A Dark Place That Knows Things

AKA Cedar Adult Content ahead - Minors will be blocked on sight I'm Old (30) Likes and Follows from BlueMoonRover AO3 - KO-FI

[sentientcave]

Hey friends! I'm Cedar (He/They). Writer, occasional artist, always just some guy. Doing my best, and hoping to get better.

Ask box open!

Blank and Ageless Blogs will be blocked.

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#Cave Writing for unlinked works and me complaining about writing

Image credit - Banners made in Canva

[lesbianmarrow]

free use is kind of a funny kink bc it relies on the idea that everybody wants to touch you and have sex with you but what if they don't. what if you tell everybody at the party you're free use but they all ignore you and mind their own business

[tunnaa-unnaa]

taking notes

[renthony]

It's wild to watch the phrase "tumblr sexyman" morph into "man that tumblr thinks is sexy," because when I first saw the phrase come into use, I always saw it used in reference to the phenomenon of "when presented with a wide array of fictional characters, tumblr will always pick the skinny white man to obsess over, and if the fan-favorite character has no canonical human appearance, the fandom will inevitably create a popular fanon of the character as as a skinny white man."

When I hear "tumblr sexyman," I think of Cecil Night Vale being constantly depicted as a skinny white man instead of literally anything else. I think of the background character white men who get elevated over protagonists that are women, people of color, or otherwise not the white man power fantasy.

"Tumblr sexyman" is, like. An insult. I DON'T want any of my blorbos to win a "tumblr sexyman" poll. "Tumblr sexyman" is the exact opposite of what I want my own OCs to be. If any of my characters ever get called "tumblr sexyman," I will have to immediately re-evaluate myself and the art I'm making.

[renthony]

Things I think of when I hear "tumblr sexyman":

Cecil Night Vale, as previously mentioned.

Oncelercest, because if there aren't two skinny white men to ship, tumblr fandom will start shipping the skinny white man with himself.

Bill Cipher inexplicably being fanon'd as a white twink despite being a fucking triangle.

Everyone fawning over Marvel Loki while shoving every woman and Black person in the MCU aside.

The way nearly every single character in Hazbin Hotel has the same "tall and skinny" body type, along with all the criticisms Black audience members have made about the issues with Alastor's design.

The way tumblr got obsessed with the white man villain in Sinners.

[amrv-5]

Does anyone know what to do about the temperature and also the prices

[nightonblogmountain]

[yeyinde]

Doug Ford said it "a miracle nobody died" lmao like people will praise everything and everyone else before admitting that we did what we always do and took care of our own. It wasn't a miracle. It was indigenous communities helping each other. It's the people who aren't slashing budgets and telling us it's time to stop holding our hands out despite giving us nothing and passing a bill to give us even less who are opening their doors and letting us in.

Before taking off for the Assembly of Nations, officials told Chief Paavola that there was nothing to worry about, and there was no immediate danger, insisting the smoke residents were seeing came from a smoldering fire farther away.

If it wasn't for someone else alerting the community of the danger, they never would have known. No one called. No one came. The people of Collins had 40 minutes to escape before the fire would have consumed them. This isn't a miracle. It's an utter failing of the people in charge do the bare fucking minimum of their job requirements and keep people safe and informed. We have satellite imaging of the wildfires. We have over 8 different sites currently monitoring the fires. And they were told to stay put.

This isn't a miracle. It was Lyndon Paavola, Monty Frank, Scott Frank, Mitchell Huezo, Wayne Wastaken, Mikey and Ryan Wesley, Kyle MacLaurin, and Dean Goodwin making sure their community got out. It was them risking their lives to go back and get more people because the boats they had were too small. It was Chance Paavola, a 13-year-old boy, risking his own life to save his neighbours.

They were so close to the fire that they could feel the heat from the flames. They watched their community burn, and had to flee to the water because there was no other escape. It took 3 hours for Collins to burn.

If they listened to the officials and the people in power, an entire community of indigenous people would have burned to death. If they didn't have boats, they would have burned to death.

This isn't a miracle. It's an injustice. The government did nothing. They were content to let everyone die and now want to go on press tours down playing how miserably and catastrophically they failed another indigenous community on every single level.

[yeyinde]

Collins is gone.

