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the voices have made this happen
[cato/f!ambassador]
(1) (2) (3) (4) (5)
(5,900ish words) (OUUGHHHHH)
CONTENT WARNINGS:
•slight dubcon
•hints of size kink [obligatory]
•vaginal fingering
•oral [f receiving]
•mild possessive behaviour
•the consequences of ignoring important medical devices
•mentions of (hypothetical) torture
•tumblrs recurringly cancerous formatting
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im back on my bullshit after having to do overnights so as payment to the dark gods of whoring and degeneracy i humbly offer this taglist of sweet darling who've indulged my insanity: @the-raven-lady, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @bispecsual, @lemon-russ, @kit-williams, @passionofthesith, @egrets-not-regrets, @moodymisty, @sinistermojo, @justeverythingnothingelse, @pluvio-tea, @thevoidscreams, @beckyninja, @yestheantichrist!!! if you wanna be tagged (or not) in the next let me know!!! also it may take me longer to do a part four to this namely because ive got more wageslaving ahead of me soon but alas i'll definitely have rowboat girlyman catch em. also maybe give cato some top. myehehehehe,,, AND THANK YOU FOR READING AS USUAL ILY ALL!!! :3
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Cato is just about leaving.
After having spent the better part of an hour discussing the predicted destruction pathway of a hive-fleet on the system's rim with his Father; it sends his balls into his throat when you nearly run into him in the chamber's huge archway.
It only takes a fraction of a second to catalogue your presence.
You're wearing the same utilitarian blue robe as you had been last week again.
Last week, when he'd been pounding you insensible on a lounge in the library—Cato promptly quashes the insidious memory, smothering down any sort of reaction. But there is a change in comparison to the dizzying reminder: there's a new addition to the reoccurring outfit.
You've brought a navy, high-collared turtleneck into the mix, layered below your lapels.
So, the efforts of his mouth hadn't gone unheeded, then.
Throne, if he's not smug, he's got no bloody clue what he is.
Cato steps aside and turns to allow you entrance first before his exit.
"Commander Sicarius," you lilt with a soft voice and a small downward tip of your chin, all while holding his gaze.
He's transfixed periodically at the honeyed sort of warmth in your eyes.
Despite himself, he lingers and greets you with a slow, "Lady Ambassador."
The left side of his mouth twitches upward in a half-aborted smirk that he quickly tries to mask as a stern, frown-nod combination.
You break the staring match and Cato's confident he's salvaged his slip-up without detection.
Or not—because oh, fuck—if he doesn't feel the burning focus of a Primarch's eyes boring a hole into the side of his head like a brand.
It only lasts an instant, but the second is an eternity to him.
Of course, you're oblivious to this subtle exchange—and promptly trot past him to his Father's vast desk.
"My Lord Primarch," you say with a curt little bow; and then Guilliman's attention is solely on you, his favourite little pet project. "I read the data-drives you instructed from the preceding article logging. I've arranged them back to the most recent mark counts."
You're looking for an empty spot to lay them on his table, but with all the meticulously arranged stacks, it's none too easy to find one.
"Perfect," the Primarch breaths, "Just on the side there is fine, don't worry."
Obligingly, you lay them atop a small mountain of paperwork.
"Do you need anything else of me, my Lord?" You chirp brightly, the tone of your voice so very painfully sweet—Cato is nearly overwhelmed fighting a pitched battle against the urge to run over, pick you up and shake you around suddenly.
Guilliman chuckles, waving one massive hand about vaguely, "You've done more than enough for me today, why don't we leave it at that for now, hm? Go on."
"Of course; thank you, and have a good evening, my Lord," You say, bow once more, and turn on your heel from the Primarch, and—and smile at Cato as you walk back towards the exit. That's—that's the first time you've smiled at him. His twin hearts lurch, slamming forward against the inside of his fused chest cavity. It's perfect abominable. You rotten temptress, he's—he's going to rectify that audacity later. Or now, if you're... possibly heading the same direction he is. Which is whatever direction you're going, purely by chance.
It's merely coincidence, he swears.
He's certainly not planning on hounding after you like a dog tailing a bitch in heat.
He's certainly not going to drag you into a side room the second he's sure no-one with a credible opinion's around.
He's certainly not going to indulge in anything heretical, like bending you bare over his knee for daring to taunt him.
Cato makes as if to fall in step behind you as you pass the threshold before him, but is quickly halted by his Father's curt, "I do not believe you have been dismissed, Cato."
He's never been subjected to such sinking dread quite so nonchalantly.
"Approach."
Cato complies stuffily, sparing a glance at your figure disappearing down the corridor before acquiescing. He's practically dragging his ceramite boots across the intricate rugs as he nears the Primarch's seated but colossal form.
Guilliman isn't looking at him, having had returned to notating a miscellaneous form.
The scritch-scratch of his gene-sire's preferred, yet archaic method of manually writing on the parchment is like someone grating a plate with a fork to his ears right now.
"You've gotten over your petty grievances regarding the Ambassador at last, I take it?" Guilliman asks, without looking up.
It is not Cato's duty to like or dislike. Nor is it to be biased without reason—his opinions are to be intellectual, not emotional. His duty is to assess, analyse and provide feedback, so that his Primarch can take it into account when making rulings and decisions.
Cato swallows around the proverbial hunk of drywall lodged in his throat and answers, "She has proven herself... useful, yes, sire."
Guilliman finally meets his eyes but says nothing for a short while. There's dark bags under his Primarch's eyes, and the deep, stern crease permanently between his dark blonde brows is a slight bit harsher, but the only thing Cato can parse out of the expression's intent is a vague sense of knowing. Because, insofar, he's thought himself quite adept at reading his Primarch; and rather well versed in deciphering the intricacies of his moods.
And right now, he feels like he's being read like an open manuscript.
The daunting prospect Cato's caught sinks it's teeth in his gullet. It's impossible, he's not left any room for suspicion, he's covered his tracks—there's no logical reason why he should be getting raked with such a look.
His gene-sire isn't a psyker nor omniscient, just impossibly intelligent—and so absurdly good at the mathematics of plotting and planning that it only appears superficially as if he is all-seeing. He can't possibly know what Cato has been doing—or rather, who he's been doing.
"It's about time," his Father hums abruptly, suddenly disinterested. "Now you're dismissed."
Cato nods, turns on his boot heel, and nigh bolts marches out the room. His proverbial tail definitely not between his legs.
The hall outside Guilliman's apartments is a central domed area that functions as a meeting area, where people go to one of six looming hallways. It's the bottom of a series of levels; and above, three echelons encircled by arcades and balustrades, framed on the exterior by engaged columns.
But the structure itself is immense and ancient, even by Imperial standards. One of the few still-original, unaltered parts of the great Gloriana-class warship's innards. It is doused in long swathes of red carpet and great standards of Magcraggian note, alongside glorious, heroic frescoes depicting Legiones Astartes in their thousands, crusading across the heavens with the Emperor their head.
Cato keeps his head down as he passes them, uneasy with guilt. Feeling as if their lenses are following him—intent on venturing into the lower layers to brood.
Several Astartes are hovering about amongst the personnel and serfs. The baselines look up at him in awe, and his Brothers nod in respect, but he pays them all no mind.
The furthest corridor beckons him, and so he goes; down the complex system of broad walks with high, barrel vault ceilings, mazing through the vessel's higher clearance reaches like arteries through a body.
Cato is seething, and self-admittedly itching to take a howler of a swing at the next thing that speaks to him.
He cuts down the southern channel and sees one of his subordinate Victrix Guard lingering in the middle of a groin vault intersection.
The younger Astartes is about to continue straight, yet he pauses.
Brother Marcellus meets Cato's eyes for a second, clearly notes his Commander's absolutely stinking mood from a hundred meters off; nods, swallows, takes a step backward—and changes direction to go left rather than pass him.
Cato's too pissed to even linger on the strangeness of the action.
Still, he doesn't rightly blame him.
Cato strides on, back straight, chin up—the red shawl pinned beneath his pauldrons swirling behind him.
His thoughts are eating at him the whole while.
He's sure his Primarch is just trying to innocently divine his sudden change of mind regarding you. There's no way his Father's aware of why. And yet, guilt is a big black wolf nipping at his ankles, making him hasten; and unease clouds about his heart. He's mortified, for lack of a better word.
The full implications of the situation are too enormous to be faced all at once; so he picks the smallest, most banal facet he can think of.
That being, you.
You, who he'll never see again if his Primarch finds out.
You, who's practically damned him without knowing it.
You, who he's now valiantly trying not to imagine in a hundred different circumstances where he gets away with it all. Each one more heretical than the last—it's like it was before he'd managed a hand on you: his body giving in to suffocating delusions, sleepless in his cot; lapping at whatever scant, lust-soaked morsels his mind offers up.
One of his favourites remains you scantily clad beneath a moonlit night sky, on the parapet of his ancestral fortress on the coastal edge of Perusia.
He likes to fantasise you like it there.
He suspects you would.
He knows just about all there is to know about you on paper, and wonders if you know much of Talassar. Or if you've read about Castra Tanagra. He assumes Guilliman would share the tale of that famed old battle with you as a part of your readings.
Each impossible reverie is a new shiny nail in his coffin, or dreadnaut—it depends where and how he dies, and if there's anything scrape up of him when he eventually goes down in a blaze of glory and duty, and honour.
If his Primarch catches him, there's going to be none of that.
He'll be struck from living record, like Titus had been. Cato would be lucky to get a little plaque in the deepest pits of the Fortress of Hera. Reduced to a whispered memory of his achievements passed solemnly between Captains, followed up with words of disappointment. Of waste. Until his memory dies with them and his deeds fade into obscurity, lost to any new brothers.
The fate that awaits you would somehow be worse. Cato was always going to die in war, as was his right—but you—you were not fashioned for such things. Yes, Guilliman enjoys you, but that fact won't save you. Just like it won't save Cato for all his usefulness. You'd be tried as a heretic, as a source of corruption upon the Legiones, and you'd be made to suffer; because torture ever comes before execution. You're so very soft weak in so very many ways. Your life lived in a gilded cage, without pain nor discomfort that extends further than grating professional grievances—he doesn't want to imagine the sound of you screaming, but he does.
He cannot stand the thought.
The sudden urge to barricade you in his chambers for permanent safe keeping is all-consuming.
It's suddenly all he can think about.
He has to find you.
The amount of serfs passing and parting to allow his passage thin out to nothing.
Even from the sterile confines of one of the many winding hallways, Cato abruptly swears he can hear the echoed rush of sandals—your sandals—reverberating off the floor.
He hadn't notice you following behind immediately because, damn it, he's spiralling thinking.
He chances a confrontation, and rounds about-face.
You stand there in the middle of the empty hallway like you've got a bolter aimed at you, frozen.
"Come here," he says, clipped.
You do not.
"Come here."
Again, no compliance.
"Do you pride yourself on being a idiot?" His voice is scathing now, taking a heavy step into your space and being met by you staying stock stiff, still. "Do you have any idea what that stunt of yours earlier might incur?"
"What?" You blink, finally animating. "I didn't do anything—"
"You know what you did," he hisses, accusatory. "You're hollow between the ears, but you're not blind."
Lips pursing tightly in mental deliberation, you make a fey noise of annoyance as a little frown graces your features, apparently not deigning to offer a comment back.
"Do you not understand that... this," he gesticulates between you both and his voice falls to a whisper. "This... is not common allowance?"
"It's not?"
Are you being intentionally dense at this point, or is it just second nature?
Cato raises a hand to knead the crease between his brows, "No."
"That explains a lot, actually," you say, seemingly without any real comprehension on the gravity of the matter. "I couldn't find any notes or references on it."
He's genuinely stunned, "Is that what you were doing when—"
"When I was rudely interrupted," you cut in, the comment is nigh a spat insult.
Cato isn't sure what to say to that sudden display of spine, and grumbles.
He surmises the optimal action is complete disregard.
Therefore, he has no problem turning on the heel of his sabatons and starting his pace on again.
