korpuskat

[korpuskat]

Hey, do you have any angsty ideas for Ramattra?

Something gut wrenching he’s such a good character to be sad about

I have a few :3c

I headcanon that the Awakening happened mid-battle for him. The first thing Ramattra saw as himself was his own hands, covered in the blood of a man he’d just killed moments before. He thinks about that image a lot, if Aurora had touched him only seconds sooner- or if it perhaps would’ve been better that she did not touch him at all.

#he’s… so sad. #canonically suicidal 😭 #the line from archives like #’he struggled with the idea of sentience as a gift’? #he feels cursed to exist at all (sobbing) #kat answers

[korpuskat]

the line about how much power you have over ramattra is killing me. its so true. absolutely nobody bosses around the ruthless leader of null sector without losing teeth for it. then his squishy human partner tells him to lie down and he flattens with only 1 or 2 questions asked

ehehe yes!! I love in particular how long it must've taken to get there. That level of trust so does not come easy to him and he wants SO BADLY to take control because he's so uncomfortable just receiving pleasure so selfishly. But you insist and he's like fuck. they insist. *lays down*

#kat answers

[korpuskat]

MY FAOVRITE RAMAATTRA AUTHOR UPLOADING A BIRTHDAY FIC

I had to!! Even if @t3chborb didn’t suggest a birthday-centric fic, I had to!! It’s his first birthday since they were revealed 🥹

#kat answers #and i hopefully have a fic coming next month for my 1 year anniversary of writing for him #finally using an oft-love topic from my Ideas list

[korpuskat]

It be Ramattra's birthday today (the first one since the cast's bdays were revealed), so obviously I had to make something special for such a monumental occasion~

The art may appear a little strange, given the pic's purpose. Shouldn't it be a bit more obvious that it's a birthday celebration? What's going on here?

Well...

Let's just say this art is indeed special. If you want the context, you'll have to read @korpuskat's "Date of Manufacture" (Tumblr / AO3) ;)

#hehehe ITS SO GFFKDJSGGNS #YOU MADE HIM SO PRETTY

[korpuskat]

Date of Manufacture

[Ao3 Mirror] Pairing: Ramattra/Reader (Gender Neutral) Rating: E WC: 4K Warnings: N/A =

This is a fic/art collab between me and @t3chborb!! Go check out the awesome matching art here: [link!]

=

"I understand the practice in humans, but the anniversary of the Awakening is the anniversary of my existence. That would be a better comparison to a birthday. " He grumbles, but doesn't move away from you. Which would be hard anyway, with your limbs currently wrapped around his wide chest, legs laid upon his in your shared bed.

"But that wouldn't have happened if you weren't manufactured today." You snuggle in closer, rub your cheek against the silky texture of his scarf.

The pistons of his neck slide downwards, lowering his chin to look at you more closely. He quiets, before murmuring, "Few humans would celebrate that."

"Well I don’t particularly care what other humans think.," You declare immediately, tightening your grip around him. "I want to celebrate because I'm glad you were made. I'm glad you're here."

Ramattra's ventilation huffs warm air from the recesses of his body, but he gently returns the gesture, pressing lightly on your back. "Fine. Then how would an Omnic celebrate their birthday?"

You laugh softly, "Well I don't know, it's your birthday… but I have a few ideas." Only then do you untangle your body from his. Ramattra’s fingertips linger on your skin as you roll towards the edge of the bed. Before you can second guess it, you fish out a black satiny box, wrapped with a purple ribbon. You’d tucked the gift there earlier, in hopes of surprising him.

But now, you do pause, suddenly embarrassed. “I didn’t know what to get you, since you can’t eat and don’t need much and don’t really wear clothes-- and I don’t know they’ll even fit right-”

Ramattra sits up. “You got me a gift?”

“It’s your birthday. Of course I did.” Finally, you offer him the box. It’s frivolous, but you still hope he likes it.

He stares at the box for a moment, holding it in his hands for several cycles of his processors. A nervousness builds in you, though his delay is purely shock. It’s been… He’s not sure. Years. Was it the last Awakening Day before London? Ages since anyone had given him anything.

He pulls on the ribbon and lifts the lid. Inside, carefully wrapped in thin layers of packing foam, are dozens of little ornaments. You can only watch as he pulls one from the protective packaging, examining it. “I know some of yours looked a little worn down. Scratched ‘cause they knock together so much.” He pulls the foam off and reveals exactly what you got him: new end caps for his cables, coated with purple enamel, the same shade he’d used on himself.

Ramattra holds the end cap, turning it before his optics. “Thank you.” He’s so quiet it almost masks the strain in his vocoder. Replacing such a cosmetic part would be so low on his priority list, he never would’ve changed them if you hadn’t gotten them. In fact… he hasn’t changed them at all since he’s installed them, didn’t update them when he changed his paint. “This is… thoughtful.”

