#dont mind me im just going through old posts and found this

[queernoctis]

i never posted this here huh hfbjnbdg an old "draw your comfort characters" meme from twitter

[vyzz-undercover]

im insane have a few kilos of:

[cato/f!ambassador]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

(6,600ish words) (please fucking sedate me)

{i dont usually write in whatever perspective having a 'you' in this sort of context is, so forgive any oopsies besties!!!}

CONTENT WARNINGS:

•slight dubcon

•hints of size kink

•intercourse [M/F]

•degrading language

•mild possessive behaviour

•pisspoor cliche of 'oh no you're freezing haha body warmth eh?' trope

•mr. sicarius' insufferable ego

•tumblr's dogshit formatting from phone notes to the app

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super special thanks to all the writers im too much of a spineless coward to actually @ because i only ever lurked on anon asks on old main for, like: moodymisty, mothiir, lemon-russ, the-raven-lady, scriberye and many others. you're all the unknowing reasons why i made an alt to post this, cheers for your amazing works and ideas!!! :3

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It was doomed from the start, honestly.

Not to say he had any hope that an assignment would ever actually go easily for once.

It's supposed to be an apparently simple diplomatic procedure. Namely, you get to stand around, run your ambassadorial trap and bat your lashes and trollop about in front of pompous baseline fools. While he, Cato Sicarius, stands at attention in pissy formal wear; pretending like he's not a hair-breadth from an aneurysm watching it all take place.

Oh, and not to forget the brother who's a head taller than him, in full plate, and isn't being held to a standard of mock-humility.

He realises belatedly he's forgotten the Primaris' name. That shouldn't happen. He never used to forget things. Eidetic memory shouldn't let him. He shouldn't be able to—or, well—maybe his subconscious deigned it unimportant and emptied it out the proverbial airlock of his mind. It was admittedly largely inconsequential. He'd been told, surely. He remembers he was a Sergeant of some sort from his markings. He also remembers being gawked at by the Primaris, borderline felated by eyes alone. He's Cato Sicarius, afterall. Grand Duke of Talassar and High Suzerain of Ultramar—of course he'd been inspiring awe. But for some warp-damned reason, alongside all those great titles, his Father'd decided to add Master Babysitter of His Ambassador to the list. But Cato does doesn't let it bother him. He's always got better things to occupy his time. Like furiously glaring at you across the thunder-hawk, even if you'd been dead-set on counting the rivets in the floor plating.

You'd looked absolutely idiotic in an Astartes troop seat. Like a toddler in an adult-sized wheelchair, draped in furs that seemed a size too big; hiding a dress that looked a size too small.

Simply put, the entire assignment was to be an event in circle-jerking—until shit hit the fan with all the painful similarity of a Nurgling thrown headlong into a thruster engine.

To begin with, it was a trap—a trap where he's separated from brother-Sergeant 'whatever-the-fuck-riel' in the commotion and responding bolter fire. That'd left Cato pointedly responsible for evacuating you, the useless little chatterbox, by the scruff of your fuzzy coat through side halls.

On another note, of all the accursed biomes, he hates tundras the most.

Pointedly, it's exactly what seventy percent of this backwater, shit-hole planet is this time of year; whereas the other thirty percent is glacial mush.

He discovers firsthand just how much sloshy ice-water there is to be found as he kicks in a shutter door and gets doused for the first time of many to follow; only to vault from the eastern rampart. Sliding down a long, raised and sleet covered run-off canal that passed over the keep's lesser residential rooftops with you in his grasp.

Melt water soaks you both as he scrambles fights to a halt on the steep decline before the drop off. Wobbling balancing on the edge for a second before he manages to scud back up and down a side chute, worming through the raucous hellscape of filthy baselines and too-tight alleys into the scrappy frozen wilds.

There was little time to hesitate when he decides breaking into a dead-sprint with a soggy ambassador thrown over his shoulder's the modus operandi of the situation.

He didn't stop until he was at least fifteen clicks away, or rather—he only stops when he's able to recognise a spot to hide and await for emergency evacuation.

A half-standing shack. Probably some peasant's hunting hovel. Clearly in poor condition, and honestly, a cave would've been preferable—but he isn't about to pass up the opportunity.

The door doesn't even swing open when he nudges it with his elbow. No, it falls inward, because of course it does, and he grumbles belatedly when it thuds.

The inside of the structure is a damnable mess, but, at the very least, it's dry.

He moves to tug you off his shoulder and toss you onto a pile of rags in the far corner, but he hesitates periodically. Even through his own wet outer attire, he can tell very little body heat is coming off you. His hearing catches on the way your breathing labours below the incessant chatter of your teeth.

Some wretched part of him implores he let you down carefully next to the nested mess of dirty cloth; and for once, he acquiesces to granting mercy.

You curl up into a ball on the floorboards almost immediately.

In his eyes, you're the pict of some drowned rat. The fur coat you'd been wearing over your dress is just as soaked through as everything else. Your hair is full of small, frozen rivulets at the ends, mixed in with powder snow and ice; and all the while, you're whining softly and trying to coil tighter into a fetal position.

He's trying very hard not to just stand there and dumbly listen to your little noises of weakness like a salivating dog.

Instead, Cato turns and lifts the door back into place against the frame; then he activates the honing beacon on his belt.

No latency pings, no close contact.

He grumbles again, eyeing your shivering form over his shoulder begrudgingly.

He hates you.

He hates that he's the one who's responsible for you.

The fact he is also currently out of his power-armour because of this charade only makes him even more irate, impossibly.

Sure, he has his combat bodyglove on under the tacky regalia, but it's no real consolation. He'd feel a lot better if there was a couple extra hundred kilos of plasteel and ceramite on him.

He could've had his armour on, had someone else been the one to babysit you.

He would have preferred anything but sole custody of your wretched, annoying existence falling on him. But because he's the only competent Astartes around ninety percent of the time, and you're the root of all problems—it means he's the only one who's capable of handling your stupidity. He can't even imagine letting anyone else do it. You'd probably deafen Trajan with your yapping if he was in his stead. Or Prabian. And if Titus had watch of you, you two'd probably be—ugh, he won't even dignify the thought. He can't believe the man'd been Captain of Second Company before him, or how or why Agemman gave the captaincy to him. He understands why Titus'd been struck from most records aside from high clearance. To say nothing of the fact that one would think being a Blackshield for a century would humble someone. But no, it seems crossing the Rubicon Primaris gave him his balls back.

Cato had almost flown into a blind rage when he'd heard him jokingly warning about rough weather to you on the embarkation deck the last time you'd been in each others general vicinity—because oh, of course Lieutenant Titus is suddenly a subsector-renowned fucking comedian as soon as you're there. Cato ought to subpoena the dribbling Inquisition like that little snake Leandros did. See how Titus'd like a real stage to perform on again. Maybe they'll have a new rendition of the cunted Rubicon Primaris to piece his sorry fat-arse back together once more by then. But he won't. He won't because Marneus would sulk, and Cato would feel bad. Plus, Cato's infinitely more likely to kill an Inquisitor than help one. But you—you little skank—you find Titus so funny. Hiding a giggle behind your hand, pretending to look demure and professional despite your wretched nature.

Why don't you smile at him like that?

You would be the death of him.

It was always all because of you. Every single time. Because you're so useless in any situation that can't be rambled out of. Which is all of them when you're involved, in Cato's opinion. His Father should leave the talking to professionals who wouldn't break a hip from a smack on the rear.

But now you are going to die of hypothermia, like a typical, pathetic little baseline—well, unless you start following his orders.

Cato tries not to think of how you were acting when rounds started going off earlier. Of course, like a spooked animal, you'd been all ears to his commands then. Hiding against him with your hands pawing at the side of his dress uniform as bullets careened across the dining hall, looking up at him with those big, terrified, caught-in-the-crosshair eyes—and, Throne, it had been so easy to pick you up. You were so soft flimsy, he could fling you around like a rag-doll if he really wanted. Manhandling you would be a singlehanded venture. He's liable to just hoist you up whenever you think yourself bold enough to bother him next. Grab you by your uniform's scruff and just pin you against a bulkhead, you'd be bent at the perfect height to—no—no, no.

Abruptly trying to distract himself, Cato draws his blade from it's ceremonial sheath and activates the disruption core, trying to stoke some sort of heated spark as he drove it into the fireplace.

He brutishly nudges it amidst the old wood and long dim coals. It isn't his finest moment of critical thinking, but it seems to be working; seeing as a few weak embers sputter to life.

Gratingly, he's aware that even a servitor would've known starting a fire in hostile territory was a fool's surest way at getting caught—but he has no other choice. Either he acts the moron and plays his poor hand, or you die from the shock of your chill; and if that happens, he'll have to face his Father's wrath.

And Guilliman would have his left testicle as a paperweight if you died under his watch.

In conclusion, if Cato is to choose between stupidity and complete failure, he's opting for stupidity. Which aggravatingly felt like an ongoing occurrence, ever since you started existing anywhere near him.

He reaches for your soggy swaddled form, and tugs.

Even practically hypothermic, you've still got enough of a two-faced-bitch's spirit hidden away in you to hiss and swat at him blindly. So much for his Father's claims you were of 'sweet, kind temperament.'

For a moment, he genuinely wants to throttle you for the outburst; but he swallows down the urge.

"You need to get out of those," he snaps, glowering down at you. "Or you are going to die."

Your response is a poignant little groan as you glance dizzily around the room.

Cato huffs, "There are blankets beside you, fool."

He holds up a dingy plaid throw, half fraying and stinking of stale mould. It was an assault on his vomeronasal organ, but he wasn't about to let you act the typical spoiled cunt routine of an Imperial ambassador. He would have you wrapped in it sooner rather than later, wether you liked it or not. You dying reflects poorly on him, afterall.

"T-T-Turn, p-p-please—" you say, but your stammering mangles the words into a juddering mess.

He growls, almost tempted to snarl something about 'the fucking audacity in thinking you can tell him what to do—' but acquiesces out of sheer force of will and pivots on his heel, settling into a martial line stance.

Cato can hear you struggling to wriggle free of your clothes. The whines of effort and heavy breathing, to say nothing of the almost comedic slop sound one miscellaneous article makes as it hits the rotted wooden floorboards.

Even if he's taking it to his grave, he's admittedly itching to look over his shoulder.

It's a completely degenerate urge.

But he's—he's wanted this. He's wanted this exact opportunity.

He's got it, now.

You're alone with him.

Nothing and nobody to distract or detract from your attention finally being all on him.

You make a fey little groan, and he takes that as a signal you're finished.

He rounds about-face, and, for lack of a better word, ogles the shape of your covered form.

You've dragged that pile of rags closer to the meagre fireplace, lying on it with the plaid blanket strewn over the top of you.

Even completely hidden beneath, he can see you are still shaking under the ratty thing. Even moreso than before, in all actuality. He supposes that's a good sign. It proves your feeble body is still well and keen on living.

But the suffocating concept you're bare weak, soft useless and needing pathetic underneath that scrap of fabric worms its way into his brain like a cancer.

He grits his teeth so hard his jaw aches.

Tearing his gaze away, he finds the embers his blade coaxed are a small flame eating away at the old timber now.

Looking back, your shivering's subsiding, but your rapid breathing is increasing; which is surely not good.

He has an idea, which definitely isn't influenced by depravity at all—shut up.

Cato tries for a moment to actually unbutton his attire. His fingers are too large, unsurprisingly. And with the body-suit, he's got no leverage of a nail or two to do away with the dainty fasteners. So, ultimately, he tears the regalia down the front, sending buttons flying—and continues to pry and rend the sopping garments off his arms and legs until they're a pile at his feet.

Then he sets about a more strenuous matter. He releases the locking mechanism at his clavicle, and promptly undoes the thick claps over his pectorals so he can pop free the catches beneath, peeling the layered material back and shucking his arms and hands loose of their constraints.

The top of his bodyglove hangs around his hips now, and he sighs. The chill is of no real annoyance to him. He's built to endure most conditions. Sure, it's cold—but Astartes run hot. And right now, he's boiling for so very many accursed reasons.

He settles on his side next to you and scuds himself to bracket the pile of fabric.

"Move closer," he bites out.

He tries not to groan when you actually do, and surprises himself when he manages to stifle the sound. Even through the blanket, he imagines his warmth is a welcome change to freezing.

"T-Thank you," you say softly, soaking in his body heat like a banal reptile under a sun's rays.

He likes hearing timidity on your lips.

He supposes it stems from his habit of humbling you. The opportunities are unsurprisingly plentiful. He often finds enjoyment hearing you back-pedal when he would cut you down for so much as genially inquiring on Astartesian discussions. Putting himself in the middle and shutting you out, even if you were welcomed in them prior to his arrival.

If you want to ask something of his Brothers, it'll be his answers.

All it ever took was a growl and a curt reminder to know your place. Then you'd fumble and take two steps back. Snipped down to size as you ought to be. Forced to suffer an ounce of the shame he feels. Oh, and then your big doe-eyes'd cast down at Cato's ceramite boots, fussing; trying to apologise to him.

In truth, it's adorable pathetic to watch.

You look so hurt.

It's an act, he's sure of it.

You play at being difficult to anger, and that makes you just that bit more grating. You've unknowingly caught him with an unfair advantage. One that his prowess as a statesman and a warrior cannot seem to scratch. He's always left feeling robbed in your presence. In a way that furiously giving in to the alien urge of palming himself afterwards doesn't ever fix. He's toey and irked to be excluded when you talk to other Astartes, but simultaneously darkly glad that you shy from such antics with him.

It's paradoxical, yes. But no, he's not a hypocrite. Though some part of him is scolding him for being one. No, he's aching to sink his proverbial claws into you—though he won't ever say it to a soul. He won't because he knows he's not supposed to have tastes such as this. A pit in his gut taunts that the stint he'd suffered in the Warp is to blame. But he's the commander of Roboute Guilliman's Victrix Guard. He is not aberrant. The sidelong, fraction-of-a-second glances Cato receives from his Primarch when you enter his office to give briefings surely mean nothing.

It's clear why you have his Father's favour, but he'll never admit that either. Aside from Guilliman's desperation to find baseline company for some strange reason. You're surely just a pet to him. Like a small rodent he pries off a little wheel and sets out in a clear sphere to roll about on the bridge, or something.

To say nothing of his brothers' behaviours.

They won't show it in a group, but he knows the Astartes beneath him preen at your every query.

It's complete lunacy.

It's heresy.

You must have somehow beguiled them all, just like you've done him.

But you're still right there—right where he wants you.

And damn it all, does he want you.

He wants—he wants you on your front, squirming underneath him. No, wait, he wants to see you—but then you'd need to be on top. He can watch, like that. Then afterwards he'll have you on your back, perhaps. Why not sideways? You're already like that, now. Or—or... who's he kidding, he'd take anything, and everything.

Throne, he's so hard he swears he is going to have a brain haemorrhage. He feels like he's already had one, honestly, for all his thoughts are hazing. It's a million leagues worse than the time you'd accidentally called him 'Lord Sicarius' by accident instead of your usual choice of 'Commander' and Throne, he'd rubbed himself raw after that.

Maybe if you weren't such a whorish little wretch, his fantasies wouldn't be running so rabid right now.

You wriggle and your half-covered back slides up against his front.

Cato's never held himself stiller in his life.