Namaygoosisagagun First Nation/Collins has burned to the ground. The entire community is nothing but ashes after being quickly consumed by wildfires. They did not have any support from emergency services, and no one offered aid. The community saved themselves by escaping into boats because no one came.

Mishkeegogamang and Cat Lake have lost power. Families are ending up in shelters with nothing. Armstrong, Lac La Croix, Whitesand, Gull Bay, Lac des Mille Lacs are currently in the fires path and all members are being evacuated.

All this loss, all this devastation, and it was entirely preventable.

After steadily underfunding wildland firefighting and purposefully excluding Indigenous wildland firefighters and Indigenous wildfire organizations from wildfire operations, firefighter training, decisionmaking, and resource exchanges, in 2025, Doug Ford slashed the forest firefighting budget.

It's hard to ignore his decision to cut funding and leave us out of adequate fire training (even though we've lived with forest fires for thousands of years—far longer than settlers have been in Canada—and made sure fires like the ones we're all seeing today were prevented through kinisitotēn) when, despite making up less than 5% of the population, we account for 42% percent of all wildfire evacuations in Canada.

And when we are successfully evacuated, we face discrimination and racism—like Kashechewan—because it's always been easier to blame us than it is to blame the true culprit: denialism, corportate greed, and colonization.

The people of Collins and every other impacted community deserve better.

Right now, the AFN is currently accepting donations to help Collins First Nation. If you're able to, please consider donating.

ONWA (Ontario Native Women's Association) is another great place to donate to. They have outreach vans going to motels and inns and offering food, water, resources, and cultural support to those impacted by the wildfires.

Other places to consider donating to are Mikinakoos Emergency Fund, Red Cross, True North Aid, Indigenous Climate Action. You can also send donations directly to Whitesand First Nation via e-transfer ([email protected]) and they request that you add your full name in the e-transfer comment section to receive a tax receipt.

*Before sending money, verify that the appeal appears on an official First Nation, Tribal Council or registered charity channel.

If you can't offer financial support, please consider donating items of need. Moontime Connections is currently accepting drop-off donations. If you live in the Thunder Bay area, Namaygoosisagagun Health Office is also taking in donations! They can also bemailed to Superior Inn Hotel & Conference Centre at 555 West Arthur Street, Thunder Bay, ON, P7E 5P8.

items needed are: food, diapers, medical masks, men’s and women’s joggers (all sizes), children’s clothing (newborn to size 14), children’s shoes, summer clothing, men’s clothing, toiletries (lotion, Vaseline, toothpaste, toothbrushes, shampoo, conditioner, soap, deodorant, etc.), strollers, adult depends-all sizes, dog & cat food

wīya ispīh iyiniw-kiskīyihtamowin pasikōpayiki kāwi askiy ta-iyihyīmakan

[chernozemm]

Love the soft, curious moments of them sharing about their own cultures, biology, etc. I do think Rocky would have a field day when Grace explains skin as a very sensitive and permeable organ with lots of stuff packed tight on the surface. Since goosebumps are very tactile, I thought Rocky would enjoy hearing those.

Also, bonus.

Because it is endlessly entertaining to me to consider how deep in the trenches Rocky is.

[chernozemm]

Asdfghgjgjddgj

I need humankind to unknowingly spawn xenophilia kinks across the universe. The energy I'm bringing to the table is the energy of the first human to enthusiastically shake hands with a Vulcan in front of the whole Vulcan delegation.

[lightasthesun]

EU NEWS: IDENTITY AUTHENTICATION NECESSARY TO ACCESS AND POST ON ALL SOCIAL MEDIA WEBSITES

(Read from left to right.)

Wtf is happening.

PLEASE REBLOG.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Being Gaz's Ex (working title) - 1.3k Words

Notes: Another old bit. Been sitting in the drafts forever and I'm releasing it into the wild. Heavily inspired by @sentientcave's exploration of Price and his ex-wife and brought to the fore again because @anneofgreengabagool keeps reminding me of how much i love hating these men.

---

You've been up for almost 36 hours now, between living your own life, the call, and traveling back to England to sit at Kyle's bedside. The doctors say he's going to make a full recovery. All of the pieces of metal are accounted for, his lung is patched up. They hadn't told you over the phone quite what had happened, but now you've pieced together that a combination of bullets, an explosion, and a partially collapsed building chewed Kyle up and spit him out.