The praise makes you grin, relief washing over you. And only builds as he takes one ribbon cable loc and effortlessly pulls the old, dinged and dulled cap off and attaches the new, shiny purple one. The color itself is minimal, but the cord being pulled forward, out of its normal hiding place of pushed back and tucked into his cowl makes your cheeks heat anyway. He looks good, as though he’s dressed up with tiny accessories.

“Do you… want to put on all of them?” You ask, scooting closer and not bothering to mask your excitement. “I got enough- and some spares.”

Ramattra nods and shows you how to swap them. A small double clasp on the underside is all that holds them in place, making it quick work to remove the caps- and to carefully put on the new ones, repeating the same process in reverse. You dutifully begin working at the back of Ramattra’s head, those hardest for him to see and find. In doing so, you draw each strand out from his cowl, leaving them dangling over his back. Each time to finish one, the new enamel clicks against his ribs, the sound glassier than the metallic rings it had before. Piece by piece the scratched up silver is replaced but glossy purple. It’s like you’re dying his hair- the thought makes you smile at the absurdity.

You slide around in front of him again- and it’s so rare to really see his cable hair free. Matte black rubber frames the white of his faceplate, but the purple caps decorates the ends of each ribbon, shiny and new. You can’t help yourself- you surge forward and kiss him, right on the seam between titanium white and his purple jaw. He hums at the display of affection, one hand coming up to rest at your waist.

The touch is all the encouragement you need to continue on. A soft press to his shoulder- not nearly enough to topple him- guides him down, back onto the pillows. His hair splays out around him, no longer held captive in his scarf. Sleek dark lines spill onto your sheets, accented by silver bars and now, purple tips. He waits there as you settle over his narrow waist, observing his new appearance. “You look nice...”

The praise- no matter how meager- makes him shy, turning away- stopping only when you touch his faceplate. His voicebox rumbles a quiet, questioning note. You reply only with a stroke of your thumb along the long, white ridge below the optical slit. Not quite a cheekbone, but you follow it back towards his audials- and Ramattra’s hands raise to meet yours, catching it by the wrist. With more delicacy than a war machine should have, he presses your palm against the white plate, nuzzling into the touch.

Through the armor, you can feel his machinery buzzing, vibrating softly. He’s warm already, though you feel it more through the hidden vents on his chest, even his palms are no longer chilly, heating with an array of emotions you can guess easily enough. “Do you like them?”

“Of course,” His voice rumbles through your hand, the speaker only inches from your fingers. “Thank you.”

You smile broadly, excited to have done well. You lean down, press your forehead to his array and let his warmth wash over you. Still, his body vibrates soothingly- as though purring. You laugh softly at the thought, and Ramattra hums a questioning noise.

Finally you lean back, staring down at him. With his hair spread out across your pillows and the rising heat of his body, warming where the insides of your thighs touch his waist, a new thought occurs to you.

“You know…” You start, leaning forward again to press another kiss where his mouth would be. “There’s something else humans do for their birthdays…”

His throat hums as his voicebox clicks on, the vibration making your lips tingle. “If you’re expecting me to eat cake, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.”

His quip makes you laugh- but you don’t bother explaining. You lean past the hard line of his jaw and press a kiss to the pistons of his neck. His ventilation kicks, almost like an inhale. You chase the noise, licking up one actuator. This earns you a shudder, a hand that lands on your hip and squeezes knowingly.

Immediately, Ramattra begins to sit up, to turn- but when you press on his shoulder again and he stops.

“You never let me take care of you, Rama’,” You half whine, laying more kisses along the sensitive surfaces of his neck, nudging ribbon cable locs out of the way as you go.

“But you have already given me so much…” His voice trails off, head shifting off the to the side, as though looking away from you- and in the same motion exposing more of his neck.

“And you always take care of me. Always.” You kiss back up, nuzzling into the hollow behind his jaw. “Can’t I do the same for you?” You slide to stay in front of his optics, to make him look at you despite whatever shame he’s feeling. Then, letting a mischievous thrill take over, you grab the hard bulge of his lower abdomen- right on top of his cock. “Don’t you want to relax?”

“Yes,” Ramattra groans, then adds, as though his fans’ volume hasn’t already betrayed his desire: “Fine, do what you will.” He lays back down on your pillows, politely turning his head away so you can continue unobstructed.

You almost want to snicker, to tease him about his usual insistence that he doesn’t have those needs... but it is his birthday. And besides, you should savor the rare occasion he lets you take control. So instead, you kiss that sharp corner of his jaw and down, down over dark plating and between pistons to the inner edge of his scarf.

Before you can even shove the silky, tan fabric out of the way, Ramattra grabs the edge and pulls it off entirely, revealing the oft hidden clean, dark lines of his shoulders.

Still, he looks away when he’s done, quietly humming with nervousness- he wants your touch, your skin, to praise and thank you for your care of him- but you’d requested this. So he forces himself back down onto the pillows and regulates his routines, letting you hold the reins.