"So... this isn't normal by Astartes standards?"
He's taken aback at your abrupt want for conversation after all that. Namely because it's atypical. You never attempted small talk with him. You never do anything but scurry off when he's accosted you for you flagrant overstepping—wait.
He feels as if the paradigm between you both has shifted again since the last time for some reason. More than last time, actually. More than you just simply having the audacity to backtalk him.
It's like some symptom of a deeper sickness rising to the surface.
It makes him unreasonably curious suspicious.
He wants to see just how much ground you'll give, so he plays along and answers, "Not as far as I am aware, no."
You hum, and immediately are at it again, posturing, "Surely you have heard of cases of it happening?"
"I have not," Cato says, and you hum in consideration.
You're satisfied at that information for a brief while, but then he remembers you cannot shut your mouth for more than five minutes, and purses his lips. He's already tiring of your incessant questioning.
"But you'd done it before?"
And that's just great.
You've expertly found an exposed nerve.
More kindling on the bonfire of him having an aneurysm before the cycle's end.
Cato can feel the hint of pressure behind his eyes as he begins increasing his walking speed. "I don't think that is a relevant question."
You haste to stay in step, "It definitely is."
"You ought to learn a civil fucking tongue when you're addressing me, woman," he bites out, nose crinkling into a sneer.
Unperturbed by his short-tempered comment, another thoughtful little 'hmm' slips out of you.
"So, to conclude... you where as inexperienced as I was at the start, and all those gloating insults back then were just projection?" You suddenly blurt out at rather impressive speed, like a politician possessed—before finishing with, "Sorry, 'all those gloating insults back then were just projection,' Commander Sicarius."
Cato grits his teeth and feels his eye twitch.
He stops, turns to look over his pauldron, and stares bloody murder.
He can't even imagine the idiocy in your brain that gave you the imprimatur to say that aloud.
But Throne, the sly little glint in your pretty eyes suddenly has his face thudding with heat.
Then you smile at him for the second time ever.
Cato bites back the urge to ogle you dumbly, and actually feels himself thicken in his body-glove in real time, because oh, fuck—his hind brain practically pelts him across the jaw with the mental pict of that sweet mouth lathing up the side of his cock.
Mentally unseated for a moment, his brows furrow; and he quickly turns away, applying himself entirely to the task of trudging down the stagings.
The silence is a breath of fresh air.
Even if he can still hear your laboured breathing a few steps back him from him. You're straining to keep up with his pace, and it's an excellent punishment for you. His heavy sabatons clank-clank-clank on the steel decking, and your little shoes practically pitter-patter in contrast. It's a syncopated rhythm that he's absentmindedly trying to match—and when he lingers for a step he manages to even the beat out.
He hangs a left, and scales the wide stairs to the open intersection platform above two at a time; trying not to snort amusedly at the little groan you let out as you hurry up them behind him, heaving.
Cato realises abruptly that you're actually, really, seriously following him—and pretending you're not.
He makes a right at the top and then waits for you to fall in step.
And, pointedly, he then turns and doubles back around.
You stand there stupefied for a moment, before grumbling softly and continuing down the thoroughfare without him.
If his observation skills hold any weight, he heads straight into the nearest open room and waits for you to follow.
He doesn't activate the locking mechanism on the other side on purpose when he strides in, and lets the sliding door close behind him.
This particular room is forgettable in its ubiquitousness, though unusual. He has no idea of it's actual intended purpose. It's fitted with screens and database terminals as if it's for debriefing purposes, but he has no real way of confirming. What he can catalogue is that there's wraparound surfaces littered with candles. A few strips of harsh lighting and scant furniture—a tallish counter and a few long benches. They're thankfully Astartes sized.
Which means he can sit down and pray for you to walk right into the metaphorical snare he's just laid.
Not a minute later, the door's sliding mechanism triggers and you scurry through—only to promptly go stiff.
You stare at him like a rat he's just found by lifting a crate.
The mechanism shuts automatically behind you and it apparently spooks you enough to jump a little.
"You're disgustingly predictable," he harrumphs, unimpressed.
A flush rises to your face as you scowl, "You're disgustingly predictable," you shoot back, echoing his words.
Of course, that audacity of yours leads to a short stalemate.
He huffs out a sigh as he concedes out of sheer frustration and says, "Three-seven-five-eight-eight-two-nine-one."
You blink dumbly at him, "...what?"
"It's my locking code," he growls, and Throne, you must be acting stupid just to grate him; because there's no way your brain is so smooth as to not connect the dots. "It's for the door, moron."
A soft 'ohh' leaves you as you turn and step aside to the key pad fixed into the frame.
"Three-seven-five-eight-eight-two-nine-one," he's agonisingly forced to say once again.
"Three-nine-five-eight-eight-two-seven-one..." you mumble to yourself.
Cato hears an angry beep and suddenly wants to smash his head into a wall repeatedly.
Grinding his molars, he snarls, "Three-seven-five-eight-eight-two-nine-one," and then adds, "If I have to repeat that one more time, I'm going to throw you out of the nearest airlock."
And it seems the threat of violence works wonders, because you don't bungle the input this time.
Cato sighs, exasperated, and leans back against the lip of the table behind the bench.
He ought to start carrying around a correctional stun rod. Just for whenever you annoy him. If it's good enough for a Neophyte to suffer, it's good enough for you, he supposes.
Or it'll send you into a seizing fit.
He's not to sure of the maximum voltage a baseline can take without their singular, puny little heart giving out.
One disciplinary option scratched out, then.
But he can think of many, many more to make a model Ambassador out of you. The wonders of carefully applied violence are plentiful. A little roughing up never hurts, or at least, not for long. And fuck, do you need some lessons on proper manners. He could have you smacked into shape like a show pony in no time—even if it'd be more like teaching a grox to trot lateral movements. Then again, he also believes if he stuck a frag far enough up a Carnifex's ass, he could probably get it to play Regicide.
And then pointedly, he starts thinking about your ass.
Cato is so utterly lost on the tangent of hypotheticals that he's flabbergasted when a small mouth lands on his own.
He hadn't even been paying attention.
He hadn't even noticed you'd neared.
It feels like the breath has been knocked out him at the sheer unexpectedness of it.
The kiss is hasty, your eyes scrunched shut and cheeks flushed, scowling with focus.
All the while, his mind reels because Throne, the contact of his lips to yours doesn't really feel particularly profound aside from how soft your skin is—but the intention of it is the real reward.
Cato's genuinely infuriated when you pull away.
You blink owlishly at him, giving him a cautious look like you're trying to gauge his reaction.
There are a thousand things he wants to ask, to say, but the foremost among them is but one.
"Again," he huffs, lessening the distance between you just enough to invite you back.
And he thinks that perhaps he’s abusing his station over you, but when you tentatively find a hold on his gorget to steady yourself to give him another kiss—those thoughts are all but erased from his mind. It's a curious weight off his shoulders to have you initiate and to show you want him in return, especially since it's as new to you as it is for him.
Nonetheless, he can't even imagine finding a reason to stop you, so he starts blindly mouthing; trying to coordinate around the fact he's so much larger than you.
The angle is difficult, but he's willing to follow your lead. Your body is even more fragile when he's in full armour. The risk of actually hurting you is realer than ever, but he can't help the desire to wrap an gauntlet around your waist and pull you closer to him. Thankfully, you let him when he urges you to, trembling hands flitting across his chestplate like you're unsure of what, exactly, you should be holding—and he catches the tiny line between your brows smoothing out as you risk a peek. Only for you to yelp, nervously wrenching yourself back in flustered surprise upon meeting his unwavering stare.
It's as if you expected something else.
He senses he's made a mistake of some kind.
Then he remembers from the motion-picts he's not supposed to keep glaring at you when kissing.
Regardless, he studies your face, memorising the lingering want still clearly there like his life depends on it.
He pulls you in and kisses you again, just because he can, this time brief and chaste. And then he goes for a third, fourth—fifth, each time slightly longer, until finally he rears back; and when he does you push up on your toes just a little, trying to chase him, but lose the nerve; although to Cato the reason for your faltering is, frankly, irrelevant. Because just like him, you lack the practical capacity to really know what next step you should take. Still, you look down at his armour, as if there's a latch to pull that magically undoes all his wargear.
He knows he's not going to get himself out of his armour in any reasonable way or amount of time.
There's no way he's getting the satisfaction of having you on him right now—but he still wants to keep you near.
He thinks he hears you ask for something, but he's too distracted to catch it in time.
"What?" Cato scowls, "What do you want now?"
It's clear you've been struck by your own embarrassment, strung up somewhere between shy and wanton, "I.. uh..."
"Spit it out," he rumbles.
You wince, hesitant as you mumble, "You, uh... i-in me."
Cato's brain skids to a halt. And it's the gall of that request alone that has him sweeping you up off the ground and spinning you around to sit in his lap.
It's obvious you're overwhelmed at being held to the formidably larger size of himself in full-plate. But as usual, you're yet to actively complain. Using his vambrace as a leg-bar to scoop under your thighs, he folds you in his grasp—your knees pressed to your chest as you're tucked back against his pauldron and chestplate.
The angle forces the hems of your robe aside, and he can see the underside curve of your ass; along with the plump mound of your vulva under the white of your small-clothes.
Cato's suddenly offended by their existence. You didn't wear any last time, so why now? The irritation of there being one more thing between you and him is enough justification to yank at them, tearing them loose—before throwing them aside.
You grumble sourly, which he chooses to ignore.
The palm of his gauntlet smooths across your hip, and you make a small huff as you shiver, goose-bumps suddenly covering your exposed flesh.
Cato lets the pads graze closer and closer to your sex, content to watch you impatiently glare at his armoured fingers from between the gap of your thighs.
With little preamble, he's stuffing his middle in. You're already so wet it's practically a cake-walk. Your cunt swallows down each articulating segment of his armoured finger down to the knuckle. The fact he's going to have to personally scrub your slick out from between the joints, instead of a lowly serf, is infinitely worth the shrill whine he receives as tribute.
"Would that my wargear had a zipper," he breathes, and fuck, he grins behind the obscurity of his gorget at the mournful mewl that remark earns. "I'd have you on your knees sucking for all the cunted trouble you've caused me."
You're making a warp-awful attempt at keeping yourself together, high-strung as you evidently are. Little more than a minute of him pumping his finger in and out of you has you red-faced and panting. All it takes to get those heavy breaths of yours to change into proper whines is his large thumb-pad adjusting to rest on your clit, applying pressure. You jerk, reflexively trying to buck into every motion. Fighting and failing to withhold the stuffy little moans escaping you—trying to stave off the inevitable by scrambling at the thigh plating of his power armour with one hand and tugging at his couter with the other.
Some part of Cato wants to stop solely out of spite for you being so grating earlier, or some other stupid mercurial justification of his; but instead, he simply continues, letting you squirm on his fingers.
And squirm you do.
It's clear to him the tide of it all is becoming too much for you to resist. Your sandal'd feet kick out where he's got your legs secured, joining in on the struggling as it begins anew when his thumb starts circling. It's a good sign, so he adds his pointer into you to bolster the stretch, curling in; before letting his fingers fan out inside you, stretching rather than stabbing. Your hips try to stutter forward in time with the quick thrusting of his digits, broken whimpers resonating off the room's walls. He promptly stuffs down to the knuckle and curls them again—and you all but bleat his surname as you're dragged into a fast and apparently exhausting orgasm. Just knowing he's you got you beat has his erection ache where it's trapped under the suiting and plating of his navel.
Cato can't feel you clenching through all the layers separating his skin from yours, but he knows from experience that you're seizing in fits internally—tight little cunt trying to milk a load out of an Astartes cock that should've been stuffed in you.
Just to allow himself one last bit of smugness, he scissors his fingers; giving a final swirl for good measure.
The shivered sob is worth every possible future disciplinary action he'll receive.
He pulls his gauntlet away slowly, and the wet shlick of it leaving you is almost amusingly alike pulling a blade from sinew. It's a degenerate comparison, he knows, but it's true.
