Apr 18, 2024
To join Co from yesterday, here's Ribbonsy from @vorefluff 's story BLOOD (Breathe Life, Outrunning Our Doom)!
The one I find myself relating to o_o
I love them so much!
seen from South Korea
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Türkiye
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from Vietnam
seen from Germany
seen from Ireland
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from Türkiye
seen from Russia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from T1
seen from Germany
seen from Türkiye
seen from Argentina
seen from Thailand
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from United States
To join Co from yesterday, here's Ribbonsy from @vorefluff 's story BLOOD (Breathe Life, Outrunning Our Doom)!
The one I find myself relating to o_o
I love them so much!
Sleepy, Chapter 9
Chapter 9 of "Breathe Life, Outrunning Our Doom"
Find the rest of the story and overall tws here!
POV: Ribbonsy
Wordcount: 3.2k
Ribbonsy sleeps.
Ribbonsy lays on Co’s tongue, wrapping their arms around the muscle. Co chuckles, the air tickling their legs. They press their face into the bumpy surface, take a deep breath, and feel the tension drain from their shoulders. The tongue moves under them, and they’re lightly pressed against the roof of Co’s mouth.
Ribbonsy giggles as the tongue moves back to a resting position. They grab the base of their hair and carefully flip themselves over, trying to make sure they don’t get tangled in the gravity defying strands. They enjoy running their hand across the inside of Co’s teeth. The series of three sharp molars are especially fun to poke at. The sound their fingernails make as they tap on the enamel is very satisfying. They tap three times - I love you.
As Ribbonsy reaches up to knock on the roof of Co’s mouth, they hesitate. Vibrations come from the back of Co’s throat as he hums, a soft sweet tune. They recognize it almost immediately - ‘She Keeps Me Warm’ from Mary Lambert.
They can feel weight settle in their chest. A good weight - a comforting weight. A… ‘I wish I had this sooner’ weight. They softly knock on the roof of Co’s mouth. They don’t particularly want to interrupt, but at the same time they hope that if Co frees up his mouth he’ll sing a bit too. He has a lovely singing voice.
The vibrations taper off. Ribbonsy’s legs are gently pulled into Co’s esophagus, washed in a soft blue glow. The epiglottis runs back along their legs, and there’s a push behind their shoulders from Co’s tongue as he swallows again. His breath drifts across their back, and they can feel the ridges of the tracheal cartilage behind their heels. Another swallow, and they can feel the ridges along their back. As the last of their body is pulled in, the vibrations pick up as Co hums again.
They can tell when they slip past his collarbone. There’s pressure on their sides that comes and goes in time with his breathing.
“They say I smell like safety and home,” Co starts softly as they pass by the slow beating of his heart. Ribbonsy taps three times - I love you.
The pressure on their sides let up, and their feet meet resistance from the ring of muscle making up the esophageal sphincter. They bring up their knees, pushing outwards slightly. Just enough that they can sit themselves on top of the ring of muscle, rather than falling through it.
"This could be good, this could be good…"
The singing falters and Co chuckles, bouncing them a little bit. They tap three times - I love you.
Ribbonsy joins in for the chorus. I can't change, even if I tried. Even if I wanted to.
“My love, my love, my love, my love,” Ribbonsy sings, tapping three times for each one. “He keeps me warm,“
When the esophageal sphincter opens again, Ribbonsy drops one leg through. It feels funny as it closes around their leg. They tilt their head up, feeling the heartbeat a little bit out of time with the song. Perfectly imperfect.
”Do you fall in love too easily? What's your favorite word? Do you like kissing men? Can I call you sweet?“ Co's soft voice resonates. Ribbonsy smiles at the personalized change in lyrics.
Yeah. Yeah.
”He says that people stare - 'cause we look so good together,“ Ribbonsy continues.
As Co starts the chorus again, Ribbonsy finally decides to drop down into his stomach. Co's voice stutters as they slide to the pyloric antrum.
The weight settles back in their chest, but they focus on tapping three times for each 'my love' Co sings. The gentle peristalsis comforts them too. They sink into the rugae and close their eyes.
”I'm not crying on sundays. I'm not crying on sundays,“ Ribbonsy sings softly, their tone wavering.
I'm not crying on sundays. The song repeats it, as if it were trying to convince itself of that. Echos of past hurts resurface. Memories of sobbing in the bathroom at church, scrubbing at their skin until it was raw and bleeding as if they could physically wash it all away.
I'm not crying on sundays. They take a deep breath, wiping their face. Another deep breath. Something wet drips down their cheeks, and it's unclear if it's slow tears or if it's just saliva. It's not that the song always makes them cry. It's just when they think about it too hard, or they're feeling more vulnerable. And well… Co makes them feel safe enough to be raw and vulnerable. They’re sure that a part of it is the nightmares they were having earlier too. They’re usually a bit more sensitive after nightmares.
”Love is patient, love is kind,“ Ribbonsy rejoins for the end of the song, tapping three times.
”Love is patient, love is kind.” Three taps.
“Love is patient, love is kind.” Tap tap tap. I love you.
Co trails off and yawns. “Love you too, sweet,” he says sleepily. “I’mmm gonna flop,” he warns.
Ribbonsy braces as the direction of the room shifts suddenly, paired with a loud ‘wump’ as Co hits the bed. They slide along the greater curve towards the fundus.
They get comfortable while Co readjusts. Pushing their shoulder into the mucosal layer on the rugae to use a ridge as a pillow. Wrestling their hair under their side so it wouldn’t bother Co too much, curling up. Deep breath.
“Sleep well, sweet,” Co murmurs.
Ribbonsy taps three times, and starts really mentally grounding. Feeling the heartbeat pulse underneath them as it gradually grows slower. The deeper intestinal grumbles that start to quiet, and the breaths that become shallower. The soft blue glow that dims. Gentle peristalsis rocks them. Puddles of gastric acids fill in the cracks.
They feel their own internal systems slow to match Co’s. Their heartbeat slowing, their guts quieting. Slow deep breath, although it’s more of a self-soothing gesture rather than a necessary one. Breathing doesn’t really matter when small. Co anchors and supplies the breathing part for both of them.
They picture their anxieties and worries melting away. No more nightmares, no more trauma memories, no more staring at the ceiling and looping what they could be doing better over and over again. Not tonight.
They let the sounds of living lull them to sleep.
—----------------------
The sound of a car engine starting slowly pulls Ribbonsy out of their dreams. Car engine? It takes a minute for them to properly wake up enough to process that.
Car engine?? Ribbonsy sits up and pats the wall a few times, and then starts rifling through their pajama pockets for their phone.
“Oh sweet! Oh I’m so sorry sweet, I forgot you were there,” Co starts, the walls flushing red and the heartbeat picking up. “I woke up late and I knew I was forgetting something. I was scrambling to get out the door to try and make it to work on time. Do you want me to turn around? I don’t mind being late,” Co continues.
Ribbonsy chuckles, laying down and hitting ‘call’ on Co’s contact.
“Alright, give me a second to pull over, sweet.”
They hit the hang up button and wait for Co to dial back. What do they have on the schedule today? It’s Tuesday. They’re pretty sure that their first session is around 9:30. No meetings - a lot of paperwork and research to do. That’s not constrained by time. Co is scheduled to start work at 6am this morning, so Co’s first break should be around 8:00. Yeah, alright. This is okay. They can work with this.
A moment later, Ribbonsy’s phone rings.
“Hi hun, you don’t need to turn around,” Ribbonsy says, with a soft smile that Co can’t see.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I’ve got plenty of time. I can borrow the car and pick up what I need from the house, come back, and walk from here to the school. It’s only half a mile.”
“Alright, let me know if you change your mind, alright?” Co says, and Ribbonsy can hear the car starts moving again.
“Of course, hun,” Ribbonsy says, hearing their voice echo through Co’s phone set to speaker. They affectionately run their free hand along the ridges of the rugae. The color deepens slightly.
“Ah - hey. Eheh. Did you want to be let out when I get there, or at my first break? I can see if I can take my break a little bit early to give you extra time before you have to be at work, if you wanted to do that.”
“I am a-okay either way. I wouldn’t mind hanging out a bit longer. It’s-”
Ribbonsy gets cut off by a particularly loud growl from somewhere underneath them - loud enough that they can hear it echo through Co’s phone. They snicker, and then evolve into fits of giggles when the walls flush the deepest red they’ve seen so far yet today. It’s accompanied by sounds of embarrassment from Co. Oh hun. They pat the wall consolingly.
“I guess we have our answer, huh? I suppose I’ll be held hostage until you can find a suitable replacement to appease the demands of your digestive tract,” Ribbonsy states and pushes their shoulder into the rugae with an amused smile.
They can hear the lungs deflating like Co’s going to say something, but in the end all that he gets out is a squeak.
“You’re so cute when you’re flustered.”
Co squeaks again.
“Are you alright, hun?” Ribbonsy asks, briefly worried they maybe flustered him too much.
“Mhm,” Co hums, and then clears his throat. “Well ah, if you change your mind, let me know. I can ask Raknu to cover for a moment and let you out whenever you want, alright?”
“Of course, hun. Oh - Lance usually swings by pretty early, right?” Ribbonsy asks, remembering that Co has mentioned that a few times.
“Sometimes, but lately he’s been coming in a little bit later so we can chat a little longer during my break.”
“That’s so sweet.”
“No, you’re the sweet. Sweet as sugar.” Co quips back, and Ribbonsy can practically hear the smile in his voice.
Ribbonsy pushes against the wall affectionately. In response, the walls close in and squish them a bit. Ribbonsy can tell that it is purposeful muscle clenching, not just the natural peristalsis. Ribbonsy giggles.
Ribbonsy’s glad that Co and Lance get along well too. They’ve had some problems in the past when partners start okay, but ultimately don’t click very well. So it’s relieving that they’re enjoying time with each other too. It’s been what, several months since they asked Lance to join the polycule? It’s going pretty well.
Thinking of Lance reminds them that they need to set up another date with them sometime. They need to remember to take care of themselves more, and relax a bit.
They just haven’t had much time, since finals are coming up soon and the students need some extra support with the stress. They have definitely been doing more snack runs lately to make sure their counseling office stays stocked up, and a lot of time is spent looking into local resources.