Without saying a word, you can feel the tension in him. But he still acquiesced to your whim, so you reward him accordingly, tracing over the long edge of black armor, sliping just underneath at the joint of his pauldrons. You draw your way back- and kiss the long pistons mimicking collar bones that usually hide beneath his cowl. Ramattra’s hand at your side twitches again, but he makes no comment. The warmth that continues to pour in from every point of contact is praise enough.

You slide downward, his hand lingering on you as it slides up your back, over your shoulder before he lets it fall beside him on the bed. Here, you trace along the silver bands of armor around his torso. They’re not particularly sensitive, only meant to disperse blunt damage, but when you dip your fingers down to touch the black plating beneath he simulates a sigh. So rarely is that part of him touched at all, the sensors spiking in new, unexpected data.

And here, you trace the flat, purple plate right at the center of his chest. Your fingernail fits between the plate’s edges, scraping delicately, teasing right at the cusp of being inside. Ramattra’s hands tighten in the sheets, another burst of air pushed from his quickly warming body.

Down- until his wide chest narrows into his thin waist, and here you trace along the thick, bundled wiring that sits just above his hips. The rubber disappears into a silvery socket- and that gets your attention. With one hand, you lay your fingers along the hard metal- so delicately running your fingers along the point where the cables connect. He can feel your touch on the metal, but on the bundled wiring, it’s dulled, barely perceptible- until you squeeze down on it with the other hand.

Ramattra shudders, the connected leg twitching beneath you as erroneous data bursts into every system, flooding his HUD with reports of overheats, of disconnects, of faults. It stops as soon as you let go- and Ramattra sighs.

You move inward, kissing the smooth gray paneling that finishes out his torso. It’s not nearly as sensitive as what hides behind, but when you dip your tongue into one of the divots that hide the latches, Ramattra shudders, twists his hands into the sheets so hard you’re surprised he doesn’t pop any seams.

There was a time he’d have insisted he didn’t need your touch- at least in a sexual manner- that his cock was made only for you, for your pleasure- but now, all you have to do is lean back. His need overtakes any shame; without even being asked, Ramattra clicks open those hidden latches and pulls the protective plating away.

Ramattra shudders, almost relaxes with his cock finally standing free. It’s as gorgeous as ever, a semitransparent purple length, more uniformly straight than a human’s- and with its not-quite-clarity, you can see the mesh of sensors inside, the row of indicator lights that run up the underside- here, all lit up red to match his default. As tempting as it is to descend immediately on the translucent silicone, you resist. This is supposed to be a gift after all. Instead, you ease your thumbs over the revealed inner plating, stroking the rarely-touched dark metal. A rumble purrs from Ramattra’s chest. Despite his previous stillness, his hips jump softly when you touch the beveled edge where his cock meets his body. You tease him there a moment, running your fingertips around the angled edges, admiring the smoothness of their machining, how his self-made appendage fits so neatly into a frame not designed for such a thing.

“Are you-” He starts. You don’t let him finish, already running your knuckles up the underside of the smooth silicone. Dry as it is, your skin drags and Ramattra’s speech fizzles out with a shiver. The sound is so tempting, you can’t help but chase it. Surging forward, you lick exactly where your fingers had just been, from the smooth, hard plating up over his inlaid lights to the rounded tip. And this time he gasps- his fans ramping up, buzzing to life in his abdomen.

Ramattra says your name. The stress on his voice box is already so severe you can’t tell if he’s whining, frustrated, or embarrassed. Probably all three. You smile up at him, focus on the dark slits of his optics and smooth one hand up his body, gliding over wires and armor and the dark spaces between. His hand meets yours, guides your palms together, interlocks your fingers.

“Relax.” You coo, squeezing the hard planes of his hand. “I want to do this for you.”

He hesitates- body stiff as he considers the request. But eventually he makes a noise like a scoff, but drops his head back onto the pillows. A smile pulls your lips- who else had this power over him?

So you reward him for his patience, for letting you do this: in one motion you take the head of his cock in your mouth. Ramattra’s hand twitches against yours, his vocoder clicking on and off in a spit of static. All at once he’s hit with the raw sensory information: your warm, soft mouth closing around him, your tongue pressing up against him- and the simulated errors that follow. White noise creeps in his cables, making the insides of his plates itch, the world fuzzing all around him.

You push further, easing yourself down until the tip brushes the back of your throat and holding him there. Ramattra groans, a deep noise that rumbles from his throat while his ventilation continues to purr in his chest. You pause there, suckling at his warming silicone, rolling your tongue on the thicker sections around the indicator lights. Each motion earns you another noise, another twitch of his hands.

You bob there easily, basking in his voice, the mechanical sounds within, letting him build up slowly. Which makes it even better when you slide your free hand to the base of his cock, enclosing the length not in your mouth and stroking.