Nonetheless, he splays out his hand and swallows dryly, eyeing the sticky, clear liquid webbing out and thinning between each ridge of his gauntlet'd digits.
Suddenly focused entirely on the fluid on his fingers, he pulls his vambrace barring under your knees up away. Now limp, and without the support, you slide off his lap and onto the floor in a slow slump.
"Nn-ngh," You groan weakly, face-down, legs still juddering a little.
Seeing as you're preoccupied, Cato doesn't even dignify the concept of hesitation, and promptly jams his fingers in his mouth—lathing the aftermath of your orgasm from them. And Throne, the taste of your hormones make him groan. He's absolutely stunned, unsure of how to act. He's so fucking stupid, why didn't he do this earlier? He's practically drugged by the omophagic aftereffect—getting off on your second hand bliss. Some sort of fey feedback loop in his brain catalysing his next decision solely on instinct.
He clambers to the floor and gets to his knees guards, securing a mitt on your bared thigh to roll you onto your back.
Apparently boneless with afterglow, you're easy to manhandle.
You barely have the strength to do much more than crane your head up at him and whine as he arranges your thighs apart, settling on his front between them with a warp-awful clank; before lifting your legs up to rest onto either lip of his gorget.
You try to scud back on your ass suddenly, but are quickly halted when he holds you fast by the hip.
He raises a confused brow.
"I-Isn't—" you start, still gathering the scraps of your brain together so soon post-orgasm, "Isn't y-your saliva acid?"
Cato suddenly wants to cuff you on the ear, "Who the hell told you that?"
"M-Master Calgar," you mumble.
Oh, of course, the gossiping hen.
He's going to have words with the Lord Defender of Greater Ultramar the next time they meet—words like 'for fuck sakes, stop scaring the woman he's trying to eat out with talk of Betcher's gland, Marneus,' come to mind, but then Cato realises that doesn't sound like he's not fucking you, so he quickly settles on: 'stop dignifying the Ambassador's hundred-and-one insane questions.'
"Not Ultramarines," Cato manages not to snarl, "It's a vestigial organ in most of us."
Your voice is shaky as you parrot, "Most of us?"
"Yes," He grunts, and promptly buries his face in your cunt.
The disproportion in size is painfully apparent when he realises his whole damned tongue is able to drag a stripe up the entire splay of you with minimal effort.
The pitched gasp he wins out of you is pure sin, and he's on the brink of swooning; but then you're running your trap again.
"Please, d-don't tell me you're one that can spit acid—" you manage to warble, seemingly still stuck on the topic.
Cato sighs as he's forced to pull away from your vulva, "I think you're forgetting I had my tongue on your tonsils in the library."
"Th-that's different," you stammer. "That's not as sensitive."
A long, unimpressed deadpan paints itself on his face.
"So," he starts with a bated hiss, "And let me be perfectly clear in this—you believe your vagina is more susceptible to burns than your mouth?"
Your face transforms into a strange mix of embarrassed and angry.
"I didn't say that—"
"Yes, you did," Cato grumbles.
"Did not," you huff.
"You—you just fucking did," he snaps, frustrated enough that he can feel one of the veins at his temple bulge. "The implication is obvious, you insufferable little whore."
You snort, but stay silent.
The argument appears, for all intents and purposes, to be finished.
"Did not," you say abruptly once more, pouting.
Cato's eyes roll back in his skull as he grits his teeth.
"Throne of Terra, if you don't drop the subject, acid in your cunt will be the least of your worries," he all but snarls, and that apparently quietens you enough that he can get back to lapping at you—the flat of his tongue running over your clit and earning a jolt.
He wraps his lips around the pink little nub and sucks. And that's all it apparently takes to make up for his amateur career in the practice.
You siphon down a sharp breath and let out a garbled cry, hips canting forward into his mouth—to which he obligingly stuffs his tongue into your slick entrance.
There's a satisfaction well beyond simple pleasure that swamps him at the way your thighs shake either side of his head. His own breath is hot about him, stuffy and dizzying; and the skin pressed against his cheeks is warm and smooth.
You're panting when he goes back to lapping over your clit, perching yourself up on a bent elbow and reaching out a hand.
Your fingers card through the messed brown hair atop his head. And he stiffens without realising—but he realises something: like this, the touch is ecstasy—pure, golden ecstasy. Every bit of higher thought in his head evaporates when you stroke him again.
A long, rumbling subvocal moan tears from him.
The infrasound vibration makes you buck weakly into his mouth again, teary eyed afore him as he adjusts his grip on you and crawls closer.
He's suddenly acutely aware that in this new, much more prone position, he's able to grind his body armour into his groin guard pressed on the floor. And as soon as the action bears results—namely a scorching burr of pleasure racing up his spine—he's deadset on rutting against the ground like a slavering beast.
He's frotting himself at a pace so rabid it'd be cruel to subject your cunt to. It's brutal, and the harsh scraping sound of plasteel on steel only further proves that. It's just frantic lust—he's desperate.
It's complete insanity how close to finishing he is so quickly.
Not as close as you, though.
He can feel how your legs jump with each pass of his tongue; and then you're unraveling in front of his very eyes.
"I-I can't—I can't, S-Sicarius, I-I—" You ramble, dazed, trying to get away as he works you right through it, sobbing and oversensitive while he's rutting himself closer and closer to his own end.
It all comes to a head when your fingers dig into his hair, tugging—and his brain is overrun with static. A drawn out groan scathes from his maw as any sense of rhythm scatters like light through a prism. For a fraction of a second, the pleasure is serene.
Then it's abject agony, he feels—he feels like Roboute Guilliman himself has just taken a running start and kicked him in the balls.
"F-Fuck–ing—gh—" he chokes, vision swimming, straining against the tide of the torment. His back arches up, and he curls inward on himself; white-hot pain clocking his nervous system into overdrive. Every muscle in his abdomen is doused in acid. He's tolerated being shot, stabbed, burnt without so much as blinking—but this is an entirely new and entirely different sort of wound. It's like he's pissing promethium. It's—it's the catheter, he realises. He'd forgotten about the bloody catheter jammed up his cock.
Through the searing ordeal, he manages to force his armour's facilities to finally abide his impulses and dose him with a pain dampener.
And then everything's fine.
He opens eyes he wasn't aware he'd closed and finds your face has suddenly gotten far closer to his.
"S-Sicarius?" You stammer, and there's an honest panic in your voice. "Sicarius, p-please, please—a-are you okay?"
He realises he's on his back, and you're sitting beside him, half draped on his chestplate, frantically trying to figure out what's wrong with him to no avail.
You've leaned in so close he can feel your rushed breathing.
"I'm fine," Cato groans, and you sputter out a sigh.
"I-I don't know what happened, I-I—" you're still wildly confused and raving, and he inhales deeply; only to be greeted by the sour animal stink of fear practically dripping from you.
Cato rolls his tongue around inside his mouth and cringes knowingly at the foaming side-effect of the chem he'd self-administered, the acrid taste mixed with your slick is certainly not an ideal cocktail.
The sincerity of concern behind your reaction is baffling. He's not made of glass, for fuck sakes—and he's a bit pissy about the fact you'd actually fallen victim to the idea of him suffering some grievous injury so easily. But he supposes where there's a will of baseline overreaction, there's a way.
"You're acting like a child, woman. Pull yourself together," he sighs hoarsely, hoping the comment jars you out of your hysteria—or at the very least scares you off.
It does exactly neither, and you sidle in closer and rest your cheek on his jaw.
It’s an action so overwhelmingly horribly affectionate that it would’ve been a crime to not press into it with a lean of his head. Or, at least, that's the half-assed justification he tells himself.
Because he's loving enduring your attention, not seeking it; and therefore only humouring you when he lifts a hand and settles the wide splay of it on your flank as a comfort.
He shouldn't be, but he is.
#warhammer 40k x reader#warhammer 40k#reader insert#warhammer fanfic#cato sicarius#space marine x reader#cato sicarius x reader#writing#ultramarines#cato 'im going to kill the next person i fucking see' sicarius#*squeaky noise*#ambassador 'omg hiiiii'#FUCKKK#anyways#roboute guilliman#i am so fucking sorry you have to deal with this shit baby girl#also LMFAO I DO THINK CALGAR LOOOOVES A GOOD BITCHING SESSION
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some informal thoughts
hello! hope the holiday season has been kind to all of you. and i hope all my jewish followers had a lovely hanukkah! anyways, since i said a few months ago that i’d pick poetry smackdown back up sometime around this time of year, i thought i should make a post. the gist of it is that i’m still quite busy, i have a break that’s about three weeks shorter than I was planning on, and i don’t currently have the mental bandwidth required to read, contemplate, and sort through poem submissions in a way that does justice to them, even if i were to recruit some friends to help out. since running a tournament format requires at least five weeks of continued engagement once it’s underway, and since i’m not at capacity to offer that right now due to the change in my schedule, i’m gonna have to bow out for now. sad bc i was looking forward to it!
my hope is that i’ll have some more time over the summer to hunker down with it, in which case you’ll be hearing from me. it’ll frankly depend on the kind of job i land in for the summer, but i find that my unemployed spirit can typically keep me doing stupid shit regardless of workload...to a point. i don’t want to make any promises because i don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up just to let them down again LOL. i do admit the amount of exposure the first tournament got has made me feel like more of a perfectionist this time around, doubly because i don’t feel that i’m very suited to being a public online presence (even a relatively quite small one)—i’m bad enough at responding to emails for my own real life responsibilities, let alone tumblr asks for the silly responsibilities i invent for myself lol. that’s not to say i no longer want to do it, or i don’t enjoy it, or even that i don’t feel capable of making a really interesting bracket—just that if i am working to put something new together, and if people are taking the time to submit poems they care about, then i don’t want to half-ass it.
my second admission is something like this. I made the original bracket as a celebration of poetry and our relationships to it. yes it was silly and competitive, and the poems were very tumblr, but still, celebration was the intention—I wanted to have conversations about poetry. I stand by the bracket format as a fun and valuable way to foster conversations about poetry, but truthfully, the poems i’m wanting to have conversations about right now—the poems that we should be talking about right now—are ones that i'm not comfortable putting in a bracket. I reblogged The Baffler’s Poems from Palestine collection on here earlier, and Najwan Darwish’s “Who Remembers The Armenians?”, which I still often find repeating through my head when I'm traveling from one place to another, walking home or riding the bus. I came across this beautiful thread recently where people have been translating Dr. Refaat Alareer’s “If I Must Die” into their own languages (this just makes my translator's heart sing!!!!!!). @havingapoemwithyou has been posting some great poems from and for Palestine as well—check out their tag here.
There's always more to add, and I'll be posting more on here as I come across it, but that's what I feel anyone should be focusing on right now when it comes to poetry. i think poetry can be an escape but it should never be a distraction. does that make sense? i wouldn't be against doing a one-off poll here or there, but it feels weird to be making a tournament for poetry right now, or anytime soon. i feel like what free time i have right now is still best utilized helping my friends with organizing in the real world. and god, a bit off-topic but while I'm talking, fuck poetry foundation—I have so much respect for all the poets keeping up the boycott, because while i think it's a simple decision, it's not always an easy one (Aurielle Lucier discussed that here).
anyways, if you read all of this, thank you for your time!! I could go on and on, but really this was just meant to be a message telling y'all that there won't be another tournament for a while lol. even so i'll be trying to use this small silly platform as best i can until palestine is free because that's the absolute least i can do.
