#calvin oc

[its-celery]

my oc #myoc ☺️☺️☺️

Art Fight

An art gifting game

[goon-art-gospel]

calvin and billy. they are friends. maybe worse

[whumpsoda]

We Search For Stolen Personhood - A Hard Day

Masterlist

cw: pet whump, box boy universe/bbu adjacent, Institutionalized slavery, conditioned whumpees, collar, whumper turned whumpee, sick whumpee, recovering whumpee

——————

Blowing dark, bouncing curls out from his line of sight, Florence sighed, shifting around in his bed to study the wooden planks that held up the top bunk. As expected there wasn’t exactly much to really see, but at least an hour had passed of simply struggling to sleep, and he was less interested in thinking. 

In remembering.

Sometimes - and he knew Isaac would disagree but occasionally he didn’t much care for what Isaac thought -  it proved bad for him to think. And that’s where it got confusing because Florence also knew now that it was bad to think that it was bad to think, but a good amount of time in his case thinking hurt, and it always hurt even before the safehouse, and if he thought too hard it would hurt so bad-

Shutting his eyes tight he sipped in a breath and held it, mind calming blank and empty. The whole day for him had been spent either falling in and out of consciousness, or down a rabbit hole of trying not to think but inevitably doing so. He needed to quiet his mind to silence, even if for only a second.

Maybe… just for a minute.

After a moment he released the air in his lungs, carefully sitting up in his bed for the first time that day. A pair of plaid pajamas were still draped around his body, a reminder of how good a spot he was in now. A spot he didn’t deserve, and never would. He knew well that fluffy pajamas were a luxury for him.

Striding to the closet he dug behind his neatly folded pile of clothes, bringing up an old memory he wasn’t supposed to have. Florence shook it off.

Stopping as his fingers brushed leather, he swallowed.

There.

He spit a shaky breath as he strapped the collar around his throat, eyes shifting to the door and lingering there, just waiting for someone to walk in and catch him. Secretly he hoped someone would, just so he’d have something else to beat himself up about.

Kneeling down, just as he would before Mr. Franklin and Mistress Charlotte, he curled his hands in his lap. Closing his eyes tight, he sat silently. Like he would when no one needed him, when he had no duties to fulfill.

He itched at the numbers tattooed across his arm. In his mind, when he was a pet, he couldn’t be a handler.

As soon as it had began, it was over. Gracefully he took it off, setting it back into place where no one would find it. He took one more deep, filling breath, shaking the nerves out from his hands, and turned to the door.

The path toward the living room proved oddly difficult, Florence constantly debating whether he really should, or shouldn’t, even when he knew the correct answer. He would take a step to the door, then two steps back, then one step forward. Like he always did. 

Eventually he made his way out though, to find the television on as a distraction for the other rescues as all of the real adults made their ways about the kitchen.

Atop the couch were all the pets sitting huddled together - and by all of them there were only two because the newest ones were surely not ready to venture out just yet - with Calvin by their side. Like some babysitter. He didn’t know why that irked him, why stinging heat rose from his chest, but it did. 

“Oh, hello dear.” Edith greeted with a weak, half smile as he made his way into the kitchen. The lines of her face were deeper that day, telling him all he needed to know about how the new pets were doing.

“Can I do something to help? Anything?” Florence met her expression, exhaustion scrawled across her face. “I’ve been slacking off today.” He laughed a little, sheepishly, playing it off like a joke. He knew they took it better that way, even if everyone - including him - was well aware he wasn’t really kidding.

Edith never laughed back. She only patted his shoulder with a solemn smile. “How about you just join the others on the couch. You’ve had a hard day.”

Belly tensing, Florence bit his lip. 

A hard day.

As if. While everyone else was probably taking care of chores and the new rescues, worrying about him even, he was sleeping the day away with the pathetic excuse of his mind. 

“I…  please? I need to.” Jaw working, his expression hardened. It was always odd to be pleading to have a task to do, when that had previously been his whole life. “I have to. I’ll do anything.”