Your skin feels like fine silk to his spiralling mind; and even worse, your damnable wriggling doesn't stop. You start making little movements with your feet to try to get circulation back in them—and again, there's a fey similarity to your behaviours and some soaked rodent he recognises.

Decidedly, you've realised it's not enough and promptly jut your feet backwards between his quads. Still continuing the motions, but more furiously.

The touch is dangerously close to the cradle of his inner thighs.

He swears he actually feels the blood drain from his face in mortification. The touch is meagre, but it's real. It's more warming than any he's ever known. And of course, to add insult to injury, that blood drains straight to were he's already painfully hard—which is currently pushed against his navel, halfway jutting out of his bodyglove's zipper.

Thankfully, you withdraw yourself from between his legs and sigh again, snug.

Then, you shuffle closer.

Your rear scuds right up to the swell of his confined cock.

Cato's immediately beside himself in an instant, flying into a rainbow of emotion. First, he's disgusted. Then he's seething at the audacity—which makes him furious—and finally, he's... he's ecstatic.

He groans, raring like some rutting animal; but the sound ultimately leaves him as an angry, subvocal snarl of transhuman harmonics.

You flinch, and wriggle away sharply, and he repeats the sound again at the loss of contact. You're only a hair away from being there still, he can feel how close you are—but you remain just beyond him again.

"My—my apologies, Commander... I-I—" you blurt out, voice still a little chill stuttered, "I didn't... I didn't mean to overstep."

He inhales steadily. He notes you're doused in human stress hormones; but he's acutely aware of a honeyed smell just below the surface. It's so suffocatingly sugary it's actually hurting his nose to scent the air. It's addling his thoughts, turning his focus to mist.

He can smell you failing to juggle all the reactions and thankfully rottenly settling for the one that makes you reek of mollasses.

"Come back, shut up," he hisses. "And stay still."

Sweet-stink radiates again before you swallow sharply.

There's an eternal breath of time in which he's about to go mad with anticipation, and the instant you're slotted against him again.

Some base urgency sends him frotting forward, and the thick, leaking head of him that peaks out the top of his zip brushes against a warm cunt; all thanks to that blanket of yours having slipped loose slightly, and lo, the blessed horrid consequence.

He'd live off the way your surprised gasp makes his nerves thrill.

"Is—" you wheeze, "Is that...?"

He grimaces, unsurprised you're ever stupider than you look. Recklessly, instead of lying—instead of saying 'no, it's a combat knife,' his mouth decides he's to act the most pathologically honest town crier alive.

"It," he intones sharply, before the words "...is your fault," leave him as a rushed hiss.

A belated pause wins out for a moment, and he's mortified as he realises what he's just confessed. There's a leaden feeling at the back of his throat. One option to recover the situation is that he could just hit you on the head. What'd be a shiner of a punch to a brother would be a terminal concussion to a baseline. Then, he'd tell the Primarch, oh yes, you died. Very sad. How? To shreds. To shreds you say? Truthfully, he can't really bring any actual conviction to the plan. He wouldn't. The notion is merely a hypothetical, in a perfect world where violence solved everything. Because if you die, Guilliman will send him to an Agri-world to be some peasant's plough-puller or someshit for a few centuries—and Cato's going to kill himself before he has to suffer that indignity. Uriel would never let him live it down. He's bound to suffer the same consequences, ultimately. Even if he's got no idea what an Astartes with a sex drive would be liable to be punished for. Oh, right. Corruption. So now, there's a credible witness to his flaw and one that his Father'll believe, worst of all, and... abruptly, you reply instead of scream in revulsion, your voice a mumbled little squeak as you say, "I didn't know—I mean, I didn't think—"

"Believe me, I am well aware you lack the capacity to think," Cato cuts in, and swallows down a snort at his own mean spirited joke. He's fucked, and for some reason he's suddenly further struck by the hilarity of the bastard, warp-spawn wiles of fate and chance. May as well be hung for the sheep as for a lamb, he decides.

Your breathing gains a shallow edge, and he feels you make as if to inch away again.

"I said not to move," He growls, and keeps you flush against him—holding you there by way of folding an arm across you.

"I just... uh," you reply, "I'm just..."

Your ass grinds back against him.

There's contact, your skin against the flushed, drooling head of him that feels painfully tender—and then you ruin it by speaking again.

"Curious, I suppose...? I was of the belief the Adeptus Astartes didn't..." your voice is soft, at least; slow and distracted, "Have an appetite for... this sort of thing?"

Cato momentarily stays fixated on the breathiness of your tone, and has to remind himself he's supposed to be angry at being robbed of silence—so he grumbles, "I told you to shut your trap," and promptly smothers a palm over your mouth.

You make a noise that sounds vaguely like a mumbled curse and settle, breathing hard through your nose to compensate.

Still, your rear presses back against him.

Cato takes the gesture at face value and fusses, roughly wrenching his bodyglove down to his thighs with his free hand.

Unconfined, his cock slaps the small of your back, and he manhandles you to readjust so it glides between your thighs instead.

Everything in place, he skews his hips forward, and his eyes roll back at the smooth, sublime drag of skin against skin. It's genuine perfection, wet and soft and molten.

The little hitched breaths you steal through your nose with each roll of his hips make him grind faster. Pressing closer with each, until the abhorrent, sticky sound of him steadily fucking against you is nigh deafening.

"I go in or I stay out," he says, and he can feel his molars grate against each other as he adds, "...or I can stop."

You shake your head furiously, or at least as much as the huge mitt on your chin, maw and jaw allows.

"Then decide," he snaps. "In?"

Cato hears the cartilage in your gullet move as you swallow dryly and nod.

Chuffed with your allowance compliance, he hums—and then it's his turn to hesitate.

When he draws his hand from your mouth, he curtly says, "Stay silent," and starts as if to tell you to arrange one way, then decides against it; dithering uncharacteristically. Then, rarer yet, Cato stumbles his words as he adds, "Move on to y-your front, then."

He doesn't know why he asked for the least preferred option when he'd been deliberating over the hypothetical for so long previously but nonetheless you, miraculously, comply without complaint. And despite himself he frustrates as you roll, his cock slipping away from between your thighs.

Draped in covers, he can't see much of you aside from the shape of you slowly arranging onto your hands and knees; before your chest sinks, and your ass stays up.

Like a rabid dog, he scrambles onto his haunches and scuds over behind you.

He's not entirely sure what to do first, and harrumphs.

In answer, your back arches even further in a dangerously luring bow, a display of willingness whorishness that turns Cato's thoughts to mush. Ass up and still in the pile, covered in blankets and rags, it's painfully easy to tug you from them just enough so that a decent portion of your raised lower half is exposed to him.

All he's able to comprehend the very next instant in some hind-brain, primitive way is a shapely ass, and a pretty pink cunt.

He grabs your hip, and the size comparison is so stark his head swims. With the span of one hand, he could palm a whole globe of your rear.

He does just that, and spreads you to take a nice long look.

You've a glossy sheen of clear slick that's starting to string down where it's collecting between your labia, and Throne—it's that. That's the sweet smell. And it's all for him—you're everything he's wanted.

Inspecting, he finds the hole leaking lubricant and a much, much smaller one below it—the vagina and then the urethra, he reasons by way of thinking back on a baseline biologis graphics; and, eyeing lower to a hooded fold, he finds a swollen little nub.

Pointedly, he's got a suspicion of what it is and turns his curiosity to it.

It's an easy target for his large thumb, even as slippery as your lust has made you, and—

A shaky little keen, then your knees pull together; body curling.

"Keep your damn legs apart," he grunts, wrenching them wide, and splaying a big palm on your ass to lift you into an arch again.

He's tempted to just bask in the glory of it all, grope, smack, lick—make you beg for it until he's sure you know he's in charge. Until you're as high strung for him as he's ever been for you. But he's frenzied, and well beyond being able to linger on those broader wants; not when he's got an Ambassador to fill.

He's aware of what your clit's really for now, and keeps rolling the pad of his thumb over it until you're squirming. It doesn't take long until your hole is visibly twitching. Nothing but a sloppy, wet mess of your own whorish excitement for him, as you ought to be. Cato bites back a longing sigh as he gets the delight of watching a fresh rivulet of slick string down your thigh.

And when he works up the gall, he jams that same thumb to the hilt in your cunt.

Your insides squeeze around it, and you start shaking, then. But it's not from the cold. No, anything but that. You're warm now, and he's deliriously happy to find you're as soft inside as the rest of you looks and feels. Warp damn him, he's no better than some slavering genestealer wretch fiending for its pound of flesh.

Your smaller baseline frame makes every part of him look huge in comparison. Even his thumb is big. And you're so much less—and the fact the disparity is so glaringly obvious plays havoc with his brain; but he's got an idea. An idea that he refuses to acknowledge sounding painfully like a boarding action to him.

With little tact, he sidles up and positions himself so his tip slots right against you, while stretching your opening with his thumb.

Lining himself up with his other hand, he nudges your entrance, smearing precum in with your wetness while inching forward; sliding his thumb out in tandem with pushing his cock in—and his efforts succeed.

Cato's transfixed watching the head of himself fill the gap, sliding in—and you let out a muffled yelp, still half-buried in the blankets like some stuck animal; your thighs juddering as you suck in air.

Honestly, he's glad you've smothered yourself like that, because he can't imagine keeping it together if you were actively watching him. He thinks the stark reality of it would have him run right out of the shack. Even the idea of having your pretty damning eyes on him makes him swoon sick.

With an over-eager roll of his hips, a shiver races up his spine. But he earns a cry from you.

He takes a deep breath.

There's a twinge of pain-smell and the vaguest hint of blood in the air, but it's impermanent compared to the amount of lust.

He pushes a little more, and you ripple internally around him; making a racketing, breathless noise—twitching before slacking, and then twitching again. A few perfect little moans escaping you at last.

Abruptly, all he's able to give a fuck about is the sensation of wet and hot, and how you're finally all his—it's a strangling fit, but it's satisfying a craving bone-deep. Infinitely better than his war calloused hands.

You feel sublime, and it's pure bliss finally getting what he's wanted for so very long.

All those rest cycles wasted furiously humping into his own clenched hand, all those hours of torment seething about your latest unintended slight against him.

He's so dazed by the new sensation he's massaging small circles with his fingers on your flank, humming lowly. Who would have known all he really needed was to hilt in a warm, velvety, absolutely sopping wet cunt to come around to you? Maybe you're not so bad afterall. That is, for an insufferable little cock-sleeve; but it's nothing Cato can't grin and bare. He can almost imagine tolerating further babysitting assignments, if it means he can use you as a hole to ram his frustrations into like this.

He continues petting you, absentmindedly.

But the involuntary mercy didn't stop you from jackknifing when he bucks in more—each little motion seating him deeper and deeper. He's stunned he fits. You're so... small, and Throne, he feels monstrous even fixating upon the disparity; nevermind the shiver that races up his spine at the thought.

He yanks you backward and you stop squirming for a moment.

When your wriggling starts up again, he holds you still with the sheer willpower only a neurotic control-freak could muster. He stops your motion, yes—but your insides also stop shivering around his cock and he's resentful of that.

Nonetheless, you make to move again then, keening and bothering him; but you're seemingly struck daft when he bottoms out at last, hitting your cervix. Your internal muscles tense on the intrusion, practically cramping around him, blinding him with ecstasy for a heartbeat as you clench down hard; and a squeak of surprise escapes you. Your legs lock stiff for a moment, air venting out your lungs in shock.

You garble out a sweet, hoarse curse that sounds more like a sob than anything.

Cato supposes the theatrics are what an orgasm on something his size does to a woman. And he finds he's appallingly keen to see and hear you do it again. Keen to feel it, too. He adjusts himself and grinds, making sure you're getting every bit he's got to give. It's no small feat of restraint from Cato to not simply drive into you with all his might like a hydraulic press.

Maybe that'll make your tight little hole cinch up again? He thinks you'd like that. No—no, you should be begging for him to keep fucking you. You should be thanking him while you're at it too, really. Thanking him for deigning to take you to begin with.

Your arch falls away to a prone slump with a whine, thighs trembling, leaving him straining forward to stay in you.

He is irate at your antics, now; and his retaliation betrays it.

Cato seizes your hips and yanks you back up his cock, shimmying you a little so he's nice and sheathed and stuffing you full, nigh folded under him. Warm cunt stretched taut around the base of his thick cock, like a perfect scabbard.

He's suddenly absorbed in watching your covered form consciously trying to counter the overwhelming forward mass of him starting to drive into you like he was part battering-ram.

"Better than all those limp-dicked, bastard lordlings you've let empty in you to even chance a cushion near my Primarch's table, hm?" His tone is little more than a scathing drawl, pulling almost entirely out of you just to dip the head of himself in.

You moan into the fabric smothering you, and he holds you with a controlled desperation.

"Answer me, you little shit."

He watches you nodding desperately beneath the cover a second later, failing to get an actual reply out around your huffing and puffing.

Cato groans, "Far keener for Astartes cock, aren't you?"

You nod again, needy.

"Throne, you're pathetic," he chides harshly, delighting in the soft whine of protest you make when pulls out to the tip one last time. "All that haughty bullshit, just to turn out to be so—so easy," then he's sliding back to the hilt and starting his rutting anew, grinding into that perfect spot that has your insides shiver around him again and again. "Isn't that right? This is all you're really good for?"

Beneath him, you're too much of an insensible mess to even think about answering; and somewhere in that depraved miasma of sound, he swears you're trying to say his name.

So, understandably, he inches forward on his knees and boxes you under him. Pinning you under the span of his bulk, two big hands firmly planted either side of your blanketed head.

He can see a few strands of your hair sticking out from beneath it and he can see the fog of your breath and the tip of your nose through a tented section, and only one of your hands—clawing out at the scraps of fabric.

"Prick-dumb animal," he sneers, flagrantly showboating; trying to sound as if he's not feigning lucidity and completely at the mercy of his lust.

He drops from his hands to rest on his elbows, manoeuvring a forearm under your head to prop your chin up. He's so bent over you that your ass is practically glued to his massive pelvis.

You can't stifle yourself now.

The sounds you make when he starts ploughing into you again are unrestrained and absolutely debauched. Practically music to his ears. He can feel your saliva smearing across his arm, and he's absolutely stupefied at the mantra of 'Sicarius, S-Sicarius, Sica-ah—rius—' you start panting. To say nothing of the keening whimpers that escape when you're not crying out for him. Louder with each thrust, and warp damn it all—his perfect memory is never going to let those gorgeous sounds go. He's going to fiend off you mewling his surname like a full dose of battle-chems until he fucking dies.

Cato groans and delights in the involuntary squeeze you make around his cock again; your hips skewing up into his own, meeting him.

He just wants one more thing—he wants—no, needs—he needs to hear you scream his name in that reedy voice. Telling him that you like him playing guard for you, and you're all his and you love hi—

Rather abruptly however, you're cinching down on his cock as you come again. Throne, your cunt may as well be Marneus' clenched powerfist the way you're wringing him for everything he's got. Crying out like you're inconsolable, and so painfully eager and—oh, fuck. He tries to hold off, but it's of little use. The dam cracks, and it's all too much for him far too quickly.