#not a poll#also i'm closing my ask box for now because i know i don't have the bandwidth to answer anything rn. sorry :(#but feel free to reply here with your thoughts and any resources and i'll do my best to respond#or even messages might be fine. something about the ask format just gives me anxiety sometimes lmao#cannot stress this enough i am so so so bad at responding to things#even when i want to or enjoy doing it
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Okay here's the whole thing I filled out with boyf in-character enjoy his one total braincell if he's lucky. I'm putting zero effort into formatting this bc tumblr is glitchy on my phone blank template is here
(cw: sexual humor. also a bunch of intentional typos and gratuitous swearing)
-
1. Okay, first question: what’s your name, age, and gender?
- they call me boyfriend im 19 and i sap the gender out of the music
2. How would you describe yourself, personality-wise?
- fuckkk man idk. im p chill i think ig im pretty cool. pretty swag pretty gamer
3. What’s a typical day like for you?
- welll I wake up at like. 11 usually at earliest and I hang out w one of my partners sometimes I watch movies w em or work on music. not a lot going on usually
4. How do you wind down at the end of the day? Do you even wind down?
- most of the time i literally just wait until i crash out sometimes gf and peeks gotta drag me to bed lol
5. What is your earliest memory?
- UHHHHH oh god uhhh. I think. When I was like five we went to a festival or smth and we went on one of those twirly things and I made my dad spin the thing so hard I threw up LMAO
6. What is/was your relationship with your parents?
- i mean p good i think but we dont rly tlak anymore thats mostly my fault tho
7. What do you do when you’re bored?
- succumb to the madness mostly
8. Do you regret anything you’ve done?
- i mean not like currently
9. Do you dress to be functional or fashionable?
- bro i wear the same exact fucking outfit every day to be honest with you lol. It's not like I'm fuckin going anywhere
10. Who are your best friends? How did you meet them?
- DUUUDE assuming my partners don't count gotta shout out my man darnell we've been workin on a collab ep recently it goes hard as fuckkkkk. we met back in the stupid therapy program back in middle school he introduced me to pico n nene
11. Have any siblings? If so, what is your relationship?
- yea got a big sister and a lil bro. they're both sweet but kinda clueless tbh. technically got other stuff goin on too but im kinda worried that ill get like the government on my ass if i talk abt it
12. What is your job? Is it tiring or difficult?
- closest thinf ive got to a job is music ig and nah. really wouldn't rather be doing anything else even if it payed more tbh. when I get burnt out I wanna die but thafs not a big deal lmao
13. When you’re going through a rough time, do you seek help or consolation from others?
- on a scale of liek paper cut to nearly died how rough are we talking
14. How easy is it for others to gain your trust?
- ive been told im pretty trusting but i feel like any person whos meant to hurt me was pretty upfront abt it so ┐(´∀`)┌
15. What is your sexuality, if you don’t mind me asking?
- all the time all the time
16. Do you have a significant other? What are they like?
- "a" singular. lol. lmao even. bros asking if I got one singular partner lmao try two bitch and thyere the best most important people in the world
17. Have you ever lost a loved one?
- not like perminently
18. How often do you act on impulse? Does it ever backfire?
- lsiten if i do it all the time then like statisicly it only backfires like 40% of the time okay
19. Do you believe in ghosts?
- I believe in everyone bro
20. How about aliens?
- aliens are hisyorically very mean to me but ig i can just then believe that they can be better people. or aliens
21. What traits do you value the most in others?
- uhhh probably like being just nice ig? idk i think it can take a lot more effort than people think to be considerate and stuff I appreciate when people are nice even if they have a reason not to be
22. Do you dream often? What are your dreams like?
- i used to not to but somethings happened and now I get them all the time. don't really want to talk about it they're mostly just weird
23. Are you a light or heavy sleeper? Do you sleep in?
- my partners say im such a heavy sleeper that one time i slept through gf falling off the bed in the middle of the night but I was asleep so I can't cofnirm
24. Okay, this is a bit personal, but… Have you ever (uh) “done the do”?
- dude like u wouldn't believe
25. Do you have any pets?
- nah but I think it would be cool to have a guinea pig they seem chill and I appreciate their vibes
26. Ever been drunk before? How often do you drink?
- i try not to toooooooo much but i think i have a hard time telling when too much is too much. dont tell my parents
27. Are you respectful to authority figures?
- they only have as much authority as you give them. manipulate a landlord today
28. What kinds of movies do you like you watch?
- https://youtu.be/HgjyQ0_coJo?si=L5Bzhey5cxaoNpWU
29. Do you have any guilty pleasures?
- ██████ █████ █ ███████ ████ ███ ████ ███████ ███ ████ ████████████ ██ ███ ███ ████ ██ one time nene found it in my dresser and I almost DIED wait was this question not about sex stuff
30. What would you say is the happiest memory of your life?
- ohh thats hard uhh. happiest is hard to qualify i think. I think I'm happiest whenever I think abt waking up next to my partners
31. How about your worst memory?
- thats a good question
32. What did you aspire to be when you were young? Did that dream change as you grew up?
- i didn't think I'd be fuckign anythang
33. How far would you be willing to go to get what you want?
- u gotta quantify what I want here tbh. is it like a chocolate bar or one billion dollars. cuz id kill someone for a billion dollars. honestly i might also kill someone for a chocolate bar but like not as badly
34. What is sure to ruin your day?
- idk nearly dying again probably
35. Do you have any nervous habits?
- uhhh sometimes i mess with my hair and when i get rly upset i pull at it til it hurts. i used to scratch my face a lot when i was upset too but it freaks ppl out so i try not to if i can help it
36. Play video games often?
- i tryyyyy but i get distracted so fast i play a game and im like oh shit this reminds me of another thing i was gonna play n then i go play that and then I never FINISH ANYTHIGN
37. What kind of things do you laugh at?
- https://youtu.be/47EOSLWu-EI?si=kuzPv2Vndl91Oj3C
38. Favorite genre of music?
- BROOOO ok gonna be basic as shit and say breakcore. also a huge fan of speedcore and drill & bass but breakcore is my home. i wishhh it wasn't called this but my favorite like subgenre of breakcore is probs lolicore not for any fuckin weird reason but just bc the way the vocals are usually mixed scratches my brain sooooooo fuking good. listen to various types of ads by loli in early 20s and youll get it. i fucking love experimental breakcore my favorite album rossz csillag alatt született mixes breakcore+dr&b w classical and it's sooooo fucking good it's SO good i need to learn more fuckin instrument plug ins so I can make shit like that. in general i just love music that feels like it's fuckin drilling it's way into youre brain and rewiring it i want the music to fuckin labotomize me fr
39. What do you think your spirit animal would be if you had one?
- idk maybe a rat i like rats. dude imagine if i was a rat like ritz we could have cheese together. we can do that anyway but it would be more awesome
40. Have an accent of any kind?
- yea autism
41. Chess or checkers?
- checkers i have no idea how to play chess but it sounds convoluted as fuk
42. Do you feel sentimentality toward a particular object?
- i love my laptop even if I get a new computer and this thing breaks completely im keeping this laptop ily laptop
43. Are you generally pretty secretive, or are you an open book?
- im like accidentally secretive i dont even try like wtf do you mean im supposed to talk about shit
44. What are you most embarrassed about?
- i feel like this was addressed in the nene thing
45. What are your deepest fears?
- have you ever seen that fuckin brony stuff where people get teleported to pony world as horses gf is obsessed with that kinda thing but that's TERRIFYING if i woke up as a horse id fuckin die of a heart attack
46. How desperate would you have to be to lie to, steal from, injure, or murder another person? Do you do any of those things regularly?
- i like the implication that i would admit to murdering ppl on a regular basis
47. Do you have any scars? How did you get them?
- it's so fucked up i got this scar on my face and it's so bad bc I don't even scar that easy like i get into fights my entire life but i only got one scar just bc some weeb tried to kill me. like ok
48. Say someone has mistreated you in some form. Would you immediately lose your temper, hold a grudge, or simply let it go?
- you wouldnt believe my epic power to do all of those simaltaneusly
49. How do you deal with physical and mental pain?
- max volume noise nothing can hurt me if the Loud
50. What is your ideal place to live?
- never thought abt it tbh ig anywhere with my partners
51. What was your childhood like?
- just 18 years of stupid therapy programs and stupid special ed classes and ppl telling me how to think and how to act and like I was 4 years old forever i don't careeee
52. What is your favorite kind of weather?
- i think snow is pretty
53. How important to you is friendship? What about romance?
- i think they're both pretty great but idk i feel like urself should be most important bc idk shit happens and ppl leave so if you dont like yourself youre just gonna be stuck with some miserable loser who doesnt have any friends as ur only company
54. Have any disabilities, weaknesses, or allergies?
- i feel like in a hypothetical situation i would be pretty weak to godzilla
55. What’s your favorite thing to eat?
- SPICY FOOOOOOOD my spice tolerance fucks hard i will drink hot sauce. right now holdbon
56. Do you have kids? If not, do you picture yourself ever having them?
- could you fucking imagine.
57. How well can you sing?
- idk but i like it
58. Are you particularly confident? Does your confidence level change if less people are around?
- if nobody got me i know i got me
59. Do you like shopping?
- delivery apps were invented for a reason
60. How do you interact with strangers?
- tbh i usually just tune out anyone that's not talking to me LMAO
61. Have you ever been betrayed by someone you loved?
- not like perminently
62. If you could change anything about yourself, what would it be?
- don't like this question
63. If you could meet anyone from the past or future, who would it be?
- fuckkkkk my gf isn't home rn can I pick her
64. If a genie granted you three wishes, what would they be?
- money bigass house and then I wouldn't use the last one so we could just vibe forver
65. Do you like attention?
- ask pico
66. Are you glad I’ve run out of questions to ask?
- ig bc im puttin off chores ily though
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How I would kiss you
Hello there! Remember this drabble? yes it's from 2022, yes it got finished in 2024! Formatting is a pain on tumblr and i'm tired, but here is soem of the good stuff, pulled out from the fic itself! :))) Read the entire thing on Ao3 here! Please enjoy!
After an hour or so, Jaskier gives up, and is in the middle of changing into his sleeping clothes when Geralt returns. He startles when the door opens, standing shirtless and feeling strangely vulnerable when Geralt locks eyes with him.
They stand there just for a beat too long, Jaskier with his arms still in the tunic he was taking off, Geralt's eyes dipping just the once to roam over his chest. Nothing he's not seen before but this feels different.
"Did you win?" he asks, Geralt finally stepping properly into the room and turning to his own bed and his own pack.
"Two out of three. That last woman had a mean deck."
Jaskier will not pretend to understand the language of Gwent, so he nods and rummages for his sleeping tunic. A soft, worn out thing, a tunic that once was light blue now so faded it looks a soft gray.
When his night time routine is done, Jaskier sits down on his bed and watches Geralt. It's almost tradition, waiting for the other to be properly done before tucking in.
It also gives Jaskier a wonderful view of that wonderful witcher body, dimples on his lower backs, muscles on his shoulders rippling under the skin as he slowly puts his sleep wear on. Very...slowly.
Geralt throws a look over his shoulder, catching Jaskier staring. Normally he would wink, but now all he does is blush and look away.
Fuck.
They talk a little about their traveling plans, about rumors of a nest of foglets two days away. As soon as their laundry is done, they will be on their way. Meaning, there will hopefully be a rare chance to sleep in, despite cruel witcher habits, and as soon as
Jaskier mentions it teasingly, Geralt gives him a fond smile.
This is not good.
They settle into their respective beds, Jaskier's heart aching in his chest. He lies staring up at the ceiling, an echo of yesterday, but without the tent and without the rain.
"You came back early today," Geralt says on the other side of the dark room. "Were they no good?"
Jaskier sucks on his lower lip. Now that Geralt has mentioned it, it’s even harder to stop, desperately wanting it to be Geralt sucking on it instead.
"Not bad. Just..... eager."
Neither says anything for a long moment, and Jaskier belatedly realizes something. Maybe Geralt was slow redressing on purpose. Maybe... maybe he isn't the only one thinking about this so much it hurts.
Before he can talk himself out of it, Jaskier does what he does best. He blurts out what's on his mind.
"I think you were right."
The darknes is quiet, somehow more quiet than before he opened his fucking idiot mouth.
"I'm always right," Geralt mutters, making Jaskier huff out a nervous laugh. "What about?"