He wakes up slowly. His eyes are a bloodshot but clear as they flutter open. He groans, and you know his throat hurts; he was intubated until just a couple of hours ago. When you open the straw for his little glass of water, he turns to see you with a wince that turns into a tired grin.

"Hey," he rasps.

You press the straw between his lips. "Don't talk. Slow sips. When you're done with this, I'll get your captain."

He obediently, painstakingly, drinks. A third of the way done, he says, "Thank you for coming."

You clench your jaw and resist the urge to dump the rest of the water over his head. "Update your emergency contact." When he opens his mouth so say something else, you jab the straw into the top of his mouth, gentler than you would like. He winces, but starts drinking again. "Don't, Kyle."

The door opens, and in walks Captain John fucking Price, right on time. His beard fluffs up around his smile when he sees Kyle awake.

"Broken, Gaz?"

"You tell me, Cap," Kyle wheezes.

"Well, the building fell, and apparently you tried to catch it." He comes to a stop on the other side of the bed from you. He crosses his arms, you assume to keep from touching and also to be a little intimidating to you.

Now that Kyle is smiling up at him, you put the cup of water down and take a step back. "I'll let the nurses know he's awake."

"You don't have to go." Kyle's puppy dog eyes are both hindered and strengthened by the bruising around his right eye.

You turn your back to pick up your purse and book from the recliner in the corner. "I'm also going to grab something to eat."

"Grab me a sandwich, love."

If looks could kill, Price would be dead three times over. "Eat shit and die."

---

When you make your way back to the room, you find Lieutenant Riley and a man you vaguely recognize as another sergeant waiting for the elevator. You almost don’t clock him. The hood of Simon’s jacket is down, leaving his hair looking ruffled. His plain black surgical mask doesn’t stand out. And then he turns to you enough that you can see the scars on the other side of his face, his eyebrows popping up.

“You look exhausted,” he says as a greeting. His companion - the slightly overgrown mohawk is so familiar but you cannot remember his name - looks between the two of you curiously.

“I’m creeping up on forty hours without sleep,” you answer, taking a sip of your coffee and staring at the elevator door instead of looking at him.

“Look good, then,” is all he says.

“John MacTavish,” the other one introduces himself, extending a hand.

“Uh huh.” You give him a quick glance up and down as the elevator arrives. John “Soap” MacTavish. You’re not surprised he doesn’t remember meeting you once, a couple of years ago. He looks a bit startled when you step into the elevator instead of taking his hand, but follows Simon’s lead and doesn’t comment further.

You let them enter Kyle’s room while you linger in the hall, scrolling through your phone. There’s a seating area just a little further down the hall, that you’re seriously considering, but then the door opens and Soap pokes his head out.

“Kyle’s askin’ fer ye,” he says.

You step inside, and put your back to the wall on next to the door. They’ve obviously left the recliner open for you, but they’ve also rolled it closer to Kyle’s bedside, so you stay where you are. Price is right where you left him, standing over Kyle like a sentry. Ghost is across from the foot of Kyle’s bed, while Soap takes a seat on the window sill.

They’re all looking at you. You want to ask if they’re waiting for you to do a trick, but you’re trying not to start fights you’re too tired to finish. “You need me to call the nurse?”

“Just wondered where you were,” Kyle says. He sounds better, but that’s not saying much. “Simon said you rode up the elevator with them.”

Traitor. “I was just in the hall. Don’t need to overcrowd you.”

“You could never, lovie.”

“Don’t.” You were willing to be gentle earlier, but lovie is several steps too far. You look at Price. “Are we divvying up shifts, then?”

One of his eyebrows arches. “You need a break?”

From anyone else, that wouldn’t be an accusation. But Price is a master of pointed questions. Too bad for him, you stopped caring about his opinion of you about a year and a half ago. “Considering I’m the one listed for overnights and emergency decisions, I should probably sleep more than a couple of hours every three days.”

“We can get you a hotel,” Kyle rasps.

“I’m set,” you answer, without looking at him. You arch an eyebrow at Price. “Visiting hours end at six. I can be back at five.”

“We’re approved until eight.”

“Then I’ll be back at seven.”

“’Ll walk you out,” Simon says. “Left somethin’ in the car.”