“H-aahhh!” His head snaps back- and his hips jump. His cock hits the back of your throat, the silicone bending softly, nearly slips further- and you gag. Your whole mouth convulses around his cock, instinctively trying to push him back out- which only makes Ramattra moan louder. His hand that was twisted in the sheets lands on your shoulder as you pull yourself off him. You gasp for air-

And when Ramattra looks down, you’re a vision. Your eyes watering softly, cheeks red, lips swollen with long strings of saliva connecting them to the purple silicone. A thrill of being able to ruin you without even doing anything rushes through his systems- before being pushed down by the need to check in. “Are you alr- aaah…”

You stroke his cock, a tight grip squeezing the words from him in a burst of static. It’s easier, smoother with your spit slicking your palm. A twist of your wrist makes him all but collapse again. You laugh, half-hoarse from the strain on your throat. “How’s that?”

“Good.” He whines- and must immediately realize how wrecked he sounds, because his voice box clicks with a refresh and tries again: “It’s good.” Still breathy, it’s not much of an improvement.

You grin down at him, taking the moment to catch your breath- and to make a show of slowly lowering your head down. A playful lick at the tip makes his neck twitch- which turns to his head rolling to the side as you take him back into your mouth.

Now with your hand working in tandem, his voice fizzles through a sigh. You keep your pace even, bobbing your head, swiping your tongue and squeezing with your hand, alternating each in measured movements. The rhythm lets him relax, embrace each wave of simulated errors, drifting on the current of misfiring connections and the heat of your body. Which presents you with the view of his body nearly melting into your mattress, his chest rising and falling in mock respiration, head twisted away, the long cords of his hair curling all around him, the purple caps like jewels decorating each end.

Heat builds between your legs, but you push your own need down, focusing on keeping up the pattern that’s made him so pliant before you. Only when his huffs begin to rise in pitch do you move on- by lowering your mouth again until his tip once again nudges the back of your throat. And this time you breathe through your nose, align your throat, and take him deeper.

You brace your arm against his hips- but this time his legs lock up, leaving only his hands grasping at you, one squeezing your hand and the other twisting into your shirt. Air hisses from his vents as his internal heat rises. Tears pool at the corners of your eyes and you fight to keep your throat relaxed, easing him deeper inch by inch- swallowing reflexively around his thick head.

Your lips meet your hand- nearly to that dark paneling you’d been stroking earlier. And here you hold him, moving so gently to keep the tenuous reins on your control. He seems to also know- because he hardly moves at all save for the uncommanded twitching of his fingers.

He’s fighting for his own composure, steam vents popping in desperation to keep his overheating at bay. Each cycle he’s battling subroutines that alert him to simulated errors, make him clear caches and reassign tasks, anything to keep himself from thrusting up into your soft, wet mouth again. No matter how amazing it felt, nor how stunning you were afterwards. He wants and he resists.

And you just can’t have that. You raise up enough to breathe through your nose again, taking in fresh oxygen as you work your tongue against the sensory mesh in the silicone. Still, Ramattra sighs, lowers his guard- the heat of you is torturous. When you’ve recovered enough, you lower your head again. Once again Ramattra’s fans kick like an inhale, pulling in cooling air just to keep himself calm-

You squeeze his hand, then slide yours free. His head lifts, curious as to what you’re doing-

And as your lips finally meet the beveled edge at the base of his cock, you lay each palm on the thick, rubber-coated bundles of wiring on each side of his hips. A fraction of a second- more than enough time for Ramattra to realize what’s happening just before you grab. The bundles barely move, but in his HUD it’s like stars, like a solar flare distorting every signal inside him- the real static drowns out the fake, matches your mouth and its overwhelming heat. He loses his grasp on his movements; his hips snap up, driven only by base desire. Even fully buried in your throat his basest routines only cry for more, more-

Another pulse of white noise nearly wipes his systems as you push against the bundles, trying to get his legs down on the bed again- and you look up at him. Through snow-fuzzed feed he meets your eyes, watered and red, your lips stretched taut around his cock- and in an instant he’s gone.

You choke, sputter as you finally pull off entirely- just in time to watch Ramattra’s array begin to flicker. His hands twitch, each finger moving in different directions, one shoulder raising up, hips half rolling away from you, his neck sharply turning to the side. The motions stop- and the red lights of his array fade out, his body frozen in the same awkward position. Slowly the noise from within him dies down as his fans idle and stop.

Your chest burns as you catch your breath, wiping saliva from your chin. It’s so rare for him to be so incredibly vulnerable, entirely offlined. It sparks pride in you first, then affection as you again wonder who else has ever seen him like this.

You touch his hips- careful to only take them by the handle-like bars- and adjust them so they are once again flush with the mattress. His cock bobs as you do, the soft silicone swaying- still obscenely shiny with your spit. You fish out the towel from the same hiding spot you’d left his gift and begin to wipe down the majority of the mess.

Then, you move upwards. It’s harder to realign his shoulders with the heft of his upper body, but you at least smooth out his hands. Like this, he looks more asleep than knocked unconscious, more peaceful than you ever would have imagined him. Laying serenely in his bed, hair splayed out around him in a purple-ringed halo. You kiss the long arm of his collar bone piston, linger there in quiet praise, then stretch yourself out alongside him.