"You rotten w-whore—" the words leave him in between ragged, staggered pants, gritting his teeth even though it's achieving absolutely nothing. "Stop s-squeezing, I-I—"

He's finishing in you the next second and letting out a rough, unbecoming moan instead of the rest of his sentence; despite trying to muffle himself against your shoulder and save face. Emptying all his pent up spend as deep as he can inside you and rutting himself deliriously into oversensitivity. The simple feeling of it is a more profound experience than he can even begin to explain—and he's rendered daft. Fighting just to stay awake against the warm, coddling bliss running rife in his nerves as his muscles twitch.

Still trying to recuperate, he's drunk with afterglow for a few seconds. Head beside yours, sharing the same air and hurried breaths.

In his stupor, he notes that your hair smells nice even after everything. And he tuts softly, resting his eyes. Lulled by the soft sound of your hyperventilating evening out and the continuous, weak fluttering of your cunt around him, hot and tight, and still a perfect fit.

He almost understands why mortal men so frequently fought over baseline women, now.

Almost.

Because then you start squirming again.

Pointedly, he opens his eyes and begrudgingly lifts himself away, slipping free and leaving a big sloppy smear of combined fluids across your ass and thighs as he settles into a kneel.

You're still presenting yourself as Cato scrubs a palm across his face, and blinks slowly.

He glances down for a moment and swallows.

He's hard—still.

Just as ready to rut as he was to start with, despite the fact he's only just finished.

And, much like a beast in season, he genuinely contemplates another round—what would be the harm, anyways? He could be sliding himself back into you, right then, and he doubted you'd do anything but buck up to meet him. So much for some diplomatic prodigy. You're little more than a mewling wreck. And what better way to prove it than another wet layer of your mixed fluids on his cock?

A soft sound escapes you abruptly and he looks back to the place he's itching to slam back inside of.

A few fat rivulets of his cum drip out your abused entrance, but you're too well-screwed to even care, it seems.

He thumbs one of your folds aside and smiles smugly at the mess.

You poor thing, it must be so humbling to be put in your place. He hopes it felt good. Having your better's cum leaking out of you like a banner on a conquered fortress.

He's tempted to stuff his spend back into you and give you another load to drip. Let it leak down your thighs as you pad past his men on the flagship, that'd make them well aware of who you really admire—

At that brilliant jarring thought, blazing post-clarity arrived; an abrupt and unsettling feeling. The fact he'd even—even dignified your almost Slaneeshi-tier temptation—the fact he's raring to go again—he must already reek of your lust, and you of his—and Emperor have mercy, one quick scenting betrays everything, his men would tell their Father, and—you—you groan and worm yourself back under the blanket, likely truly feeling the chill now without his body to warm you.

The urge to say something becomes almost suffocating all at once, and Cato opens his mouth—just to be interrupted by a beep.

Hesitation seizes him, and he eyes his pile of half-frozen attire in the far corner.

Eighteen and a half seconds pass and it beeps again, indicating a second for every minute of arrival estimation.

The tracker beacon has finally done it's job.

But the matter of hastily cleaning up what insanity just happened becomes the real concern now.

Suddenly stuffed to the brim with adrenaline, Cato gets to his feet with Astartesian speed. He tries to take a step but sways, almost toppling. Looking down, he realises himself; and gingerly stoically waddles marches away from you, his bodysuit stuck around his knees. There's a cupboard in the other corner, covered in a frosted cobweb that looks a little like gossamer. Rifling through it provides him little. Most of it's contents are iced through, but a bottle of what stinks like absinthe is good enough, and he doesn't think it matters what he cleans up with. He definitely does doesn't look like a servitor on broken wheels as he scuds on his heels back beside your pile. And if he suffers any more injuries to his ego, they definitely don't include him bungling a kneel and being forced to wobble down on to his haunches. It's not his fault he's mentally accommodating for power armour that, currently, isn't there.

Pausing, he pokes the mound of scraps you're under, trying to rouse you.

When your answer to his 'kinder' effort results in you whining and curling up tighter, he settles for tossing any mercy out the window with a petulant grunt; and identifies the shape of one of your legs and tugs you half-free by your ankle like a speared fish, earning a yelp as the cold assaults you.

Grabbing one of the loose rags in your pile, he saturates it with spirit and scoops you up under the hips, before starting to wipe away the evidence.

You begin thrashing almost immediately when the rag makes contact. Then you're practically yowling, "It hurts, it h-hurts—wait, wait—" and okay—yes, maybe using high proof alcohol to clean the smell and slime of his cum off your freshly fucked hole wasn't his best idea. In his defence, you're one of the most stubborn baselines he's ever met, and you should learn to handle a little pain. Secondly, booze is the only thing that stays liquid at freezing.

"Enough with the bloody caterwauling, woman," he barks, effortlessly holding you steady despite your struggling. "It's not that bad, toughen the fuck up."

When he's done with you, he's actually remorseful of the situation. Certainly not his finest choice. Because now you're sniffling weakly, fussing about the residual stinging; and then you promptly scramble back under the blanket.

"There was nothing else I could use, okay?" He says sourly, scowling at the bundle of fabric you disappear into; before tossing the soiled rag he'd used to clean you into the fireplace to ignite.

He grabs another from the pile and douses it, wiping himself off—and at last, he's finally able to start to pull his bodyglove up over his hips. Wiggling and straining to fit the thick, skin-tight material over his still very much erect cock.

From the edge of his vision he can see you've peaked your head out to watch as he fixes the sternum latch in place.

He gives you a cursory glance, but nothing more.

He ultimately expects you to look away like the mouse you are—but no, what actually happens is worse. You just keep silently raking him with an expression that makes him feel like he's made of glass and every secret he's ever had or ever known is laid bare.

He can't stand it.

It makes Cato want to sneer at you fiercely in the hopes it would scare you off, remind you he's an exemplar of the Adeptus Astartes and shouldn't be stared at—something, anything except that look.

"Get up," he turns sharply and snorts.

The beeping is once every two and a half seconds, now.

Two and a half minutes, then.

"You let me fuck you," he bites out.

You're sitting now. Covered in one of the larger articles of rags. A tartan, fraying thing crumpled atop you, frowning and looking dejected. Then you open your mouth to speak but promptly stop. He can tell you're trying to form a diplomatic reply, and he grumbles, fuming.

"Tell anyone of this—" Cato's well aware he's being cruel as he adds, "—and I'll wring your little neck, Father's favourite pet or not."

You finally look away.

And he finds he can't stand that either.

So, to souse his bruised ego, Cato decides he's going to burn the shack down as soon as the transport lands and you're onboard.

He also decides he's going to burn that tacky formal tunic of his too, simply because he can.

[corviiids]

lawlight concepts im contemplating to break me out of my creative block

buzzfeed unsolved / ghost hunting au where light is the hard skeptic who jumps at small noises even though he does NOT believe in ghosts and L doesn't believe in ghosts but could be convinced with evidence but is not remotely fazed by anything they see at all. btw this is the only situation i can conceive of where lawlight can work without killing each other because they're getting a healthy amount of enrichment arguing and fighting as part of their job so they can be friends without committing murder

they do nyt puzzles. there isn't really a plot for this one i just want to see light yagami lose his fucking mind at the mini

does anyone remember my au where L is a video essayist and light is his editor and L makes a video of like "i uncovered kira's identity" and partway through he's like it's my editor who i can't fire because he pays for adobe premiere pro. sorry light that you had to find out this way (editing the video)

au where they are both just like. chickens? on a farm. there are no bad ideas. we're spitballing here

unfortunately now that im out of law school i dont really want to put characters in law school anymore but like there could be a law school au where L is selling all his old textbooks for dramatically above market price and light is buying them because he's going on secondhand textbook sites and sorting by price high to low just so he can flex on his classmates something that nobody has ever been impressed by and everyone would in fact be disgusted by and then L sells him the textbooks still wrapped because nobody reads them. also L dropped out of his degree and this is just a straight up grift

uhhhhh god what's something else i could do. warrior cats au? they're warrior cats? light is a conniving warrior aiming to become clan leader by killing the deputy? L is a medicine cat? they have an illicit romance and it doesn't matter because L can't get pregnant and as far as im aware the cats dont have any law against being gay. being gay cats that is. in warrior cats. is it illegal to be a gay cat in warrior cats i haven't read these books in a while

some kind of social media or fandom au where hold on i just found a really bad post i have to post about this. this post is on hold while i post that bad post

[mellohd]

EMH Marble Hornets AU!!

ok i know im not creative when it comes to aus but i thought itd be interesting to tell the story of MH through EMH’s story? IF YOU GUYS HAVE THOUGHTS OR QUESTIONS PLS LEAVE SOME IN MY INBOX!!! :-]( or even questions for the MH!EMH characters heh)1

Basically its just marble hornets told through EMH, for example instead of “tapes i found” story telling theyd open a youtube channel for tips and tricks on making your own movie while they make their own called Marble Hornets! EMH/MLA spoilersish up ahead

Heres the character correspondences:

Alex-> Jeff

Jay-> Vinnie

Tim-> Evan

Brian-> Michael!MLA

Jess-> Alex!EMH

Amy ->Jeffs GF(so sorry i forgot her name 😭)

“Masky”->Habit(which makes sense depending on the theories you go with for either series)

“Hoody”->Patrick (same as the last one)

Characters in cant figure out an association with:

Steph, Jess(Evans bestfriend) Shaun So they might just not have a place in this story idk

Since Mlanderson and EMH are in the same universe i thought id make Brian the Michael/Patrick of this story, except more involved. Instead of their being a shaun i think id like Brian to just go to MH crew, if ykwim. I did this cause the only other character i thought could fit Brian was Alex!EMH and I didnt like that.

My take on Masky is that hes just a more aware Tim, not a separate being (tho i do like to think of it that way for fun sometimes ha ha). Masky in my mind was in a battle against the operators control and was ultimately trying to help Jay. I think Masky would br Habit in this series cause of the theory that Habit is one of the first few iterations of Evan, thats why theyre similar and so compatible etc if you know the theory you know. That does mean that Tim isnt gonna act all ha ity, just more erratic i think, i havent gone tooooooo far into a characterization(or even a name) for Emh!MH Habit yet

“Hoody” I see as just brian and he was just disguising himself. in this au “Hoody” would be patrick. Let me explain,

Frim what i gathetef through my second watch of EMH and, my first of MLA , patrick is just Michael but remembers every single iteration, hes a similar being to Habit, thats why he has powers ig? Look i havent gotten too far into theories fir MLA the fandom is so dead i never see any 😭😭. I dont want to get to far into theories on other series anyways cause rhis is about my AU so ANYYYYWAYS i think brian would fit that its just brians story doesnt fit entirely with Michael, actually Tim would probably fit more now that i think about it. Oh god now im thinking of switching them again uhm wtv

I think the rest of the correspondences make sense if you think about it a bit. Jay as Vinnie makes sense to me because of boths compulsive need for answers even though its destructive to those around them. Jay wouldnt be as much as a villain in this like vinnie is (or maybe i havent decided muahaha). I also thought they fit cause they both do that weird thing where they constatly have to document everything.

I thought tim eould fit Evan just cause of the whole habit arc.

Alex as Jeff was more of a fill a role thing that eventually made sense to me. I did think of making him Evan and Tim Jeff, and im still thinking of doing this, but i thought the whole finding the gf arc would fit alex more. Alex would still be one of the villains i think. Like i said this would be marble hornets told through EMH lol. I might even switch it up and assign a habit type role to Alex instead and there be two patrick characters who knows!

As you can tell im still thinking this through so maybe mext post i make about this will be more solid. if youre interested to talk about this kore with me(obv my inbox) or i have a slenderverse discord i made with my friend heh tik tok smug emoji. come join if youre looking for more slenderverse friends(and if youre interested in darkharvest and mla especially cause i need more people to talk about that to 😭😭)

[vividraft]

it's always been you

⇢ ˗ˏˋ fem!reader x alhaitham

⇢ ˗ˏˋ summary: even though it seemed like the universe did not want you and alhaitham together, he came to save you in the last second

⇢ ˗ˏˋ important notes: this is a repost from my old account (@/rainstops)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ a/n: ooc alhaitham... i think

old post masterlist tba !

you and alhaitham always got along really great. some people would say that youre the only one who he ever really got a long with. always kind and respectful to you.

kaveh was the first one to notice alhaithams blatant favoritism towards you. whenever he tried to bring it up, alhaitham quickly shut him down. but this time he wasnt going to let that happen.

"so? when are you going to ask [name] out?", he immediately asked when alhaitham walked through the door of their shared apartment. 

"ask her out? why would i do that?", alhaitham was quick to answer. 

"come on dude, everyone knows that you like her. 

"like her? sure i like her as a friend", alhaitham hung up his coat.

a moment of silence followed.

"oh so you wouldnt mind if i asked her out?", kaveh asked. alhaithams head shot into his direction. no words needed. the expression on alhaithams face was far more than enough for kaveh. 

"Ha, see you do like her!"

"whatever im going to sleep"

kaveh was right though. alhaitham did hold feelings in his heart that he didnt understand very well.

you on the other hand also just arrived at home. you took off your shoes and were immediately confronted with a "[name] we have to talk", of course from no one less than your mother. you tried to avoid her as much as you could, but with how controlling she is, that was more than just hard.

you both sat down at the kitchen table, and your mother immediately started talking. and you wished you wouldnt have come home that night.

"so you know that the fact that our family keeps on living, and keeping up our status is important, right?", your mother started. she had been giving you the same talk lately over and over again. she kept reminding you about how you had to get a boyfriend soon and get married soon. for archons sake, you were 19!

your family had a fairly high status in sumeru, and your mother lived for continuing the family. she had an early marriage and an early pregnancy, just to ensure that the family reproduces.

"mom get to the point", you sighed. you couldnt hear the same talk over and over again. she would just tell you how its important that you have children and its for the family and-

"i've arranged a marriage for you"

what?

she what?

"you did WHAT?", you slammed your hands on the table and stood up from your chair. 

"[name] you know its just so-"

"i dont CARE what its about!"

"now how about you sit back down and listen to me. ive found you a lovely guy whos just a year older-"

"no, how about you listen to ME for this first time in your life? all the time you were trying to control my life and manipulate me and you kept telling me over and over again how its 'for the family'!, well in all honesty fuck this family!", all your pent up anger from your nineteen years of living was now let out at the person who caused it all.

"young lady that is no way to talk to your mother, and especially no way to talk about your family!", your mother stood up from her chair as well. 

"youre not fucking listening to me! i am not getting married!", you screamed while putting your shoes back on.

you stormed out the door, although you were very aware that she was going to get whatever she wants one way or another.

it doesnt matter. she never even mattered. you needed to go somewhere, somewhere else than that place you lived in. and you knew exactly where.

kaveh opened the door for you. 

"alhaitham theres someone here for you!" he shouted through the whole apartment. its not like you were never here for you. whenever your mother got too much, you slept at alhaithams place. kaveh also told you a million times already that youre the only one who alhaitham allows to sleep in his room.

"same fights as always?", kaveh asked. you shook your head. 

"worse"

"worse? what did she do?", alhaitham was suddenly standing right in the hallway. it took you everything you had to stop you from ugly crying right then and there.

you were still mad. you were always gonna be mad, but the fact that you almost sprinted all the way to the shared apartment, took away a little of the rage.

"its kind of really hard to say", you really didnt want to say it. it for some reason felt even more wrong to tell alhaitham, but you didnt know why. 