For a lot of kids, a lot of stress can be relieved when they know that they can have basic needs met and taken care of, regardless of what happens and if their parents react poorly to low grades. Having snacks, juice, fidget toys and such also makes a significant difference in how comfortable the kids are in general, and how much they’re willing to open up and talk about what’s bothering them.
“Sweet?” Co prompts.
“Hmm?” Ribbonsy responds, pulled out of their thoughts. Eheheh, guess they’re feeling some of the stress too.
“Are you doing alright? You got a bit quiet.”
“Oh, I’m alright hun. I just got distracted thinking about work again.”
—---------------------------
The muffled sounds of Co working drift in and out of focus. It’s actually quite soothing. Despite the morning rush of people getting their caffeine fix for the day, Co’s movements stay graceful and smooth. Snippets of conversation, little pieces of the multitude of lives that come through every day.
“Raknu, pass the oat milk please~”
Ribbonsy’s phone drings with another notification. They’ve got this app - ‘NearTi’ - where they can connect with other folks that’re nearby, small, and online. Co’s coworker also has a passenger, John. John and Ribbonsy have a running bet on whether there’ll be more oat milk orders, or more soy milk.
[Another point for me! :3] from John.
[nonono, you got the point for this one when they first ordered. You can’t get double points.] Ribbonsy sends back.
[shhhhh. It’s okay. It’s fine. I’m way behind in points lemming have this ;-; ]
[*lemme]
[autocorrect pls]
[pfft]
“Order for Marduke!” Co’s voice rings overhead. There’s a few beats of silence, then Co tries again. “Order for Marduke?”
“Oh! Oh right! Oh hi, yes Marduke here. Thanks! Eheh you think I’d recognize my own name wupsy. I blame it on the lack of sleep, I’ve been up all night. And….” the other person says, although Ribbonsy stops listening after a bit.
“Don’t worry about it,” Co says, with a mildly confused tone to his voice. “We all have days like that.”
The door to the coffee-tea shop rings.
“Lance! Hi love, how you doing?” Co asks. Ribbonsy can feel the heartbeat pick up through the walls, and they giggle.
“I’m doing okay. You?” Lance replies, with a lovely hint of natural gravel to his voice.
“Pretty good! I’ve got a surprise for you today.”
“Oh?” Lance inquires.
Ribbonsy can hear the typical deeper breath Co takes before he sings. “You’ve got a friend in me~” he sings lightly, and Ribbonsy can practically hear the smile. “You’ve got a friend in me~” Co echoes again.
“...Casper,” Lance says with a chuckle.
“Do you want to take your break now, Casper?” Co’s coworker, Raknu, pipes in.
“That would be lovely, thanks!” Co responds happily. “I’ll be right back, Lance.”
Ribbonsy’s phone dings.
[goodbyeeeeeeeee good luck today!] John sends.
[You too!] Ribbonsy responds.
“Ready, sweet?” Co asks. There’s the sound of a door closing.
[Yup!] Ribbonsy messages back.
They gather their hair and twirl it around their arm so it’s all together. The stomach walls close in tight, and they scoot upwards. They brace with one foot against the lesser curve, one foot against the greater curve, a hand holding near the fundus, and the other hand gently tugging at the esophageal sphincter. Speed is key, because if Co accidently relaxes anything, then they’ll slide back to the pyloric antrum.
The arm wrapped with hair goes first, so it doesn’t risk getting caught on anything. Second arm, then their head. Just to make sure they’re oriented the right way, and won’t risk getting bent weird. They firmly tap the esophageal wall twice.
“Good?” Co checks.
Ribbonsy firmly taps twice again as confirmation. They brace as Co heaves, getting shoved upwards. It takes a few tries, and it’s a bit slower than going down. They hover near Co’s heart as he takes a deep breath and gives it one more go.
There’s the epiglottis, and light trickles in. They’re pushed onto the tongue again. Fingers gently pinch under their arms, and they’re pulled out onto Co’s palm. Co start coughs. They wait for their eyes to adjust while they unwrap their hair from their arm.
“Are you alright, sweet?” Co asks, wiping his mouth. He gently plays with their floaty hair by passing his finger back and forth through it.
Ribbonsy nods and gives a thumbs up. They pat themself down really quick to make sure they didn’t accidentally leave anything behind. Everything is accounted for. That’s good.
“Am I okay to give you a quick rinse?” Co asks.
Ribbonsy nods again.
Co turns on the faucet, waiting a moment for the water to warm up. As Co rinses them off, he gently runs his thumb across their skin. Ribbonsy smiles and wipes off their own face.
“Lance is here, and I've gotta take care of a couple things real quick. If you're planning on hanging out for a little while, I may stop by for what’s left of my break?" Co says as he pats Ribbonsy dry with a small disposable paper towel.
"Sounds good, hun. I'll probably hang out for a little bit," Ribbonsy replies as Co sets them down on the seat.
"Alright, catch you in a few minutes sweet," Co says with a smile and a little wave as he backs out the door.
As soon as Co makes it a few steps away, it's like a pressure releases and Ribbonsy starts returning to their normal size. They readjust a couple times so they don't fall off the chair.
It's a pretty simple little room. A couple chairs, various packages of disposable retrieval tools, a mirror, paper towels, a trash can, and a wide sink with an easily removable mesh trap. Most places that serve food or drink have a small retrieval room like this. It's encouraged to spend as little time as possible, in case someone else needs the room.
Once back to their standard size, they stand up and stretch. A brief glance in the mirror to make sure they’re presentable.
Oh. Ribbonsy realizes something sorta important. They’re barefoot and in pajamas - they weren't expecting to be taken out of the house when they asked for Co’s help with nightmares last night. Wupsy. Oh well.
Ribbonsy steps out, looking for Lance. They’re a little bit self conscious about the lack of shoes, but that’s alright. They just ahhh might not be allowed to say in the building for too terribly long. The whole no shirt, no shoes, no service thing. Although they do have everything else required eheh.
Lance raises his hand. “Over here, Ribbons.”
There he is! Lance and his little bushy-backed nudibranch looking head things. Ribbonsy lights up and makes their way over. “Lance!” Ribbonsy says with a grin. “Always a pleasure to see you again, hun.”
“I’m surprised to see you here - don’t you have work today?” Lance asks, sipping his drink as Ribbonsy sits down opposite of him.
“Yeah, I’ll be heading out in just a few minutes. Co slept in and I didn’t wake up until we were halfway here, heheh,” Ribbonsy says with a sheepish shrug.
Lance chuckles. “Well, while you’re here - got any free time coming up for a date?”
“I was just about to ask you that! I’ve got some time either Monday or Thursday, I think. Did you want it to be just the two of us, or did you want Casper to join us too?”
“Just you, Boo,” Lance says with a soft half smile. “Monday evening?”
Ribbonsy matches the smile. “Sounds good. Where do you want to go?”
“I usually pick, so I think I’ll bounce that back to you this time. Where do you want to go?”
“Oh, I don’t really have a preference,” Ribbonsy says with a shrug.
Lance raises an eyebrow and smirks. “Do you actually have no preference, or are you minimizing yourself to people please?”
That takes Ribbonsy off guard. Ahhah. Is that true? They know they used to have a problem with that, but they thought they’ve worked enough on stopping that. They don't think they have a preference, at least.
Lance waves it off. "If you don’t want to pick this time, I don’t mind picking again."
Movie Time, Chapter 7
Chapter 7 of 'Breathe Life, Outrunning Our Doom'!
Find the rest of the story and overall TWs here!
POV: Yarrop
Wordcount: 2.7k
The whole household goes to a movie, and Yarrop continues to not like the pastime of 'thinking'.
Art for this chapter will be coming a bit later!
“You all wanted to see that movie, ‘Belly Of The Beast’, right?” Co asks, poking his head out of the hallway.
Yarrop looks up from his game as sounds of enthusiastic agreement come from both Ribbonsy - sitting on the couch opposite him - and Damien in the kitchen.
“Alright, well, I just managed to snag a ticket before the showing sold out. It’s for this Sunday at 6pm. But I only managed to snag one. So we got two options - either I can smuggle you all in, or I can cancel the ticket and see if I can find a group of four tickets for a week or two away. Or three tickets, you didn’t seem too excited about it Yarrop,” Co says, walking as he’s talking and ending up behind the couch that Ribbonsy is on.
Yarrop mulls it over for a second. It unnerves him whenever the house is completely silent. On the other hand, theaters are overwhelming. Especially packed ones. Eh. Whatever. “I’ll go if Damien goes,” Yarrop says with a shrug. Too much noise is better than too little noise.
“I’m going!” Damien chimes in, abandoning the kitchen. Well, there’s that answer.
“Alright. Do you all vote for being smuggled, or finding a later showing with more seats?” Co asks.
“Kinda on point for the movie, eh? I vote smuggled,” Ribbonsy says, looking up at Co.
Yarrop shrugs again. He doesn’t particularly care either way. Getting smuggled means he doesn’t need to bring his forearm crutches, which is a bonus.
Co looks at Damien and raises an eyebrow, waiting. Yarrop turns to look too.
Damien meets Co’s gaze for an impromptu staredown, his eyes slightly narrowed and a muffin in his hand.
“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Co offers.
Damien’s shoulders drop. “Buh the spoilerssssssss. Utoob will be full of themmmmm,” he whines, his expression turning slightly pleading.
“Sounds like a you problem,” Co says with a shrug.
“What if I take the seat an’ smuggle all o’ you in?” Damien asks, perking up.
“I have to drive.”
“I can eat y’all in the parking lot, or I can take the bus,” Damien says, giving a toothy grin and getting a determined glint in his eyes.
There’s another couple beats of silence as they start another staredown, some sort of subtle war of wills.
Yarrop looks to Ribbonsy, who’s similarly watching this all go down. They seem to be debating something themself, but aren’t speaking any opposition to the idea.
Co breaks first, glancing down at Ribbonsy. Ribbonsy shrugs. He looks back up at Damien. “Fine. On two conditions. Teeth guards for eating and returning, as well as keeping your stomach clean for the whole thing. Meaning no movie snacks for you.”
Damien narrows his eyes, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head as he considers the offer. He’s made it plenty clear how much he hates the damn teeth guards, particularly since they make it nearly impossible to talk. His eyes bounce between the three of them.