It’s another minute before the humming of his internals kicks on again. You watch this, too, with rapt fascination- the so very slow process of him waking up. His array snaps on with an orange processing light and lingers there for another two minutes before flashing green once, then dropping into his familiar red.

His head shifts on the pillows, resettling on them in a more intentional way. He stops there- and stares at you. You can’t see his optics, but laid next to him as you are, there’s nowhere else for him to be looking.

“You alright?” You prompt after the silence lingers a touch too long- and the worry that your fumbling with his actual wiring has harmed him somehow has begun to creep in.

But Ramattra nods once- a simple, minimalist motion- before turning his body towards you entirely and enveloping you in his long arms. He holds you, brings you closer until every inch of your is touching him, from your chest to your feet.

“Thank you,” His voice has fully reset, clear and almost steady. If you didn’t know him so well you might’ve heard the softness laid over the words. Less sincerity more… awe. “That was…” He trails off.

“I’m glad.“ You smile broadly, let the love that bubbles up in your chest spill over. Your arms don’t cover nearly as much of him, but you slip them around each side of his tiny waist and squeeze as hard as you can against the metal plates of his back.

“I will have to… repay you.” He says after a minute, then adds on “Eventually.”

“You don’t have to.” You smile and snuggle deeper into his arms. “Thank you for letting me do something for you for once.”

Ramattra simulates a snort. “Yes, well. Perhaps you’ve swayed me on the tradition of birthdays.”

#ramattra #ramattra x reader #overwatch #overwatch x reader #ramattra x you #overwatch x you #explicit #everyone say HAPPY BIRTHDAY RAMATTRA

[korpuskat]

“I… Can’t do that.”

Ramattra says almost apologetically. You let out a defeated sigh, pressing your forehead to the cool metal of his shoulder. He never took his faceplate off, at least not in your presence. You shift yourself on his lap, his heavy hands on your thighs keeping you in place.

“Why?”

Ramattra goes quiet. He is afraid. He will scare you. You will find him disgusting. You will never just forget that he is a Ravager. The unpleasant memory of people pointing at him with disgusted eyes pops up in his HUD, he declines it immediately. You will be reminded of his inorganic form: how he’s unable to return your smile, to kiss you back, to say your name with that’s so dear to him with the lips he will never have. Not that this ceramic faceplate makes him less frightening, but he prefers to think that it does.

You look in the black slits on his faceplate. Ramattra takes a moment to admire you - he notices the way your pupils widen when you look at him. If he had a heart, it would skip a beat.

He sighs again and brings one of his hands to his head. You watch his palm grabbing the white ceramic, detaching it with a soft click.

Two grey optics, no, eyes… stare back at you. You are speechless, still not sure that you are not dreaming. His face, right in front of you. Two little red wires on each side his forehead, the pyramid of lights that glows even brighter the usual now that it’s exposed, all those little stitches… The feeling of his hair cords brushing your shoulder and his soft huff brings you back to reality: he turned his head away. And suddenly, you can’t stop smiling.

“Ramattra.”

You take his face in your hands, gently making him look at you again. Ramattra’s are no longer on your thighs, too busy fiddling the ends of your shirt.

You press a kiss to his forehead. “You are so, so beautiful,” Your lips land between his eyes. “So pretty,” Another kiss, where the upper part meets his jaw, where his lips would be.

“I love every part of you.”

Suddenly all you hear is the loud whirr of his inner workings. Ramattra immediately hides his face in your neck, the metal is surprisingly warm on your skin. Beloved hands wrap around you, cradling your body in a desperate embrace. Ramattra hopes you don’t feel him shaking, not that it matters now.

He finally found his peace.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH?????????????????????

i love him dispelling the memory and turning away and ;_;

#kat answers #ramattra

[korpuskat]

Hello again, I am the anon who asked about the titles! I wasn’t expecting such a quick reply, thank you! If you don’t mind, I’ll ask you something again. Everytime I read something you wrote, I can pretty much feel how much you love Ramattra and how you try to analyse him as a character, he is very… real, maybe that’s the word. So I was wondering, what is your favourite thing about him? His inventiveness? How genuinely curious he is? Maybe how selfless? We all know he is absolutely gorgeous, so it’s not about the looks! Tell us :)

dhdjsjcj /)//u//(\

It’s his dedication. Above all else, Ramattra is driven, he has a singular goal and he’ll do whatever he has to in order to achieve it. I will break before I yield. No matter the cost to himself, sometimes even the cost to others.

It’s a fault, even- devolving into tunnel vision and all-or-nothing and extremism. But I love it. I think it’s his most defining characteristic. He’s made his movement his personality.

And, well, thinking about that kind of dedication in a romantic partner… 💕

Second is his curiosity— I think that’s the most obvious part of his… non-trauma-driven personality. He asks questions!!! Even to people he theoretically would not like!! Why a ball? Do you ever miss? A bird follow you? Power source? A bow and arrow? He’s so cute. He WANTS to engage with others, wants to understand the people around him. He is a natural leader after all- and charismatic enough to sway followers.