"i dont think theres really anything that we dont expect from your mother by now", alhaitham said looking at kaveh, and then back at you. your eyes started watering. not at the thought of having to say it out loud, but at the thought of having to spend most of your life with someone you didnt even know.

"she arranged a marriage for me", you said. your words were followed by a long silence.

alhaitham looked irrated at you. or maybe he was angry. who knows. kaveh on the other hand was shocked. his eyes wide, and lips slightly apart. never of them knew what to say.

"youre kidding", alhaitham said, more wishing than actually asking. his voice was barely above a whisper. 

you could only shake your head.

a shaky, long sigh escaped your lips, and even though you didnt want it, the tears started falling. your body tensed up, and you could feel alhaithams arms wrap right around you. all you could do was lay your head onto his chest, and kaveh went to grab some water for you.

the rest, you dont remember.

you woke up, in alhaithams bed. the apartment sounded empty. what time was it? you honestly couldnt care less about going to school today. you didnt want to go anywhere today. but you also couldnt stay here another night, that was decided. one way or another you had to confront your mother, and who knows, maybe you could also convince her to stray from her plan.

but you knew, you could not convince her.

you discussed and fought with her for quite a long time.

"youre getting married to that man, and if i have to drag you to that wedding. besides everything is already paid for"

"wait- already paid for? when is the wedding anyways?",

"next month"

without another word, you stood up from the kitchen table and went to your room. you threw yourself onto your bed.

your body felt so heavy, and especially your heart. your eyes felt as if they were going to close any second, but you didnt feel like you could sleep. you were angry, but you were also disappointed and sad. disappointed in your mother, that she saw you as nothing else other than an a way to extend the family. 

and disappointed in yourself, for not being able to convince her.

well at least you still had alhaitham. he was the best friend you could ever ask for, although you ever wondered if you felt more towards him than just friendship.

your question was answered pretty quickly. you had no idea what had caused it. if it was the upcoming marriage, or just because he was always there for you. but recently you wanted to be closer to him than before. you wanted to always stay by his side, but maybe you just wanted to avoid being home.

but alhaitham... was it just an illusion or was he getting more and more distant by the minute? he used to always make time for you. if you were struggling with something, he stopped what he was doing just to help you. he wanted to talk to you over all of the people he knew. he talked to you daily, but now the days you two talked were moving apart further and further.

what was happening?

"alhaitham can we talk?", you carefully asked, not wanting to disturb him. this was one of the first time you felt like you were walking on eggshells around him. 

"not right now [name], im busy", he replied, not even bothering to take his eyes off the paper he was working on.

"but its kind of important...", you tried again. 

suddenly he slapped his paper down onto the table. 

"what is it?", he finally looked at you for once.

you sat down right across from him. 

"well... how do i start this"

"just say it, i have important things to do"

...

were you not important to him anymore?

"alhaitham, i feel like we are drifting apart", those were the best words you could find to describe what you were feeling.

"so what? its not like we're a couple or anything"

"so i dont matter to you at all"

a moment of silence. 

thats not true, is what alhaitham wanted to say.

"alhaitham dont ignore me"

"im not ignoring you"

"then answer me"

"fuck [name] just- JUST FUCKING FINALLY LEAVE ME ALONE"

huh

wait what? 

did he just say that?

"did i just say that...?", he mumbled to himself, kind off hoping you would hear it, but you were already out of the room, heading home. 

your mind was blank. where did you go wrong? what did you do that couldve possibly made him act this way?

alhaitham got home, closed the door, and sunk into the couch. his hands were traveling through his hair, and he was rubbing his face as if he was trying to rub away the words he said.

"woah what happened to you", kaveh asked as he walked past him, just wanting to get a glass of water.

"nothing", alhaitham mumbled, his hands still in his face. 

"doesnt look like nothing to me", kaveh replied. honestly he shouldve just dropped it right then and there.

"kaveh what do you think gives you the right to nag me like theres no tomorrow?"

kaveh just stared. 

"seriously man what is up with you recently? is it because of... you know, [name] getting married?", it almost felt hard to say. 

his heart dropped to his stomach and a shudder went down his spine, hearing kavehs words.

the reminder that you were getting married takes him right back to the day when you told him whats happening. he couldnt help his heart feeling like it was getting ripped apart, like its nothing more than just a piece of paper. 

from that day on he couldnt concentrate on anything. everything felt like a reminder of you, everything reminded him of the daggers that were send through his heart of the mere sight of you.

so he did the only thinkable thing, which was to distance himself. maybe his heart and mind would go back to the way things used to be. but everyday where he would be spending less time with you, felt like someone was taking half his soul away. he was even less focused on things, and was living in a trance, like a depressed man. 

but in no way was he trying to hurt you. no that was even worse than anything he could think off.

everything felt like it circled around you. it almost felt like...

"it feels a little like youre living for [name], doesnt it?", kaveh suggested. 

yeah exactly that.

kaveh sat down next to him. 

"alhaitham, do you remember the exact date [name]'s wedding is?"

alhaitham looked at kaveh. 

"its tomorrow, alhaitham"

wait

wait, no, when did time pass so fast? you cant get married. no way.

you were standing there, in your white dress. it wasnt really yours. it was your mothers old dress, meaning you did not choose your own dress. but maybe it was better like that, since you didnt want to get married anyway. the reception wasnt very pretty, it almost looked like a church. but maybe only you felt this way. you didnt want to be here. you didnt want to be anywhere. well there was one place that couldve been nice. you wanted to be wherever alhaitham is right now, but he didnt seem to want you arround.

you were staring at the bouquet you were holding. everything felt so surreal. you looked up at the guy you were marrying. he looked absolutely happy to be where he was. it almost made you uncomfortable to look at the wide grin on his face.

you looked at your mother, who seemed to be crying. everyone seemed so happy, except for you.

you were not picking up any words, until the question was asked.

"do you take [name], as your wife, your partner, for all eternity?", the sentence almost made you throw up. 

"yes", the guy so quickly replied. he smiled at you. and you felt the urge to slap him. and maybe your mother while you were at it.

"now, do you take [guys name], to be your husband, your partner, for all eternity?"

"I.. uh", you wanted to say no so bad, but it seems you didnt have to.

you looked up from the floor you were staring at to avoid any gazes, when suddenly the doors to the reception slammed open. 

"stop... the fucking wedding", alhaitham stood there, out of breath, his hair messier than ever, and he looked like he had been... crying?

he walked up to you and took your hand. 

"you dont want to marry this guy right? forget this, forget everything, and just come with me"

he looked at you like he had never seen anything he loved more. and in that moment, you indeed forgot everything. like nothing was important, nothing other than the happiness of you and the one who was holding your hand.

you dropped your bouquet right there and ran. your mother shouted something, and the guy was standing there all confused.

as soon as the both of you had left the reception, you started stumbling. 

"alhaitham im wearing heels!", without hesitation, alhaitham picked you up like you weighed nothing.

a few more steps and you both hid in an allyway. 

to some people this might looked weird, but they dont know what was happening. to you you couldnt be happier than this.

but yet, tears were streaming down your face. and you arms wrapped themselves around alhaitham, quicker than he could react. your head was already pressed into his chest. and he hugged you back.

"im so sorry, im sorry for shouting at you and im sorry for not helping you earlier. i love you, [name]", his voice was wavering, but it had an odd certainty in it. without someone having to tell you, you knew from this day on everything was going to be okay.

[c4rb0n4t3d-d34th]

Heyhi!

Just a warning, im writting a book and im about to post a snippet of it! It has darker themes such as:

- parental abuse/neglect

- bullying

- alcoholism

-schooling

-mental health struggles

-polyamory (eventually)

- self harm and suicide (eventually)

-unconventional relationship(eventually)

-romantic and sexual themes(eventually)

If any of that is not your jam or you aren’t in the mind to hear about it please dont read further! Get a drink and snack and take care of yourself!!

That being said. Heres a snippet of my work in progress book “our toy.” Enjoy.

•

•

Bex’s pov:

I wake up, drained. I hear my mother screaming and glass breaking, she must be drunk already. “What time is it?” I groan and check my phone. 5:30am, I read the clock again making sure I was right before getting up and getting ready. I transfer schools today. Leaving glencreek and going to norburrow is going to be rough. Not that I have friends at my old school, its just.. familiar you know? I know what to expect everyday when I walk in those doors. Norburrow I have no idea what to expect. Pushing past my nerves I slip on black jeans and a black and white striped hoodie. I slip on my converse and grab my backpack. Taking a deep breath I open my bedroom door and walk into the living room. Empty beer bottles scatter the floor, mostly broken. My mother is nowhere to be found which means she’s probably passed out in her room. I quickly and quietly step out of the house and head to the bus station, hoping not to wake her. Once there I sigh a breath of relief and try to shake off my anxiety. The bus comes not long after my arrival and I step on, seeing its mostly empty I sit down at a random vacant seat. Scrolling through my phone I check my schedule over and over, nodding I slip my phone back into my pocket and stare out of the window, eventually zoning out.

I feel the bus come to a halt and I look up, snapped out of my thoughts. Were here. I take a deep breath and grab my bag before exiting the bus. The concrete stairs leading up to the door were scattered with students talking amongst each other. I ascend the staircase and push past the doors, the clock in the hall tells me I still have 30 minutes to talk to the office and get to class. “I can do this” I tell myself internally. Not daring to mutter a word externally. I find the office and knock on the door before gliding up to the front desk. “How may I help you?” A bigger blonde woman with way too thin drawn on eyebrows asks me “i'm the new student, bexley warner?” I say, voice shaky. “Ah, yes! Bexley, here it is!” She nods while clicking around on her desktop. “Do you have your schedule? Or do you need it printed out?” She asks quickly after. “Can you print it?” I mutter, not wanting to cause any inconvenience. “Of course! One moment.” She says before getting up and walking to the printer not far behind her desk. She grabs a paper as the printer spits it out. Checking over it before handing it to me I nod and mutter “thanks.” Before waving and quickly walking out.

First period is history, second floor, room 2304. Sounds easy enough.. I hope. I find the staircase and follow it up to the second floor. Seeing the room number that matches the one on my schedule I walk in, still a few minutes early. I see the teacher at his desk and he greets me “good morning! You must be the new student, bailey?” He asks with a hand stuck out for a handshake, I weakly shake his hand back “bexley.. but yes” I say, voice shaky and barely above a whisper. He nods and notes it mentally before releasing my hand and letting me sit down. I sit down near the back of the class, just after the middle rows but not far enough back that im in some bully kids seat. I just hope no one already sits here..

Moments later students start to flow in the classroom each taking their seats and chatting to their friends. No one tells me to move, or that i'm in their seat so far, so I sigh softly and zone out, drawing in a small sketchbook. “Um. Who are you? And why are you in my seat?” A feminine voice startles me out of my trance and I freeze. I spoke too soon. I look up and meet eyes with pure ice. Her light blue eyes are cold and fierce. Her blonde hair in a tight bouncy ponytail, the white and tan cardigan covering most of her baby pink skirt. “Hello?? Earth to fuckface??” She blurts out. I stand up, shaking harshly “i-i'm sorry I didn't know anyone sat here.. im sorry.” I mumble out, voice shaking just as much as my hands. “ yeah well I do. Get out, now my seat probably has fucking aids thanks to you.” Her words cut like blades on my skin. This school wasnt going to be any better them the last. Great. I walk over to an empty desk at the back, on the opposite side as the ice queen’s desk. I quickly sit down and take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. I see the girl talking with some guys, they look athletic. Maybe football? I dont know but they look mean. They are flirting back to her and she giggles. I look at the teacher and listen to his lecture as I jot down a few notes. Eventually the bell rings and I see everyone get up and file out of the classroom.

I check my schedule again for the next class. Great. Math. Luckily its on the second floor so I dont have to go far. I read the room number as I grab my bag, 2028. Ok, I can do this. I head out and quickly find my class. The teacher greets me and her sickly sweet perfume burns my nose. I sit down in an empty seat and pray no one sits here. The last of the students file in and take the surrounding seats. I hear a deep raspy yet feminine voice beside me “yo loser, you new??” I turn and meet eyes with her, shes tan, her dark brown eyes and chestnut hair pair well with her skin tone. She looks athletic too, shes really buff. My hands shake as I nod in response. She scans me, looking me up and down before smirking. “I can tell, the girls are going to love you.” What does she mean by that? What girls? Love me? No, no. I stare blankly at her and she doesnt explain. “Nice talking with you toy, but I gotta run.” She takes the seat a couple rows behind me and I exhale a breath I didnt know I was holding.

“Ignore her, thats alessia. Shes a bitch but shes strong and can fight so no one dares say anything to her.” A voice speaks lowly beside me. I turn and see ashy blue hair and dark blue eyes peering back at me. The boy smiles “im elias by the way, but you can call me eli.” He states. “Bexley, but call me bex” I reply softly. “He nods and sits up in his chair, “nice to meet you bex, I dont really talk or hang out with anyone so you want to eat lunch with me after class?” I smile faintly at his question and nod “id love that eli.” In mutual agreement we break the eye contact and look up at the teacher whos now pointing at numbers on the board. Following along with her I take notes. The bell rings as shes passing out homework. “Homework due next week!” She calls out as students leave the room.

I look up and eli is gathering his things, waiting for me. I grab my bag and stand up to follow him to lunch. “Ready to go?” He asks. “Yeah, ready as ill ever be.” I state. We start walking and he looks down before asking “do you not like lunch?” I let out a soft laugh and shake my head “no but I don’t exactly pair well with crowds of people.” He nods and his eyes flash with a new idea “how about we sit in the library? Way less people and alot quieter.” I smile and nod. “lead the way.” I say. Following eli we make our way to the library, its quiet and peaceful. Barely anyone else here. He points at a table with no one at it “want to sit there?” He asks. I nod and follow him to the table, taking a seat next to him he pulls out a laptop from his bag. “What for?” I question. “Im recoding a website, wanna see?” I nod and he turns the screen towards me. Rows and rows if numbers letters and strange characters line the screen. “Wow that looks hard..” I Say, completely Confused at what im looking at. “It isnt once you get the hang of it!” He smiles and I return it, smiling back at him before pulling out my sketchbook and a pen and doodling away. “Whats that?” He asks and I look up at him before looking back at my page. “Nothing really, just doodling.” I shrug. He looks closer at the paper “no bex this is REALLY good” he enunciated the word ‘really’ as he talks “youre really talented bex are you joking? Can I see more of your work?” His question catching me by surprise, I nod and he flips through my sketchbook. Gawking at each page he stops at one of them and his eyes grow wide. “Can I.. take a picture of this one..?” He asks and I look at the page. Its a drawing of two random characters I drew a fee month ago, I notice they roughly resemble eli and I. “Yeah sure why not?” I say taking a sip of my water. “Thank you, I really like this one!” He beams. I smile at him, happy that he likes my work so much. A voice breaks our bubble “what are you two doing in here. You are supposed to be in the cafe, are you not?” A prestigious female voice asks harshly and I wince. Eli looks up and his eyes go wide “s-sorry president! We will be going now.” He starts packing his bags and looks at me with a “hurry! Pack!” Look, I quickly pack up and follow him as he scurries out of the library. “President? Whos that? What just happened?” I ask looking back at the long black hair of the girl we’d just been busted by moments ago. “Thats the student council president, vanessa. If you get on her bad side she can expel you herself!” He says still clearly shaken up. I nod as we walk to the cafeteria, eventually deciding to sit outside. Warm breeze of spring keeping us st the perfect comfortable temperature. The silence between us was content but anxiety racked through us both and I could tell.