“Deal,” Damien says and grins widely.
------------
It’s Sunday, 4pm. Two hours before the movie, and about half an hour before Damien needs to get on the bus. Damien is to carry them past the ticket scanner, retrieve them in a bathroom stall, hide them in his hood, they’ll watch the movie on his shoulders, and then back down the hatch for the trip home. The possibility of just carrying them from the parking lot past the ticket scanner was shot down due to the turnaround time being rough on the throat.
Damien and Co were the ones that discussed more about the specifics. Which, knowing Damien, was most likely him being incredibly stubborn and negotiating for the option that’d let him hold the entire household for the longest reasonable amount of time. Predictable.
Damien sits on the coffee table, teeth guards in place, with the three of them on the couch facing him. It’s just so insanely funny to Yarrop - the three of them, all 6 feet tall or more, across from the short neon menace.
Yarrop snickers. Eyes turn to look at him and he just shakes his head.
Damien has a barely contained giddy ravenous glint to his eyes that Yarrop’s allll too familiar with. It’s been a good 4 hours since lunch, so his stomach should be empty by now. It usually doesn’t take more than 2 or 3 hours maximum, and typically shorter than that. That is, assuming Damien has resisted the urge to snack or eat anything since then.
Co breaks the awkward silence. “...So who’s going first?” he asks, looking between Yarrop and Ribbonsy.
Damien points at Co.
“Me?” Co asks, pointing at his own chest.
Damien nods. Ribbonsy pats Co’s shoulders as they slump. Yarrop watches as Co grimaces and holds out his hand.
“Well, it had to happen sooner or later,” Co says. He makes a rather undignified yelp as Damien swiftly pulls his hand to bite his wrist.
Yarrop snickers, and Co turns to glare at him for a moment. That moment doesn’t last long, due to Co needing to close his eyes from how dizzyingly fast the man is getting smaller. Within seconds, Damien is grabbing Co’s leg to keep him from falling, then grabbing his torso like a doll. The second that Co hits the right size, Damien wastes no time and tosses his head back. It gives a great view of his throat as his adam’s apple bobs. You can even see the ridges of the windpipe as it pushes against the skin, like you would see for someone with giant genes.
Damien puts a hand to his stomach, grins, and wipes drool off his chin with the other hand. He looks between the two of them expectantly. Ribbonsy looks like they’re reconsidering all their choices thus far.
“Be my guest,” Yarrop says to Ribbonsy with a smirk as he gestures to Damien.
Damien’s eyes lock on Ribbonsy, and Ribbonsy sighs. They hold out their hand and close their eyes before it even starts.
Damien does the same thing for Ribbonsy that he did for Co, although perhaps a bit rougher. Their skin seemed to dent a bit more around Damien’s teeth guards, and it might even bruise a little later. To Ribbonsy’s credit, they don’t flinch.
Within seconds, Ribbonsy’s perfectly bite sized too. Damien throws his head back and swallows them, although Yarrop can tell that he’s struggling a bit more with them than he did with Co. Damien tilts his head and winces, managing to get the lump past his collarbone.
“Their hair givin’ ya problems?” Yarrop asks and raises his eyebrow.
Damien nods. He thumps his chest a couple times, and after a second his shoulders drop and relax. His hand rests on his stomach again.
“My turn?” Yarrop asks. This whole thing is reminding him of a couple parties the two of them went to in highschool.
Damien’s staring off into space. He has a pleased smile on his face, and is poking a bit at his stomach.
“Dumbass.”
Damien snaps back to reality, looking at Yarrop.
“My turn?” Yarrop prompts again.
Damien nods enthusiastically.
“Ya know, ya don’t have to bother with the teeth guards now,” Yarrop says.
Damien shrugs, but doesn’t make a move to take them off. Which is about what Yarrop expected - teeth guards were part of the deal, so he’ll stick to it. Even if it’s not necessary at this point.
Whatever. Yarrop offers his hand like the other two. And, just like the other two, Damien pulls his hand to bite his wrist. The teeth guards feel weird. It’s like grandma forgot her dentures. Yarrop snickers. He just barely manages to catch Damien’s glare before he has to close his eyes from the nausea of shrinking so fast.
When Yarrop can feel Damien’s lips covering most of his arm, he opens his eyes to grab ahold of Damien’s top teeth guards. When Damien throws his head back this time, Yarrop guarantees that he’s going down feet first before he lets go. He doesn’t feel much like knocking heads when he gets down.
Yarrop gets pulled in to his hips on the first swallow, leaving the uvula directly in his face. He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t. He really really really shouldn’t. He punches the uvula.
Damien coughs and Yarrop roughly knocks into Damien’s teeth guards. There’s some loud annoyed grumbling sounds, and the tongue underneath him roughly flips him over. Time for attempt two. It goes quicker this time, not giving him a second to consider punching it again. Oh well.
Annnd here’s the rough part again. He grits his teeth at the pain as the pressure partially straightens his spine. Fortunately, it doesn’t last too long. His feet meet resistance as they enter the stomach, and Yarrop sends a swift kick as a warning to clear the way.
“O- Hey!” he hears from Ribbonsy.
They move to the side enough that Yarrop can drop down.
Damien’s stomach is shaped weird. It’s almost like it was originally going to separate out into two stomachs, like you’d see in someone with giant genes. But it didn’t quite make it, so instead there’s a top shelf and a bigger more open bottom shelf area. And the top shelf is Yarrop’s. Yarrop decided that the moment he realized he’d have to share the space with the others. The top shelf is always Yarrop’s.
Yarrop brandishes a knife and points off the top shelf, the soft red glow of Damien’s guts making it glint dramatically. “Down.”
“Okay! Okay! Got it!” Ribbonsy says, dropping off the top shelf to join Co on the bottom shelf.
“Yarrop, do you know why there are rocks in here?” Co asks, bewildered.
“Gastroliths. Just shove ‘em in the intestines, unless ya want them knocking into your skull.” Yarrop explains bluntly, putting his knife away and laying back. The curve of his spine fit the curve of the stomach wall quite nicely.
There’s some clicking down below, presumably one of them shoving the rocks on. Yarrop can feel as Damien presses on the wall behind his spine, and the stomach itself kneads at them. A deep rumbling sound starts.
“Eh?”
Yarrop can’t tell whether the sound of confusion came from Co or Ribbonsy. Whatever. “Purring or somethin’. The glutton,” Yarrop starts, hitting the wall, “-is really enjoyin’ this.”
“What are gastroliths?” Co asks.
Yarrop is done with answering stuff. They’ve got google for this shit. His throat hurts and he’s already talked too much anyway.
“Gastroliths are liths - stones - that are in the gastrointestinal tract. Several species use them to aid in digestion, particularly if they don’t have the teeth to grind food properly. With how weird Damien’s teeth are, I’m guessing that’s the whole point of them being here,” Ribbonsy answers.
“Huh. Neat,” Co says, and then tries - and fails - at mimicking the sound that Damien’s making. Ribbonsy laughs. Yarrop wishes they’d shut up.
Unfortunately, they do not shut up and they keep chatting. However, Yarrop does what’s called a pro gamer move and ignores them. Instead, he sinks further into the stomach folds and closes his eyes. He focuses on the other familiar sounds, using it to help release tension in his shoulders. There goes way too much of his limited social battery way too fast. They’re lucky that today is a low pain day, otherwise Yarrop would have a much shorter fuse.
After a few moments, Yarrop comes to a realization and sighs heavily. It seems that Damien isn’t moving yet. Which is what Yarrop was afraid of. He pulls out his phone. Yeah alright, there’s still enough time for Damien to catch the bus.
[dumbass, bus.] send.
Yarrop can hear Damien’s muffled phone notification, and feel the muscles briefly clench around them as Damien startles.
Annnd in 3… 2… 1…
“Ah ohaoh,” Damien’s voice mumbles above them. If Yarrop were to guess, he’s pretty sure that was meant to be ‘aw, potatoes’.
The place rocks, presumably Damien standing up to get going. Yarrop braces himself to avoid getting knocked off his shelf. As soon as he gets a chance, Yarrop quickly types out another message while Damien makes sounds of frustration.
[knok me off my shelf an i stab you]
“Ahah! I’m freeeeeee,” Damien says, talking over the phone notification sound. “Spuddin’ hate these stu’id things,” he mutters. Well there go the teeth guards, at least for now.
After a few moments, thick strands of saliva drip in. Yarrop grabs it and drops it over the edge of his shelf, directly onto Ribbonsy’s head.
“Hey!” Ribbonsy protests, and Yarrop snickers.
“Don’t make me come up there and start a game of king of the mountain for your spot,” Co warns. “I’ll knock you off your perch.”
Yarrop peers down at Co and raises an eyebrow. Co has been challenging Yarrop more often since the knife fight in the backyard, which is fun. “Maybe later,” Yarrop says. Probably once he properly settles in and starts getting bored and unbearably irritated by their constant talking. Right now he’s satisfied by just being the occasional menace. And also he doesn’t want to put his perch at risk.
The organ clenches and tilts, the wall behind him suddenly becoming a floor. As Yarrop slides, Co peeks around the floor-become-wall in an almost comical fashion, raising an eyebrow right back. Yarrop makes shoo-ing motions. He’s going back to trying to ignore the fact there’s other people here right now.
As the floor of his top shelf goes back to being a floor, there’s the familiar sound of Damien’s stomping pattern as he finishes getting his shoes on. Yarrop slides back into place and starts getting comfortable again. He nestles back into the stomach folds and braces himself so it’s harder to get knocked off.
“Phone, walle’, keys, string thing… anythin’ I’m missin’?” Damien asks. Yarrop can feel Damien pressing on the wall behind him again.
“The ticket?” Co pipes in.
[ticket] Yarrop texts Damien. Hopefully he’ll notice the previous text at the same time.
“Ticke’, ticke’, ticke’...” Damien says, taking his hand away. “And ya can’t stab me if ya get knocked off while I’m on the bus. I do not con’rol the bus. And ahhhhhh okay yea the ticke’s in my wallet.”
“You better not be stabbing anyone while we’re in here, Yarrop. I’d rather not sit in a puddle of blood, thank you very much,” Co says pointedly.