“No you didn’t,” you correct. “Don’t lie for my benefit, Simon, I don’t appreciate it. If you’re walking with me, I can’t stop you.”

“Sorry,” he says, standing and putting his hands in his pockets. “Force of ‘abit.”

You don’t tell him he’s full of shit, because you’re not going to be drawn into a fight that Price can take advantage of. You step forward to pick up the larger bag off of the recliner and push the rolling table close enough that Kyle can reach the water on his own. “Stay hydrated. I’m telling the nursing staff to make sure you stay on top of your pain meds.”

He looks a bit cowed and a lot sad. But he only says, “Okay.”

It tugs at your heart, just a bit. You’d feel worse if you didn’t know those sad eyes were step one of his emotional warfare campaign. You exit the room with Simon on your heels.

He doesn’t say anything until you’re in the lobby, calling a car. “C’n drive you.”

“No.”

“A’righ’,” he says. “Don’t be too harsh on ‘im, eh? ‘E almost died.”

“You know the last time he talked to me? Six months ago.” You counter. “He called me, drunk. Asked for another chance. No apologies. No therapy. Just ‘please take me back, I know you still love me.’”

“You do,” Simon points out. “Or you wouldn’t be ‘ere.”

“And that’s what’s so fucking tragic,” you tell him, finally looking up into his eyes. Simon’s always been your favorite of Kyle’s coworkers, because he’s always been honest and respected your honesty back. “He keeps reeling me back in because I love him. But the whole time he’s insisting he wants us to work, he doesn’t say he loves me, once.”

“’E does.”

“It’s never going to be enough,” you sigh. Your phone buzzes to tell you the car is arriving soon. “Loving me is never going to be his priority. He demands that I make even more concessions, goes silent for months, and then calls me in to make medical decisions. After I've told him repeatedly to pick someone else, anyone else, for this.”

[whoreiorcats]

i think ao3 should have a feature like an anonymous kudos but instead of kudos its "i jorked it to completion" and you can leave as many of these as you want and obviously authors would opt-in to this feature on a per-fic basis but like. i want the stats, you know.

[whoreiorcats]

jerk it to fanfiction??? noooo bro i was just joshing ya. wouldnt that be crazy? haha. fucking got you bro i cant believe youre so gullible. what a far fetched notion. that people would do such a thing. cant believe you fell for it

[tsunflowers]

reading a historical romance novel and reflecting on the way these stories often present woke nobility for the contemporary reader. a big thing is servants. you can’t not have servants in those times but many modern readers think “but I would never have servants. it would be so weird to have servants” and in order to make the protagonists of the story more relatable they are actually friends with the servants. but flip your perspective and think of it from the side of the servants. wouldn’t it be so awful if your boss was always trying to be friends with you. a really common thing you’ll see is the woke baronet having tea in the kitchen with the servants bc he’s not like other baronets. but what if your boss wanted to hang out and talk during your lunch break every day. not so charming when you think about it that way

[ariaste]

#okay but now what is the optimal way to be a good boss in this situation i genuinely wanna know#its easy to guess what makes a bad boss or a mid boss. but what is a good boss#specifically in such a highly structured hierarchal situation (via @rainbowroach)

HELLO you are asking questions that literature and poetry THROUGHOUT the middle ages has asked, and it is from this questioning that we derive things like the Codes of Chivalry (which is not "how to treat a noble lady really nice" but is actually "how to be an ethical person when you're rich and you own a horse" and includes such things as "don't run people over with your horse")

In fact I daresay you already know instinctively just from cultural osmosis what a good boss -- a good liege lord -- is and does based on the tropes that have survived to the current day and the kinds of things that get Hugely Praised in things like legends of King Arthur.

A good boss (liege lord) is:

Merciful. He is not having his peasants killed for things like poaching rabbits during a famine. In fact, he is working to mitigate famine. During times of individual hardship, he might negotiate with a peasant for a payment plan on their annual rent.

Patient. He is not impulsive, he does not lose his temper.

Prudent. He makes choices that are thoughtful, considered, conservative (in the sense of not needlessly risky--he's not investing his entire fortune in having everyone plant an unproven crop). He is making sure local infrastructure like roads and public buildings are maintained and kept in good nick.

Gentle. He doesn't haul off and slap a servant or a tenant for breaking a dish or making a mistake. He doesn't abuse animals, his wife or children, or his employees. He doesn't rape the servants.