After awhile the bell rang and the next period was starting doon, I look at my schedule, art, thank fuck. Third floor, room 4702. I jump up and look at eli. “I have art, what class do you have?” He looks up at me from his spot on the bench and smiles “tech class, its down on the first floor. See you after school though?” I nod and wave him off. “See you!” I rush quickly to the stairs and scale the two flights the room at the end of the hallway. i walk into class and check in with teacher, she was super sweet and smelled faintly of jasmine and lemongrass. I sit down at one of the large table, each table having four chairs I get my sketchbook out and keep working on the drawing I started at lunch. As the kids piled in class each taking seats with each other at neighboring tables three familiar voices came through the door, all in a conversation together. Every single one of the girls that were mean today were here. All at once. I hold my breath when I feel their eyes burning holes in my side. “What are the odds.” Alessia chuckles “this was the toy I mentioned earlier girls.” She flips a chair so the back rest is infront of her, sitting down in it across from me. The other two sit next to her amd next to me. “Are you that freak who sat in my seat this morning?” The blonde retorts. “Youre the student from the library.” Vanessa laughs coldly. “So you all met our plaything?” Alessia asks the girls. “Not really, I never asked his name. He sat in my chair! He was trying to give me aids or something!!” The blonde huffs out “relax chloe. He definitely doesnt get any kind of action.” Vanessa throws out. So the blonde girl is chloe.. the president is vanessa.. and the athlete is alessia? Noted.. vanessa continues “tell us your name student.” I tremble and look down at the table “bexley.. or just bex..” I hold my breath as my eyes start to water. Dont cry. Not here. “Bexley? Isnt that a girls name??” Chloe asks while giggling. “Y-yeah I guess so..” I agree, not wanting to start anything.

The class starts and the girls fall silent as does the rest of the class. However, chloes eyes have yet to leave her phone screen. The teacher talks about an assignment and I listen eagerly. I dont show that i'm eager, but it laces my body sending waves of excitement through each limb. The teacher passes out white papers and everyone starts getting to work. I get my paper and before I can put my pencil down my paper is snatched “h-hey!” I say and gasp suddenly, realizing I shouldn’t have said anything. “What, have a problem?” Alessia asks with an arched brow. I shake my head and look down at the desk. How am I going to work in this class?? Im screwed. I want to go home. And that says alot because I hate home. The rest of the class the girls make comments here and there about my looks or lack of worth. I sit there silently, taking each insult. “Say something fuckface!” A paper ball hits my face as chloe snorts and giggles in her seat. “Nice aim clo.” Alessia snickers. “While I applaud you on your skills clo, it was still cliché.” Vanessa says as she rolls her eyes. “Nessa youre way to serious, cliché or not it was totally funny!” Chloe pouts. Just one more class and ill go home. I just have to get through one more class. The chatter amongst the girls is deafening, eventually I was able to tune it out and zone out. Im slapped back into reality, literally. A sharp pain floods my cheek and I jump and look up “are you fucking ignoring me right now bitch??” Alessia questions. “N-no! S-sorry!” Fuck that hurt. First day and im already getting hit. Great. “Tell me where youre going after this class, freak” she demands as she slams her hand on the table I jump and hand her my schedule shakily.

She scans over it and shows it to the other girls “you have science next. When the last bell rings ill be outside the class. Dont think about running early.” Alessia states with no room to argue, not that I would argue with her. The other girls nod and chime in “we will join you ale!” I feel dizzy and nauseated, I hate this fucking school already. The bell rings and everyone leaves for the last class, I stay behind a second to get a new paper to finish the assignment before scurrying to my last class. “Lets get this over with.” I say in my head.

Walking into class and repeating the process all over again, see the teacher, sit down, hope no one sits here, zone out. The class goes by rather fast, the clock ticking down to my inescapable demise. I force myself to take a deep breath. I can do this. Ill do whatever they want and go home. Itll be quick. The bell rings and with trembling hands I pack up and step out of the door to see the three girls I dreaded seeing. “Good listening. You know whats best for you bitch boy.” Alessia spits out and I stay silent “youre coming with us.” She states as she grabs my arm dragging me beside her “o-ok” I croak accepting my fate. Vanessa grabs my other arm and im dragged to a private classroom by the girls while chloe follows behind us closely, each step making her blonde hair bounce. The shuts and locks the door once everyones inside and I dont make a sound or try to run. I try to keep my composure, not wanting to cry infront of my new tormentors. “W-“ I take a deep breath “why am I here?” I ask my voice shaking and weak. “As you may know, im the student council president. I have the authority to kick you out of the school entirely if you disobey any order given to you.” I gulp as vanessa speaks “before you got to this school I saw your student profile. I was aware of your arrival and knew youd be different then other transfers. That being said when alessia told us about you being in one of her classes I knew it was fate. You will listen to any and every command any of us make, that is, if you want to stay at the school.” She finishes her speech and im left terrified, I cant go back to that school. Everyone hated me there, I was pushed and shoved, put into trashcans, you name it. I take a deep breath and nod “o-ok. Ill do it.” I say, voice broken and barely above a whisper. “Good. Itll be easier for you that way. Hand over your phone.” Alessia states. I scramble to pull my phone out of my pocket before handing it to her. “Password?” She asks, voice filled with annoyance. “080117” I squeak out. She unlocks my phone and I tremble. What is she looking for? What is she going to do? I see her typing and passing my phone around to the other girls, watching them type as well. They hand back my phone and I slip it into my pocket weakly “we put our numbers in there so we can text you at anytime if we need something done.” Chloe chimes out “oh! And we all have your location so you cant hide from us!” She continued. I nod, not fighting against it. “I send a message to your mother letting her know youll be moving to the dorms.” Vanessa says. I freeze, “w-what?” I ask with a broken tone. “You heard me. Tonight you will pack your bags and move into the dorm house. Alessia, chloe, and I will be there to pick you up at 10pm tonight. Be ready.” She finished and turns to walk out, the others following. I have no choice, im fucked. Im so fucked. left in the empty classroom with nothing but my thoughts I grab my bag and rush to the bus station. Checking my phone its already 5:30, the next bus is at 6. I take deep breaths, calming my nerves. Mother wont care, she will be too inebriated to even take notice. That means I have no one to stop this and only 4 hours to pack.

The bus ride was quiet and empty, I get off at my stop and walk home quickly. My phone chimes and I pull it out of my pocket.

V: 4 hours. Pack quickly.

B: I just got home, starting to pack now

V: dont be late.

I sigh and walk into the house, b-lining it to my room and tossing my bag and phone on the bed. I pull out my old suitcase and get to work. Pulling out all my clothes and putting them neatly in my suitcase. I grab my blanket and stuffed dog and place them in there too. My stuffed dog is my comfort item, I named him milo and I sleep with him nightly. Moving on I pack what I can and check the time 8:30. Fuck I need to hurry. Grabbing my art supplies I slip them in my backpack along with my medications and headphones. I sigh and finish putting my stuff where I can before hearing another chime of my phone. I grab it and see messages from alessia this time.

A: dont eat. I made dinner and you will be eating it.

B: ok, I wont eat.

A: we will be there in 30 minutes.

B: im ready.

I gulp and grab my phone charger, putting it in my bag as my stomach growls. Was this going to be my last meal? Were they going to poison me? I shake off my fears and hope they are wrong. I grab my bags and put them by the front door. I pick up the shattered glass and deer bottles from my mother and go to find her, knocking on her door softly I hear her grunt. I open the door and speak softly “im about to leave for the dorms now, just wanted to let you know.” She groans “ok whatever just go.” I nod and close the door before a loud bang and the sound of shattering glass makes me jump and wince. I quickly check the time before heading outside. 9:45. im on time. I grab my bags and walk to the bus stop, once there I pull out my phone. Chloe messaged me.

C: we r on the way! Better not b late! X

B: im at the bus stop, im packed.

C: *chloe liked the message*

I exhale a breath I didnt know I was holding. Im walking into my death. Her texting mannerisms are sweet but they are laced with venom. I pass the time thinking of a better life, zoning out like I always do. What would life be like with a loving family? Would I be happier? Having a group of friends, laughing and making memories. What does it feel like to enjoy going to school, to enter the doors and not get bullied? How much better would life be if I wasnt so.. me?

I hear a car pull up and I snap out of my thoughts. The backseat passenger window rolls down. “Put your shit in the trunk!” Chloe yells. I walk to the back of the expensive looking car and load my bags in the back before shutting it and getting in the backseat drivers side. All three girl were in the car, vanessa driving, alessia in the front passenger seat and chloe in the back with me. My nerves surge through my body, my body shaking intensely. The car drives off with me inside, sealing my now not so distant future. My stomach growls again and I pray no one hears it. The car ride was around 20 minutes and when it was finally over the car pulls to a stop in a small gravel parking infront of a Victorian looking building, it looks like one house, not a school dormitory. I suppose thats why vanessa said dorm house and not dormitory? I dont have time to get lost in thought though. The girls exit the car and I follow, grabbing my bags before I joining them. They open the door and the house is gorgeous yet terrifying. Everything about it looks like a home. Somewhere a family should live. “The bedrooms are upstairs, your room is the last on down the hall.” Vanessa says and I nod. Walking up the wooden staircase I follow the long hallway, doors line the way to the door at the very end. I open the door and it creaks as it moves. Stepping into my new room theres a bed, a nightstand, a desk, and a closet. I sigh, maybe this wont be so bad afterall. Aside from the tormentors now living under the same roof as I. Setting my backpack on my bed I pull out my phone charger plugging it into the wall and connecting my phone. I unpack most of my suitcase and all of my backpack. “Dinners made. Get down here.” I hear alessia shout. “C-Coming!” I rush down to meet the girls. They sit around a large wooden dining table, I sit down in an empty seat and they pass around a bowl of noodles, carbonara? I take a helping of it, putting it on my plate when the bowl gets passed to me. Next the garlic bread gets passed around and I set one on my plate. Eventually a bowl of assorted vegetables is passed too. Spooning some onto my plate I exhale. “I do not want vegetables!” Chloe shoots out. “Eat some chloe. Youre short enough as is.” Alessia retorts as vanessa snorts, trying to hide her laugh. I stay silent, not wanting my presence to become the attention. I eat my food once I see one of the other girls start eating. So far so..good? Nothing seems to be poisoned, or at least not yet. And im not being attacked yet. I continue eating, still confused about what my life is turning out to be. I finish my food along with alessia and vanessa, chloe still poking around at her vegetables. “Take the dishes to the kitchen and wash them. Spotless.” Vanessa says, looking at me. I nod and collect all the dishes taking them to the sink and start to wash them. In the other room I hear alessia speaking “chloe eat the damn vegetables!” Chloe lets out a long whine and pouts “I dont want to!” I hold in a laugh and finish cleaning. 30 minutes later chloe comes in with an empty plate huffing like a child she slides it in the sink. I stay quiet as she stomps off like a toddler, quickly cleaning her dishes and putting all of them away. I wipe down the counters and turn to meet eyes with alessia. I never noticed just how tall she was. She looks about 6ft, towering over me. Im pretty tall, I think. Im 5’9 and pretty lanky. “If youre done you can head to your room for the night.” She states and I nod before walking iut of the kitchen and up the stairs to my room.

Exhausted from the day I plop down on my bed and let myself sink into it.

[zaptrap]

Seeing that you've been here since 2012 is INSANE like you've witnessed it all huh. You've seen probably SO many weird and crazy things in this fandom like man that's so cool for you I feel...

ive def seen and participated in a lot of dumbass bullshit over the years LMAO. although notsomuch during the skybound-to-seabound era cuz i'd lost interest for a bit

Random shit I remember off the top of my head (plz feel free to fact-check):

deviantart era: (2012-2013)

that bright green ninjago ask meme

like, literally everybody making self-insert purple ninjas (sometimes orange, teal, or rainbow) and shipping them with their fav ninja

everyone making their own genderbends of the ninja. cole was almost always called nicole or colette lmao

people also naming their accounts (name)-the-ninja (or "teh-ninja", since this was 2012)

there's a non-zero probability that if you were in the fandom during the season 1 era, you're a furry now

naruto crossovers

half-snake ninja aus.........wonder who uh......who could've done that.....heheh (me) (that was my whole deal pre-nindroid!jay lmfao)

everyone posting like, doll-maker things they made of ninjago? especially dragon ones

(me) posting leaked screenshots of season 2 eps that i found on the lego wiki or smth lmao. this is also how i found out zane was a robot. i think i kept posting leaks when i moved to tumblr

legends of chima releasing and i thiiink it was supposed to be a ninjago replacement? like, legitimately? though a lot of people weren't happy about it. "furry gang drug wars" was a phrase used a lot lmfao.

tumblr era (2013-2016 for me) (may overlap with dA era)

everyone losing their minds over the shirtless ninja in ns2 lmfao

that one video of kirby marrow (rest in peace) saying cole was 14

that other vid of like, behind the scenes and it was the ninja's actors but like in-universe? it's where "cole bucket" comes from

also some behind the scenes vid with the actual voice actors lol

thinking back on this, im like 100% sure it was bullshit but when the end of rebooted aired, there was a rumor going around about fans being so upset over zane's death that they carved a snowflake on their stomachs. lots of people were freaking out lmfao

the rise and fall of "fucknoshittyninjagoOCs" (ashamed to say i heavily participated in harassing this blog even if i rlly didnt like the premise.........)

maypong

lots of tension with instagram cuz of all the art reposts. like. tons of reposts. i remember someone blocked me when i said to take something down but then unblocked me the same evening and apologized LOL so

roleplay twitter accounts (twitter was kinda not-as-a lot at the time)

nindroid!jay of course. its so old there was an update that was made in flash lmfao...

absolute fucking shitloads of AUs and headcanons. i dont think this has changed much but like. there were so many lmfao. entire threads

actually there's too many fucking AUs. im scrolling through my main blog and i cant fuckin find anything cuz ITS ALL THESE STUPID AU THREADS THEY AREN'T EVEN LIKE DEEP LMAO

ask-all-the-ninjagians

the absurd screenshot redraws i did. like they were super stupid lmfao. icr which blog they're on but they're on my comp still at least

ninjagians just. being a term used at all lmao

the ninjago fan-tournament during ns4. people would draw/write about their ocs doing whatever prompt was posted and then everyone came together to defeat a big bad snake man

tbh i started naturally losing interest during ns5, and then VERY QUICKLY dropped the show (and therefore fandom) when skybound came out lmao............... so i dont really remember a lot from this era and everything after

and now im back :D

i hope this is insightful! xD

[theaviskullguy]

D&D Obey me- Lucifer, Mammon, + The Twins!

@trash-opposum here you go. seperate post so people can find it but here!

Disclaimer, if i do the rest, im going to avoid making EVERYONE a tiefling or aasimar, those are just for who i think are exceptionally appropriate/is how im playing them as my current dnd character is just Belphegor. If yall want me to make the others (Asmo, Levi, Satan, maybe Diavlo but who knows) let me know!

so let's GOOOOOOOO

Lucifer

Aasimar, the kind from Mordenkainen so no special extra type

Noble background, mainly cause i cant think of anything else

As for class, we have four potential options

Two varieties of Paladin, cleric, or warlock

First paladin variety- Oathbreaker

In this case he was probably originally Devotion before the revolution, and whoops! Oath Broken!

