#so i just say he/him but most people usually guess he/him

[unabletonotlovesatoru]

Can I request an instance where jjk men surprise y/n with her dream engagement ring? 🥹🎀🩷🌷✨

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ teddy’s notes: i hope you like this!! this very sappy and of course includes a proposal, and i guess it focuses more on the proposals than and the ring being perfect is just a detail hehe. enjoy!!

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ nanami kento;

nanami is a man who values sincerity and intention. he’s not one for grand public proposals—he wants this moment to be intimate, just for the two of you.

one evening, after a long day, he takes you to a quiet, candle-lit dinner at home. nothing extravagant, just the warm glow of the lights and the comforting presence of him. after dessert, he reaches into his pocket and slides a velvet box onto the table.

“i’ve spent months looking for the perfect one,” he admits, his voice steady but laced with the slightest nervous edge. “but i realized… nothing could be more perfect than the one that makes you happy.”

when you open the box, your breath catches. it’s exactly what you’ve always dreamed of—every little detail you’ve ever mentioned in passing, he remembered.

his eyes soften as he watches your reaction, a small smile tugging at his lips. then, in a low, almost reverent tone, he asks, “will you let me spend the rest of my life making you happy?”

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ gojo satoru;

gojo is dramatic, there’s no doubt about that. but when it comes to you, his playfulness is always wrapped in genuine love.

he waits for the perfect moment—one where you least expect it. maybe you’re just lounging at home, buried in blankets, hair a mess, scrolling on your phone. he flops onto the couch next to you and casually goes, “hey babe, check this out.”

he hands you something, and you don’t even register what it is at first. but when your fingers brush against the soft velvet, your brain short-circuits.

“no way.” you whisper, sitting up.

“yes way.” he grins.

you open the box, and there it is—your dream ring, shining brilliantly in the light. you blink up at him, and he’s already on one knee, dramatically holding his hands over his heart like you might break him with your answer.

“soooo,” he winks. “will you make me the happiest man alive and let me annoy you forever?”

he doesn’t give you much time to answer before he tackles you into a hug, laughing into your neck.

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ geto suguru;

geto is smooth, thoughtful, and deeply sentimental. he takes his time planning something that feels meaningful, something that reflects the love you share.

one day, he surprises you with a trip to a quiet little spot—maybe a garden, maybe a scenic temple, somewhere peaceful where it’s just the two of you. he guides you through the path, talking about the past, reminiscing about your journey together.

then, as you reach a beautiful viewpoint, he takes your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“i’ve been holding onto something,” he confesses, reaching into his pocket. he pulls out a small box and opens it, revealing the exact ring you’ve always wanted. “i knew from the moment i fell for you that i’d be doing this someday.”

his gaze is unwavering, his usual teasing smirk replaced by something softer, deeper.

“so, what do you say? will you stay by my side, always?”

his voice is calm, but you can feel the weight of his emotions behind it. when you say yes, he chuckles, slipping the ring onto your finger before pulling you into the warmest embrace.

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ sukuna ryomen;

sukuna doesn’t do soft. not in the traditional sense. but when he decides something is his, he means it.

you don’t expect a proposal from him—hell, you don’t even expect him to believe in marriage. but one night, he presents you with a ring in the most sukuna way possible: casually, like he’s handing you something insignificant.

“take it,” he says simply, tossing you a small box as if it’s nothing.

but when you open it, your heart stops. it’s the ring. the one you’ve dreamed of. the fact that he of all people remembered? it leaves you speechless.

your silence makes him click his tongue in irritation. “don’t just stare at it. put it on.”

you look up at him, searching for some kind of explanation, but all he gives you is an exasperated sigh before muttering under his breath, “it means you’re mine.”

his hand grips your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “if you want me to say something sappy, you’re out of luck. i don’t do that shit.”

but then, softer—softer than you’ve ever heard—he adds, “i don’t need a ceremony or vows. just you.”

it’s not a question, not a request. but in his own twisted way, it’s a confession.

and when you slide the ring onto your finger, he smirks like he’s won. because in his eyes, he has.

