back of his mind. And he did not miss the small smirk under the man’s lips. Avoiding the odd look, he set the bag down on its side and patted himself for whatever money he had on him. “Ah, good choice,” The man said. Tommy nodded. 

“Twenty dollars and twenty-six cents.”

Tommy’s eyes widened. “Twenty dollars? For that?” 

Something in the cashier’s eyes shifted, and his smirk returned, this time far more curious. He raised his brow and said, “They aren’t exactly cheap, sir. I can’t go giving them out for free,”

“The…. chocolates?” 

The man huffed in amusement, nodding. “Sure, the chocolates.”

Americans. “Here.” He handed the man the extra bills he’d fished from his pockets and grabbed the bag sourly. He bid a small goodbye out of habit and made his way back to the glass doors. “I hope you enjoy the chocolates, sir!” 

Prime, why did he move here?

—

Wilbur no longer has the wish to be free. Deep down inside of him, the feeling of freedom would be refreshing, but the actuality of the situation has finally sat in him. And he cannot be more afraid, more unwelcoming, about what is to come. Wilbur does not want to be handled by a human, to be tossed around like some fucking toy, when he simply is not that. He knows that his fate will be sealed when he finds his frail, emotional body being crushed under the weight of two rows of teeth as he feels the life being sucked out of him completely, just because of a simple height difference. A major one, however still one that makes him human.

Wilbur is nervous as he feels the bag swaying with every step the human takes. He heard their conversation. The human had been hesitant, but only when he initially heard the price – when the god-awful cashier just had to make a little comment, that’s when he was being purchased, fucking bought willingly. Without any damn hesitation. His nails dug into the candy below him, sure to leave deep dents in it. His breathing had gone haywire since his realization, and it hasn’t gone back to normal since. Beads of tears built up in the corner of his eyes and he couldn’t help but just allow himself to sob. One final time, he will sit in this bag and cry. 

Minutes after minutes pass by, and his surroundings continue to sway. The only thing he can hear is the crowded chatter of passing humans, where their shadows continue to make his natural light flicker. Wilbur wishes to scream. But, before he can develop that sudden thought, the swaying stops. And there is a gentle, quiet gush of wind as he’s set down. The movement is followed with the closing of a door.

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88 notes - Posted September 23, 2022

#3

Favorite Dsmp duo and favorite trope

My favorite DSMP duo changes depending on what it’s for, but, for G/T, my favorite duo is easily T!George or G!Dream (or vice versa,,,)

My favorite trope changes so often!! Right now, though, I think it's a giant seeming eerie and terrifying, despite them trying to be funny/playful. And they've got no idea the tiny is scared shitless :)

(Unintentional fearplay lol)

I saw a video about Manhunt in George's POV and it was super cool so obviously I gotta make it g/t 😎 (this video should definitely be watched beforehand cause my descriptions are slacking lol)

Soooo have this lil thing :D

(also have the tiktok cause damn it’s awesome)

oh, george

tw: vore, un/intentional fearplay (kinda both), panic/hyperventilation

wc: 1614

First hunter, first to die. That seemed like a false statement, but, after having been through this very thing innumerable times, George can only stand face-to-face with agreement. While he may have had more experience with Dream as a person, he has had no change in his agility or stamina since the very first time they’d tried this rather irritating game. To go against a giant, for him, would be welcoming his demise with open arms. And while he’s done it before, he is not looking for a second death when they’re only less than half an hour into the hunt. So, he’s taken a shortcut.

Water splashed around him as his boots collided with the ground under the river rushing harshly downstream. A subtle wave of pain traveled through his body as he took a hint of damage. He steadied himself, keeping himself from falling directly into the strong water.

 “Geoorge~”

George froze at the calling of his name, a flutter in his stomach erupting instantly. His hands inches to his pathetic excuse of a weapon: a dull wooden sword that he was lucky enough to craft in the short time span he was given. His breathing picked up, creating an eerie echo. George’s eyes couldn’t seem to find a resting place as they looked every-which-way, darting from cavern to crevice to wildlife as he tried to find even a clue that Dream was nearby. He’d not expected to be followed after his death. In fact, he wasn’t aware that Dream knew where he was at all, especially considering the fact that he’d looked rather busy with the other four members of his party.