Yarrop flicks out a knife, showing it over the edge of his shelf. “I make no promises,” he says, putting the knife away just as quick.
“I’m temporarily designating this a no stab zone," Co declares.
Yarrop rolls his eyes.
“Temporarily?” Ribbonsy questions.
“I mean. Whatever they do when we’re not here is not our business.” Co answers.
That’s where Yarrop starts ignoring them again. There’s a slight jostling, paired with the sound of the door closing and fast footsteps.
His brain is torn. Usually, the sound of Damien’s inner workings means that it’s a great time to take a nap. However, the presence of other people means that no matter what, he won’t be able to fall asleep. So he’s stuck with feelings of exhaustion, but too awake to do anything about it. It’s annoying.
When was the last time he had to share stomach space? It wasssss… oh. Yeah. That. The heartbeat pulsing behind his back is speeding up, and the lining starts to redden as Damien jogs.
Last time he was here with other people, Yarrop was high as a kite. It was with a couple ‘friends’, trying and failing to hotbox it. In their drug haze, they forgot that fire didn’t react with shrunken things. No fire means no smoke, no smoke means no hotboxing. It was probably for the better - they were already pretty fucked up.
Yarrop wonders how they’re doing. He wonders if the parasite is still alive. He hopes they’re doing shitty. It would be what they deserve. Not that Yarrop’s any better, really. They just did to him what he’d already done to others a few times by that point - ghosting and moving on as soon as he stopped dealing.
Frustration and bitterness bubbles under his skin, his arms burning with the need to punch something.
Yarrop’s thoughts are interrupted by a more intense wave of peristalsis, flattening him against the ceiling. He pushes back against it and sighs. At least Damien’s still around. As the muscles relax again, Yarrop gives it a pat.
He idly muses about how many times Damien’s stopped a self destructive spiral, either on purpose or accidentally. How many times he’s stopped suicide attempts.
That’s not a good train of thought to go down either. These half-awake exhausted moods are the worst. Frustration bubbles up again, this time mostly with himself.
Fuck it. Yarrop sits up, scooping a handful of… saliva? Stomach acid? Something. He scoops a big handful of it and drops it off the ledge onto Co’s face this time.
“Hey!” Co splutters. “That’s it, I’m coming up! I’ve got a rock and I know how to use it! Ribbonsy, sweet, will you aid my quest for domination and conquest?”
“Of course, hun.”
Knives and Daggers
A chapter focused on Co, from Co’s POV and his dynamic primarily with Yarrop, but also a bit of Ribbonsy and Damien as well.
Overall tws for the story can be seen here, on the masterpost! If there’s a tw not covered by the masterpost, or that you’d like on individual chapters that contain the subject, please let me know and I will happily add it!
Here’s a drawing of Co!
Co is in the kitchen making himself a macchiato with soy milk, double espresso, and hazelnut syrup. One of life’s greatest pleasures. Lofi beats plays in the background - that one that has the image of a girl studying at a desk that’s so popular.
As he’s about to take his first sip, Yarrop storms out. He glances around, then locks eyes with Co. There’s a sort of dangerous intensity to it. Co raises a questioning eyebrow.
“Damien around?” Yarrop growls.
Co shakes his head. “Damien’s still out picking up some baby chicks. It’ll be a while - you know how he is.”
Yarrop paces, a hand up by the side of his head as he opens and closes his fist repeatedly. That’s not a good sign.
“Are you alright?” Co asks, putting down his drink.
“I am a threat to myself and others,” Yarrop says bluntly. Direct and to the point, as usual.
“Anything I can help with?” Co asks, not quite sure how to handle this. It’s not a statement Co takes lightly, especially coming from Yarrop.
“I will stab you,” Yarrop warns, making eye contact again. The force behind the stare feels like it’ll bore holes through Co’s skull.
“Understood,” Co says, nodding and looking to the wall instead. There’s strike one. Don’t offer help? Is that what he’s supposed to get out of that?
Yarrop turns to the living room, grabbing the remote and changing the tv from music to gaming, pulling up some first person shooter as he crashes back on the couch.
Co pulls his phone out of his pocket and texts Damien.
[How do you calm down Yarrop? To quote - “I am a threat to myself and others”.] annd send. Co leans back, elbows on the counter, as he watches Yarrop play.
Co watches a Yarrop plays progressively bolder and sloppier, leading to quicker and quicker death screens. Watches a Yarrop gets more and more frustrated with each one, progressing from growling to slamming his fist on the back of the couch.
Finally, his phone dings.
[eat him]
The corners of Co’s mouth pull back, his lips pressing to a thin line as he glances back up to Yarrop. Not so sure about that one. Another ding, with a third immediately after.
[punch him first]
[inpourtent to punch first]
Right. Co’s not sure what else he was expecting, really.
Hitting someone isn’t exactly the first thing that comes to mind when it comes to calming people down. Ribbonsy is also coming home soon, and as much as he loves them, they’d probably make matters worse. Ribbonsy isn’t exactly known for getting along with the dastardly duo. The duo tend not to react to Ribbonsy’s brand of help and positivity well.
Obviously, Yarrop is looking for Damien’s brand of ‘calming down’, having asked for him by name.
And, well, it does make sense. Prove an outlet, a release of steam, and then keep Yarrop from re-triggering himself.
[I’ll give it a shot. Thanks.] Co messages back, and puts his phone away.
Co looks up to a string of curses and the game controller being thrown hard enough to bounce off the back of the second couch.
“Want to fight?” Co asks. Here goes nothing.
Yarrop tilts his head back, looking at Co upside down over the armrest. “Ya better not be fuckin’ with me,” he growls.
“Genuine offer,” Co says with a nod.
“I’m using knives,” Yarrop states, sitting up.
“Got any with dull edges?” Co asks. He’d rather get to know someone’s style before going right to sharp edges.
Yarrop rolls his eyes. “Sure,” he says, standing up.
“Real quick - what’s the snapping thing you have with Damien? I’ve noticed it when you guys fight, so I’m assuming it’s important.”
Yarrop sighs. “One, slow. Two, pause. Three, full stop. Four, medical care.”
Co nods. “Gotcha, gotcha. Do you want breakthrough pain meds? Either for now or afterwards?”
Yarrop shakes his head.
Co nods again. “Well, I’ll go grab a couple dull blades of my own and I’ll meet you in the backyard,” he says and the two of them head to their respective rooms.
Co grabs the pair of decorative daggers he has up on his wall. They’re plenty dull. And the smallest thing that he has that’s dull - all of his proper knives are rather sharp, and he doesn’t feel much like ruining the edges.
Co is the first one to the backyard, and he idly twirls his daggers in his hand as he waits. Getting used to the weight and grip.
As Yarrop comes into the backyard, Co holds up the daggers by the blades to show how dull they are. “These alright?” Co asks.
Yarrop nods and takes up his position opposite of Co, two knives of his own in his hands.
“Ready?” Co asks.
Yarrop nods.
“Go.”
Click, Yarrop disappears and there’s a rush of air beside him. Co instinctively ducks away before his brain even really processes what’s happening. There’s a hard brush of metal to the side of his ribs. If this were a real fight, with proper sharp knives and an intent to kill, that could have punctured a lung. Damn Yarrop can be terrifying, especially with that teleportation ability. Co turns and manages to get a glimpse of Yarrop.
Click, Yarrop disappears again. There’s a rush of air from behind him milliseconds before there’s a slam of metal across his back. That’ll leave a bruise.
Click. Co moves, the clink of metal on metal sounding like a bell of victory beside him. He manages to catch a glimpse of a wide toothy grin from Yarrop.
Click. A rush of air in front of him, and Co starts to move.
Click. Beside him again, without a front attack at all. The dull knife bounces off Co’s shoulder. Co takes a step backwards
Click. Metal on metal. Co grins.
Click. Metal on metal. He’s getting the hang of this.
Click. Behind. Pain in the back of his calf. That’ll leave another bruise, fuck. Co takes another step back.
Click. Co turns to defend, but there’s no rush of air around him. Co looks around, confused, and spots Yarrop a little way off, chest heaving. Okay.
“Did I miss finger snaps?” Co asks. It takes a second for thoughts and such to catch up after leaning so heavily on instinct.
Yarrop shakes his head, coughing hard.
“You alright ov-”
Click. There’s a rush of air, and metal pressed against his adams apple.
Co moves before his brain has a chance to process as his heartrate spikes through the roof and proper adrenaline kicks in. The hilt of his dagger slams into the arm holding the knife to his neck.
Click. Co is already turning when the air hits him, the hilt of his second dagger slamming into Yarrop’s hand, forcing him to drop a knife. Co can see Yarrop’s eyes widen in surprise.
Click. Co forces himself to stop for a millisecond. This is for Yarrop to release steam. Defensive, not offensive…. Where’s the next attack? Co looks up to see Yarrop a little ways away, looking between Co and the knife at his feet. Probably trying to figure out how to grab it again.
Co raises an eyebrow and kicks the knife over to Yarrop.
Yarrop quickly picks it up and flips it in his hand a couple times before settling with his grip. He looks over to Co, and you could almost see the gears turning as he reevaluates.
Click. Co is ready this time, and metal rings off metal as the rush of air moves his hair.
Click. Metal off metal.
Click. Click. Click. Metal off metal.
Click. This time, Co is greeted by a knee coming towards his face. He lets out an undignified yelp and just manages to turn his head enough that the knees land on his shoulders instead. The momentum is enough to take both of them down.
As soon as Co realizes that falling is inevitable, he relaxes his muscles and flings his arms out to the side to spread out the impact and minimize the damage. As they both hit the ground, Co hears Yarrop rolling.
Damn it. The grass stains are going to be annoying. He was hoping to keep the fight upright. Oh well. Annnnd the sounds from the direction of Yarrop start getting closer, which is Co’s cue to move.
Co rolls just in time to see a knife whizz past his face and stick into the dirt.
“Fuck, man!” Co exclaims, scrambling to stand up again.
Click. Oh no. A knee slams into Co’s back, driving him back to the ground with a heavy thud that knocks the air out of his lungs. It’s a dirt match now, got it. Message received.
Click. Co braces for impact, but none comes. Off to the left, there’s the sound of two finger snaps, accompanied by heavy coughing and retching. Two snaps - that’s pause, right? Co sits up and waits, looking somewhere in the opposite direction. He bites back the instinct to check in and ask if Yarrop is okay.