It'd either be a point of pride for him ("I fought for what I believe is right, and there is no shame in that") or he'd hide it from everyone

Second paladin- order of the Crown! obviously because of Diavlo. fellas is it gay to swear undying devotion to your future ki- *gets shot*

Cleric, then Order Domain. clerics are sworn to gods and not demons but shush his patron might still be Diavlo. in an actual D&D setting i can see him instead swearing to like Tyr or something.

he wont be healing. clerics are tanky he's out here ordering people to drop their weapons and then fucking murdering them

Warlock, gotta be fiend patron. im not sure if its possible to be your own patron but itd be funny as shit. worse case its fiend patron with some flavor homebrew as i call it to literally just be a fiend in his own right climbing the infernal ladder as he levels up

i promise the others wont be as long

Mammon

Earth Genasi as those are descended from the Dao, which are the greediest genie. Also, they just look rich with gem-like stuff growing in cracks on their skin you just know Mammon's one of them

Charlatan background. he is scamming people left and right and it works

Rogue, thief subclass. Honestly any subclass other than Arcane Trickster (hes not smart enough) or Scout (hes not equipped for the "outside of civilization" shit)

Unlike for Lucifer, the others have Backstory! Woo!

Mammon is the son of a Dao and a human. His human parent helped him escape from the Elemental Plane of Earth, but then he was left on his own

So. He quickly learned how to con people. At first it was for survival, and then greed.

He found Lucifer while running one of these cons. In particular, his "con" was a vanishing act. He claimed he could become "one with the earth" when really he was curling up on the ground and casting Pass Without Trace. Lucifer saw through this illusion and threatened to out Mammon as a conman, unless he joined him as his ally. So, he did.

Lucifer keeps him in check, but that's not to say Mammon isn't fully on the straight and narrow

Beelzebub

Tiefling!!! variant tiefling favored to have fly wings.

Outlander background, ill explain why in a sec

Barbarian. Need I say More?

actually i will- Totem animal, spirit of the bear. Since bear gets resistance to all damage (other than psychic) while raging and i feel that works with Beel more than anything

now for his backstory! he isnt canon in the campaign im playing belphie in but his backstory has the same catalyst. When he was five years old, the kingdom he lived in was caught in a rebellion against a tyrant. In which, Beel saw his older sister get killed by a royal guard. Belphie was going to be killed- but was protected by a tiefling in a knight's armor (my previous character who was killed. rip avi)

Beel, in his five-year-old mind, just ran. He took off without a second thought- a decision he now regrets deeply.

He ran into the surrounding woodlands. And gets an Atalanta-style backstory. For those who dont know, Atalanta was a princess who was abandoned in the woods and raised by bears

So Beel is raised by bears. Which is way better than being raised by wolves

They teach him how to hunt, gather, and its all well and cute. He sometimes entered the rebuilding kingdom to trade in leftover meat for clothes and weapons- and, to try and find Belphie. No luck.

Eventually, Beel grows to be a powerful warrior. Hangry, sure, but his rage hold the rage of freaking bears. so keep him fed. please.

Anyways Lucifer and the gang (everyone minus belphie) encounter Beel in the woods, watching the cubs. Beel agrees to adventure with them. He says goodbye to bear mom and promises to visit- hopefully, with his twin, next time.

Belphegor

hehe its ME

Zariel Tiefling but i dont give a shit about the infernal legacy its just There. tail is a cow's tail he basically just looks like his demon form

Hermit background. again ill explain in a sec

Druid, circle of stars! to people about to scream "i just checked the wikidot why he no circle of dreams??" because that doesnt have to do with dreams and sleep as i wished it did. its the obligatory faewild subclass. i hate the faewild subclasses (other than the bard one that ones fun)

Currently n the campaign im in we're level 5, so his two wildshapes are wolf, and a bull. But he also has his three starry forms due to being circle of stars.

now. backstory! strap in this is Long

he's saved by my previous dnd character- Avi- and is taken in by him and his husband when the rebellion was over.

Except. due to seeing his sister die and not seeing his twin after that, Belphie assumed the worse and thought that Beel also died and he was the last one of his family

He fell into a pretty deep depression and had no motivation to do anything besides sleep, cry, and eat very tiny portions of meals.

eventually his adoptive dads start telling him stories. and. surprisingly. they seem to help! Belphie is still a shrinking violet but he eats more and can cook and do basic chores!

And Then Avi Goes Missing

His husband- Skull- asks the now 11 year old Belphie if he wants to come along to find him. Belphie declines, saying he needs to get in control of his life and some big quest is probably just gonna leave him with more trauma

Skull lets him stay home, and gives him one of his feathers. So if Belphie ever needs a hand, he can call Skull over and. well. have one of his dads at least

For five years, Belphie took to studying druidcraft, and the stars. He also enchanted his favorite pillow to float and be able to carry him. So he had a little more comfort when going out to buy groceries. He'd make detailed star maps to sell in return

When the sun rose on his 16th birthday, he left a note at home saying he felt ready to tackle his own destiny, and left.

He had a brush with Lucifer, but not Beel. so close, buddy.

Anyways he arrives at The Hunters Guild, finds his parents again, and takes residence in the observatory, where he studies his stars and druid magic again. But also, sleep and dreams.

and. yeah thats where we leave off! god that was long im sorry

[wygolvillage]

a new year's resolution

well, as of 2024 i’ve decided i will no longer be posting on tumblr... this shouldnt be the hugest surprise since ive been pretty critical of staff, the over-monetization of the website, the site culture, and the user experience for the past year and gradually reducing my time spent scrolling the ol’ dashboard- ive even mentioned my intent to eventually leave; well, that eventually is now! gradually ive found myself analyzing the effect that using tumblr for 7+ years has had on me, and the effects of social media in general.

ive never had to write a goodbye letter like this before. while ive joined and left several online platforms over the years, its always been a gradual fade in interest rather than a conscious decision to stop. never have i used a platform as long as ive used tumblr, over 1/3 of my life. ive grown up with tumblr, for better or worse. how do you write a goodbye for that? i guess ill have to try my best. because as important as tumblr was for me, ive recognized the way its hurt me too.

finding other avenues of online self-expression particularly has made me think a lot about this. when i edit my website i feel accomplished, happy, and content, feeling i have put something of myself out into the world, my seed to grow and garden to tend. when i scroll through tumblr i feel as if my brain is mostly idle, and when i do emotionally respond its often out of anger or annoyance, because anger = engagement and social media sites like tumblr WANT engagement. particularly because i have OCD ive found myself upset by certain aspects of tumblr discourse culture, as well- it is basically the Scrupulosity Website and much of the way i react to and interact with media has been colored by my years spent absorbing the viewpoints of said Scrupulosity Website! i even used to look up discourse topics on tumblr just to anger myself on purpose, which is a dangerous road to go down, to build up Enemies and Factions in your mind- this is how discourse culture works. the culture of tumblr teaches you to see the world in black and white, and to feel like youre always in danger of compromising your moral purity or being attacked by the morally impure. If You Don’t Reblog This You Are A Bad Person. even as someone who nowadays tries to stay away from discourse entirely, its still there in the back of my mind, because the way we interact on this website is colored by this. when im online i dont actually want to be angry all the time! in fact i like putting my effort towards more positive stuff. but additionally: tumblr made me unhappy but it also made me an addict

and yeah social media addiction sounds like a silly boomer thing to complain about but one thing i noticed when i started trying to curb my time spent on tumblr was that opening the site was damn near compulsive. we all know those “open tumblr, close tumblr, open tumblr again immediately after” memes but that did describe my behavior pretty accurately. the draw and allure of social media feeds is powerful, if i accidentally click the youtubes short tab ill find myself a half hour later scrolling through random shit i don't care about and asking well how the hell did i get here? i dont even like that stuff! tumblr is no different no matter how much the site tries to coast on the reputation of being the last social media that's a “remnant of the old web” and “has no algorithm”. i like my chronological dash but it is equally as addicting to scroll through the thousands of people ive followed over the years, as it is to scroll through the algorithmic feeds of youtube shorts, because that's just social media!

and kicking addiction is pretty damn hard. before 2023, i made two separate attempts at reducing my tumblr usage and both fell through within a week due to that addiction. for reference this current bought of thoughts about reducing my tumblr usage and making my online/irl balance more healthy, around the start of 2023 when i began working on my website and its taken me an entire year to wean myself off of the hellsite, bit by bit. theres a point where it stopped being a conscious act, and even as i was carefully whittling down how often i use tumblr with extensions like leechblock i still had that compulsion go off multiple times every day, its a really strange feeling. but now that ive found so many more ways to express myself online, i just feel more whole now... i guess what im saying is that when i post on tumblr my first instinct is to complain or wallow about something, when i post on my own handmade blog on my website i always want to talk about things that excite me or make me happy! and its been such a tangible change in the way i think and act and im certain its because of the way social media and tumblr have their own “societal expectations” and structure that is built to feed on this negativity loop.

and a lot of the biggest shifts happened when i began immersing myself in the ideals of the web revival, while creating my own website. finding things that genuinely interested me and niches i want to occupy made me so much happier. i know we make a lot of jokes about having mutuals we never talk to that mean the world to us and i do think that is indicative of something. like, when i post on a forum full of strangers i am engaging with more “face to face” (or the digital equivalent) communication than i do with years-long mutuals. how genuine are these connections, this dashboard, the enjoyment i got from that meme post ill forget in 10 minutes? (not to say that i don’t genuinely care abt my followers and mutuals. ykwim?) i can still get all the things i enjoy out of tumblr in a more curated form via rss feeds; ive been so much more proud of what i post and create and code on my website. what am i here for? i gradually realized that i am losing absolutely nothing when i “miss out” or block tumblr on my phone or what have you.

since starting working on my neocities site ive felt so much creative drive. ive created whole interactive essays and worlds and games and writings and so many things i could never host on social media. my website is a place of my very own, and ive been learning the value of focusing on what i put out into the net compared to what i take from it. its made me feel so much more fulfilled when i spend time online.

and let's not forget about staff. i have broader issues with how automattic in particular has gone about running the site. the ads only took up more and more of the dashboard, and every month it felt like there was some new paid feature doomed to never take off. all while the user experience gradually degraded. using the site without browser extensions to fix the ui and block the ads and tumblr live and all the other shit they threw all over the place makes it look like its ridden with viruses, and i think the fact that its become so normalized to feel like we have to stay in spaces that become increasingly hostile to us, even while the internet is so vast, is really strange (i mean, i also thought that way at first). but Anyway. so much time and effort was spent on features no one liked or wanted in some desperate attempt to get a little extra money, while staff members get in public fights with users who complain about getting monetization shoved down their throat. its so openly pathetic. the merch store had mostly mediocre designs and the digital tumblrmart is absolutely full of useless digital goods with free alternatives. considering this is a userbase that gladly donates to other sites donation drives for hosting costs (i.e. ao3, wikipedia, internet archive), i am shocked that staff never considered the obvious answer of a fucking donation drive once a year or so! the ceo telling people with concerns about the ads being unsafe for epilepsy to “just pay the ad free subscription” is one of the most disgusting things ive ever heard from someone officially representing such a platform. do not be fooled by the reputation tumblr has cultivated: all that it cares about is making money from you. tumblr is “in danger” because it can't turn a profit- because a profit is all they care about!

so why stay here when im happier elsewhere, apart from the addictive compulsion? that's what ive been thinking through for nearly a year, realizing that i have no reason to, and that weaning myself off of the addiction is in my best interest. i can create and blog and have fun online and connect with others and follow other peoples work all without the need for tumblr anymore! and i think id be all the healthier for it.

over the past year ive truly fallen in love with the internet again and ive loved putting myself out there, unrestrained in ways i havent felt since i was very young. but nonetheless ive learned a lot on tumblr, ive had some of the worst and best experiences of my online life, and i dont doubt that i would be a much different person if i had never been a tumblr user for as long as i was. but i had to break out of this shell eventually.

i keep going over this wondering how i can express every feeling in my head, how i can word everything just a little better, how i can make the perfect goodbye. but i think this will have to suffice.

you can still keep up with me online here:

-explore my website: i keep it consistently updated and im always adding new things and writing new posts on my blog! you can even speak to me directly on the site! if you sign my guestbook or use my chatbox ill try to respond :) if theres anything on this list you do id like it to be this one! i worked hard on it! you can even send me chat messages on my homepage! just keep in mind it may not display everything right on most mobile browsers, but it should be mostly navigable...

you can also subscribe to my rss feed. if you don't know what rss is, it allows you to use a feed reader to keep up with updates from sites all over the internet! my rss feed will notify you whenever ive made a new post on my blog or made an interesting edit on my site id like you to take a peek at :0 convenient, right?

you can also email me at wygolvillage@gmail.com to message me directly. if you prefer im also “wygolvillage” on discord

thank you and happy new years :) thanks for seeing me off as i sail to a new sunrise <3

[soullessduck13]

OKAY SO. GOT ONE PERSON INTERESTED IN THIS SO IM GONNA TALK ABOUT IT!!! Under the cut tho

Okay so post apocalyptic au, kinda zombie apocalypse?? the Shadow virus is the main thing here, and it's got canon typical violence, child death, all that. like. it's a qsmp post apocalypse au of course there will be a lot of that kinda stuff, also lots of mind fuckery

so!! how i imagine the virus works is that it like.. has rules, but like any rules they have exceptions (this will be a surprise tool used for later) and i dont have all of them figured out but i know there will be different stages and it takes a WHILE to get to the point the actually dangerous infected in this au are, but being infected means both physically and mentally, and it really depends on who you are as a person how that change affects you, it might make you more angry (wink) or might make you forget things

it can also alter age, and like appareance, obviously, but one of the main things is. well. the thing its named after, shadows. They move through shadows and reach out and grab onto unsuspecting souls

Now for like teams and stuff i have a general idea for all of them? but it requires the knowledge that the virus came into this world almost 400 years ago, the federation was started a decade or so after that, then the Eye (a group) appeared, later the Soulfire, Green (Gay) Ninjas and Bolas Rojas were founded, in that order.

Tubbo is the youngest known leader of the Soulfire to date, at only 19 years old which is surprising to basically everyone in higher ranks because 1, he's not even 20 yet (they still show him respect because he's their leader) and 2, he wasn't originally from the group. He only arrived a year or two ago but hey, he adapts fast Tina and Bad are co-leaders, leading different departments of the group, or better said organization. Tina taking care of their public reputation and farming, while Bad is usually taken as the actual leader but just being the one to help lead attacks on different groups

GGN were founded to rebel against Soulfire, and are now led by Etoiles, who much like Tubbo, wasn't born there, but unlike Tubbo was very much known before that and they knew he'd be a good fit for their leader after killing their previous one (dont worry about that) There's no co-leaders but there are well known people that like to take charge and lead, but they always go back to listening to Etoiles

Now, Bolas Rojas, also known as the Gas Mask cult, as a group are much younger compared to the other two, but they appeared with a set leader and chaos to create out of nowhere, and the leader is called the Crowfather and seems to have stayed the same since they appeared.... Weird!! Nowdays, they have a council and a second in command, but that doesn't change anything, really. They are much more spread out, and have an intricate introduction ritual and nobody really wants to deal with that unless they're desperate enough

if you're wondering about the eggs, don't worry about it! They're safe from all of their parents!