Well.
Here we are.
"I think you have me figured out. I would want you to kiss me like that."
Not 'to be’ kissed like that. He wants Geralt to kiss him like that.
He can hear nothing but the hammering in his chest, the blood whooshing in his ear, and he realizes he is holding his breath.
"Told you so," Geralt says, and he really doesn't make this easy for Jaskier, does he?
Bastard.
".....Would you?" Jaskier says quietly, feeling every insecure inch of his heart bared.
There is another silence, and then there is movement on the other side, and Jaskier holds his breath again. Rustling of the blanket, footsteps so quiet, Jaskier is afraid he is imagining it. Then the bed dips as Geralt sits down.
Jaskier can't see much, just the dark outline against an even darker room, but Geralt surely can read the longing on his face, hear his strained breathing, his hoping heart.
"You want me to? Now?" Geralt whispers, and Jaskier nods eagerly.
Hot hands grab his, slowly guiding them upwards. The bed dips again, jostling Jaskier, and suddenly he is straddled, thighs on both sides of his, holding him in place.
"You sure?" Geralt whispers, leaning over him, fingers sliding over Jaskier's palm as he pins them over his head.
"Only if you want it too," Jaskier dares, sensing Geralt slowly leaning over him.
"I keep thinking about it," Geralt murmurs, his breath hitting Jaskier's face. "Just like this."
His grip tightens around Jaskier's wrists, thighs tensing as their weight shifts. Geralt is leaning over him on his elbow, holding him in place.
"Last chance, bard," Geralt warns him, and Jaskier full body shivers.
#geraskier#the witcher#geralt of rivia#jaskier#geralt x jaskier#dapanda writes#jaskier the bard#getting together#kissing#pining#fantastic idiots#i am very fond of this one#please have a lil read
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woe. peter vi thoughts be upon ye
he’s a lil silly guy i love him a lot
should i format this better? yeah. am i going to? absolutely not
these are very rushed and rambly because i’m doing them instead of getting ready for work
i’m a member of the “peter vi has bad back/joint problems” club. just bc it makes sense?? and i have bad knees and a bad elbow so he’s like me fr :3 i also feel like he has migraines. he’s just not having a good time he’s like the embodiment of “fuck it we ball”
autism + adhd combo. (just like me fr) he likes fidget toys bc they help him focus and also totally has a collection of plushies. just because. he’s not really ashamed of having ‘childish’ interests because they make him happy and that’s really all that matters to him. to go along with this he gets overwhelmed & overstimulated pretty easy. just because my guy has a tendency to overwork and forgets to eat & sleep at normal times. he’s just a. guy
idk if this has been made a thing but! i think about his mask a whole lot. like yeah sure it’s for Hiding Face purposes in my mind but also. i think his eyesight is pretty bad, and thanks to some fun science shit the mask helps him see better. it also somehow helps with headaches and all that. i don’t know how or why it just Does
he’s normally a very. chill and happy guy. like if he gets stressed or upset most people that don’t know him too well don’t see that. if you’ve known him for as long as some people have, you can tell.
he will Absolutely defend people when they need him to though. i have this random hc that the walters all have some knowledge of self defense.
he’s a pretty scrawny guy but strong enough that he can lift heavy stuff, but also can absolutely bowl someone under the table. he doesn’t like fighting but. he so will if he has to. this came from him beating people up in some of my oc’s lore :3 he will Attack if you hurt his family. he so will
obviously he’s So Smart. but also is such a Dumbass at the same time. he’s just silly. does scientific miracles but can’t remember his phone number
bro sleeptalks. not in a cryptic “we’re all gonna die” way but in the silly “did i just wheat??” kind of way. he just Says Shit in his sleep and has no recollection of it
but yeah i think i’ve rambled for long enough. so i hope you liked these?? idk. my first time sharing hcs to tumblr :3 i promise my thoughts aren’t always this disorganized
#eddie rambles#spg#steam powered giraffe#steampoweredgiraffe#peter walter vi#peter vi#spg hcs#steam powered giraffe hcs#uhhh what to tag
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The Good Witch Thoughts
When I first heard the album I remember thinking there aren’t enough sad songs on here and then I entered a depressive spiral and HA I WAS WRONG (Sidenote i hate tumblr formatting)
1 - The Good Witch
Like the vibe
“Still upset but I now I’m twenty-two” - I'm a sucker for an age lyric - especially the parallel with You Signed Up For This (“I am twenty and probably upset right now”) and the fact that it’s the titular song again
“Still bitter” - Reference to Details (love of my life <3), Reference to I’m Trying (Not Friends)
“The calm before the storm comes rushing through” - Harmony v pretty (around 30 secs)
“Still King’s Cross and pullin’ heartbreak out of hats”- Love the reference to King’s Cross, her London references makes it feel so grounded and especially again it being a place in London I travel through it makes it feel like a new album and a specific album to me (still King’s Cross for a tiny little while longer). Also relating to Elvis song (“last train on the Northern line”) always moving through London, experiences anchored in London geography. Also love the ramping up of the music here
“Still argue like my mother and suppress stuff like my dad” - The pace on this line really shows the suppressing stuff lol
“Am I better yet?” - Change from You Signed Up For This “I know I’ll get better/I’m just not better yet" Questioning it now like I know I’ve changed but is it better? Am I at the point I want to be??
Instrumental outro and talking hurts my heart a bit? Very 3 am fucked up in a club
Fave lyric: “Still miss you, but I know now it’ll pass/Found some other muses, I give ‘em all my best”
2 - Coming of Age
Oohhh very Club vibe
“Couldn’t erase you like a tattoo on my waistline” - Really like this, tattoo is LESS permanent than your mark, really hits
Really vibey chorus
“I let you butcher my big heart” - So graphic and so ?? Beautiful
Ngl this is all slapping so far
Fave lyric: “Baby I am the Iliad of course you couldn’t read me” (!!!!)
3 - Watch
Oh no is this one gonna hurt
“Nobody actually happy and healthy/has ever felt so desperate to prove it” - OOF
Yep I was right hurts my heart but a bop
“You’re being a superstar and all I got are victim cards” - This reads like being on the other side of Sk8r Boi by Avril Lavigne
“For a girl who’s a remix of me” - So interesting because a remix isn’t necessarily *better* it’s just *different*, like it mixes up all the components into something he likes more but it isn’t objectively more appealing and that’s such a refreshing take
Fave lyric: “I don’t think I wanna get better" - YSUFT reference, love the thread of getting better
4 - Body Better
A BOP
And really hurts
I am a sucker for happy sounding songs with fucked up lyrics
Music is so personal for me and this one is such a reclamation even though it’s so sad
“obedient blue eyes” - This line is AMAZING. The pauses. The lyricism. The casualness. *chefs kiss*
Such a good single choice bc it’s such an easy listen but so brutal so captures heartbreak and bops and also u wanna listen over and over
“Tell me just one more lie” - Come on just use your shitty lies to save my dignity this once instead of ripping it to shreds
Fave lyric: “When you touched it were you sorry like you weren’t at the time”, “The worst way to love somebody is to watch them love somebody else and it work out” or “Do you love her/when you’re twisting up all her sheets do you suffer”
5 - Want You Back
Oh no
Pretty humming
“The darling of your passenger side” - ooof such a beautiful gentle encapsulation of such a classic theme
The piano in the chorus might make me cry
Oh god this is so raw and such a strong heartbreak song
“I must go out with a stranger and kiss him to get stronger” - oh god that feels like every experience of trying to get over someone and I just can’t do it and ow. It's the epitome of get under someone to get over someone but at the same time you don’t want to because you want them back and you should want to be fine alone but you just c a n ‘ t
I can tell this is gonna be a strong fave
Fave lyric: - “What was cheap to you, to me, was all I had”, “But baby, when you touch her, I bet she doesn’t flinch” or “So you gotta be coward and I salvaged a little self-respect" - This hurts so bad like if it was your friend you’d be screaming VALUE YOURSELF MORE but because it’s you, you just want back what you had
6 - The Band and I
“Came a boy and left a man” - love love it
So specific but also just feels like every friendship group I’ve ever had
It feels like laughing til you cry and your stomach hurts and being up at 3am dancing and deep chats and crying together and every little thing
“Haven’t thought of home twice” - feels like a hectic Cambridge time or any second and third week somewhere new when you’ve started to settle and everything is new and fun and you’re flying and you don’t wanna lose it
Fave lyric: “I'm twenty-one and I feel evergreen” - The way she sings this is so wistful, or “It was falling in love/in a gas station/by the pickup trucks” - Love the juxtaposition, love in the weirdest and most unexpected places
7 - You're Just a Boy (and I'm Kinda the Man)
“You’re kind of awful but you’re not awful on purpose” - Ugh you suck but you’re not even aware so it’s better and worse because how can I blame you but also how can you not know??
“I’m on a one way trip to take over the world/you could’ve come but your head’s in the sand” - Usually head in the sand is to avoid something shitty so it’s interesting to have it like this, like you’re so determined to ignore flaws that you miss all the joy
“But you pushed me out quicker than it took me to put my jeans on” - Oof that hit and feels like such shame but suddenly you’re like no if you’re not feeling like you’re the luckiest damn person then I’m gonna keep on going and you’ll see what you lost
Fave lyric: “I take in clowns like a one-woman circus” or “Goodbye from the bigger man" - Reference to I’m Trying (Not Friends)
8 - Lost the Breakup
“Didn’t say it in those words but I know how your tone works” - Like okay yeah you can hide behind what you said but we both know what you meant
Another bop
Validating
The whole chorus damn
The repression and everything
"Right now I might be a mess" - accepting being fucked up and broken
This, Coming of Age and You’re Just A Boy (And I’m Kinda The Man) have been such a u know I’m gonna be fine and ur heartbreak will come when u see me thrive
Such a vibe and such knowledge of ur worth
I love the dancing up but it’s such a revenge fantasy of mine like esp mid transition it was such a it gonna see me and not recognise me and want me and I’m not gonna care because I moved on and grew for me and I’m mine and you can’t have me
Fave lyric: “So, I'm feeling and I'm dealing/With the heart you broke/While you do press-ups and repress us/And take off her clothes, oh” - Okay yeah you pretend u don’t care and get over me with someone else, I’ll be here actually processing it and actually getting ready to move on
9 - Wendy
Oooh not what I expected
I’m such a damn sucker for literary refs (this, wonderland, cardigan, the classical references in Coming Of Age and History of Man)
“You’re evasive on the phone til you’re sorry on the floor” - oh holy FUCK
“We could live off of magic and maybes” - that’s so pretty
Like the second chorus changing to add “So I'll lock the window and turn on the AC/You'll throw your rocks and you'll scream that you hate me/But it gets old being forever twenty” - YES like being forever young for a man is not worth it
“What about my wings” - The way she sings this is *chefs kiss*
“It’s a life I could have, I know“ - but I am worth MORE and I know it YES
“If I’m not careful I’ll wake up and we’ll be married” - We’ll be married and I’ll be terrified and it’s so easy to be caught up in you
big fave ugh
Fave lyric: “Behind every lost boy is always a wendy” or “what about my wings? What about Wendy?”