Eh eugh. Nausea and vomiting are nasty drawbacks to powers. Co was wondering when Yarrop would hit that point, with the back to back uses of it. Co makes a mental note to be careful about any sort of impact or attack to Yarrop’s gut. Don’t need to make it worse.
When the sounds of Yarrop losing his lunch stop and gets replaced by footsteps, Co stands up and turns back to face him. There’s still a strong intensity to his gaze, but it’s lacking some of the dangerous edge it had earlier.
“Ready,” Yarrop says, taking position opposite Co again.
“Go,” Co says, wondering which method Yarrop will use to try and get him to the ground again.
Click. Yarrop’s beside him. Metal rings off metal.
Co waits for the next click, which never comes. Instead, Yarrop takes advantage of the dull edges by flicking his knife back into his sleeve and grabbing the blade of Co’s dagger. It’s pushed back against Co’s chest with a surprising amount of force, and as he tries to take a step back for balance, it’s blocked.
Gotcha, more falling. He was hoping to last at least a bit longer on his feet.
Co does the same as he did last time - relaxing into the fall, spreading out his arms to distribute the impact.
Well, if Co’s on the ground, Yarrop should be too. As Yarrop takes a step, Co flicks out a patch of ice under his foot. Co’s hand tingles and warms slightly with the use of his power. Yarrop however, has a great oh-shit-I’m-falling face. Co snickers as Yarrop comes crashing down too.
Now, Co isn’t exactly the best at grappling and wrestling and dirty fighting. Yarrop has far more experience with that, and it’s hard enough fighting Yarrop upright. So Co figures he’d at least try to even the playing field by going a bit more offensive.
Co kicks things off by grabbing Yarrop and rolling on top of him. Yarrop grins.
The fight continues, both trying to get an advantage over the other. Both deal some damage to the other, but a good lot of it is blocked, mitigated, or dodged. On the surface, it may now look a lot like the fights that Damien and Yarrop have, but the fundamentals and priorities are completely different.
While Yarrop starts with an advantage, the longer the fight drags on the harder it is for him to keep up. Co, however, feels about the same towards the end of the fight as he did at the beginning. Endurance and moderation.
Eventually, it comes to an end. Co straddles Yarrop, a dagger to his throat. Both of them are breathing heavily, sweat running trails through the dirt on them and dripping into the grass. Yarrop looks up at him, the intense destructive stare being replaced by exhaustion. For a beat, neither of them move.
“I take it that this is the part where Damien usually eats you? Should I do the same?” Co asks, pulling the dagger away.
Yarrop shrugs and closes his eyes.
Co hesitates. He’s not exactly keen on the idea of eating him. On the other hand, it’s what Damien suggested. What Yarrop said earlier is still stuck in his head. Even in an offhand way, ‘a threat to myself and others’ is not a statement he takes lightly. Does that really mean eating the stabby guy with knives though? Who still has his knives and was just trying to stab him? Surely Yarrop should be fine now, having released steam. But, well, if the point is to keep Yarrop from triggering himself again or starting another episode. Ehhhhh.
Whatever. Yolo. Co takes a deep breath and bites Yarrop’s shoulder where Damien’s teeth marks are. Although ‘bite’ might be a strong word - Co firmly applies a small bit of pressure with his teeth. That’s more accurate.
Co tries his best to find some sort of middleground between how rough Damien usually is, and his own comfort levels. He knows Yarrop isn’t too keen on gentleness, but Co’s not really a fan of being too rough
Co takes things a bit faster than he would with Ribbonsy, and builds up saliva as Yarrop becomes smaller between his jaws. Unfortunately, he can’t just swallow someone dry like Damien. He listens carefully for any sort of protesting or finger snapping. However, Yarrop doesn’t seem to have an issue.
At the right size, Co pushes Yarrop into his mouth and grimaces at the taste of dirt. After a quick slicking, he pushes Yarrop all the way back and swallows. Part of him is expecting a line of pain from a knife down his throat, which thankfully doesn’t happen.
Co sits back on the grass, a hand over his stomach as he waits for Yarrop to get down and settle in. He’s still not entirely sure how he feels about this whole thing. Well. It worked? Threat neutralized? Eugh no that has bad connotations. Crisis averted? Sure. Can’t really complain about that.
It’s one thing to watch the dastardly duo wrestle, but it’s another thing to be on the other end of Yarrop’s knife when the man is set on dealing damage.
There’s a newfound respectful… not fear, but hmm. Nooot wariness. Awareness? Something like that. A new level of recognition for Yarrop’s abilities and skills.
“Just send me a text when you want out, yeah? You have your phone, right?” Co says. He stands up and brushes off the bits of leaves, twigs, and loose dirt.
A few seconds later, his phone dings.
[ye] from Yarrop. That’s a relief.
Co stands up and double checks to make sure they didn’t accidentally drop anything or leave anything behind out here. Pocket pat down. Yeah okay, seems like he’s got everything. He heads inside.
“Your game is still open. Smack once if you want me to save and close it,” Co says, picking up the controller from the ground and inspecting for damages. There’s the smack. “Cool, cool.”
The controls still work alright. Thankfully, it seems Yarrop grabbed the one that was previously damaged and already slated for replacement. The joystick seems to get a little more stuck now. Although, that could also be due to the new set of unique teeth marks that belong to a certain neon menace.
Oh well. Regardless, it works well enough to save and quit the game. That done, Co sets down the controller where it belongs and heads to the kitchen. And. Ah. Yeah. His untouched drink on the kitchen counter. Well. Guess he’ll just have to have it iced later. He puts it in the fridge for now.
There’s the familiar sound of Ribbonsy’s van pulling up to the driveway. A grin spreads across Co’s face as he sets down the decorative daggers on the counter and races outside.
“Sweet!” Co calls from the doorway, using his pet name for Ribbonsy. He is rapidly approaching their location. It’s like a breath of fresh air, and tension he didn’t even realize he was holding relaxes.
Ribbonsy giggles as they shut the van door. “Hi, hun,” they say, turning to face Co. “Oh my god you look like shit. What happened?” Ribbonsy continues, getting close to fuss over Co.
Co blushes, his brain short circuiting as Ribbonsy inspects the fresh bruises and brushes off more dirt. Eh heheheh.
“Casper?” Ribbonsy prompts, looking at his jaw. They grab his chin and tilt his face. 404 error, Co Not Found.
He pulls away to give his two braincells a chance to produce a coherent thought. “I ahhhh had a fight with Yarrop?” Co offers sheepishly. At the look on Ribbonsy’s face, he instantly backpedals. “A consensual fight! Good fight! I’m okay, I promise, sweet.”
“And where is Yarrop now?” Ribbonsy asks, making eye contact and raising an eyebrow.
The corners of Co’s mouth pull back, his lips pressed in a straight line. He isn’t quite sure how to answer that one. Uhhhh he puts a hand to his stomach and shrugs.
Ribbonsy’s gaze bounces between Co’s stomach and his face, mildly confused. Yeah. Co awkwardly nods and shrugs again.
“Eh?” Ribbonsy questions.
“Damien’s out looking at baby birds to bring home and Yarrop was about to break the gaming setup?” Co offers in defense.
Ribbonsy sighs and shakes their head. “As long as I-” Co’s phone dings. “-don’t have to take you to urgent care tomorrow for Yarrop induced ulcers and internal bleeding.”
Usually Co would ignore his phone at this moment, but if it was Yarrop he’d rather not get stabbed for not paying attention. He remembers Damien saying that Yarrop’s stabbed him from inside plenty of times. Which. Maybe Co should have thought about.
[damn stomachs red too loverboy] from Yarrop. Okay, it’s all chill.
“Oh hush,” Co replies, then looks up and backpedals again. “Ah! Not you, sweet.”
Ribbonsy sighs and shakes their head in amusement. “So how long are you keeping him anyway?” they ask.
“Ah. Either until Damien gets home, or Yarrop asks to be let out, whichever comes first.”
“Gotcha. Well, I’ve got to go and do some research and resource gathering. Wanna come back inside with me?” Ribbonsy asks.
Co nods and grabs their hand, walking back to the house together.
“How has your day been so far, sweet?” Co asks, realizing he hasn’t yet.
Ribbonsy thinks for a moment. “A bit harder than most days. There’s some problems I don’t know how to solve.”
“Well, I believe in you. You’ll be able to figure something out,” Co says, giving them a reassuring smile.
“Well, I suppose that means I better get started. May I kiss?” Ribbonsy asks with a soft smile.
Co nods. Ribbonsy leans forward and gives a quick peck to his forehead. Their beard tickles his nose. Co impulsively bats at it like a cat toy.
Ribbonsy pulls away and giggles. “Love ya, hun.”
“Good luck, sweet,” Co says, watching as Ribbonsy heads off to their room.
Co makes his way over to the couch, wondering what he should do now. He’s got at least a couple hours to kill until Damien gets home. Maybe a few episodes of a show or something. He curls up on the couch. Changes it over from the game console to Fishflicks as he starts scrolling through the options.
There’s another new episode of Windfall. However, Damien would be mad if he watched it without him. And he promised Ribbonsy that they’d watch Inner World together. Giddy or Twisty Tree? Maybe. He’s pretty sure Yarrop is watching Giddy at the very least, and wouldn’t appreciate spoilers.
Co starts mindlessly scrolling through the options of things to start watching. Something will peak his interest.
--------------------------------
A couple episodes later, Co hears the sound of footsteps on the porch. He perks up, quickly pausing his show and looking to the front door.
The door handle rattles, and Damien comes in holding a small box. From the box comes the sounds of skittering and peeping.
Co waves, not wanting to disturb Yarrop too much. Damien looks surprised.
“So ya chickened out?” Damien says with a shit eating grin and holding the box of baby chicks a little bit higher and snickering at his own pun.
“Chickened out of what?” Co asks, mildly confused.
“Eatin’ Yarro’.”
“No? I did do that,” Co says. The movement starting to pick up in his stomach would attest to that fact. Co would guess waking up from a nap, given that he hasn’t been moving much before this.
Damien raises a questioning eyebrow. “An’ yer not in the E.R.?”