PLEASSSEEE ASK BAOUT THIS OR LIKE. TALK TO ME ABOUT IT PLEASE...... ITS SO NEW BUT IM SO READY TO SPITBALL IDEAS

[elephant-in-the-pride-parade]

Fic Author Questions

@curator-on-ao3 thank you for tagging me in this new set of fic author questions! I had a lot of fun answering. ❤️

1. Why do you write fanfic?

I guess I stuck with it and stayed inspired largely because ive found really wonderful communities in fanfiction, whether its coming together to share in one beautiful AU story or different iterations of canon or just experiencing the joy of writing together. and having those communities has sustained me through some very isolated years and have been overall a positive experience in my life. ive made really wonderful friends through fanfic.

But I can't deny that I got into fanfic because my brain just fixated on one story and i had the overwhelming urge to put it on paper and so a smaller motivation is that there continue to be stories like that that motivate me to keep writing fic.

2. Which of your posted stories do you think about the most, even though the story is “finished”?

I guess just by virtue of planning the sequel at the moment, I think about and reread Unbroken alot

I have also had the Universe to Mend in my mind since last year and keep coming back to the two versions of Janeway i explored in that and where I left the two of them. and thinking about the other characters too: Mortal Q and Captain Chakotay and Stadi/Tuvok and where they might wind up next.  I have a few ideas for what might come next so I suspect there's at least one sequel on the horizon somewhere.

3. If you could give yourself fic advice from when you first started writing fic, what would that advice be?

Deadlines help you set goals and motivate yourself, but you don't owe them to your readers.

4. What’s your relationship to fic stats?

So, and this has been a very good thing for my self esteem and general mental health, working with data all day has made me really ambivalent about my story stats. They're interesting and useful when I have a specific question I want to answer with them but the rest of the time I no longer pay much attention to them.

The stats that I do focus on are all things I measure - timeframe to chapter/story completion, average words per chapter, total word count. Those help me set realistic expectations for myself and help me work on my goals of having healthy writing habits and writing more concise stories.

5. Is there a pairing or scenario or friendship you miss writing? If so, why? If not, why not?

I miss writing Threshold AU!!!!

I want to again and will again, but having had like... negative amounts of writing time this summer and being fixated on a new long story, lots of others have taken a backseat. i really miss the cameraderie of writing threshold au stories and the freedom and joy I get from working with that really original fresh premise - it frees me to experiment and be a bit more imaginative. im sad i havent had time for it in a while.

6. What motivates you to write?

A story takes up residence in my head and its beautiful and tempting and I cannot rest until I have delved in and explored it. Thoroughly.

7. Why do you write for the fandom(s) that you write for?

communities and friendships do a lot to help keep me inspired, both while continuing old longstanding stories and developing new ideas. and ive found this with Sailor Moon and Star Trek. I doubt i would be as prolific in either fandom without those communities.

8. If you’re stuck writing a WIP, what do you do?

I shove it in the back somewhere and work on other things until ive figured out what I dont like about it thats got me stuck. sometimes it works out that I just need a better idea of where the story is going. and then the story gets finished. and sometimes i find myself realizing the premise is a good one but the execution isnt.  and then if ive already started posting it, i put it in my "Under Review" collection (an unrevealed AO3 collection only I can see) and figure out if i can rework the story from the ground up or if it isnt going to get finished. I've got 3 in there right now.

9. What do you wish people knew about comments?

That it is actually a huge boost in inspiration to get a nice one. and that it's okay to leave short ones.

10. Maybe there’s a question you wish had been on here. What’s that question (and answer)?

My write in question: Do you create or want to try other types of fanworks?

Just for me i make playlists for characters to help inspire me for fics. sometimes i dabble in fanart. drawing is always really relaxing.

im also facinated by bookbinding. it looks like a really fun physical craft to build even if it looks complicated. i'd love to learn more about how it works.

A lot of my people i usually tag are tagged already so If you want to respond with your own please do!

[xxbl00ds0akeds3raxx]

hey, fifi? seraphina? my love, my one and only… we really need to talk.

i was reading through your old posts and i found some REALLY weird stuff there.

like, okay, i know we’ve talked about ur other… flings before. i’ll tolerate them for you, you still know that. but.. what’s this about working at the brothel??? PLEASE tell me someone was joking writing that… in all of those asks… this has to be some weird joke, right???

at least with ur modeling and streaming, i can keep you safe. no one can hurt u there. but the brothel? sure, the whole town is crawling with rapists, but why would u intentionally go where they’re all gathered??? u even SAID that u KNOW it’s unsafe. why do u keep working there? it has to be a joke. if it’s not, u need to quit.

please. I can get us a flat or something since u can’t stay at my house. or get my parents to like u more. It’ll just take a bit more time. u don’t have to keep working to earn money. or at least not there. i could keep us safe, and happy… i just don’t know why u don’t trust me to do that!!

…i need to go look through the rest of ur posts now too. don’t block me, i have other accounts too, you already know that. u can’t keep hiding these things from me.

is there anything else u want to admit now too?? u know i'll find out eventually.

i’m TRYING to be good for u here. but it’s getting really fucking hard. i'm just trying to protect u.

…please reply.

- kylar

hhh hello kylar! my love, my pretty boy!!! umm!! tha thing abt my old posts is that they r old! ^.^ no need to look through the rest of them. not that i'm hiding anything from u— i just think we should talk b4 u... mmm, rile urself up more maybe ??

ofc i have no reason 2 lie to u sooo ahaha... ^_^ yes, i used to work at the brothel. i mean...,, i technically still do but mostly just to restock the facilities! i dont dance anymore. except for fridays,,, but all of that is very meticulously planned out and none of it is real! just a show!! briar makes sure it's safe 4 me bc umm the audience rlly likes me and i make her a lot of money so i can't just... quit really–

i don't have 2 fuck anyone there anymore, so its okay, right?? i could go over tha terms n conditions of shows w/ u if it'd make u more comfortable ??? ^^' i swear ik what i'm doing & i am being safe now, i didn't tell u bcos i knew u wld get worried and i never want to make u upset im sorry :((

baby, that sounds wonderful but... how would you even afford a flat— ? i mean, i could pitch in of course, but i still have to pay off bailey :/ and i have 2 be responsible 4 robin as well,,, u know im working hard 2 get on ur parents good sides but it will take time ಥ_ಥ

i do trust u!! i know u have my best interest in mind <3 it's just that um... sometimes wat u want isn't... realistic- like,,, even if i did quit, the problems wouldn't go away. i made my bed n now i gotta lie in it & until i have tha resources to cover it up,,, its smth we have 2 live w/ 〒▽〒 ghhh im sorry that i've dragged u into all of this :( i will make it up 2 u i promise !!!

u are being so good and i'm so proud of u, i love u so much <3 plz be patient w/ me, i'm also trying,,,

[hella1975]

Hi hella!!!

I feel like i always start these off or end them by saying that these things are going to be incomprehensible in some way, mainly bc i have trouble translating whats going on in my mind into written words so i really dont know how much of my list thingies make sense to you but this one is especially probably going to not make much sense. (also bc i send them a lot when im either very tired or not sober, but i am sober and wide awake rn so this might be a different kind of incomprehensible)

I found one of my old drafts for an ask from around a year ago and it was a follow up response to the last chapter you posted at the time, so im not sure how its going to sound without the context of that specific chapter, but i also mentioned in one of my other asks that i add stuff in last minute and that ask i added a shit ton of stuff so i dont have any of that pretyped out so im going by memory.  But im sending it again bc i havent seen you answer it 

(please do not interpret this as ‘why didnt you answer my ask >:/’ or me rushing you to answer asks or anything like that, but like I said its been a year so im assuming tumblr ate it.  If not and you just havent cleaned out your ask box and you find the original, congratulations you’ll know what i originally said.  Bc idk how accurate this will be)

SO

Theres two different ways that you seem to write metaphors (idk if thats what theyre called im not caught up on my literary terminology)

 (im scrolling through your blog rn looking for my other asks and tumblr really did you dirty in your asks system like i started scrolling and the third one down was from 2021 and im fighting for my life trying to find my tag (thank you for my tag btw its very useful to me))

Anywho, most of your metaphors ( to me) can be split into two categories.  Theres the simple ones and the complex ones.  Now this might seem obvious but im going to explain to you how these have different effects on my brain.  

An example of the ‘simple’ ones is  

““If Nanook’s tone had a note of seriousness, then Zuko’s was the entire orchestra.”” (idk what chapter this is from its been a while)

You have a lot of these kinds of whatever the haick kind of literary technique this is (is this a metaphor i’ve been trying to google it for like ½ an hour and i cant figure it out) BUT these type of things that are simple and easy to process is one of my favorite things about the way you write.  I think this is a very common technique but the way you do it to me is just a lot more unique than the ways ive seen it done before.  Its extremely fluent with the voice of the characters and brings a perfect kind of vibe to the ‘conversation’ (or story, text, whatever) and it paints the picture of what your trying to say perfectly.  I also really like how these types of things arent ever in Zukos pov a lot (sometimes it is, but not nearly as much, I’ve noticed) and its not in the more serious like revelations that you drop these in.  Like I said, it adds to the voice of the characters, bc of the contrast of Zuko constantly having revelations and dramatic archs and stuff, and the other characters just in general being a lot more calm.  Its like when youre listening to a song and you have the lyrics and the like ‘main’ music behind the lyrics, but then when you listen to the song a lot you notice the smaller, like backup music that adds a lot to the song and makes it a lot more enjoyable than if it was just the lyrics and the louder more up front music.  

Then in contrast you have the bigger ‘metaphors’ 

An example of this is ‘You curse in words already invented’ 

THIS IS MY FAVORITE LINE IN THE ENTIRE FIC.  

OF ANY FIC OR BOOK EVER READ

AND THIS IS WHY

When I tell you I could not figure out what this meant for months I am AWFUL with stuff like this and interpreting it my english teachers hate me bc of it.  Id have the question ‘why were the curtains blue’ and my answer would be ‘bc the people who decorated the room like blue maybe theyre interior designers and it goes with the room 😊 and thats so hot of them bc i love blue too’  

But even thought i couldnt figure it out it stayed in my head and i probably thought about it once a day (i mean this literally, i think about that part all the time) and i cant remember the context for that or anything but i do remember that i knew it was a wonderful phrase.  

I’ve mentioned in my other asks how whenever im reading anything at all that you’ve written (whether its tams, or toab, or in the tags of something even if its like 10 words), everything you type comes out so fluidly like a formula or a color wheel or however i put it last time i talked about this.  And this is on the prodigious end of the spectrum of this.  

But phrases like that are another part of the fic, theyre like the lyrics of the song.  Like the phrases that gets all the attention and gets put in fanart and that gets quoted in comment sections because they deserve that recognition and you deserve that recognition and are just a reminder of how incredibly talented you are.  

I mean that in the most sincere way that i know how to express.  

I am constantly in awe of you and your writing style, and i really do think of you as one of the most talented writers of everything ive ever read.  

And something else worth mentioning is that it isnt just your ao3 that portrays that.  Like if I were to just read your ao3 I’d be like ‘oh wow this person is an amazing writer’ But your tumblr persona plays into it a lot more (In my opinion).  Because then you see like more ‘backround’ stuff on ao3.  And more of your system (im not articulating this in the way i mean it very well) and you get privy to the fact that you’re not a 30 year old with a masters in english and that you’ve never had any formal education on writing.  I vaguely remember you talking about a story about a sailor (??? i might be misremembering that) that you wrote when you were a child and thinking ‘oh wow so she’s always been like that’.  And its stuff like that that you dont get on ao3 that kind of reaffirms how incredible of a writer you are.  

And this (to me) makes you a really easy person to admire.  (ik i touched on this in a different ask but i dont remember if it was one of my list asks or not) but as someone who probably isnt going to ever be able to get an education around writing, it kind of reassures me that i dont need that to be great at it.  

(i kind of feel like a lot of the stuff in this ask is too like ‘simple’ or obvious to be given a lot of weight, but this whole thing is about the kinds of things you do that brings me personally joy and the metaphors are one of them so)

Also on an off note when i was looking through your asks to try to find my tag, I noticed that i send you a heavy percentage of your anonymous asks (mainly without my alias) and I thought that was funny.  But also i hope it doesnt come across as obsessive or weird, I swear i do that to a lot of people on here, I’m just a very social person.  .😂

Also Im in your tbos server (lurking in the shadows) and someone pointed out that whenever you do the reaction emojis you always do the white ones, and thats going on the official ‘my favorite things about hella’ list because that was genuinely one of the funniest things ive seen. 

Also the ‘anytime you type its very fluid (im too lazy to scroll up and see how i put it rn) also carrys on to discord.  I think that i could probably block out the user names and be able to figure out that its you talking every time, you have a very distinct way of talking.  

Also i wanted to mention that every time you answer these i read them again and i want to say like 1/3 of what i sasy, i have no recollection of. And i never have any idea what im talking about. so i think thats funny.

LIST ANONNNNNNNNNNNNN BAWLING MY EYES OUT HELLO BABY WELCOME BACK FROM WAR IVE MISSED YOU IM JUST HERE LIKE THIS RN

[danphantom]

oh hey i wanna talk abt smth thats been on my mind both lately and on and off for a while in general. sorry this ended up being a hella long post lol. but i have a lot to say

so...for context, ive been in the phandom for 10 years--since 2014--though it has admittedly been on and off in terms of engagement from me. in 2017 i got into dragon ball and all but dropped danny phantom completely with a few small drawings here and there. it was only like..within the past week that i actually got back into the phandom legitimately again, actively making art and posts about it and engaging with the source material and etc

anyway, i was obsessed with dp from 2014-late 2017 (until i got into dbz). i made lots and lots of fanart, played the gba games like all the damn time (i got to where i could speedrun tue lol), rewatched the show regularly...i was even one of those fans that bought obscure merch and learned useless trivia that ive since forgotten. in 2015 a lot of you may remember that i made @doppelgangercomic, a comic about an au i had where dan got a redemption arc (albeit a bumpy one) and future vlad was there and stuff happened (go read the comic LOL). it got a LOT of love and traction! it made me really happy to see all the positivity around my work like that :) i actually got a lot of positive responses towards my work in general. i had a really great time in the phandom back then

then i changed fandoms and kinda fell out of the phandom space. after being on a hiatus from the phandom until literally a week ago, i honestly have to say ive felt like i kind of...faded into obscurity in the phandom's eyes? basically i feel like old news. people dont generally know what doppelganger is now. they may have seen my art in passing here and there but they dont know who i am anymore. i think the only place people actively still find my old danny phantom art from when i was heavily active is...deviantart lol. i get notifications from favorites literally every day there. but uh anyway--im not saying this to garner pity or tell a sob story or anything! im just expressing some thoughts and feelings ive had for a long time lol.

the reason i bring this ^ up though, is because like...i know its not true? logically, i know that i DID make an impact in the fandom i loved/love so so much. i left my mark on both the fandom in an artistic sense, and also the people in the fandom, and sometimes i forget that because i get significantly less engagement on my posts than i used to. but i know that doesnt mean that people dont like my stuff anymore, or that ive been forgotten.

i actually got a message from someone today--a friend i made kinda recently who approached me bc they liked doppelganger actually. they told me that basically its surreal to them that theyre talking to me as a friend because they remember reading doppelganger when they were younger and looking up to me because of it. and it really reminded me of what i said previously--ive not been forgotten, and people still do appreciate and love what ive put out into the world (specifically about danny phantom in this case). ive made an impact on people's lives even when i dont realize it or see it physically. the message and sentiment made me feel really really good and nice and happy and honestly relieved, because the phandom and danny phantom as a media has been an extremely important and impactful part of my life ever since i got into it ten years ago. i literally changed my name to dan because of it lol. it was the reason i found stephen silver's work and went down that path of my art journey. its the reason i found so many amazing people and friends and artists and continue to do that even now. i owe a lot to danny phantom and the phandom as a whole, and i try to give back in the only ways i know how--mainly thru showing my passion through my art and posts.

anyway erm. yeah. all of this to say i wanted to thank yall--the phandom--for supporting me all this time, whether youve been with me from the beginning or if youre just joining me recently. youve been an absolute delight in my life and i know youll continue to be for a long time. :)

[brybryby]

VERY LONG POST IM SORRY. DONT FEEL OBLIGED TO READ

HI. Alrighty, this has been on my mind for a while (ever since promotional content for Trials started being released).