“Alright then. Would you mind taking this to Isaac? She’s with the newest pair.” Her cheeks smushed her eyes as she smiled, wearily but kind as always. “And then you can join the others with their movie.”

Florence gladly took the medecine bottle from her. “Yes, ma’am.” He said, again, humorously but not. 

Edith playfully rolled her eyes, but he could practically hear the way it flipped to concern as he walked off.

“Florence!” Isaac whisper-exclaimed, eyes widening as he entered the blue room.

“Isaac!” He parroted, playing up the fake surprise as he jokingly mocked her. She huffed a soft laugh, taking the bottle from him before turning back to the task at hand. 

She was sat beside what looked to be a large roll of blankets, which he soon found to be one of the newest pets. He was curled up in a ball of disease, whimpering with affliction.

Putting on the same tone Edith always did, calm and soothing, Florence kneeled beside Isaac and the pet on the floor. “Hi there.” 

Gradually opening his squinting eyes, the pet growled, a low and animalistic whine, a mixture of anger and pain. Hugging his stuffed animal tighter he shifted away, shielding himself, back tapping against the frame of the bed.

For a moment Florence saw this pet as so many different ones, an array of them keeled over for so many different reasons. The root of it always him.

One of them he remembered well, floating to the surface among the others. With bright, skittering eyes and gritted teeth they had fought so well, screaming, biting, and kicking so desperately before he’d beaten them down until they broke. 

All of it with a smile.

A flicker of hot, a quick flash of white, digging his nails into the flesh of his arms as his two rows of teeth ground over one another. Florence swallowed, hard, taking in a shaky breath to stabilize himself. Isaac gently placed her hand over his.

Sticking his arms to his side as he stood to his feet, his gaze lifted with him, meeting that of another. The other pet, he realized, almost forgetting there were two. 

This one stared back, eyes wide and glimmering in the light of the doorway. He sat, tucked into a corner between the bed and dresser, wound in on himself. He held his head low, almost purposefully, hiding his face with his overgrown bangs. 

Florence could see himself in him, clear as day. He was the same when he’d first entered the safe house, holed up under his bed and not speaking a word. Most of the time he wished he could go back to then, when he knew how to keep quiet and do as he was told. When he didn’t know who he was, what he could be, or who he had been.

So he waved. Just a little one, catching the pet’s eye. And he waved back.

He gave a grin before he turned to leave, the pet digging his head further into his knees, and hiding his flushed face.

Flopping onto the couch, Florence fell right between Joey and Otis with a grunt. “Hey.”

“Hello.” Joey greeted, the pair turning to meet his gaze as he slumped down. After a moment she plopped back beside him, resting her head to his shoulder.

Otis cocked their head. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Not really.”

“Were you sick too?” Calvin asked, an innocent look of concern. Sometimes - well, most of the time - Calvin just didn’t get it. Sometimes he’d be plainly, annoyingly clueless, and Florence couldn’t help but grit his teeth.

“Nope.” He replied, keeping his eyes on the screen as he snickered. One of Otis’ favorite movies played, one they always chose when it was their turn to pick a film. No one ever complained about having to watch it over and over again. They’d always said it was a comfort movie for them back from before. “It’s a pet thing. You wouldn’t really get it.”

“O- oh. Sorry.” Calvin mumbled sheepishly, a half baked smile rising on his face, burning guilt in Florence’s belly.

Why was he always such an unnecessary dick? It only revealed his past peeking it’s way through, displaying the asshole in him wasn’t really gone. Just living on beneath Florence, rearing his ugly head whenever he felt fit. Maybe that’s why he was trained to keep his stupid fucking mouth shut.

It was definitely better that way.