[yawping-poets-society]

we don't talk enough about cameron's first real scene, where he talks to neil outside his dorm before todd arrives. in case anyone doesn't know what i'm referring to, here's the dialogue from the scene:

Cameron: Hey, Neil, study group tonight?

Neil: Yeah, sure.

Cameron: Business as usual, huh? [turns to leave, then] Hey, I heard you got the new kid. Looks like a stiff. [laughs at his own joke] [Todd enters] Oops. [Cameron leaves]

so let's talk about it!!

cameron opens with the study group question. this is pretty straightforward to me-he knows he's none of the poets' favorite, and certainly not charlie's. neil is his foremost supporter, pretty much the only one who sticks up for him, so this makes sense. he's checking with neil, his 'in' to the group, to make sure he can hang with these guys. he wants to be part of their circle so badly, and that's pretty clear from the get-go.

and then he hits us with this whole "stiff" business. this is a major thing i've seen people use to justify their hate of cameron and i really struggle with that.

because, well...this is SO undeniably awkward. neil tells todd just a moment later not to mind cameron because he was "born with his foot in his mouth." so off the bat, that's not something you say about someone who's consistently rude or who you don't like. that's neil sticking up for cameron. he's saying, sorry todd, he means well, or at least, he doesn't have any ill intentions. cameron's just not got the best grasp of social cues, that's how he is. this is a pretty valid explanation in and of itself, but if you'll walk with me a little further, i've got a deeper theory about why cameron makes this comment.

more than just it being awkward, this casual friendliness, haha, new kid, a mild insult said with much bravado...this isn't really cameron as we see him for the rest of the movie. though he does remain relatively awkward, it doesn't really match his character of being cautious and trying to not stand out, to fit into the group (as we see in his first line). so how to explain this action (because i don't believe the explanation is just: cameron is being an asshole/being awkward)?

to me? this is what cameron thought charlie would say. isn't that almost exactly how charlie always talks about cameron, after all? for a great example, see later in the same scene:

Charlie, about Cameron: What's his specialty, bootlicking?

so maybe cameron believes that this is how friends treat each other. or at least, how they talk about other people to entertain their friends. charlie, while not a stellar student and clearly not liked by the administration, is the class clown, which makes him popular with students at welton. thus, cameron is probably jealous of charlie. he probably wishes he was more like charlie-confident, funny, well-liked, etc. and again, he clearly wants to be friends with neil, and part of their larger group, very, very badly. all of this to say:

i don't think cameron meant what he said about todd.

he's trying to get a laugh out of neil. so what does he do? he does what he thinks charlie-neil's funny best friend-would do. it's not a nice thing to say, but to me, it really just reads as someone who is trying to guess what the appropriate, funny thing to say in a situation is, but doesn't actually know. cameron might not have even really thought the 'stiff' joke was funny. but he thought neil would find it funny, which is really the whole point. cameron is, at the most fundamental level, an unpopular kid who wishes he was well-liked, and is fumbling around blindly trying to find his way there.

[waifuoftomonori]

Okay, I’ve answered most of these in other posts already, but I’ll go ahead and answer the ones I haven’t. (I’m not sure if this is the usual way to do this, but I doubt anyone’s gonna send me asks and I want to answer the questions anyway.) 1. N/A - no other fictional character brings me nearly as much joy, comfort, or lust as Tomonori of Scarlet Fate

2. Well, when I was a kid, I had a major crush on Farid from Inkheart, if that counts. I haven’t read those books in ages, so he is no longer a blorbo for me, and considering he’s a kid, I don’t know if he would still be if I reread those books. I feel like I might sympathize more with the author, or maybe even get a crush on— what was his name, Dustfinger?— the grown-up thief. …Anyway, due to that combined with the portrayal of certain characters in The Thief Lord, I blame Cornelia Funke for my lifelong obsession with rogues.