“I’m gonna kill you, George!” Dream laughed softly. He sounded delighted to speak these words, like it was a pleasure to create pain for the hunter. George panted, finally pulling the weapon from where it rested on his side. His knuckles became white from the intense grip he had on the handle, but, despite the pain, he stuck to the grasp. George’s mind begged him to crouch in the small indent in the stone ‘wall’, however he knew there would be no use in hiding from Dream. It’ll simply be taunt, after taunt, after taunt, until he forces George out. That being through mental manipulation or Earthly damage. He stayed put. As if any kind of defense he attempted would truly wound the giant enough to disable him.

George looked up, taking in the scenery before he’d be momentarily visiting the afterlife. The tip of the ravine was littered in green trees, a sign of early Spring. George looked down when a branch snapped from the water, startling him out of his gaze. “George,” Dream drawled. He sounded like a child calling for a cat, or perhaps a cat calling for a mouse. George’s panicked respires returned once more, and fear laced his body once again. 

He aimlessly spun at a slow speed, eyeing the rock formations above him. He exhaled shakily.

“Where, oh where, is Georgenotfound?~” Dream said in a sing-songy tone of voice, his words soft, taunting. It sounded far too close to a  doll with a whiny old voice box.

 George continued his mindless movements and uncontrollable hyperventilation as he stood there in nothing but anticipation. Dream’s mask, his voice, any sign of him, really. Or, just simply his demise. Perhaps a boulder or a tree. George shuddered, then exhaled shakily at the thought of being in such a vulnerable position, and still, although he told himself otherwise, kept drifting towards the only thing that could really be called safety.

George was startled into looking elsewhere for the second time, as the subtle sound of stone hitting stone resonated in the thin space. He caught sight of it instantly, watching as little more than a pebble drifted downwards from the very top of the ravine. George’s heart sunk, and somehow his deathly grip on the weapon became significantly stronger. He inhaled, trying to gather what little confidence he had remaining.

Dream laughed. And, it wasn’t a lighthearted, amused laugh. It was a taunt, with a tone so similar to the last sentence he spoke. If nothing else made him frightened, it would now be this. It echoed around the canyon a hundredfold, adding to the eeriness his repeated pants created. A string of swears flowed through his mind, just as the water did. The sound rang in his mind, efficiently giving him more goosebumps than he could grasp. Every time he thought the wretched echoes of a laugh had finally taken their leave, he’d just shudder again. Until, eventually, it did stop. As the very last, unfortunately loud, vibration of Dream’s voice bounced back and forth from stone wall to stone wall, Dream spoke up again, “Come here, George!”

A shadow fell over where he stood. George knew painfully well what was to come. He directed his worried eyes upwards, instantly dropping the wooden sword as he stared with intense eyes at the hand coming at him at a speed far too quick. “No!” George yelped, screamed, as skin was all he could see.  He had yet to properly register what was happening, until four fingers were closing over him like a cage, with Dream’s thumb securing him to the palm, as if somehow he could attempt, or even successfully, make an escape.

George huffed, freeing one of his arms from the gentle, yet firm, grip Dream had on him. He drew his hand to his face, pulling up the goggles that cover his eyes. And, right as he did so, sunlight drifted back onto his tiny form, welcoming him with a ripple of fresh air. He gasped, struggling against the thumb. “Hi, George,” Dream undoubtedly grinned behind the awful mask that covered his face. “Dream, you are so annoying, put me down,” He didn’t have it in him to be scared. George’s memory was not awful, he knew that Dream had four other human’s to be worried about. He knew that, when he died, he was paying attention to them. But, now, he’s here, distracting both himself and George.

Dream tilted his hand so that it was laying flat, then positioned his fingers so he was able to give George free room to move, while still creating somewhat of a barrier against him. “Why are you bothering me? Shouldn’t you be like…hiding?”

“You were…far easier to get to.”

George rolled his eyes, shifting upwards. 

Dream rose a hand to his face, gripping onto the edge of the mask to pull it upwards, only to where his mouth was visible. George scrambled back into the fingers, instantly knowing exactly what was happening. “Dream, seriously, you are so annoying. Put me down,” He muttered, trying unfortunately hard to cover the shake in his voice.