——————

Masterlist

Taglist - @softvampirewhump @ivymyers @taterswhump @octopus-reactivated @tippytappytyping

@distracted-obsessions @starfields08000 @bitchaknso @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

If anyone wants to be removed or added to the taglist, please let me know! :)

[axolozzy]

gonna be doing art fight for the first time this year! here’s some of my ocs!

https://artfight.net/~axolozzy

[whumpsoda]

We Search For Stolen Personhood - The Drive Home

Masterlist So here’s the first piece of my now other new bbu story :3 this takes place at the safehous August used to live at! I am very excited about this <3

cw: pet whump, box boy universe/bbu adjacent, Institutionalized slavery, conditioned whumpees

——————

They were quiet. 

The car remained silent, save for the rumble of the engine and the grumble of asphalt running under the tires. Mouths were zipped to a tight close, excluding the ever so often bump in the road that called out the faintest of a whimper. But only from one of them, the one curled inside the other. 

So absolutely quiet. Weren’t they always? This was nothing new for Isaac. They were meticulously trained to be so, quiet unless needed, because what rich, scum of the Earth asshole wants an annoying pet?

Calvin furiously typed away to Edith and Oscar in the passenger's seat, fingers flying over letters too fast to read the messages back to her. He gnawed at his chapped, fraying lips with ever so slightly crooked teeth, and a gentle overbite. Every time he typed he unconsciously held his breath, each few seconds passing by and sucking in a light gasp like a ringing to her ears.

She studied his face with little glances, inspecting his soft features. He looked almost like he could have been about the same age as the two boxies behind them, and for all Isaac knew they could have been college friends in another life.

But Isaac did her best to keep her eyes locked on the road, still wet and drying from the constant thunderstorms that they were lucky to have avoided, even if the clouds were still lingering and threatening to spill. Thunder faintly crashed from miles away, and she knew it would eventually draw near.

Whenever she felt fit, she’d steal a glance to the two boxies through the rearview mirror. There wasn’t much to see beside a twist and turn of intertwined bodies, faces concealed by grease coated mops of overgrown hair and exposed, scarred limbs.

The GPS beeped directions to her in its robotic, mechanical voice, now, take a right turn, it would instruct, and dutifully she would follow.

She was nervous. 

Her heart raced on it’s own accord, pounding increasing to a persistent throb in her head. Fingers gripping solid to the wheel, creating their own divots and knuckles turning white, Isaac swallowed, her throat bobbing along with the motion of saliva. Her belly was tied in knots, clawing it’s way to grip at her tensing insides.

Everyone was nervous. They always were with new rescues. How could they not be?

Isaac sipped in a shaky breath, lips parting in anticipation. “You guys okay back there?” Her words were tinted with a smile, although fake and forced, but she knew well how to create the appearance of realness.

“Yes, sir.” The larger of the two replied on instant, the one holding the other between his hulking arms, and only him. He spoke firm and concise, quick to supply her with the same answer he was trained to give. 

Though, his speech was inflicted with the hint of an accent, and not a Boston one. Something European, she guessed, something from nowhere near close. Already she wished she could zip open and dip a hand into his past, free his mind to everything he’s ever known, but she was plenty aware even he couldn’t do that himself. Not yet.

Unusually wary to speak, she cleared her throat with a heavy cough. “Is your friend doing okay?” She proceeded, taking a glance to them once again through the mirror. 

“Yes, sir.” He repeated, the exact same as the first time he said it. Rolling off the tongue with ease, showing her just how often he was forced to say it, over and over again. She swallowed, hard, as his embrace around the other secured.

A guard dog and a romantic. A pair, obviously locked at the hip and mind. 

The information was easily taken from them at the previous safehouse they had picked them up from, much too full to take in two more rescues. 

They hadn’t had a guard dog in a good while, the last one probably being August, and he was well living on his own in a whole other state. Isaac could only hope they could do for the new rescue what they had done for him. She knew they could.

One last heave of a turn, and the neighborhood blossomed into view. 2 minutes until home at last.

“We’re almost home,” she started, spinning the wheel with gentle ease, “You two can just go straight to bed. I bet you’re plenty tired.”

Yet again was another of the same response as he digested her every word like an order. “Yes, sir.” 