10 - Run
“I’ve heard some things that I will leave unrepeated" - ooooh
Oh my god the chorus is beautiful and Such a bop I want to dance to it in a club
I love that it’s just like fuck it no this is not gonna go well
Like it’s very if it’s a bad sign the get out but also even if it’s a good sign get out lol
Fave
Fave lyric: “Run as fast as you can/take a quick sharp turn at the sight of a man”
11 - Two Weeks Ago
Such a heartbreaker
“I wish we kissed when we first wanted” - We wasted so much time worrying about fucking things up and guess what they’re fucked anyway
Smart last single bc too deep for early single but something to hold onto
“A friend drove me/’cause you couldn’t do” - such a beautiful painting of the devastation of a breakup when you’re both broken, feels like good enough if it were mutual
“God I loved you babe did I tell you that?” - So sad second guessing yourself. also the harmonies here Kill me
Fave lyric: “I wish when we went to the beach that day/We’d taken more pictures/I’d been more brave" - I wish I had something tangible to hold onto but instead all I have are my faulty memories and I’ll be second guessing them for the rest of my life
“That last kiss/I didn’t look at you/but I wish I did” - If I’d known it was the last one I would’ve savoured it but I thought I had more to come but also some part of me must have known or I would’ve looked at you
12 - BSC
Not hearing a lot of lyrics on first listen ngl
“It wrecked my organs so pour the gin” - love it like you’ve already broken my heart so why not break the rest of me
Okay now I’m catching the lyrics I love them
Especially just full on committing to the image of being crazy and the lyrics and writing out ooooooh
Also all the swearing and just saying fuck this
Fave lyric: “Mister ‘I don’t want a label’/You made me little miss unstable” - Okay so you don’t want to be called something you’re not but nor do I and YOU did this to me. Obvious Mr Perfectly Fine link but also gives me illicit affairs vibe (Don't call me "kid," don't call me "baby"/Look at this idiotic fool that you made me”)
13 - Therapy
Oh my GOD this is so funny and so good
Such a bop
“Oh Lord I’m going back to therapy” - Ooooof. Feels like okay you fucked me up but at least I’m self-aware - when are you gonna go to therapy bro? But also oh GOD I thought I’d changed but now you’re gone I’m exactly how I was
„Broke me like a curse“ - ooh like the subversion of breaking a curse here, like breaking a curse is usually a good thing and he’ll probably try to spin it like that but there’s no spin that can make that true
Fave lyric: “So, how come you’re taking me from your arms/back to therapy?”
14 - There It Goes
“I'm back in London, I'm running down Columbia Road” - Again, love the specific locations, feels so grounded and concrete
Ngl so far I feel like we’re missing some longer ones so I’m happy about this one being longer and I like the sad ish bop
“I made it to September” - oh man that feels like a real okay fine I’ve made it to the next year lets go again. But also like yeah fuck I reached this milestone I didn’t like I would and now this date is passed I don’t feel so broken
Fuck me I really like that this whole album is heartbreak but catharsis. Like want you back, this and watch are all sad but all elements of something
“I’m young but I am aging” - I love that so much. Like yeah I’m young but I am getting older, I’m changing and growing and I’ll look back at this one day and laugh, I’m gonna make the most of being young but I’m not gonna be terrified of losing my youth
“I felt so far from the cliffs” - Like u know what people can love me and be proud of me and want to show me off
“The way I loved you, I will not be embarrassed of that/I should’ve just known when to quit” - YES!! Don’t be ashamed of loving someone but you can be sad for not calling it quits soon enough
Also I love the way she sings it
Fave lyric: “The love we had was covered in snow” - Like Love Him I Don’t (“comin’ up roses/kickin’ up snow”), “The love we had was eatin’ me whole” - I had to rip myself away from that or “The loss is yours” - It feels so final and so confident
15 - History of Man
Oh the opening lines they’re haunting and beautiful also I love songs that reference Jericho
“Tale as old as honey” - Sweet and ancient
“I tried to rewrite it but I can’t” - She keeps saying she’s the writer but some things you just can’t change
“You walked out, oh/without sweating” - It wasn’t even fucking hard for you to leave, to run away from us, to leave me in the dust and rubble
“I’ve seen it in the poems, in the sands” - In the sands of time, in the poems of the ancients, this isn’t new, this will all happen again
The storytelling and the distance?? Love it
“I would’ve made him weaker too” - Redemption and vindication (I beg u Maisie write a song referencing Medea). The way she sings it is so pretty!
It’s so unspecific but so resonant
“Women’s hearts are lethal weapons/Did you hold mine and feel threatened?” - Were you scared of what me loving you meant? Were you scared of opening your heart and being vulnerable?
"Hear my lyrics taste my venom" - this is such a thesis statement for the album
Beautiful album closer and think it will be a fave
Fave lyric: “Men start wars yet Troy hates Helen/womens’ hearts are lethal weapons”
#mp2#my writing#creative writing#tgw#the good witch#maisie peters the good witch#my thoughts on music#music#maisie peters#maisie peters lyrics#album review#album reaction
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Hey what if I did, like, a lets play of On Air Island but! an interactive one where we collectively choose the next option (via a poll) would anyone play with me
Um yeah to expound on that thought
What's On Air Island?
On Air Island is a game I'm currently brainrotting about.
The genre is stated as horror/thriller but even if you're not a fan of these genres id say still check it out because im not a fan either and Yet
This is perhaps because the game has a strong mystery element and encourages multiple replays/going back to try out different options (theres a really comfortable to use mechanic for that too!) so theres this drive to uncover more of the story. Which is why I'm still playing despite having finished all 40 endings already (yes, thats forty endings)
Quick plot blurb: the plot follows the cast and crew of a survival show called 'Never Stop Watching!' set up on a remote island. The show's unique setting is that every cast member streams their experience, and the winner is determined by the number of donations they receive on their stream. However, the island is not as simple as it appears, and soon enough the rankings will be the least of the cast's problems! (Que horror/thriller elements)
Why interactive Let's Play?
The thing I found the most refreshing about OAI is that you, the player, do not play as the protagonist, but rather as one of the viewers on the protagonist's stream. When the absence of 'i would not fucking say/do that' experience hits lol. Because of such setting, aside from the main cast, the presence of Observers - the fellow viewers - is strongly felt throughout the story as well. EzraHanse girlies in the chat you will always be famous. And... sometimes other Observers have completely different ideas about what's good for blorbo from your streams!
Then, since I run a poll aggregator blog and see like hundreds of polls a day, the vision of in-game choices and tumblr polls overlapped in my brain...
...and I thought, hey, wouldn't it be extremely atmospheric and true to in-game experience to have a bunch of people chipping in to determine the advice and tasks the protagonist receives from his viewers? Thus, the idea of doing an interactive lets play was born.
What are the pros of participating in the Let's Play, instead of just playing the game?
Well, first of all, this is absolutely my dastardly plan to make y'all play the game, make no mistake!
That said, if you aren't sure you are interested in playing it, you can experience the story in bite-sized chunks (i just vidded the prologue up to the first choice, and its less than 2 minutes!) on a semi-daily basis, with a little dopamine hit of clickin' the button at the end <3
Another thing is that making 'a donation' - ie, a choice in game - requires in-game currency. There are various ways to farm currency and there are almost always cheaper choices available, however! Since I already played and replayed multiple times, I have many choices unlocked, and it'll be easy for me to farm for the remaining ones. Especially now that I got all the endings and the desire to find the best one no longer plagues me so. So - you can experience the game while avoiding the grind!
And, ofc, as I've mentioned before, having many viewers/Observers would be very true to the atmosphere of the game. Ideally, I would hope for some discussion in the comments too, to parallel the in-game chat! This is also why I hope people who already played the game will participate too 👉👈 The more Observers we have the better, right? ;3
What if I don't vibe with watching videos / miss something / etc?
I'm planning to have a transcript available for each video, and something like a story-so-far post that you can check out to get up to date at any point. I also figure I'll be adjusting the format along the way, if we can get this party started at all, so feel free to suggest improvements to me at any time!
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Okay this is kinda funny to me but I actually just finished binging your fic (did a descendants marathon, started mid D3, got genuinely interested in RoR, read the rest with bleary eyes and bated breath into what is now 4 am) and. I. I kid you not I was internally lamenting the lack of spicy scenes because you wrote the teasing incredibly well and. Well. I wasn't going to say anything bc ppl are completely within their right to not write something BUT then I saw your post and now that I know(1/?
(cont) and now that I know that not only is it maybe an option but that you'd be willing to write it let me just say. On my knees pleading. I was craving some MalxEviexUma content and you wrote it *so incredibly well* and it was such a delight to read. I appreciate you taking the cheating seriously and I really like how you handled the variety of queer revelations happening in this fic. Genuinely it is because of authors who write characters so well like this that I feel less isolated in my experiences
(cont) especially since things revolving around my identity and sexuality have been pretty present the past few months, and it's almost relieving and somewhat cathartic to get to read characters experiencing similar situations and getting to be accepted and also get together with their beloveds. And also have gay (dragon/tentacle/) sex lol. I like how you took your time with each of the characters to make their conclusions feel natural and anything but rushed, and I really love what a good grasp (3/?
(cont) you have of their voices. I could hear each of them (especially Uma) distinctly in my head the whole time, and could visualize their faces and movements so well because of how you wrote them. Character voices are hard, so many kudos to you!!! You really did a good job staying true to them! Also, somewhat but also not surprisingly, I was not having an easy time finding content for the three of them (or even a few of them) and sometimes when you're low on fics the ones you find aren't the most polished, but yk you take what you find or you make it yourself! But!!! That is not the case here! You wrote a beautiful and enjoyable and fucking sexy fic that exactly hit the spot for me and was a thrill all the way through. You do not know how many times I had to keep myself from jumping ahead or reading to fast to enjoy it because I was so excited. Also the only reason I'm not commenting is bc I don't have an ao3 account set up for this blog yet so I'm bothering you in asks instead!
I would like to be very detailed in my appreciation of how you wrote each character but I seriously need to sleep and I'm probably taking up to much space, so let me know if I can come back and rant to you about your fic in your ask box or if you would prefer me waiting till I can comment on the fic itself :3Thank you SO SO SO SO MUCH for writing such a scrumptious fanfic and for sharing it with the rest of us! /Grins/ Have a delightful rest of your week!
(final. Sorry it got split up! Tumblr was being an ass and giving me a word limit so I switched for Easter so I didn't have to verify w every ask and it fuckin dropped both problems lmao)
This is how you leave a comment, folks. If it's not 4 asks in my inbox when I wake up I don't want it.*
People like @gayafsowhat who leave comments and asks like this are the backbone of the fanfic community. These asks have sat in my inbox for a like a week because there's literally no way to adequately express my gratitude so I'll just say simply: thank you. ❤️
Also authors, if you are hesitating about writing for a smaller fandom or rare pair, fucking do it. Yes, I get more kudos on my drarry fics, but the enthusiasm and support you get from people when you write for pairings with less content is equally fulfilling (if not more - see giant comment above holy shit!??!?).
*This is obviously a joke. For the record, I gratefully accept and apppreciate comments in any format. ❤️
#sorry to my girlfriend who had to deal with me bragging about these asks all weekend#qtasks#❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
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How about Coldflash because I miss you writingfor them
I miss writing for them too. I’ve been slowly chipping away at Shiva for the last couple months, so hopefully someday I’ll get back to them 💕
Obviously, I ship them. The why can be very long and rambly so we’ll see what happens
What made you ship it?
I actually watched LOT first, but I knew about Barry because I watched Arrow before LOT (so I met Barry first but watched his show later) and I don’t even remember what’s said in LOT but it just crystalized into me liking them together. Then I DID watch the flash (and read a lot of fanfiction) and there’s something about guilt-ridden people who yearn for the other side of the line that really gets me (neither would never admit to yearning to be on either’s side of the line but I think it’s slightly telling through Len’s actions how often he indulges Barry and what he eventually, yknow, died for; and Barry contemplates much darker actions and the “easy out/more permanent out” often enough for me to be convinced that he has seriously considered doing things Len’s way) but anyway I adored their dynamic. Also the gif sets of them despite their like 15 episodes total together on tumblr are STELLAR.
What are your favorite things about the ship?
They are equally as capable of lifting the other up as they are at destroying each other. It is one of the few dynamics on the Flash where power feels equal (Barry’s powers included actually).