“Werrrre you expecting me to be?” Co asks, his brows furrowed in confusion and his mouth a straight line as he tries to figure out how to feel.
“Yea.”
“Why?”
“‘Cause it’s Yarro’.”
“You told me to do it,” Co says flatly.
“Ya asked how I handle it, not how you shoul’,” Damien says with a shrug. “Imma be righ’ back I gotta take care of the babies.”
Co’s phone dings as he’s standing up, and Damien heads back to his room.
[get me out], from Yarrop.
“Already two steps ahead of you. Die fast get fucked or live long and prosper?”
There’s only a brief pause before his phone dings again.
[?]
“Puke or string thing?” Co clarifies, reaching the kitchen.
[die fast eat ass]
“Gotcha, gotcha” Co says, arriving at the kitchen sink. He takes a deep breath and clenches his stomach muscles. “Kick when you’re ready.”
While Yarrop moves into position, Co plucks a spoon from the drying rack. Annnnnd there’s the kick.
“Here we go,” Co says, hesitating a second before shoving the handle of the spoon in the back of his throat.
Annnd - hrgh - there. Co’s gag reflex kicks in and he heaves, feeling a lump rising through his chest.
Footsteps sound down the hall as Co heaves again. The footsteps stop right outside the kitchen. Just in time for Co to reach to the back of his throat and pull out a soggy Yarrop.
“Huh. So ya did eat ‘im. Sure ya don’ have any broken bones or anythin’? In’ernal bleedin’?” Damien questions.
Co rinses Yarrop off, coughing a bit. “I mean, I got some bruises?”
“Tha’s it?”
“What, were you hoping I’d end up in the hospital?” Co asks, bewildered as he turns off the faucet and turns towards Damien.
Damien shrugs. “No’ really. If ya were, ya couldn’ cook eggies for me.”
“Is that all I’m good for?” Co asks, amused. He sets Yarrop down on the usual stool near the counter and backs up a few steps. When Yarrop starts returning to his normal size, Co leans on the counter on the opposite side of the kitchen and watches.
Damien shakes his head, then turns to Yarrop. “So were ya really not tha’ mad?”
It takes Yarrop a moment to reorient. He stretches and pops stiff joints, which Co tries to ignore. The sound makes him shudder. “Genetic donor bullshit,” Yarrop says plainly, giving a very flat look in Damien’s direction.
Damien sucks air through his teeth. “Dang.”
“Sent me a holier than thou invite to another fuckin’ cult,” Yarrop says, resting his chin on crossed arms on the counter.
“‘K so ready and wantin’ ta kill. So how’d Cas manage ta choke ya down withou’ dying?” Damien asks, sitting next to Yarrop at the counter and kicking his feet.
Yarrop shrugs. “Good fight.”
“Him?” Damien asks, raising an eyebrow and pointing a thumb in Co’s direction.
Co shrugs and picks up his decorative daggers from the counter. “Yarrop’s not the only one that knows his way around a blade.”
Both of Damien’s eyebrows raise, as if he hadn’t considered the idea that the daggers could belong to Co. “A knife fight? With Yarrop? Angry Yarrop?”
“Dull knives,” Yarrop clarifies.
“If they were real knives, with a genuine intent to kill, he could’ve killed me at least 3 times in the first 20 seconds. Luckily, I’m just getting off with a handful of nasty bruises instead,” Co says, remembering the drink he made earlier. He puts down his daggers and heads to the fridge.
“Are you makin’ food?” Damien asks, perking up.
“I wasn’t planning on it, but I can,” Co says, pulling out the drink he made earlier and taking a sip. That’s the good stuff.
“Where’d ya get your training?” Yarrop asks, interrupting Damien’s food tangent and tilting his head in Co’s direction.
“Hm?” Co questions.
“Weapon training.”
“That easy to tell?” Co asks, taking another sip of his drink.
“Efficient movement, fancy fallin’ style,” Yarrop says with a vague wave of his hand.
Co shrugs. “My dad enrolled me in all sorts of self defense classes as a kid. I still sorta keep up on it.”
“Who’d willin’ly pu’ stabby thin’s in the hands of a kid?” Damien asks.
“My dad, apparently.”
“Why? Kids are brutal lil pota’oes,”
Co shrugs again. “I dunno. Boys need to be tough and strong or bullshit like that.”
“You had stabby things as a kid,” Yarrop says, turning to Damien.
Damien grins. “But my paren’s were tryin’ to take away my stabby thin’s.”
“I had stabby things as a kid.”
“Yeah, well, your gene’ic donors deserve a slow an’ painful death,” Damien says, wrinkling his nose.
“One down, one to go,” Yarrop mutters.
“I don’ think yer dad’s death was slow or painful enough. Too fas’, too easy,” Damien says and scowls.
Yarrop puts his face down on the counter and raises a hand, snapping three times. Full stop. His shoulders start shaking slightly. Co can empathize. The conversation was starting to stray into uncomfortable territory for him too.
“You wanted food? Anything in particular?” Co asks, turning to Damien and changing the subject.
“Mmmmmmmmm eggy and hash browns?” Damien suggests.
“Sure. Want any, Yarrop? Or have any requests?” Co asks, setting down his drink and opening the fridge again.
Yarrop takes a deep breath. It takes him a moment to answer. “Protein shake.”
Anxieties
#4 of this series! Ribbonsy POV. This one is focused a bit more on the dynamic between them and Damien, with a bit of bittersweet fluff with Co too.
I’ll be making a masterpost as soon as I figure out what to call it haha.
3.1k words, and a drawing of Ribbonsy to go with it! 6′4″ lad that is trying their best.
Warnings: Safe non-sexual vore, and a lil bit of romance.
Ribbonsy’s phone dings, and they roll over, blindly patting their nightstand for it. It’s the alert sound they have for Co after all. At this time of day, usually that means it’s important. Annnd there it is. They squint at the light as they check it.
[Hy sweet, wold u b wiling to go store w/ damin tday?]
[Sure. Not feeling well?] Ribbonsy responds. Usually, Co types a lot better than that.
[ye. tea mybe?]
[Will do. Be right there <3]
Ribbonsy rubs their face, trying to wake up. They check the time. Nearly 8am. Welp, time to get up soon anyway. Actually, they’re surprised that Co is awake at this time. Well. Ribbonsy takes a deep breath and stands up.
This will be an… interesting day, by the sounds of it.
It takes several minutes, but soon enough Ribbonsy is at Co’s door, knocking lightly. “Casper?”
“Come in,” Co says halfheartedly.
Ribbonsy quietly opens the door and comes in, setting the mug of tea on Co’s nightstand. Co himself is laying face down, partly curled up and buried under blankets.
“Here’s your tea. Getting sick?” Ribbonsy asks.
Co pulls his blankets up even more. “Something like that,” he says, his voice scratchy.
“Anything else you need? I can make soup.”
“No, I’ll be alright. Thanks for the tea, sweet. Can you handle it if anyone else needs something today? Besides Yarrop’s meds, I can still do that.”
“No problem, hun. I’ll put a note on your door and let you get some rest, alright?” Ribbonsy says gently.
“Thanks. I love you so much,” Co says, peeking very pathetically out from under the blankets to look at Ribbonsy, his eyes red.
“Love you too. Now, get some sleep,” Ribbonsy says with a soft smile, exiting and closing the door just as quietly as when they came in.
Alright. Time to get started. First off, Ribbonsy grabs a sticky note from the pad on the door of the fridge, and writes a note to not bother Co. Then, sticks it on his door just like they said they would.
Ribbonsy starts their morning as they normally do. Getting washed up, hair care and skincare. And well, if they know they’re going to be leaving the house, they might as well put a little eyeshadow on.
“Casper?” Damien calls.
Ribbonsy pokes their head out the bathroom door and looks towards Damien in the livingroom. “Casper isn’t feeling well. Whatcha need?”
“I wanna know when he’s taking me to the store later.”
“Casper asked if I could fill in for him today. I’m taking you to the store.”
Damien scowls.
“When do you want to go out?” Ribbonsy asks, keeping their tone light and ignoring the distasteful expression.
“Whenever.”
“Can you give me a more specific time than that?” Ribbonsy requests. It’s easier to figure out their plan for the day if they have a more solid timeframe. Soon? A few hours from now?
“Euh. I dunno. 10 minutes.”
That’s a little short. “Is half an hour okay?”
“Why’d you ask me then?” Damien scoffs and walks away.
Ribbonsy takes a calming breath and goes back to what they’re doing. It isn’t productive to get upset over things that ultimately don’t mean anything.
There’s distant sounds of Yarrop loudly protesting. Ribbonsy has a pretty good idea of what’s going on. Guess Yarrop is coming along to the store too, one way or another.
------------
Ribbonsy taps on the steering wheel. The silence in the car hangs thick enough you can cut it with a knife. Should they turn on the radio? It’s halfway through the car ride. Would it be weird? Would it piss off Damien? It’s hard to tell sometimes. Although, Ribbonsy shouldn’t really be messing with buttons and such while driving. Even if the silence gets on their nerves.
At a stoplight, they look over to Damien. He’s leaning against the window, watching the outside world and idly running his thumb over his stomach. As if sensing Ribbonsy’s gaze, Damien turns to meet it. “What?”
Ribbonsy shakes their head and turns back to the road. “Nothing.”
The light turns green, and they go. ‘Nothing’ - was that the right response? They really didn’t have a reason for looking. Just waiting for the light. They’re not sure what else they could have responded with. Was it rude? There’s not much that can go wrong with just one word, right? Actually, yeah, there’s a lot of things that can go wrong with just one word.
Hm. This is definitely starting in the direction of an anxiety spiral. Ribbonsy takes a deep breath. What’s triggering this? There’s the underlying issue of just not knowing how to interact with Damien, but that’s nothing new. Unfamiliar situation and routine breaking? Usually Co does this and Ribbonsy isn’t stuck in such a small space for long periods of time with Damien. Yeah, alright. That feels like part of it. What else? Understimulation? Probably.
Which circles back to an earlier thought. Is it weird to turn on the radio halfway through a car ride? Wait, hold on. Okay. That’s also an anxiety thought. Ribbonsy would have absolutely no problem doing it if, say, it was Co in the car instead. Okay. Alright.