“Good idea.” Calvin muttered, almost a whisper, sending her the ghost of a grin. Her face softened back, as a thank you without words.

They soon pulled up the driveway, minivan stumbling over uneven cracks of pavement. She sighed in relief as they finally parked inside the garage, as if she’d been holding in her breath the whole ride. Calvin did the same, following her lead like always.

“You can head on home, I’ve got them from here.” She told him, “And, thanks for coming along. You were a huge help.”

His expression brightened, that twinkle in his eye returning whenever he was to receive praise. Sort of like the rescues, she thought. “You’re welcome.” He slid right out from his seat, jumping and readying to sprint off to his own home, his apartment only a block away. Before he could, he shouted back and brought a smile to her face, this time genuine. “I wish you luck!”

After a moment of settling breathing, Isaac stepped out from the car herself, stepping around and opening her new guests’ door. “Alright, you two. Ready to come on out?” 

This time, the guard turned to the man in his lap, tenderly swiping a lock of slick hair back into place. The romantic atop of him trembled, face moist with what she could only guess were terrified tears. 

He ever so carefully wrapped his arms under the other man’s knees and back, stepping out of the car with the other in a bridal carry.

Now, she could see them, just a bit clearer. The one that held the other is tall, way tall, with a hefty build. He was pudgy, skin pooling out of and folding over his boxers, but underneath she knew existed tough muscle. His face held soft features, thin lips and a round nose, flushed red from the cold. He looked to her with glittering hazel eyes, awaiting his next order.

The other’s face was still concealed by shaggy, black waves, but she could see his angular, hooked nose as it peeked out, and the shine of dark, deep eyes peeking from his shield of hair.

“Good, good.” She mumbled as she studied, taking it all in, “That’s so good. Let’s move on inside, alright?”

Isaac locked the car as they trailed behind her through the door, she always did, even when it was safely tucked inside the garage. Better to be extra safe than sorry.

Something tapped at her wrist as she did so, bringing her attention to the decoration connected to the end of her keys that twirled around with the movement of her hand. A bracelet of sorts, made up of little crosses and twists of vibrantly colorful rubber bands. She remembered well when Agnes gifted it to her, the first bracelet she’d ever made with the set Edith had given her. 

Isaac hoped that one day, no matter how far in the distance of the future because she would stick with them no matter how long, the new rescues would find themselves like August did, like how Agnes was on her journey to, and all of the other rescues who still visit from time to time. That they wouldn’t run back to whatever sick place they came from, even if they’re tempted.

Isaac held a spark of hope for these two, a fiery burning in her gut like she had for all the others, and she was not going to let go of it.

——————

Masterlist

Taglist - @softvampirewhump

If anyone wants to be removed or added to the taglist, please let me know! :)

[its-celery]

HI everybody you can call me cel/cels.

pronousn she/he.

i draw! i write! yeah!

some people u should follow:

@wheressmimii does cool as hell art and silly posts.

@helpimstuckinanotherworlddd the BEST black widow art ever. and other stuff too.

always up for more mutuals! askbox is open, drawing requests are open, hell yeah

[goon-art-gospel]

Suggestive stuff under cut 👍🦆

aw hell nah

[axolozzy]

whenever i post stuff to this account it feels like i’m talking to the void

hahahahhaha

…just like my oc calvin.. and milo and jasper

void moment

they’re silly guys okay. who cares if they’re being currupted and controlled by the all seeing lurking void that keeps itself hidden and a secret from literally everyone in the universe and consumes and creeps and manipulates the characters and story until when it finally reveals itself to be the main antagonist all along it’s too late. and it has existed since the creation of the universe. and nobody knows because it erased itself. it made itself invisible so it can LURK in the shadows until it can take its chance to destroy and consume and erase everything it touches until the universe as a whole is completely fucking GONE and void of all of existance forever. shit. I EXPLAINED THAT TERRIBLY BUT I AM SO NOT NORMAL ABOUT MY OCS RN THAT I DONT CARE. AHHHHH