I have a TON of analyses in the drafts, but I want to make this post before I release them for public viewing.

I know that I like to make goofy, light-hearted little fan animations and fan art of Outlast, but I think I need to start changing how I navigate through the content. After spending so much of my time deep diving and writing up these analyses, my eyes have been opened to just how much the franchise revolves around fucked up historical events. I feel that some of the stuff I've posted is tone deaf, or at least the way I posted about it is. And I think—for the most part—there's an understanding that I don't intend to be harmful, but I fear that the way I go about it **is**. (And obviously, action takes precedence over intent.)

For contextualization, when I initially got into Outlast at the age of 12, I was enthralled by the horror aesthetics and found a lot of the angsty gore to be cathartic. I felt so “taboo” and “scandalous” lol (especially as a developing child trying to understand myself amidst my puberty stage). I was young and—for lack of a better word—braindead in how I navigated the media. I was naive, mindless, ignorant, etc etc… Now that I have a deeper understanding of the narratives and historical implications/influences, I need to do better in how I interact with the franchise.

What am I getting at?

Pretty much, I'm working on being more careful with how I interact with the media. At the same time, I want the analyses that I post to be educational. And most importantly, please message me if I ever say some bullshit. Seriously. All I ever want to do with my life is to be a positive impact. I genuinely get upset if I cause harm to someone else. (One time I literally cried at a high school football game as a freshman because I thought I hurt someone else's feelings. It turned out they were faking it lmao. Then they started feeling bad and then that made me feel bad for crying and yea yea).

Seriously though. I know that my posts can get public outreach, and anything that has public outreach can be influential and have a good or bad impact. So please let me know if I do or say anything harmful or ignorant. I won't be offended. I don’t want to spread harmful stuff. There are many instances in my life where people sit me down to have meaningful conversations about shit I've said or done and how I can improve myself.

That said, I'll be posting more analyses and making my own syntheses of historical events. My next analysis post will be about Waylon's Asian-coding (specifically Korean-coding), how Trials actually supports this (using themes of US immigration), and why it is apparent to many Asian fans (including me, hehe).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That's pretty much it. But if you wanna stick around a bit further, I'll tell you my (excruciatingly long) story about how I got into Outlast :) along with how much it has invaded my brain and life :') and maybe get a little ~personal~ hehe

STORYTIME:

So, the game came out in 2013. Nearly 10 years ago. I was 12 at the time of its release. Let me tell you…this game was a HUGE impact in the horror community. HOLY. SHIT. It changed the way I looked at lockers and beds. I remember it being critically acclaimed (and rightfully so). It may have not been the most technical video game, but it certainly was a piece of art.

I remember commercials being shown everywhere. The trailer of beta Miles Upshur running and parkouring through Mount Massive while being chased by the tiny beta model of Chris Walker will forever be canonized as part my childhood. I remember specifically heading to the bathroom from my living room and my dad interrupting me to say “Hey! Check this out!” and then proceeding to play the trailer for my 12-year-old eyes. I was scared shitless.

Couple weeks later, Conan O'Brien featured Outlast in one of his segments of “Clueless Gamer” (yeah, my family and I used to watch Conan lol). I was very familiar with Slender and Amnesia, which were the 2 other games featured in this Halloween special, but this was the first time I REALLY got to check out Outlast.

Now, let me preface that during this time, internet culture was very interesting and even less safe than it is today. I had a ton of bad experiences on the internet during my childhood. But oddly (and embarrassingly), the emo/scene/horror/creepypasta culture was what brought me comfort amongst a sea of awful things you could find on the internet. It was probably unhealthy for my developing brain, but I indulged in a lot of angst that was presented with heavy gore and violence. And to be honest, looking at this kind of stuff at a young age helped me process a lot of my own personal shit that I experienced outside of the internet realm. (To be clear, I don't endorse this type of violence, and I don't endorse exploring the internet in the same way I did as a child—it was probably very unhealthy and I think it caused some early development issues.)

But nothing—and I mean NOTHING—scratched that itch more than the way Outlast did. I watched the finger cutting scene in Conan's “Clueless Gamer” and was fucking mortified. I was scared of the dark for weeks. But I remember spending that night in my bedroom looking at more Outlast content to get that cathartic fix to fill my emotional hole of…I don't know…morbid curiosity? I definitely felt shame at the time. I don't know. In recent years, I've been on this journey to process stuff I experienced during my childhood and I struggle to go about my middle-school/junior-high stage because…I don't know…puberty? Access to the internet? I once got bullied by a forum of adult men for posting fan art LMAO. I was 12 years old—I forgot what the fan art even was. ANYWAYS, yea. That was only one instance of my conglomeration of internet experiences. (Like many other peeps, I had to hide my gender & racial identity to preserve my sanity). Indulging in gore art was therapeutic and helped me release negative emotions in a non-harmful way. Horror-genre communities online have been mostly friendly and welcoming towards me. That's probably why I fell in love with Outlast as an art rather than a video game.

I wasn't in the fandom straight off the bat. I had other hyper fixations at times but I navigated through these other fixations with this personal “Outlast standard” where the art and fiction I consumed needed to be horror-themed, gorey, or angsty. And Outlast isn't solely to blame. I was into gore and angst before the game came out. It just so happened that it came out at such a perfect time in my life. (Horror made my queer self feel accepted)

This whole “Outlast standard” stuck with me throughout high school. Uh… this next bit of information may get a little personal. During my sophomore year, someone really important in my life passed away. Then I had this life-impacting thing happen during my junior year that changed how I perceived things forever (lol, this sounds so dramatic). I turned to art to help me process and yada yada… but y'know what really helped? You know what I turned to when I needed to “scratch the itch”? (I bet you'll never guess)

I finally considered myself a part of the Outlast fandom in 2018-2019. I was a high school junior/senior and I posted the Outlast-Outkast animation that got retweeted by Red Barrels. Had a lot of fun in the fandom during that time and it helped get my mind off of things. Also, I loved the fact that Waylon graduated from Berkeley. I was applying to colleges during this time and it made me romanticize Berkeley, lol. I ended up getting accepted. Had an awesome time. I recently graduated and got my Bachelor's. I'm very privileged and gracious for my experience. I spent a lot of grueling time and energy dedicated towards my education.

During my college years, a lot of the unprocessed shit from my childhood started resurfacing and it was becoming hard to navigate through life. I became really disconnected with people who were close to me. Art started to fall out of my life. Stuff happened. Got in touch with psychiatrists thanks to my college's free health services. I don't mean to downplay or normalize what happened, but I'll bring up that many college students deal with mental illness and depression (and this could be attributed to many things: moving away from family, student-life, financial pressure, pressure to secure jobs/internships, living alone for the first time, maturing into an adult, etc. etc.).

But I remember sitting alone in my studio apartment one weekend and started surfing Tumblr. I came across new Outlast fan art and it sparked my hyper fixation all over again. I re-read the comics and—OKAY THIS IS GONNA SOUND FUCKING RIDICULOUS—but I started jogging because Miles went on jogs LMAOOAKJDGHJAHKGFL. I finally picked up the pencil and started drawing again (after like…months) and drew Miles and Waylon flipping off Murkoff. And THAT was when I realized what the narratives of Outlast were actually about—FUCKIN' CAPITALISM AAUGGGHHH. MY LITTLE POOPOO BRAIN AT AGE 12 NEVER UNDERSTOOD THAT. AND NOW THAT I'M AN ADULT—NOW THAT I CAN BLATANTLY SEE MYSELF AND MY PEERS AS VICTIMS/PRODUCTS OF CAPITALISM—CAN FINALLY FIND SO MUCH VALUE AND MEANING IN THIS GAME HHHRHRJGHKSDKFGLAJKDG SAY W H A T IM GONNA *explodes*

Then a year later, I started drawing more and more again. Trials' promotional marketing was becoming more prominent. I started posting my fan art on Tumblr. Then I made the fanimation (thank you Mr. Baichoo, you're so awesome, I will forever be a fan of yours) and now here I am. Still fixated on this silly little game for nearly 10 years. WHEW.

I FEEL LIKE A SHRIMP CHIP. Anyways, thanks. I much needed to get this off my chest.

Also, hey! Just wanted to say thanks for the friendly and welcoming interactions in this space. It feels so much safer and more comforting than previous internet experiences I've had. Since 2013, the fandom has evolved a lot. In my opinion, it has evolved for the better. The resurgence of new fans bring such refreshing perspectives and fields of knowledge that haven't been influenced by some of the harmful internet culture that I grew up in. So truly, many thanks to y'all for making the fandom space a nicer place (especially for such a heavy game). Also, what the heck, everyone in the fandom is seriously so talented and artistic

Uh… fan art time? (old stuff/sketches I haven’t posted)

But seriously if you got this far, thank you

[docilepillow]

MARCH 2024 MEDIA DIARY 2

I ran out of embed space on the first post i had slotted in for this!!! So i'm making two posts!!!!!!! They belong together!!!! Okay!!!!!!! PIZZA TOWER < this game is soggy goop >

Even though I cleared a good portion of this game nigh a year ago now, i still feel compelled to put it on my media diary now, as i've only just got around to finishing the game properly! I believe the point i dropped off the game before was at Pig City, which, i think , is kinda understandable given how big that level is, but, was probably a real bummer for the whole of my friend group who were super into the game when it was new and i probably missed out on talking about it alot with them... POOP!!!! just because this game is popular enough to actually warrant talking about it with my friends later, instead of saying stuff like how i enjoyed the silly cartoony art stlye and the games general charm, im just going to post a level tier list i made the second i beat the game at like near midnight kinda hazy-minded without thinking on it too hard without thinking too deeply in a way thatll be completely inflamitory bc im mostly satisfied with the experience i had and dont really feel the urge to P rank anything --

The stats are saying my total hours round up to 6 hours 50 and pepinno is pointing at me Aughh

My , , Errr, " CRITISISM " of this game is that the funny pizza man is a little, erm, STICKY? Kinda gross. a little weird. Partially my fault. I'm sowwy. I'm not very good at this game but i absolutely respect everyone's opinion on it . Go watch my friend @shoppncart's speedrun, by the way, it's cool :

Speedy! THE MARIO MOVIE < the bario boooby geheheheheheheh >

this is probably a tired opinion but since i was subjected to this movie for the fifth time in a voice call my take is thaat this is probably more enjoyablel then the safeass illumination film. like. yea. that films probably objectively better but. id rather watch something thats an actual adaptation. like this movie. where basically nothing mario happens outside names . Aw. i honestly think this movie has intrigue to it genuinely maybe im saying this bc its one of the movies ive actually watched repeatedly before, like roger rabbit, but i think the history behind this movie and the old anamocity turned-endearment are what make it worth watching. that and its a little goopy You Guys Wanna See Some MM2 Proggys? not a new piece of media technically but ive been playing a fuckton of MM2 recently still as of the end of the month and its absolutely dominating my time as of late, and i kinda wanna show off a small amount of the progress ive made on it, as much as the world map, at least --

It's a media diary. it exists to document MY gaming life. Deal. anyway in regards to it i'm almost finished with the world 4 castle, which is crazy, because before i hadn't even finished world 2, but now i got all of this creative energy in me... If i finish this soon enough, i'd be able to upload it on NSO, so keep your tumpler eyes peeled, mutrals :J I personally like it because theres a theme of aescending on the world map. The space theme in this looks the best, i think.. THE ALCHEMY OF US - HOW HUMANS AND MATTER TRANSFORMED ONE ANOTHER < what the fuck ????? a book ??????? >

yea thats right im reading books this ones actually pretty good apparently a 2020 bestseller though im not in the habit of reading those often so i'll just have to take their word for it on that aspect. i think lifes all about trying new things so around halfway through the month i picked up this cool book i found at my library and got a library card. After reading through it all, i think anecdotally that this book is a very neat read. theres a few sentences that're a little offputting to my young mind but overall the book is filled with alot of cool insight i reccomend checking out if youre the boooky type of person! i think its very good and im glad i picked it out :) i donnu how many of these will be going onto my media diary in the future or anything , but maybe i will if i end up reading more! I'll have to make it up to a friendd for waiting till now to put up something i read here first before that thing she likes. oops.

Volp. OUTSIDE of the traditional media format again, also, are things i largely started on this month but don't think i'll be making all too much more progress in, or if i'm unsure i'll finish what i was doing all in one month- CASTLEVANIA THE ADVENTURE- REBIRTH

POINT OF DROP OFF - STAGE 4 END BOSS REASON BEING - UMMM SORRY I GOT DISTRACTED AND DIED TOO MUCH

castlevania rebirth is a really really cool game. its really cool and im not typing this as fresh as everything else because it was something i picked up for one big sitting earlier in the month. i probably couldve finished it at any point during the week, but simply was too distracted and wanted to do other stuff. It's very cool though, i love the vector sprite art, and there ARE silly stock sound effects everywhere, which is always a big positive for me . I mostly just like how snug the wii classic controller is , and this is a cool game to play it with considering its one of the only non virtual console or old game collection style games available for wii in this exact style ( Not counting the good handful of games that choose to use the wiimote on its side instead. )

over all ill probably sit down and finish this someday soon i just gotta like find time for it whenever next my wii u is plugged in ( it fights for an hdmi slot with my switch and ps4 all the time...! ), and ill probably end up trying to play punch out wii at the same time, given one doesnt dominate my attention over the other. From my understanding they're both short, though, so it shouldnt be too big a deal or obstacle no matter how long i put this off. RANDOM TERRARIA PLAYTHROUGH terraria playthru 1million

ii just really want to see the new terraria update Waaaah... i stopped having fun because i self imposed myself to not use setbonus armor sets at the part of the game where that stops being acceptable anymore so im stopping i think i did get to make another terraria pet though that makes me happy POINT OF DROP OFF - the mechanical bosses

also the most recent thing is

i got too tense and needed to excuse myself after like an hour 30 i cant take too much tension in movies i was really uncomfortable and had to leave to take a breather bc the main character gets put in a really really shitty situation and it was getting hard to watch for my autistic ass

thats enough i think thanks for coming see you next month lol