What I mean by this is one thing that bothers me on the show is how often Barry’s friends and family do what I think is manipulative horseshit supposedly for the greater good of either him or their circumstances. In all the ways Len is a con-man, is manipulative, is his “im a criminal” self, he’s actually usually pretty straightforward on Barry’s emotional front. It’s refreshing. Yes, he lies to Barry when he betrays him in Ferris Air, but Barry — especially early seasons Barry — would have forgiven him if Len made a persuasive emotional plea, he would have fallen for a convincing sob story.And while there’s a million reasons Len wouldn’t, I really like that it doesn’t seem to occur to him. I think Barry falls even harder in the fact that in this, Len is honest. He’s very point blank about his intentions, and cuts to the chase of the situation. And later, he is straightforward in helping Barry, too. Len manipulates situations left and right for his own benefit, but when he states his intentions, I don’t really recall a time where he’s lying about them.
(Don’t get why the formatting is such shit but we’re gonna continue) on the other hand, let’s be clear — Barry can kill Len. Barry can pick up Len and drop him in another time and abandon him. Barry has a plethora of ways to fuck Len’s life over or just end it, straight up. Len somewhat leveled the playing field in the beginning with the cold gun, but on his own, without an elaborate plan (and even with one) he doesn’t even have a prayer to beat Barry when Barry figures him out. But Barry’s morals put them on equal ground, because Barry (for the most part — love exploring the exceptions in fic) wouldn’t do that.
Barry affords Len the respect he deserves and never got as a child, but more than that, Barry puts VALUE in Len’s life that Len didn’t experience. Len’s life value was earned through blood and violence and becoming the best before he met Barry. There’s a theme from a book called A Psalm For the Wild Built (that I greatly recommend) and it I think embodies what I believe is Barry’s view of at least Len’s life: “you are a living being, and you are inherently worth value and you shouldn’t give up on yourself” and I just really doubt Len’s ever experienced such a perspective.
I also think in turn, Len affords Barry a meta-less perspective he needs to be reminded of. Barry can be dark. Barry can be frightening. Barry is capable of great darkness. Which makes Len (begrudgingly) appreciate the light in him much more, and helps Barry keep on that way more than many other attempts to keep him that way. (I will never forget the episode Barry brings Len back from Siberia — Barry so much DARKER and CYNICAL in that episode and Len’s reaction of both fascination and “this is not you” is wonderful.
Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?
Ummmm. Not on the ship, I don’t think. Maybe others could inform me of something that’s not popular that I put into my fics 😂
Anyways, that’s my coldflash ramble. Thank you for tuning in and thanks for the ask, anon! 💕
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So I’m having another… let’s call it an internet crisis. A thing that typically happens when I have Big Problems I can’t do fuck all about which means now it’s time to get Really Upset about problems that are comparatively small but do affect my daily routine (sorry again for no cut, I still can’t remember how to do it on mobile and I fucking hate hate hate the desktop post editor as much as someone can hate a piece of code)
It’s… getting harder to use tumblr. This isn’t about the sidebar, I don’t actually hate the sidebar cause we used to have a sidebar on the other side and I’ve missed it every since it left, but it’s about other things. A lot of things, but I won’t get into them all right now. For me, the new post editor is just. Really fucking difficult to use. If you’re just doing an unformatted, unplanned ramble (like this) or a little shitpost, it’s fine, especially if you’re on mobile (somehow the shitty mobile editor is now less shitty than the desktop editor, how tf did that happen), but if you’ve got multiple paragraphs and literally any formatting is needed? Well, you’re fucked, quite frankly, it is the most dense and convoluted post editor I’ve seen in like roughly 2 decades spent online. I’ve never seen anything more counterintuitive and difficult to use
And I’m sitting here with all these twitter posts I want to move. Some are little and would be easy. Others are a lot longer and more complicated and would shove me into that formatting hell I despise so much (and given how much feedback and unanswered asks to wip I’ve sent with no improvements, I’ve given up hope of it ever being made better). Like god I really, really want to save those posts but is it even worth it to do it here? But where else would I do it?
And the secondary layer too is… there’s no fucking posts here. No engagement on posts either most of the time. 90% of my posts come from my archive cause the kylux and Kylo (plus a few others I check less regularly) tags have very few daily posts and there’s hardly anything on my dash anymore. My original posts maybe get 10 notes on average, and these posts are ones that sometimes got near triple digit rts alone on twitter. Just seems there’s exceptionally few people here to enjoy them
And I’m still on twitter. It’s slowly dwindling but it’s still slightly more active than here. I’m on pillowfort and bsky too and they are truly dead (unless you’re a furry, good on the furries for populating every site in existence). There’s just. Nothing anymore. Maybe my fandoms are just dead but it feels like the meme about passing around the same $20 among friends cause capitalism is destroying us except with posts and likes
Idk. I feel like I don’t have an online home anymore. 90% of my socializing is online and 100% of my creativity is expressed through fandom and. I don’t know where to do that anymore. I have friends I chat with on discord and I love them but it’s… it’s not the same as a whole community, you know? And now that our homes are falling apart with every sign pointing towards imminent foreclosure like. What do I do. I know I’ve been through site losses before but. It feels different. Something new and shiny always came along before the end. I fear that’s not coming and we’ll all just be lost
Idk. I don’t have a conclusion. Twitter is doomed. I hate how the new owners are running on tumblr and I’m still posting here more out of a desperate desire to remember what community felt like than any real actual want to do so. The new sites have nothing going on. Idk. I feel lost. And maybe it’s the 15 other problems I have going on right now and hormones and shit but. I just don’t know what to do and I’m scared of what the future looks like for online communities and how alone I’ll be if I lost them (even though in reality I already have lost them aside from a small handful of people)
#am I just hormonal and stressed about things like old cat’s appointment tomorrow and work and the state of the world#with a dash of good old regular depression hanging out in there too#and that’s why duolingo fucking me over yesterday and stuff like this is bothering me#to a degree that is probably excessive#very possibly#but I also feel like this has been simmering for a while#and I just#idk man idk what to do I’m frustrated and I just want a place to shitpost about my little fictional blorbos#and have other people enjoy those posts and make their own posts and we can talk about them and everything is fun and good#and idek how to get it anymore like where are people doing that I can’t find them#idk I also need to sleep but ugh#brain land is a messy place right now let’s leave it at that#text#misc#shut up nerd#long post
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Hello all you may remember me from such bangers as 'show me the proxies in marble hornets' and 'and another thing'
oday um here to talk about how we've fucking regressed as a fandom since creepypasta and marble hornets on ao3 got. presumably merged as a fandom tags bc sorting for exclude crossovers still shows creepypasta fic. in fact doing that just now to confirm this, the very first fic on the list was creepypasta.
so obviously this is a huge pain in the ass for anyone who wants marble hornets fanfic and only marble hornets fanfic. you cant even remove creepypasta fics with exclude crossover, youd have to do it manually with filtering options not everyone knows how to use. and we shouldnt have to yknow? you should be able to go in your fandom tag on ao3 and find only that fandom and crossovers (which should be easily filtered out by exclude crossovers) same as here on tumblr crosstagging is a huge issue but the worst part of it is that the continuous crosstagging in recent years has caused the fandom tags to be merged (not fully as shown by the fact that the numbers for amount of fic in each tag is different) but enough that they're considered the same universe by ao3 which is. blatantly untrue.
creepypasta is a catchall term for internet short stories made by a community, marble hornets is one single webseries online. fuck the creepypasta fandom wouldnt be what it is without huge swaths of shit stolen from marble hornets (like yknow, the pages, the operator symbol, masky and hoodie) but that doesnt mean they are marble hornets fans that doesnt mean theyre making marble hornets content. that would be like saying that since fnaf and batim are kinda similar and the fans have an overlap that means theyre the same and should be tagged the same. they arent, and shouldnt be yknow?
also apologies this isnt the best post im kinda fried rn and im stuck on mobile
that not withstanding its fucking depressing. this did not used to be an issue. thr only fics tagged with both were generally easy to ignore or a real honest to god crossover, but now i swear you look at the mh tag on ao3 and the majority of the recent fics are crosstagged crp fics with giant tag lists that tack up the whole page and tag anyone who is so much as mentioned
and maybe this is a step too far here. but i really think this is bc of tiktok. the people crosstagging posts and fics seem to be the same type to complain avout the 'ao3/tumblr algorithm' not favoring them. but there is no algorithm, just annoyed fans who have to dig for their actual content because people dont have common decency anymore. theres an etiquette you need to follow for shit like this. like how would you feel if like. i dunno. fucking... genshin (just an example of a large fandom or whatever made a character cameo out of like jeff the killer and suddenly all the crp tags were filled with genshin posts not even related to or barely mentioning the character, just ti try and get more clicks?
youd be pretty fucking annoyed having to scroll past all that to find actual creepypasta content huh?
thats the same issue happening here, and honestly i think its a huge issue. for obvious reasons but also bc its so much harder to find mh content now that im sure its incredibly disheartening to be a creator in the fandom rn and foe the past few years. you work and make content for your rather small fandom and its buried under barely related shit, its gonna feel bad yknow? especially when that content gets more clicks bc. frankly theres more creepypasta fans than mh fans just bc of what creepypasta is format wise. its collectively made shortstories. you can like one or two and bc a crp fan, its not like that for mh
this is going kinda off my starting topic but anyways if theres any ao3 tag wrangles following me or who see this.
please for the love of god i beg of you to do anything you can to unmerge those tags i will do anything ill get receipts proving they're separate things please unmerge the tags im dying here
#marble hornets#ao3#sorry im still reallt spacey rn cause i was high earlier today and im big adhd at the best of times#so someone with more brainpower than me rn id love some input#ill write a more coherent version lf this when im back home with my laptop after new years
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pick five numbers (dealer's choice) to do for the boys
I don’t know if I’m ready for this level of autonomy. From the choose violence ask meme
12- the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them
Jonah Vogelbaum heh! It’s not that I like or want people to like him. But I sometimes want to read about wth was going through his mind in the 80s and 90s lol. Did he ever consider any parallels between his actual kids at home and the Vought project he was raising in the lab? At what point did he realize that he may have irrevocably fucked up HL’s psyche? I’m also curious about his hypothetical interactions with Edgar and Stillwell.
20- part of canon you found tedious or boring
Boring: stuff they take from the comics to make comics fans happy not because it propels the story forward. s3 was a big offender with the pointless Little Nina storyline, the Legend just kind of… being a Hollywood producer stereotype, and a relatively pointless Jamie the Hamster cameo.
Tedious to deal with in fic logistics so I don’t: V24-induced terminal illness
22- your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores
Not ignored per se, but I feel like it’s never fully put to use (including myself in this): all of HL’s weird super senses resulting in a very different life experience. Writers will allude to it, but it’s a fount of untapped potential.
23- ship you’ve unwillingly unexpectedly come around to
I have never read x reader before this fandom, but the HL x reader short fic format game is really strong on tumblr, often good and entertaining characterization for HL, interesting hypothetical situations, and pretty fun, without the constraints of fitting together with another canon character. I do see the appeal.
Honorable mention: It’s not that I was unwilling, but I would never have thought I’d read Homie fic and not die of LOL. But it’s not an intrinsically bad pairing.
24- topic that brings up the most rancid discourse
This one’s easy. When someone, often but not always under the age of 20, has just finished the show and astutely noticed that Homelander is a villain, has done bad things, is a misogynist, is racist, is a nazi … anywhere along that spectrum they choose to settle. And then tag with #homelander because they don’t understand how tumblr works lol
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omg i just found your podcast and it’s incredibly cathartic to listen to as i have felt the loss of fandom spaces over the past few years (tumblr dying and twitter being hard to use for that). livejournal sounds so nice. I wish there was another social media site that would allow that sort of community again for art and fandom and connection.
Thank you so much for listening and writing in! The loss of fandom spaces is always so hard and sad -- I (V) still mourn the landscape of individually run HTML fansites that ran all the way to the horizon back in Web 1.0. I miss fun layouts! I miss image galleries! I miss fandom mailing lists! (And I highly recommend The Rec Center if you don't already subscribe to them).
I actually think that Tumblr isn't dying so much as accepting its size and scope -- it ISN'T a social media site, and it's never been something that was going to be able to compete with social media sites like Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram for mainstream, everyday-Joe users. People who don't have a hyperfixation or a fandom want to see a variety of content and are easy for The Algorithm to feed. Tumblr users... are not.