#sighs softly…… #kat answers #i do love him so much 🥹

[korpuskat]

Hello! I’ve noticed that some of your fics have unusual titles (Twines Counterclockwise, Surface Level, Calcium Carbonate etc) so I was curious is there any special meaning behind it? :)

EHEHEE so!!!

Surface level was just a reference to the severity of the injury, it's cosmetic damage, all surface level dings.

Calcium Carbonate is the main part of sand! Mostly I named it this because of the joke I slipped into the AO3 tags referencing Anakin Skywalker's sand monologue.

Twines Counterclockwise... actually comes from the wikipedia page of wisteria sinensis! I was struggling to pick a title- I had considered shades of purple or Crimson & Purple (or variations) or Blood & Vines but I kept going back to the wikipedia page and rereading "Wisteria sinensis clings to supporting plants or man-made structures by counterclockwise-twining stems."

Something about that just really stuck with me and I figured fuck it, Twines Counterclockwise.

#kat answers #i love questions like these!!!

[korpuskat]

how do you think ram is about his S/O getting injured (by an adversary)? does he focus on revenge or focus on them?

Oh man, I think he's 100% a "go fucking feral first, check s/o later" kind of guy. If it's immediately on a battlefield, Ramattra will destroy whoever hurt you before calming down and realizing he needs to see if you're okay.

Though, if it's more you've limped home with an injury he'll be shaking with rage, but without and immediate threat for him to obliterate, he'll inspect your injuries with very tense hands and imagine crushing your attacker's skull.

#kat answers #ramattra

[korpuskat]

Do you think Ramattra is «love at first sight» type of guy or it’s always feelings that bloom overtime until him or his loved one confesses

Oh it takes him forever to acknowledge his feelings for you. He might instantly be intrigued by you or even feel compelled to speak with you more often, but it'll take soooo long for him to realize what he's feeling (and even longer to admit that that's what it is). Most likely you'll end up confessing first.

#and then he freaks out and runs away and a day or so later he'll come back like #sorry about that. love is a terrifying foreign concept to me. anyway i want to spend my life with you. #kat answers

[korpuskat]

ramattra hugs you and nuzzles into your neck affectionately and hears how fast your heartbeat gets i think he finds it cute

I think... his HUD leaves him constantly aware of the vitals of humans' near him. it's an important part of his combat sensors- and it's so deeply rooted in his operations he can't disentangle it. He's stuck with that, forever. He's mostly tuned it out, ignore it when he can...

but with you? He loves it. He loves being able to see that you're excited when you see him, that he flusters you, that you're so happy when he's near.

#kat answers

[korpuskat]

Hi I reread eleven years almost every day and I wanted to express how much chapter 3 damaged me. "All the time spent talking himself into self-control is gone" SHUT UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUP I can't stop thinking about how hard he must have been daydreaming to cope. Wanting to comfort and hold you even with you swatting him away. Help me

NO LITERALLY. EY!Ramattra has spent a full decade just... holding this image of you in his mind, crafting speeches and practicing what he's going to say if he sees you again. He's a Leader, you know? He's great with propaganda and radicalization and convincing people. He just needs the right words in the right order and you'll understand.

but then the reality of how much you're hurting is so devastating. All that careful planning and strategic approach of how to win you back is obliterated and all he wants in that moment is to comfort you and hold you and make sure you never cry again.

#kat talks #sighs about EY Ramattra #he's such a romantic (he stalks you for 10 years)

[korpuskat]

calling ramattra increasingly sappy disgusting googly bear nicknames to stress him out

rxhdhd He just would not understand. He can tell by the tone of your voice these words are meant with affection, but??? No part of him is sweet tasting (to his knowledge)?? He is not an animal?? wh- are those even intelligible words???? What is happening?????

#all the while youre cooing and touching him and hes just standing there letting you #mildly afraid youre having a medical event #kat answers

[korpuskat]

Heyyy do you think Ramattra would love it if you call him pet names? If yes which ones might be his favourite :>

honestly I think the ones he likes most are the classics, the same ones he would use for you: (my) love, beloved. Ones that so proudly say how you feel about him.

He has a special fondness- even if they're silly- for others. Sweetheart, honey, babe. They're so mundane, it feels wrong for him to be called that, but he likes the familiarity of it.

Things like buttercup, doll, pumpkin, pudding... you'll get an exasperated sigh. He doesn't understand it, but he appreciates the affection.