Generous (both in money and in spirit). He is not extorting the peasants for an amount of rent that is beyond their means, he is not raising taxes every year to cover his own lavish lifestyle. He is paying his servants a living wage (or, if wages are low, he's giving them room/board/clothing to make up the difference). If someone in a tenant's family dies, the lord is sending a gift of condolence, or helping to pay for the funeral, or possibly even ATTENDING the funeral and speaking a few kind words about the deceased, ESPECIALLY if they were a really upstanding and important member of the community. If one of his tenants is gravely sick, the lord is sending a basket of food or paying for a doctor. He is giving charitably (generally this will be, like, a bequest to the church so that they can run a hospital or an orphanage or a school for the local village children).

Pious. This classically means "goes to church, submits with humility to God" but to me this quality is subtextually standing in for "maintaining an ongoing sense of Perspective that HE'S not god, that there are higher powers he is Accountable to, that he too can be Judged, etc, so that he doesn't end up going on a weird fucked up power trip"

Humble. One of the most admiring things you hear about a lord doing in literature and epic poetry is, "He ate off of wooden plates while his followers ate off of gold and silver." Humility isn't about being meek, it's just about not thinking so much of yourself that you turn your nose up and sneer at what "lesser" people do. In other words: Don't be a fucking diva. If your carriage gets stuck in the mud, climb out and help everybody else push, you're not gonna die from getting mud on your shoes.

Condescending. This word has changed wildly in meaning/tone over the last couple centuries -- it's now a rude thing to do (because we've done away with legal social hierarchies, so someone acting like they're lowering themselves to your level IS insulting), but in older times, a high-ranking person "condescending" to a servant was worthy of praise and admiration: it means they were setting aside rank and privilege to speak to them with the easygoing, friendly respect and compassion they'd give a peer. This is things like... Treats those beneath him with courtesy and respect (ie: listens soberly and attentively when one of his servants or tenants comes to complain about a problem). Having a sense of humor and kindness about it when the lord and a servant both come around a corner at the same time and run into each other and the servant gets knocked to the ground and starts babbling apologies--the condescending (positive) lord helps them to their feet with his own hands and cracks a joke to show them that it's ok (as opposed to just walking off without a word or insulting/scolding them). This is also things like trusting a farmer, woodcutter, or artisan to speak with expertise about their own livelihood and taking their advice into consideration if they tell the lord that one of his ideas won't work.

Good boundaries. The ethical liege lord knows that it's normal for the staff to probably be softly bitching about him in private (even with a really good boss, we all grumble from time to time). He's not eavesdropping on them, he's not going into the staff areas where they should reasonably expect to have a degree of privacy, etc.

Righteous and protective of "the weak". The "weak" here doesn't necessarily mean physically weak, this is often used in the sense of someone politically or socially weak, aka The Marginalized -- the poor, the disabled, women, children, the elderly, etc. If a lord sees someone like this being mistreated or abused, he's supposed to step in and put a stop to that.

Committed to reciprocity. In a highly hierarchical system like feudalism, every person (from the lowest peasant all the way up to the crown prince) legally OWES their liege lord certain things (taxes, labor, service, loyalty, etc). A good liege remembers and takes very seriously the idea that this should be a balanced and reciprocal relationship -- in other words, he owes something BACK. Feudalism is modeled very strongly on the family system: If children owe their parents obedience and service, then parents owe their children care and protection. This still applies when the "child" is a farmer and the "parent" is a local baron. Or when the "child" is a duke and the "parent" is the king.

Basically, we get so caught up in the aesthetics of nobility that we forget that it literally is a managerial position that comes with responsibilities that were... very similar back in the day to the same ones we have now. Humans have not changed all that much. At the end of the day, a really good boss in the 1400s versus in one from the 2020s displays most of the same qualities of personality, even if the details of execution are different.

