#riverbend

(welcome to the sideblog where @caintooth comes to be an evil pervert.

intro last updated march 2026.)

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polyamorous DID system.

27.

asks & DMs always open. don’t hesitate.

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the lines between us are often blurry, when it comes to sex. but if you’re curious:

charlie ; @caintooth

werewolf dogdyke.

likes to play.

he/they/pup/it

(and she/her, if we’re flirting or fucking.)

william or Wolf or Ender ; @withfang

non-human sadist.

god of mercy & lack thereof.

he/him

(He/Him or It/Its for my attention.

She/Her, if you’re brave.)

will ; @withfang

bisexual masc.

brat. biter.

he/him

sawyer ; @withfang

bisexual masc.

begs for it. humiliated.

he/him

elysia ; @petalsliketeeth

bisexual fem.

switch. star of every show.

she/her or She/Her if you’re desperate

(original posts by any/all of us are tagged #diary)

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BLOG WARNINGS:

content includes, but is not limited to: nudity, sex, violence & sadomasochism, voyeurism & exhibitionism, injuries & wounds (gore, blood, bruises, scars, burns, etc.), surgery, extreme body modification, needles & piercings, impact play, knives & guns, other weaponry, asphyxiation, intoxication, “cnc, snuff, hard” kinks, etc.

nothing here is individually trigger tagged.

all fantasies explored are, at their core, based on contact between risk-aware partners.

One Day

The cul-de-sac is shimmering with an icy morning slick that’s brighter than a sunlight still hours away from breaking through the sky. It’s this quiet, solemn beauty that awaits a merciless violation from the daily onslaught of muddied car tires and bylaw-prescripted snow-shovels. These types of moments tend to erode quickly and erratically in response to the peopling of this Earth, and in the uncertain prairies their regeneration is far from guaranteed. To stare off into the distance and suffer under the harsh, frozen air is a privilege unredeemed by an uncomfortable majority that simply seeks to shuffle away and avert acknowledging the fact of their environment.

I always felt a kindred connection with this intensely suburban beauty, as though this perception wasn’t fairly afforded the amount of time required to sink into and linger in memory. Eyes shudder at the dread of the air, everywhere, leaving an eternity of fragile frosts to graze an unfettered prairie morning without notice.

The longer I’d spend outside, the closer I felt to this unexplored world layered with these illustrious whites. The forcible dilation of each step felt as though the air’s frozen density was a viscous film impeding natural movement, where the pressures of lifting the weight of a boot off the ground yielded no reward satisfactory enough for the accomplishment of doing so. Limp-dragging through the snow yields pauses from exhaustion, making the horizon increasingly alluring - no longer as a figment of convergence, but rather, a concept of emergence. Everything you haven’t seen yet now has power over everything you do see. It takes the limitless infinity of this vast land to render someone fully encapsulated.

After the cold finishes moulding you into paralysis, you can only dream of a day where the horizon you stare into finally breaks under the pressures of the unexplored, and the essence of everything that hasn’t yet happened floods the world you currently occupy, and the person you currently are.

I suppose that’s what hope feels like.