#kat answers

[korpuskat]

hello! ^^

I recently finished your rftw series with michael! the story is so good (/gen) and I’m so excited to see what the last part of cadence has in store! if you don’t mind me asking, are there any hope for it to be released? @-@

Cadence has been a thorn in my side ever since I started writing it. It's painfully close to being done, but I can never coax it into wrapping up. On the chance I never do finish it, here's my WIP (remember this is in context of Cadence's 15K part 1 before anyone comes at me for characterizaton lol):

(NSFW, vaginal sex, somnophilia, choking)

Cold. That’s the first thing you notice. Cold- and droning like white noise. Warmth still clings to your chest, but a chill creeps over-- Your eyes snap open, arms shooting out, searching the dark because <i>fingers</i> touched your side. What you find, of course, is broad shoulders and wobbly latex. Michael. But what you find is also <i>wet.</i>

You recoil first- hands disengaging as he continues what he’s doing: flipping the blankets over, which you must’ve crawled under in your sleep, and pulling harshly at your pants. A seam pops- and you mumble in frustration, undoing the buttons with half-asleep hands. As soon as it’s open, he rips them down your legs. You hiss, the fabric stinging like carpet burn down your thighs. He’s keyed up, too excited from a fresh kill to even care- your underwear is shredded before you can even lift your hips to pull it off. 

Fuck, it’s going to be one of those nights. 

One massive hand keeps you still, holds you hips in place while the other unzips his coveralls with a <i>zzzzt</i>. Electricity sparks in your belly; he’s going to fuck you. The thought of his cock alone makes your thighs press together, the sweet promise of release so tempting after the last two days. His knees press into the mattress, your whole body shifting as it dips under his weight- and he doesn’t even wait for you to get resettled. The hot head of his cock rubs blindly between your legs; you don’t bother concealing your gasp as he brushes your clit. 

In the darkness, it’s only you and him. Time and space fall away, nothing left in existence but his body moving against yours, the raw physical sensation of heat and pressure and each of his exhales echoing in the mask. Your fingers grab at his shoulders, just for an anchor, twist into the coveralls- and it’s wet. You shudder, imagine how he must look, coated head to toe in viscera, tracked blood straight to your suite and- 

You don’t smell iron. 

His clothes are wet, but they are also <i>cold</i>. The mask is just visible with the low moonlight that sneaks in through the curtains- and it’s clean. Cleaner than you remember ever seeing it, almost starkly white. One flop of synthetic hair hangs darkly, solidly, over his latex forehead. You trace your fingers up over the slightly melted edge, over rubbery ears. 

Michael forces himself inside you with one stroke; your cunt <i>burns</i> with the stretch, all limbs closing around him in desperation to keep him still. Tears spring to your eyes once more, teeth scraping open your bitten lip- and all you can do is tell yourself to breathe, to focus on the coming pleasure, because it will, it always does, no matter how cruel Michael chooses to be. 

So your snap your thighs closed around his waist, locking him deep inside while you clench and shiver in pain and shock and the first trembling whispers of <i>good</i> because <i>fuck</i>, he’s so <i>big.</i> Your walls flutter around him, body struggling to stretch to accommodate him. Warmth replaces the cool, radiates out from between your legs and- and something isn’t right. 

Michael should be drawing back, forcing your legs apart and pounding away until the fuel of his bloodlust has burned off, more animal than man- but he’s not. Rain water drips onto your chest, runs off the shape of his false face, the heavy noise of his breathing masked by the soft rumble of rain and thunder. Bent over you, he’s not quite <i>on</i> you like he normally is- no, he’s leaned away, enough for you to stare into the pitch black holes where his eyes should be. There’s no light to see the gray or white beneath, but they must be fixated on you. 

“Michael?” You murmur, too sleepy to mask the concern there. He doesn’t even tip his head. It’s not panic, not yet- if he thought he was in danger he wouldn’t be still like this, if it was some new type of sadism, there’d still be an air of it on him. This is… something new, something you haven’t yet been able to pick up the little signs of. 

Your hands unwind from his soaked coveralls, the joints creaking from the effort. The fabric is rough and even more abrasive still soaked with water, but you stroke his arms as best you can and seek out his face in the darkness. Without any reaction you skate higher, one hand dancing up his chest, just past the drooping collar, to the thin strip of skin visible between the rough cotton and smooth latex. 

“Michael…?” His name hangs on your lips- and he answers with his hips. 

The animal drive has disappeared entirely. It’s a smooth roll, shallow- cautious. Where you had expected force and pain is softness; you gasp, part shock and part pleasure- and Michael must take it as a good sign. He keeps this strange pace and you dig your fingers into the shoulders of his suit, squeezing more rainwater out with each thrust. Your body isn’t sure what to do- so used to producing quick, efficient lubrication, you’re nearly gushing for him now. This sort of kindness from Michael is foreign, saved for when he’s injured or sick or- or particularly cruel. But this <i>isn’t</i> that- it’s new. 

You can’t even begin to understand his motives- why he needs <i>this</i>- but you can still give it to him. When you wrap your arms behind his neck and pull him closer, he only resists for a moment. Closer- closer until you can hear his soft pants from behind the mask, feel the heat of his breath with each puff through the nose holes. 