Tumblr may have started out with the goal of being a hub for Srs Bsns Photographers & Poets/Writers, but everything about its format makes it the perfect site for fandom to flourish.
I'm really happy that Tumblr itself is embracing that now! AFAIK their actual slogan on the Apple App Store is "Tumblr: The Home of Fandom." Fandom is a niche subculture. We're just not gonna have the numbers of a Twitter or a TikTok. (And honestly, thank fucking god. Can you even imagine the chaos. I shudder to think.)
Tumblr is a microblogging site. It's for people who write too much for Twitter and whose images aren't the vibe of Instagram. It's for gifsets, which are an art medium unto themselves that social media sites wouldn't have any use for, really. And it's definitely not for Norbert in Accounting to connect with his grandma on like Facebook.
The anonymity of Tumblr is antithetical to modern social media sites -- even though IT IS INSANE TO ME THAT PEOPLE PUT THEIR REAL NAMES AND PHOTOS ONLINE, DID WE NOT LEARN ABOUT STRANGER DANGER??? -- and the fact that Tumblr is inherently ABOUT transformational, shared, "yes and" content, rather than mostly original pithy content like Twitter and IG and TikTok, makes it attractive to people with the hyperfocus of fans more than people who want to scroll and scroll and just see Stuff. I mean, obviously on Tumblr we're all looking at Stuff, but you can CURATE your feed on Tumblr in a way that you can't on social media. Curation is the enemy of The Algorithm. And Tumblr users fucking hate The Algorithm.
And honestly? The Algorithm hates fandom, because it's really hard to market things to someone with a hyperfixation. I don't CARE about your product, and seeing it instead of the thing I want to be looking at makes me HATE your product. The Algorithm really needs to be able to feed you a lot of different types of content to see what you're interested in. If you go into a site already knowing what you're interested in, then... ::shruggie:: Sucks to suck, Algorithm.
All of that said, yes -- community is definitely an aspect of Web 1.0 that feels like it's missing, or very hard to find, on Tumblr. I know a lot of people are finding great fannish communities on Discord these days, but I am elderly and don't know how to find Discord communities in the first place and also I'm painfully shy, so. I just Tumbl.
But I think that the loss of a sense of community is also part and parcel of Web 2.0, from the formats of websites to their function. It was easier, in Ye Olde Days, to feel connected to other people who found your fandom online because... not everyone WAS online. There was a sense that if you loved a thing enough to find your way to a fansite, or to LJ, or whatever, that was already taking the first step towards opening yourself up to friendship. Now, with social media and with smartphones and whatever else, literally everyone is online all day long. It isn't already a little club of nerds, yk?
I don't know. The internet as a whole has changed its shape and scope so much in the last ten years, let alone the last 20, that it's a whole different arena than it used to be. I don't really have any solutions or suggestions. Maybe once we get our Patreon up and running or something we'll start a TWIFH discord that people can join and make friends on.
But all of that is to say --
tl;dr, Fandom itself is antithetical to "social media" sites, and it needs blogging sites like Tumblr or LiveJournal or hand-coded HTML fansites to BE ABLE to exist. /opinion
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what do you use for journaling?
answering this from my phone which means it's probably gonna fuck up especially as i am now realising how much i want to say. as always
what i USE rn is an app called iA Writer, but technically i don't really use it/its features for journaling so much as just a .txt file organiser. the actual files are synced in a google drive folder, so i could also just open them in any notes app and start writing, but ia writer lets me see all my files at a glance (i make a new .txt file for each month, start each new entry with a big "NEW ENTRY MONDAY 9 JANUARY") and looks nice enough and recognises markdown syntax for basic formatting. i think it's a paid app but i really don't remember.
i used to use Day One (of deeply weird recent tumblr ad fame) when i was 17 or so, which helped me get started because it 1) had daily prompts and 2) had a header image input which made me feel better about just taking one photo each day and counting that as an "entry" without sitting down to write. that was also the big shift i needed to actually become a regular journaler (journalist? diarist.): i was always given cute notebooks as a kid, and even now you can open up tens of them that just have "IM SO TIIIIIIIRED" over the first page followed by reams of blanks. meanwhile i learnt to type 100wpm on msn messenger when i was 11 or whatever, but it somehow didn't click until glossy apps started dropping that i could just type journal entries and even though it wasn't the pen to paper aesthetic fantasy people usually think of, it does what i need it to (and better than paper). all journaling really is (for my purposes! there's a lot of reasons to journal, i guess) is a form of externalising thought processes and emotion to cut down on rumination, pause before impulsive actions, improve my memory and get to know myself better, so the closer i can make that activity frictionless the better — and i already spend all dang day typing anyway, so it's easy.
on that note, i also have a solo discord server i use to keep links and notes to myself, and i've got a channel in there for journaling, because ia writer on my phone WORKS but sometimes the sync overlaps and glitches, and it's just faster to dump quick thoughts into discord, especially if i'm literally just panicking at a party and want to write down something someone said to me so i can remember later.
there is an opposite mode of thinking, which is that journaling/externalising should be very distinct, and separate, and analogue, and physical, etc, to the extent that the frictive challenges of handwriting and paper and sitting at a desk rather than texting at a party etc is the point and helps with recall and the whole process of it all, but, god. i just can't do that at all. i go walking in nature each morning to ground myself in all that and i tumble out every thought and stressor and hypothetical i can wring dry from my mind into a .txt file for 5 minutes (that can turn into an hour) before i sleep each night so that i CAN sleep. but if i forget or im too busy i don't beat myself up about missing it. i stopped journaling for like 3 years then just started up again one day. i skip months sometimes. sometimes my entries are still just "TIRED". but it being a folder of text files helps me know i can start again whenever, and that if i ever want to go check something i can do it easily.
sorry this is insanely long; i've not journaled properly for weeks and it shows 😭
#asks#long post#?#new ask game. you send an ask to sam jurisffiction and turn 1 word into 8 words. perpetual motion machine
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my icon logan tagged me for the tag game
name/nickname: liam/L !! i have many nicknames given to me by 6 other shitheads and they vary from loincloth to lemur (i hate them all)
height: 5′4 (~162 cm), ive been called tall tho? im... not very tall im very average actually
sign: aquarius sun, capricorn moon and rising if those matter
song in my head: diana by one direction (its been literal years since ive heard it i have actually zero clue why this is happening)
number of followers: i will say very low and majority of them are bots i dont care enough to block but i pride myself on that so
amount of sleep: i was up freaking out over a social situation til like 2am and woke up at 7 but usually i go to bed around 10pm (22:00) and wake up at 6am
dream job: if you asked me this a year ago i would have given you a 4 page essay about how im working to get involved in film production somehow but now i just want a stay at home job where im not expected to cry on a daily basis
currently wearing: t shirt leggings leather jacket. i wear this every day its comfortable its my style and nobody expects anything different from me
media that summarizes you: i hate watch a lot because i find it funny but because of that i cant really think of anything since i havet seen a lot of stuff i genuinely like. maybe lady bird? even then thats a big if
aesthetic: fucking 2015 5sos core. ive never in my life been a 5sos fan but it just feels fitting since i drown myself in 2010s nostalgia constantly and they just radiate the median between grunge and beach dudes
favorite author(s): i dont really read a lot? the only book ive really cherished in my lifetime is a million ways home by dianna dorsi wingnet so probably her. i read a lot of beverly cleary like 10 years ago too
favorite song: i dont have a singular one but some of my favorites are absinthe by idkhow, pretty face by public, favorite poison by fuller, stay with me by better love, and touch by animal sun
fav instrument: that ive played, viola because it was easy but ive always thought saxophones were cool
fun fact: my birthday lands on a very controversial upcoming holiday thats within the next 2 weeks
i would tag theo for this but id rather just aggressively hint it at him and let him find it himself (also i dont remember how his user is formatted and dont feel like looking for it. hes also the only active person on tumblr that doesnt scare me)
#its valentines day#tagging game#i havent listened to 1d unironically in at least 3 years#please#get out of my head#im cringe but im free#maybe its nostalgic#thats probably why#also the 5sos thing is a lie#i listened to a singular song last year#and i still like that singular song#but thats it
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How you word so good and much????
Excellent question! The short answer is that I'm kinda just fucking around and finding out and kinda shambling my way towards improvement
The long answer is under the cut and that "good" writing is very subjective and depends on what you're looking for and what appeals to you. I found some of the things I liked by looking at stories I enjoyed and what about the format appealed to me.
Good writing also comes from being able to make and accept critique without taking it personally. You make things better by deconstructing and reconstructing, pointing out flaws and fixing them. You need to get comfortable with being critiqued and open to critiquing yourself. It's not anything against you, it's to make your work better! When I see a weird sentence in my draft that feels wrong, I don't get caught up on how I didn't write something good, I take it as an opportunity to make it better.
Bad writing isn't something you leave behind forever. You'll improve and will have a better understanding of how to write well, but every single writer has times where they write and it's terrible. That's not telling of your writing as a whole, it's how things go.
Sometimes that means switching out a word so you're not repeating yourself. Sometimes that means taking out a whole chunk of your writing because it's not working--though I don't delete the big chunks, I put them in a separate document to hold on to in case I ever want to use those lines/interactions/ideas again.
Writing well is a continuous process of trying things and trying again and critiquing yourself (not in a mean way) so you can grow! And the process never ends, it's an infinite journey. Which I think is wonderful. How boring it would be if there was an end to growing.
As for how I write so much, for me it comes down to consistency. The wings au didn't spring up overnight and it didn't grow the way it did with random writing sessions where I pounded out a few thousand words and then waited for the next dose of inspiration/motivation.
Inspiration and motivation can be unreliable, so it's beneficial to be able to write without those. At least for me, it's too sporadic to be my only way to write. There are nights where I am dragging myself through my word goal for the day wanting to ignore it, but if I keep waiting for motivation I could be waiting for days, weeks, months, who knows! And sometimes the act of writing is exactly what you need to find it because you get caught up in your story and want to keep going. Sometimes you gotta write when you don't want to
I do that by trying to be as consistent as possible with my writing. I set a word count goal to hit and little by little, that builds into a story. For the majority of the wings au, that daily par was 600 words. Yours can be more or less (and it doesn't have to be daily), but please make it realistic. You want this to be something actually achievable so you aren't constantly failing to hit it and feeling worse about yourself.
Keeping up with that will slow and steady build your work into what you want it to be! And it will make it easier to write when you don't feel like it because you know you're capable of hitting your goals. This part does take a fair amount of commitment and determination to do something difficult, but I think it's worth it. Writing isn't always easy.
Also, take breaks! You're a person and you shouldn't be chugging forward without stop. I know I just said that you shouldn't wait forever for motivation, but there's a distinction between taking a break because you need it and not writing because you're putting it off.
Sometimes I want to skip my words for the day and when I do, I evaluate why. Do I want to skip today because I'm busy with more important work, because I'm sick, because I'm burnt out? Those are great reasons to take a break! Or am I wanting to skip because I just feel like putting it off for no good reason and browse tumblr instead? That's the kind of thing I like to push against and write in spite of.
Breaks are excellent. After NaNoWriMo in 2021 I didn't write a single word for over a month because I needed the break and life was chaotic. So don't feel bad about taking them, just be honest about if you're actually taking a break or if you don't have a good reason (and a good reason can look different for different people!). I'd encourage you to challenge yourself to push through if you don't have a good reason.
Those are kinda the basics of my thoughts about writing good and much, so hopefully some of that is helpful! I'm sure I could say a lot more but I don't wanna make this longer than I already have. But I'm always down to talk about writing and exchange experience/thoughts/tips/etc.
happy writing!
#writing advice#quil's queries#nonsie#i love the way this ask is phrased#by thank you i /do/ word good and much :)#lot of words in my head. splurge them onto paper#and by paper I mean a google doc#hope this helps a little!!#i don't really know if it will this is just how I see things and what I do#not everything works for everyone!
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