3. see my post about the moment of blorbo-ization

4. I have to pick just one? Oh, man. Okay, as impressive and sexy as Tomonori’s composure in the face of various threats is, from a snarling beefy monk to various gods/demons who want to end the world, my favorite thing about him has to be the world-altering potential of his unspoken but deeply passionate love for Shiki. This man was equally willing to cause the apocalypse or save the world for her. That is a choice he canonically laid at her feet. I’ve seen “I’ll end the world in your name / out of love for you” a few times before, and I’ve seen “I’ll save the world for you / because you’re in it” a few times, but this might be the first and only time I’ve seen a character who’s absolutely willing to do either. Who puts his personal opinion of whether the world should continue or end secondary to the opinion of the person he loves, even when he has the power to do either, and gives her that choice instead. That might be the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen a character do in fiction.

5. Do I dislike anything about him? Other than things the writers didn’t fully explain, like whoever decided the role he should play in Gentoka’s route, no. It’s not that I think he’s flawless, but his pettiness and stubbornness and (only sometimes necessary) secretive tendencies and all of that are endearing to me.

6. Uh, I don’t know. The writer in me would be dying to show him my fanfiction and ask, “How would you act if you were in this situation?” or “Is this something you think you would say? How would you change it?” about a million places in the work, but as a person I think that might make him uncomfortable, especially if it came out of nowhere. I do “talk to him” a lot in my journals, and my version of him answers back. We’ve had whole conversations. He can’t seem to stop calling me “Shiki” though; it feels incredibly awkward to have him use my real name for some reason.

7. There’s a fandom other than me? Like, a fandom with collective opinions and stuff? I had no idea.

8. Introvert who’s learned how to read people and interact with them in formal contexts out of necessity. He’ll paste on a smile and say all the right things in public, but if given the choice he’d rather be at home reading.

9. calm, devious, romantic

10. If he’s trying to protect me, yes, absolutely. If that’s not a guarantee and Shiki and Akifusa also exist in this world (mostly Shiki, he’s not quite as protective of Akifusa, who to be fair doesn’t need it from physical threats as much), then I’ll trust him to protect me as long as it doesn’t interfere with their lives or safety.

11. Yup. So many fanfics. Still writing them, in fact.

12. Yeah, my mom, dad, and stepdad all know about him and the extent of my obsession with him. I’d probably gush about him to my brothers more if they were home more often or showed even a trace of interest.

13. Anything I could feasibly see him doing? No. But then I guess if he committed an act that would severely change my opinion of him, he wouldn’t be the same character, would he? So maybe that’s the whole point of the question. …Uh, sorry for clarifying all that. I guess if he raped someone, that would change things.

14. Again: there’s a fandom? Never had that problem. But even if I did, I don’t think I would distance myself from the character, just from the other people. Or if I’d grown close with them, I’d just ask them to stop talking about the character with me, and I’d do the same with them. We’re allowed to have different opinions, but I shouldn’t have to hear them dissing my favorite character if I don’t want to, and I’d hope they would respect that as my friends.

15. Big fandom problems, not mine.

16. Define “canonically”.

17. Hell no. Look, not all writers are sadists who want to see characters suffer. When I do make him suffer, it’s because the story compels me to, or else there wouldn’t be interesting conflict for him (and usually Shiki and/or Akifusa as well) to eventually overcome.

18. Yes. With Shiki and Akifusa, as is doubtless abundantly clear by this point.

19. Short, smartass, scheming, morally complex men who are passionately in love with one woman for the vast majority of their lives. (Or man; I wouldn’t mind reading a gay version of this, I just haven’t found one yet.) Alternate type: thieves, rogues, bandits, cutpurses, pickpockets, footpads, maybe assassins in extreme cases. If the two “types” are combined in one character, so much the better. Also, on a list of fictional characters I find attractive, 4 of the… 20-ish have red eyes, and two of those four are ostensibly human.