When he shifts his weight, he slides deeper- stroking so gently along places that have only known his brutal paces. You gasp, pull his hips closer with your legs- and the tilt of his head towards your mouth is not at all lost on you. Without prompting, he expands upon the motion: sliding nearly all the way back out until you’re whimpering, aching for his return- and pushing in so slow, finding his way so deep within you until tears gather at your eyes. 

<i>”Michael,”</i> It’s a prayer, an acknowledgement, a <i>thank you</i>- 

His breath catches; if your hands were not on him you wouldn’t have even felt it. He keeps pace, betrays no other hints of his reaction- fucks you deep and slow, rolls his hips with each thrust, grinds against your clit so sweetly- but you felt it, that sharp little inhale. 

With his head tipped towards you, it’s hardly a stretch to reach the latex. Cool and as clean as you’ve ever known- you kiss blindly in the dark. It’s too smooth to be the lips, slightly puckered with melting- must be his cheek. It isn’t for long, because Michael turns, meets you halfway. The rubber lips taste like rain water, not at all like the cruel mouth that lies just beyond- the taste of blood on his tongue as sweet as vanilla frosting. You kiss him and all the while tension settles between his shoulders, radiates down his arms.

<i>”Michael,”</i> You repeat, this time with <i>purpose,</i> you scrape your nails against the harsh cotton of his coveralls to emphasize it. This time, it’s his hips- a thrust just too harsh to be completely controlled. It’s a spark to kindling; the kind of treatment your body’s been waiting for- and the “Yes!” that follows is not intentional at all. 

And still- in the darkness you <i>feel</i> his resolve, the decision he’s made- whatever game he’s playing. He doesn’t give in, as much as his fingers are threatening to tear the sheets, he slows- keeps his pace even. 

There is one thing, however, you’re sure he can’t resist. Delicately- as much as you can be while being fucked- you wrap one hand around his left wrist. He doesn’t react at all, hardly seems to notice- except with you tug at it, urge it away from its death grip on the sheets. This he tips his head at. “Michael,” You whine, tug again for emphasis. The mask tips the other way, his pace slowing with curiosity. He gives in, shifts his weight to his other arm, lets you move his hand- 

The seams <i>pop</i> to the left of your head, his grasp shearing through them as you guide his three-fingered hand to your throat. The weight of it alone has your pussy tingling, every nerve woken, waiting for him to deliver. You think, perhaps, you might be crazy to taunt him like this, to get this wet at the thought of him choking you. 

It’s not a thought for long.

The muscles in his palm twitch once before he adjusts the grip. His hand rises up, forces you head backwards and <i>squeezes</i>. Not a single moan escapes his grasp, but he must know- because the mask tips again, the empty back eyeholes boring straight into you, watching every reaction. And like that, his interest in being soft has evaporated. 

He fucks you- the same fervor you’d expected after a hunt finally manifesting with each thrust, his cock ricocheting inside you, gives no room for hesitation. It doesn’t matter- darkness is buzzing at the corners of your vision, eyes growing heavy and tired, barely able to keep awake if it weren’t for the force of Michael’s hips. You’re fading, head lolling with each impact- 

Michael’s grip loosens. Air floods your burning lungs- and you’d been so oxygen deprived you didn’t know how close you were. He doesn’t even let you moan; his hand closes around you again before any noise slips out. Your throat vibrates under his palm and you wonder if he knows you’re screaming his name as you tip over. With no air every feeling is amplified, your adrenaline-fried brain bringing every stimulus up and up until it’s unbearable. 

Clamping down on him as hard as you can doesn’t deter him at all; he fucks you without pause even as your mind frays. Heat pulses out from your pussy, radiates down your legs, up into your chest- and you arch your back up, press more of your skin to the cold cloth of his suit. Your nails rip at the sheets, at his back, at anything you can reach- you don’t even realize you’d been digging your knees into his sides until he grabs one and <i>forces</i> your legs apart, all his weight held on your femur. 

#kat answers #michael myers #michael myers x reader #rftw #rest for the wicked #reading abt my love of describing the mask's white face and black eye holes....... #i really do have a type dont i LOL

[korpuskat]

Hold on do you not like Ramattra anymore did I miss something ?!

No I still very much love Ramattra 💕

I actually have several WIPs with him I’m actively working on

#What inspired this? #I had some trouble w his muse abt a week ago but he’s back now

[korpuskat]

ramattra teaching you self defense. ramattra encouraging you to make swings at him so he can check your form. dont worry about hitting your hand on him, he's steadily backing up every time you step into him, hands clasped behind his back as he hums and tilts his head, inspecting you. encouraging you, but tutting when you repeat the same mistake over and over. ramattra catching your wrist gently. feeling his fingers on your ribs as he twists you into place. ramattra kneeling behind you to pilot your arms himself. anyway im dizzy

him backing up, not worried at all about you hitting him i hhghf that kind of confidence just........

him noticing how you're distracted as soon as he's behind you, gently scolding you for not paying attention, even as his hands stray towards you hips........

#kat answers #hhgnghfghjgnfgd #ramattra