The next question is, of course, "well, but this theoretical liege lord is HIGHLY idealized -- how often did that actually HAPPEN? Wasn't it more likely that everyone was exploited all the time?" and to that I say: Well, maybe. But again, I don't think humans have changed all that much. Just like the bosses of today, there's a SPECTRUM: A really really good boss is rare and precious and one that you tell stories about for years after you've left that job, but a truly, genuinely, homicidally nightmarish boss is also pretty rare. Most bosses are sort of meh -- they have their good moments, they have their shitty moments, but they're tolerable and you can get along with them well enough to do your job, and then you roll your eyes at them behind their back. Generally, humans don't take outright exploitation lying down. Being a bad boss in the historical period is how you get peasant uprisings and revolts, and you know that to be true because your parents raised you with that knowledge, so unless you are very stupid or inbred or an egomaniac, there is literal personal incentive to at minimum be a Tolerable liege lord. And that means hitting at least SOME of the above bullet points.

TL;DR: In the words of Honore de Balzac, "Everything I have just told you can be summarized by an old word: noblesse oblige!"

(for more discussions of the ethics of fealty and what it means to be a good boss when you are an exquisitely beautiful twink of a prince with a hot beefy bodyguard.... [fingerguns] read A Taste of Gold and Iron)

[cricketcat9]

This is an EXCELLENT post! ❤️❤️❤️

[553580]

something something werewolf price taking in some scared, pitiful thing that got bit while camping out in the woods. what's that? you didn't know werewolves are real? poor thing, he'll take you in and show you how to be a proper werewolf.

step one will be to move into his place- after all, he's got the appropriate countermeasures and cages built into his home to prevent nasty 'accidents' like yours. he'll teach you how to prepare for the full moon, how to recover after it, how to adjust to your heightened senses and instincts, and of course, how to deal with your first heat.

hm? you say you never saw who bit you? you're sure? oh, well, they're probably long gone by now, but you don't have to worry about them. he'll be your pack, sweetheart, and if you're good and follow his rules, he'll introduce you to the rest of his pack.

all you have to do is follow his lead and he'll make sure you're all right. after all, that's what alpha's do, isn't it? and that's what he is- your alpha. and he drills it into your head that that's exactly what he wants you to say when you meet other wolves, verbatim:

john price is your alpha.

[thestuffedalligator]

Human Is is a 1955 Philip K. Dick sci-fi short story where a guy goes to another planet for work and when he comes back to Earth his personality has flipped from an asshole to a sweet, kind, considerate man. Everyone's immediately convinced that an alien has taken over his body, this goes all the way to court, and in court his wife testifies that she's noticed no changes at all and so the charges are dropped.

And then there's a bit right at the end of the story as the wife and the husband are walking out of court:

Jill turned abruptly. "What is your name? Your real name."

The man's gray eyes flickered. He smiled a little, kind, gentle smile. "I'm afraid you would not be able to pronounce it. The sounds cannot be formed..."

Jill was silent as they walked along, deep in thought. The city lights were coming on all around them. Bright yellow spots in the gloom. "What are you thinking?" the man asked.

"I was thinking perhaps I will still call you Lester," Jill said. "If you don't mind."

"I don't mind," the man said. He put his arm around her, drawing her close to him. He gazed down tenderly as they walked through the thickening darkness, between the yellow candles of light that marked the way. "Anything you wish. Whatever will make you happy."

And I. God. There's something there. A soupcon of monsterfuckery. To tell your partner in a moment of intimacy that yes, you're something so inhuman that the lips you're stealing can't speak your actual name. You're a parasite that not only had the ability to burrow under this man's skin and take over his life, but you were so desperate to escape a dead, dry, blasted planet that you did.

And for your partner to then turn around and go "I know, I've always known, and I love you" is just. God I know it's not a great Dick story but something about it is making me lose my mind

[thestuffedalligator]

Also it's explicitly stated that the guy's consciousness is still alive and preserved on the alien planet. Jill is told this and then proceeds to defend the alien anyways, ensuring that her husband's brain is stuck in a jar on a desert planet. You love to see it

[voices-of-hope-county]

Visit Original Link

[tatzelwurming]

i show a neanderthal a doom metal album and they understand implicitly. they pick up a bass guitar and start to play it instinctually

[homo-neandertalensis]

Was made to groove

[tatzelwurming]

my man

[sapphling]

leering roommate who's been very clearly trying to set up a "you have to wear a cowkini around the apartment for a week" type pervert wager every time you get drunk together for at this point months but is simply and i mean really truly Absolutely Dogshit at playing poker

[zeitghost]

[1.5 beers deep, rolling up my sleeves and raising my fists] yer jerkin’ for a kirkin’, buddy