20. N/A. …Or, I guess, no. Depending on how one defines “blorbo”. I have favorite characters (and ships) from other works of media, characters and ships of whom I prefer to read fanfiction over fanfiction of any other characters or ships, but I don’t get excited about them the same way I do about Tomonori.

21. N/A

22. I don’t know. I want to say yes, but if he were real I’d feel uncomfortable writing fanfiction about him, since I don’t do RPF. And although I adored him as a character in canon, I think it was through the fanfiction I wrote after that I grew to love him and all his many facets on a deeper level. But I guess if he were real, he’d be dead since he lived in the Heian era, so maybe I wouldn’t have that problem. But I dunno, then I’d have to do even more historical research, and that’s just a pain in the ass. I’d probably still admire him, though.

23. He’s a victim of 1. Gentoka’s route; 2. not appearing in the CD Drama official art that showed the 5 “main” love interests shirtless but apparently Tomonori didn’t matter enough to the writers for that; 3. not getting a nice yukata in the summer festival stories despite the fact that fuckin’ Akifusa got one and from goddess lady’s perspective I would think Tomonori would seem more important and thus more deserving of one, but again, apparently the writers and/or artists didn’t care enough about Tomonori for that; 4. not getting any additional “autumn” stories; and 5. not getting a sequel story. …If anyone does happen to have information that the people in charge of Scarlet Fate released extra bonus stories and/or official art of him wearing anything other than that kimono (or the school uniform for the high school AU CD Drama, but that doesn’t count because it’s not canon and they did it wrong anyway, Shiki should obviously have been childhood friends with Akifusa and Tomonori too, not just some rando girl they instantly crushed on at first sight— leave that to the other love interests)— please let me know, and let me know where I can read or see it.

24. hmmm. I don’t want to change anything. But if I had to? Let’s make him even shorter. Like, 5’0” or something. Even shorter than Shiki.

25. I’m pretty sure they used him in the Scarlet Fate+ app to introduce the player to the game, but of course at that time I didn’t realize who he was. How did I first discover that app? I was playing a bunch of similar otome at the time— well, similar in the sense that you’d spend some version of stamina to read stories for free 5 times a day, or you could pay once to gain access to the full story. I think I gave up on Scarlet Fate+ because it’s really not the kind of story that’s ideally read in small fragments like that, but later I returned to the paid version, bought it, and thoroughly enjoyed Akifusa’s route. (After reading Gentoka’s, which was kinda meh— and I have the problem with it I mentioned above, although I didn’t have that problem at the time because Gentoka’s route is lacking in Tomonori lore so I didn’t have the full context— but helped me realize Shiki’s a badass, and I liked it enough that I wanted to read about other characters. …Anyway, I read Akifusa’s next because Akifusa made me laugh, and I’ve found that’s usually a good sign I’ll enjoy an otome character’s route. Often that character will end up being my favorite. In this case, I fell in love with his best friend instead. Sorry, Akifusa. Look on the bright side, you’re one of the characters I ship with him.) 26. Definitely not. This sounds terrible to admit now, but at the time I thought he was just a tutorial character who they only included because he had a pretty face. Even after you get to see little hints of his personality in the game, I still had no clue. I think the first premonition I had that he might be a more interesting character than I gave him credit for was how he dealt with the “trolley problem” in Akifusa’s route. Possibly.

27. Of course I want more people to know about him. It’s tiring having to explain who he is every time. I joked about making an informational PowerPoint once, but I might seriously consider doing that.

28. Yes. Not for any reason to do with Tomonori specifically, but I have been attacked online for the mere fact that he is a fictional character and I’m obsessing over him. I think I made a post about that too.

29. I’m the only creator of fanfics about him that I know. No, my own fanfiction has not made me cry. It has moved me emotionally on occasion, but not to the point of tears.