 “Why? You’re just going to die if I do. I’m just keeping you safe, George,” Dream hummed, opening his maw and drawing George closer to it. He titled his hand, and even though he tried his utmost hardest to avoid falling into Dream’s open mouth, he failed, and gravity did its terrible job of making George tumble past a row of too-sharp teeth and right onto his friend’s tongue with a small groan of protest.

“Dream!” He called out, watching with a frown as he saw he now was covered in darkness. He sat up, then slowly rose to his feet. The surface under him, or rather the wet muscle under him, twitched as he tried his share at walking along it. Instead of making it more than five steps, however, he instead stumbled back down. 

George yelped as he was tossed to the side of  Dream’s mouth; his cheek. The very same tongue he was on just a moment before prodded at him, coating him in a disgusting layer of saliva. He groaned, “Dream, you’re actually disgusting–” George stood there, at a total loss for words as he felt a familiar feeling of revulsion circulating inside of him. Then, after a short second, his body was unwillingly being moved to a different area. He somehow ended up situated atop Dream’s tongue again, more saliva pooling under him. He nearly gagged at the sticky feeling. “Dream, please, let me out of here, it’s disgusting,” he tried.

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93 notes - Posted October 4, 2022

#2

Hello fellow G/T enjoyers! I have come with a gift. I’m not sure if this has been done before, but I haven’t seen anything so far!

I’ve made a G/T tier list including tropes & sizes! Open to anyone, comments for this post and asks are always there if anyone has any suggestions on what to add, I’m open to all ideas! :]

Also tw this tier list includes mentions of noms

Here’s the link,,

@a-xyz-s look, I made it :D

106 notes - Posted August 4, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

experiment 👋😎

i'm just trying an experiment rn

if you are a dsmp g/t enjoyer: INTERACT WITH THIS POST!!

i'm doing this because a. i'm curious where those 600 people come from on other dsmp g/t posts, and b. i posted oh george and over half of the likes on it were from people i'd never seen around here,,,

the dsmp g/t community isn't dead, it's very much alive. it's just that there is a significant lack of creators (which is totally fine!). @smog-frog-0 made a good post on the consumers in this community. i'd like to talk a little about it while i'm in the mood to ramble! :]

sooo, i totally agree with smog, the consumers in this community are what keep the content coming. it's totally find if you're a lurker and get shy or whatnot, but even a like helps the confidence of a creator so much!! i can talk from experience, most of the people here are so kind and socially awkward that it's a treat for them to talk to you (/lh /pos)

^ also considering the last part of this, asks are also a hugeeeee motivation booster! chat with us! add comments!! feedback, even if it's just a few tags like "woo this is awesome" would make the next part of the fic come out sooner. (no promises, a personal life of a creator also exists,,)

i know that there are over 600 of you lovely dsmp g/t enjoyers because i have seen it! so many people!! the community is still alive, but the people are spread out over the platform. i'm sure there's a similar circle of creators just like ours somewhere else on this hellsite.

i propose an idea: let's expand. morph together. honestly the group we have on here is so active i wonder why they don't get more clout for the things they do?

seriously, just interact with this post. reblog, tell me who your little circle is, like it, EVERYONE in this community, consumer or content creator, interact!!!

also for all you lurkers, send asks! you can be an anon, so you can keep your secrecy. give feedback, prompts, questions, headcannons, checkups, anything!! we love everyone who comes into our askbox and activity.

here, smog did it, so, it's my turn!

here're the people in our circle 👀 all of you who don't like being tagged, tell me, 'cause it might happen again,

(TOOK OUT THE LIST BC IT KEPT TAGGING PEOPLE DESPITE ME ADDING A .)

SORRY THAT LITERALLY IS SUCH A LONG LIST BUT LOOK AT OUR COMMUNITY! I'M SURE I MISSED A LOT, BUT HERE'S A LOT OF PEOPLE IN MY FOLLOWING!! DSHGDS

And I'm not tagging them for clout, but because these people are fuckin' awesome and deserve a loooot of love on their work, everything they do is lovely, and they should be much more known! Anyone who see's this, please go to their blogs and give them love! their fics are awesome >:D

146 notes - Posted October 6, 2022

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