At the next red light, Ribbonsy turns on the radio. Damien startles and watches as they change the station to something they like. Some good upbeat dancy pop music.
As the car starts when the light turns green, Damien turns the radio off.
Ribbonsy’s grip on the wheel tightens slightly. The anxiety thoughts spike. Wrong move - social interaction failed - should have asked first - wrong - wrong - wrong.
Breathe. It’s okay. It’s not necessarily personal - it could be conflicting sensory issues or something. Identify that it’s likely irrational, and breathe. It’ll pass. Even if it is personal, it’s nothing to be upset about. It’s just music. Anxiety is right? It’s okay. Anxiety is wrong? It’s still okay. The feeling doesn’t go away, but it at least helps to manage it and keep it from spiraling worse. Brea-
“Ya missed the turn,” Damien cuts in.
“Sorry,” Ribbonsy says automatically and quickly course corrects. What did they say sorry for? Was it genuine, or was it just out of habit? It felt like a people pleaser habit they used to have, but maybe there’s something they should genuinely apologize for.
This isn’t okay. If it’s affecting their driving and navigation, it’s not safe. They need to -
“You look like ya wanna stab somethin’,” Damien cuts in again.
Ribbonsy’s taken aback. “No? Where did you get that from?” they ask, confused. They keep their eyes on the road, resisting the need to look over when they’re talking and overanalyze expressions and reactions.
“Nothin’ wrong with wanting to stab somethin’.”
“There’s everything wrong with that, actually,” Ribbonsy says. Destruction of property, intimidation and manipulation, risk of injury. It’s not an okay thing to do, or encourage.
Damien scoffs.
“What am I doing so wrong? Why do you hate me so much?” Ribbonsy asks, frustrated. Their anxiety is incredibly loud, the silence is stifling, and they’re trying to focus on driving safely. They don’t have much in terms of brain resources to devote to a filter right now, and they regret saying anything the moment it leaves their mouth. This is not the correct way to confront an issue, they should know better.
Damien groans. There's a click as Damien leans the seat back as far as it could go, laying down and staring at the roof of the car.
"That’s not safe," Ribbonsy says automatically. That far back means the seatbelt is basically a decoration. As a driver, they’re responsible for the safety and wellbeing of the passengers.
"I will bite you," Damien says with a warning tone to his voice, taking the time to enunciate his words more clearly despite the teeth.
What are they supposed to do now? Keep going or stop the car? It's hard to tell what thoughts are rational and what thoughts aren't. It's a safety hazard, and they’re responsible. Driving in general while feeling like they’re close to a panic attack is a safety hazard. But on the other hand, it feels like they’re making mountains out of molehills. Nothing has really happened. It feels incredibly silly. What even is the issue in the first place?
If their anxiety is getting to the point that they're having a hard time telling rational from irrational, they desperately need a chance to slow down and self regulate.
The next stoplight, they glance at Damien. Still laying down, still a safety hazard. He has one hand on his stomach, and the other hand is up while he flicks his wrist repeatedly. Ribbonsy turns on the radio. Damien’s wrist flicking intensifies, but he doesn't say or do anything this time.
Okay. Ribbonsy takes a deep breath. They focus on the music and work on releasing tension from their muscles. The music fills just enough of their brain that it slows down their anxiety thoughts and gives them a chance to address and regulate properly.
Okay. Okay. One thing at a time. Even if it is a safety hazard, they doubt they could do anything to change Damien’s mind. Therefore, there is zero point in pulling over. The threat of biting and casual leaning towards violence is also something they want to address, however this is not the time or the place for it. Forcing a serious conversation in a moving vehicle that you are trapped in is a great way to make someone hate serious conversations. Which is not their goal. That, and word choice, is a big reason why they regret asking about what they're doing wrong, even though it's still a topic they want to address too. And, they should have had more communication when it came to the radio. It's a shared space after all. Alright. Okay. They're almost at the store. They'll apologize once the car is stopped so they can offer full attention.
They pull into the parking space, and before they can say a word, Damien is out of the car and zipping inside. Ribbonsy sighs and puts their forehead on the steering wheel. So much for that. Maybe when the shopping trip is over. They really are trying. They really do want to have a positive friendship, and make sure Damien’s okay. It’s just hard. It feels like everything they try and do is wrong.
Ribbonsy takes a moment to fully and properly unwind and regulate.
------------
Ribbonsy is about halfway through their grocery list when they hear voices raised a couple aisles over.
"Don’t touch me!" Damien shouts.
Of course it's Damien. What else did they expect? They leave their cart and rush over.
Arriving at the scene, they see Damien with his shoulders up and tensed, a tall built middle aged man, and an older woman with her own cart.
"Damien, what's going on?" Ribbonsy asks.
Damien looks like a deer in the headlights with his eyes darting and his wrist flicking.
The other man, gathering that they're together, answers instead. "The punk was rude to my wife, and I let him know I wouldn't tolerate anyone talking to her like that. See his hands? He's rearing for a fucking fight!"
Damien’s eyes zero in on him and his shoulders keep creeping up. Ribbonsy recognizes the look on Damien’s face. If he wasn't looking for a fight before, he is now. To use Damien’s words, he looks like he wants to stab something.
Ribbonsy steps between them, facing the other man, his hands facing palms out in an open apologetic way. "I'm sorry about my friend's behavior," Ribbonsy starts. He hears a trio of finger snaps behind him and figures it's another one of Damien’s stims. That’s good. Self regulation is good. "I'm sure he didn’t mean any of it," Ribbonsy continues, trying to pacify the situation before it escalates.
"Ribbonsy. Don’t," Damien says forcefully with a low growl behind them.
What did they do wrong this time?
"Sure sounds like he means it," the other man says, oh so helpfully.
Ribbonsy turns slightly to face both of them.
They hold their index finger up towards Damien in a standard 'wait' gesture and addresses the other man. "Sir, with all due respect, you can move on with your shopping. I apologize for the interruption with your day," Ribbonsy says firmly, then turns to Damien and softens their tone slightly. "And if you have a problem with me, we can speak more outside."
The other man mutters something else and gets dragged away by his wife. The whole time they're leaving, Damien’s staring daggers. Once they're out of sight, Damien turns that same glare to Ribbonsy.
"Don't apologize for my actions," Damien says, carefully enunciated and still with a bit of growl.
"Alright. Like I said, we can talk more about this outside. This is not the time or the place," Ribbonsy says gently but firmly. They know they don't have the full story, and they want to know what led up to the 'don’t touch me'. However, a public place, especially when emotions are still raw, is no place to have a serious conversation.
Damien’s eyes flick to different spots, all centered on Ribbonsy as if looking for something out of them. Ribbonsy holds their ground. Damien’s pocket buzzes with a phone notification, and he turns and storms off while dragging his cart behind him.
Ribbonsy sighs. That could have been worse, but it was still less than ideal. They start reviewing what they could have done or said better as they go back to their own cart. They were hoping for a better day today, but they can’t necessarily say they’re surprised at how things turned out.
------------
As Ribbonsy wheels out their cart into the parking lot, they spot Damien laying down on the roof of the minivan with his own groceries on the ground by the tires. He’s idly kneading at his stomach again, staring up at the sky. It’s always so easy to tell when Damien is carrying Yarrop - he just can’t keep his hands away. It’s kinda adorable, really. Hopefully Yarrop made it through the shopping trip alright.
“Do you want to talk about what happened earlier?” Ribbonsy asks, beeping the car unlocked and opening the trunk to load everything up. Damien doesn’t move from his spot on the roof.
“No.”
Ribbonsy tries again. “I did something to upset you. Do you want to tell me so I can try to avoid the same mistakes?”
“I already told ya.”
“In the store, you said not to apologize for your actions?”
Damien stays silent.
“Doooo you want a chance to explain why it bothers you? I don’t think I understand. I don’t think it’s productive to waste time on a stranger and risk getting kicked out of the store, and would rather just say what they want to hear to move on. Is that something you have an issue with?”
“Yea. I’m responsible for myself. So leave me the spud alone.”
“I am not disagreeing. You are responsible for yourself. However, I don’t see how that’s relevant. I’m not claiming to be responsible for what you do.”
“K. Looket me.”
Ribbonsy moves to the side of the vehicle to look up at Damien on the roof.
Damien mimes turning a crank besides his hand, and with the other slowly flips up a middle finger. He sneers and sticks out his tongue.
Ribbonsy sighs, going back to loading the trunk. “I’m genuinely trying my best here. I can’t read your mind.”
“Ok. Don’t.”
------------
Ribbonsy takes a moment to figure out what they’re meant to do next. They’re home, groceries are put away, Yarrop has been returned and his meds taken for the night, chores have been done, self care is finished.
Ribbonsy’s phone goes off. Another text from Co. They pull it out and check.
[r u worid bot gting sck?]
[Not really, why?]
[cn u et mee]
[*eat]
[Sure hun. When?] Ribbonsy responds with a faint smile, amused by the spelling correction.
[now]
[Alright. I’ll be there soon. <3]
Guess that answers their question on what to do next. It’s a bit of an unusual request for Co. Not that they mind, they just worry a bit.
Ribbonsy moves to Co’s door and knocks softly.
“Come in,” Co croaks.
Ribbonsy enters and quietly closes the door behind them. They hear shaky breaths, and as they get close they can see that Co’s eyes are red and damp.
“Hun? Have you been crying?” Ribbonsy asks gently, coming forward and reaching out to cup Co’s face.
Co leans into it and looks away. His facial hair feels rough and scratchy against their palm.
“Do you wanna talk about it?”
Co shakes his head. Ribbonsy gently wipes his cheek with their thumb.
“Alright. You know you can tell me anything, right? This is a safe space.”
“I know. It’s just… flashbacks. Again,” Co says, putting his head down and wrapping his arms around Ribbonsy’s middle.
Ribbonsy gently runs their fingers through his hair. “I get that. I know how those go.” Flashbacks aren’t fun. Ribbonsy’s has had more than their fair share.
Co hugs Ribbonsy tighter, curling himself up more.
Ribbonsy hums, a soft bittersweet song. A bit of ‘Like Real People Do’, by Hozier. It’s a go-to song for the both of them when it comes to things like this. Coming to the chorus, they sing softly. “I will not ask you where you came from."