30. It’s been six years so far. What’s another three? Sure.

BLORBO ASKS GAME

reblog if you’d like people to send you asks about your Blorbo

who’s the Blorbo that you’ve never posted about on your blog?

who was your first ever Blorbo, who was your childhood Blorbo, and are they still your Blorbo?

was there any specific point / any specific moment that suddenly made this character your Blorbo, or did you slowly grow to love them more and more until they became a Blorbo to you?

what’s the thing you love the most about your Blorbo?

what’s the thing you dislike the most about your Blorbo?

if you could talk to your Blorbo, what would you say to them?

what’s the one thing the fandom gets wrong about your Blorbo?

is your Blorbo an introvert or extrovert?

describe your Blorbo in 3 words

if your Blorbo were real, would you trust them with your life?

have you ever written a fanfic about your Blorbo?

do you talk to your family or in-real-life friends about your Blorbo?

is there any crime, any wrongdoing your Blorbo could commit that would make you stop loving them and remove them from your hyperfixation entirely?

have you ever distanced yourself from your Blorbo / have you ever left a fandom because people in the fandom were being too toxic?

have you ever gotten involved in ship wars?

is your Blorbo canonically alive?

do you like seeing your Blorbo suffer?

do you ship your Blorbo with any character?

when it comes to Blorbos, do you have a type?

if you have more than one Blorbo, do you love them all equally?

if your Blorbo is from a live-action media, are you also a fan of the actor who plays them?

would you still love your Blorbo if they were real?

is your Blorbo a victim of badly written script / bad plot / character assassination in the hands of canon?

if you could change one canonical thing about your Blorbo, what would it be?

how did you first discover your Blorbo?

when you first discovered your Blorbo, did you realize from that moment that they would become your Blorbo?

do you gatekeep your Blorbo? / would you want more people to know about your Blorbo?

have you ever been attacked online just because you liked your Blorbo?

has a fanfic about your Blorbo ever made you cry?

do you think this character will still be your Blorbo three years from now on?

[geowrites03]

A Part of the Family

Part 1 ~ Getting Adopted

Batfam x Fem!Orphan!Reader

Summary: Y/n is just another kid left out on the harsh streets of Gotham, all having to fend for themselves. She however had a friend in low places. But, what will happen if this friend gets sent to Arkham Asylum? Who will she have to save her from the dangers of this god awful city?

“Waylon!” I called out as I stomped on the manhole cover to get his attention. He usually came by now, I hope the Bat didn’t get him again. But much to my shitty luck.

“It’s no use kid, Batman got him last night.” I look over to see Selina there. She isn’t wearing her Catwoman suit which is surprising because of how late it is.

“You probably helped him somehow, too.” She looked at me quizzical. “Everyone knows that the Cat and the Bat got something going on.”

“Okay, but what if I say that, I didn’t help him?” She came closer and wrapped her arm around me so we could walk to somewhere else because she noticed a small group of sketchy guys walking towards me.

“Then I guess I can… Share some of my food? I usually split it with Waylon, but…” She laughed and shook her head.

“No I was kidding, I don’t want anything. You can keep all the food to yourself tonight.” She stopped walking and put each of her hands on either of my shoulders. “I take that back, I want one thing. You to stay safe, Waylon won’t be back for awhile ‘cause he always takes forever to escape, so please, stay out of trouble.”

I nodded and gripped one of her hands for reassurance. “I promise.” She smiled down at me, then got a message on her phone.

“I have to go now. Bye, and I mean it, Stay Out Of Trouble.” I nodded again as she ran off.

I looked around to see if the group of guys was still following us but it looks like we lost ‘em. Now all I have to do is find a place to eat my food.

Deciding that up on a hard to get to roof would be best, I put my food in my backpack so I don’t drop it. I climb up onto a dumpster, jump to a ledge and climb up a pipe. It wasn’t that hard to onto which made me a little uneasy but nobody would be that desperate to jump from a dumpster to a skinny ledge and then climb up a single, small, water pipe for 5 stories.