"I will not ask, and neither would you," Co joins, singing just as gently.
Ribbonsy lifts Co’s face and kisses his forehead.
“Honey, just put your - sweet lips on my lips. We should just kiss like real people do,” Co finishes, turning his face more towards Ribbonsy.
Ribbonsy moves down to Co’s lips, as requested. They wait for a moment, asking non-verbal permission before continuing. Co breathes deeply and closes his eyes. Permission granted. Ribbonsy moves his kiss to the scruff near Co’s ear. On a non-physical level, Ribbonsy gently pulls.
Ribbonsy holds Co as he gets smaller, their lips shifting to his jaw. As Co continues at a slow even pace, Ribbonsy lifts him in their hands and shifts their kiss to his arm. Their lips cover half his body.
“I love you,” Ribbonsy whispers. They place Co’s small form on their tongue.
Tiny hands caress their crooked nose. “I love you too,” Co says. He kisses their top lip.
Ribbonsy carefully pulls Co inside, wary of their teeth. From there, they let Co dictate his own pace. Letting Co get himself damp and turn himself over when he’s ready. That is, to get properly slicked and make the trip to their stomach a bit easier on both of them.
Soon enough, Co knocks on the roof of Ribbonsy’s mouth. Ribbonsy brings a hand up to their neck. They push Co back and swallow, running their thumb along their throat as Co’s legs are taken into their esophagus. Another swallow has Co in to his shoulders, and the third engulfs him entirely.
Ribbonsy traces Co’s progress to their core, humming again as Co settles in.
Introductions
Just an experimental little snippet of a story! If people enjoy it, I might do some more with this crew. Damien, Yarrop, Co, and Ribbonsy.
1.2k words, safe v0re.
Ribbonsy leans dramatically on Co as they sit on the couch. Yarrop’s gaming is a bit boring. Nothing is processing right. It’s just a bunch of sounds and images to them at the moment. “I’m coooooooold,” they complain lightheartedly.
“Are you?” Co says and raises his eyebrow, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Mhm,” Ribbonsy hums and nods.
Co shrugs. “Well, I suppose there’s nothing I can do about that.”
Ribbonsy recognizes the teasing tone to Co’s voice, taking it as a subtle cue that they’re okay to continue. In mock protest, Ribbonsy stretches out and lays across Co, trapping the man in place. “Liar.”
“Well I suppose - “ Co starts, cut short by the front door slamming open.
“Where’s Yarrop?” Damien interrupts.
Co points at the other couch, where Yarrop is laying on his side playing his games. Yarrop lazily looks up and sighs. He pauses and hits the button to save.
Damien wastes no time and makes a beeline for the man that takes fashion tips from a swamp. No pleasantries, no questions, nothing - Damien just straight up bites Yarrop’s exposed shoulder. Yarrop rolls his eyes. Here he goes again.
“You suppose what?” Ribbonsy asks Co, redirecting back to their conversation.
“I suppooooose I might be able to help a bit,” Co says and gives them a peck on the forehead. His gaze drifts back to Yarrop, who’s rapidly shrinking in Damien’s jaws.
Ribbonsy follows his glance. “Just don’t bite me.”
“You know I only bite if you ask,” Co chuckles. At this point, Yarrop looked like a chew toy in Damien’s jaws. Damien tosses his head back carelessly and swallows, Yarrop disappearing down his gullet in the blink of an eye.
“And don’t do that either,” Ribbonsy says, offering the back of their hand to Co.
“Already made up your mind, huh? Lets get your hair braided first. I don’t care much for swallowing a cotton ball today.” Co twirls his fingers in the long gravity defying strands of Ribbonsy’s hair.
Ribbonsy sighs and rolls over onto their front, so Co could easier help braid. “I suppoooooose,” they say, playfully echoing Co’s tone from a moment ago. They take a large section of their own hair and start braiding.
Co starts braiding a section too, taking care to make it look nice, as opposed to Ribbonsy’s method of quick and functional.
The sound of the fridge opening has the two looking up again. Damien rummages through, pauses, then shrugs and pulls out the milk carton. And. Drinks directly from the jug.
“Why are you like this?” Co asks him, exasperated.
Damien pauses for a moment. “Who cares? There’s only a cup left anyway,” he says and finishes off the jug.
“Alright, alright, fine. Don’t forget to rinse it!” Co says, keeping an eye out.
Damien, who was very clearly about to throw it in the recycle without rinsing it, rolls his eyes and stops at the sink.
Co turns his attention back to Ribbonsy. “Milk. Milk! It curdles! It’s the worst thing to put in with a passenger. I have no idea how Yarrop puts up with that,” he says with a head shake as he reaches about the halfway point of the braid.
“I don’t have a clue. If you ever dumped milk on my head like that, I’d move out,” Ribbonsy says bluntly.
“Awh. But I’d be so loooonely.” Co whines.
“You’d still have Lance,” Ribbonsy points out.
“That would be so awkward. Here’s my boyfriend, and then here’s my boyfriend’s partner, that just happens to be my ex that dumped me,”
“You’d be the one that dumped me, the moment you dump milk on my head,” Ribbonsy clarifies.
Co sighs dramatically.
“That’s your choice! Don’t dump milk on my head, or be lonely,” Ribbonsy says and pats Co’s cheek with finality.
“Alright, alright. You win. I suppose I won’t dump milk on your head,” Co says, gathering the hair sections in between his fingers on one hand and putting both his hands up in surrender.
“You say that like you were considering doing it,” Ribbonsy says, raising an eyebrow at him in concern.
“Nah. You don’t have to worry. I wouldn’t do that to you, promise. I’m just teasing, sweet.” Co says as he finishes the braid he was working on. When he lets go of it, it gently floats away.
“You better not,” Ribbonsy says, rolling back over and holding their hand out to Co again.
Co takes it and gently kisses the back of it, holding his lips there. All that’s really needed is lip contact, and he isn’t crude like Damien who would just bite someone. At least, not without asking first.
On a non-physical level, Co sort of… pulls. The more he pulls, the faster Ribbonsy decreases in size. So he keeps it at a decent pace - not too fast, to avoid disorientation. Certainly slower than what they had witnessed a few moments ago.
Ribbonsy looks around as they shrink, never getting tired of the way their perspective warps. As the room becomes massive, as the coffee table stretches to look like a football field, as the carpet turns to rough terrain.
Soon enough, Co’s ‘kiss’ covers their entire forearm. At this scale, his beard looks wild and unkempt. Ribbonsy runs their hand free hand through it, and Co snickers.
Co moves Ribbonsy a bit away from his face. “Still want to warm up?”
“I dunno, maybe I should just stay out and get frostbite. Make this whole thing unnecessary,” Ribbonsy says and gestures vaguely.
“Alright, alright, if that’s what you want,” Co says with a shrug and starts moving the lad even further away.
“No! I meant it as a joke! Get your face back over here!” Ribbonsy protests, smacking Co’s palm to add emphasis.
“Alright, alright,” Co says, trying not to laugh. He brings Ribbonsy back to his face and rolls out the red carpet.
Ribbonsy climbs onto Co’s tongue and gets comfortable, letting the warm air wash over them. They can imagine Co’s fruity breath, although both smell and taste as senses you lose when small. Ribbonsy tucks their braids under them so they don’t get caught on Co’s teeth. “Okay I’m good.”
Co pulls his tongue back in with Ribbonsy on it, careful not to knock them into his teeth on the way in. He hums as Ribbonsy lays there for a moment.
“HEY CASPER!” Damien shouts.
Co startles, and then sighs.
“Caaaaasperrrrrrrrr,” Damien calls again from the end of the house.
Fiiiiiiine, fine. Co stands up and starts heading towards Damien’s room, across from Ribbonsy’s.
“Casper!”
Ok, ok. Co gently swallows, sending Ribbonsy down a bit sooner than he’d have liked.
“CAS-”
“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Co yells back after he frees his mouth. He gently runs his thumb over where Ribbonsy rests inside as he walks.
Co opens Damien’s door and leans on the doorframe. “What do you need?” He asks as he surveys the scene. ‘Art’ projects everywhere, and a very very liberal amount of eye searingly bright neon colors on everything. Co let them paint their walls, and Damien’s chosen to have three hypersaturated colors. Two red walls, a green, and a cyan. Which is… not something Co would have chosen, that’s for sure. But, well, he can always paint the walls back to a more normal color after Damien moves out.
Damien turns towards Co and gives a toothy grin. “Peo’le were mean in the video game and now I wanna ruin their day.”
“That’s it?” Co asks. This is what Damien interrupted him for?
“Yeah. So you in?”
Co sighs. “Sure,” he says, holding his hand out.
“Hell yea!” Damien says and throws a controller Co’s way.
Co lunges forward to catch it and nearly misses. He shakes his head and plops down on a bean bag on the floor next to Damien.
“How’s Yarrop holding up?” Co asks, pointing his thumb towards Damien’s midsection.
Damien shrugs. “Lotsa kicking.”
“One of these days he’s going to stab you, you know that right? You’ve seen that guy’s knife collection.”
Damien waves it off. “Yeah, yeah. He’s done that plen’y. He always has at least three knives on him, yadda yadda yadda. I’m fine.”
Co winces. The idea of getting stabbed from the inside, multiple times, and still remaining friends is. Certainly something. The idea of stabbing someone from inside and still remaining friends is.
Eugh. Anyway. Co turns his attention back to the game he’s been roped into joining. “So what’re we doing?”
“Trolling the hell out of these guys until they rage quit.”
“What did they do?”
“They insulted my outfit.”
Co looked at the clashing color combinations, horrendously clipping pieces, and nothing that makes sense put together on Damien’s character model. “Isn’t that the point?”
Oh yeah I should prolly toss this thing in here. Since it’s like, my header and everything.
The teeth belong to my good boi-o Damien. Or well the batty version of him. I’ve got the origional skele boi damien I like the play with, this batty version that has bat hears and an actual tongue and everything, and then like a mouthless bird thing. It’s a long story involving multiverses and stuff. But they’re all ‘Damien’ and they all have the same personality p much.
Also the boi-o gettin’ ate will be fine. The teeth look scary but he knows how ta not hurt peeps with ‘em.
Ribbonsy and Damien!
“You’re like a giant cat, ya know that?” [insert purring noises]