I get my food out of my bag, I got what I always get. A cheap burger and a small, curly fries from a small take out shop. But tonight, because I can’t give Waylon his and I already bought it, I get double that, besides the fries being a large, and some nuggets. I was feasting tonight.

I couldn’t eat all of it though, I still had the extra burger, some fries and some nuggets left. I put them back in the takeout bag and into my backpack. I slide down the pipe and jump to the ground from when it ends. When my feet hit the ground I’m met with a voice I wasn’t planning on hearing tonight.

“What were you doing on a restricted rooftop?” The latest Robin’s voice called. I looked his slightly lean figure up and down, rolled my eyes and walked away from him.

“Look, why don’t you go deal with some actual crimes, rather than someone just trying to find a safe place to eat.” He scoffed and started walking the opposite direction. I decided to be extra bitchy, not caring who I’m talking to, even though I could most definitely out run him. “And thanks for putting Croc away too.”

“Why are you sarcastic about me putting away a villain that deserves it? Shouldn’t you be relieved that a threat is off the streets?”

“A threat? Waylon was the only person looking out for some of us kids living on the streets who can’t protect themselves. Those random ‘defenceless’ guys that kept showing up in the ER nearly scratched to death? That was him protecting us. Now some of us have noway to protect ourselves.”

~

After a mini dispute with Robin I was back to my usual activities of pickpocketing random people walking down the street, while keeping an eye out for quiet safe spaces to sleep for the night.

Just like most nights there weren’t really any ‘safe’ places so I decided to stay awake and moving all night. I sighed, I haven’t slept in 4 days and it was really starting to take its toll on me.

I was walking for a while when I finally caught onto a car that has been following me for awhile tonight. I subtly try to look at it to see if I could possibly identify it. I could, it was one of the orphanage coordinators cars. I also notice a police car behind it so I couldn’t try and run again. These bitches are really persistent.

I stop walking and the car pulled up next to me. The driver rolled down the window, it was one of the old and rude coordinators.

Bruce’s POV~

“Look Lee, I already said that I’m not currently in the position to take in another kid, I have enough on my plate.” I sighed talking to the woman on the other line. “As much as I would love to help a child in need, I just can’t at the moment, I’m sorry.”

“Please, Bruce she’s already gotten in too much trouble at the orphanage and is on her last strike.” The hospital where Lee works helps out the Gotham Orphanage by providing free health checks and regular check-ups, so she is often concerned about these kids. “She’s on a 5-strike system, but she’s already run away 5 times Bruce. This was the last straw before they kick her out, please. Even if it’s just for a little while to see how she’ll adapt.”

“Can I think about it overnight?” She agreed and I ended the phone call.

Y/n’s POV~

Here I was back in this horrendous room, just for one night though, they finally want me out. I put my small amount of belongings that were surprisingly still here in a duffle bag then climbed into bed.

I wondered where I would end up being sent, or if they even had anything planned for me at all. It wasn’t long before I drifted off to sleep.

~

One of the coordinators, Jessie, woke me up with a harsh shake and ushered me out of bed and to get changed. She left as I was getting changed so I had the opportunity to slip a pocket knife into my bra, another in my pocket of my shorts, another in the inside pocket of my jacket, and one down my sock but not visible due to my shoe.

I gathered my two bags, had the duffle bag hanging off of one shoulder and backpack on the other shoulder.

“Oh. No, leave them there for now, you’re only going to meet with him.” She said when I opened the door.

“Him?” I asked confused while putting my bags on the bed that was most likely no longer mine.

“Yes him,” she nodded and ushered me out of the room. “He might adopt you, and if he doesn’t then I don’t even want to know where the head of the orphanage is going to send you.”

I merely nodded and followed her into an office where the head of the orphanage, Agatha, and Bruce Wayne were already sitting. Across the table from them there was an empty chair and another on the side of the table, that Jessie had already made herself comfortable in.

“Don’t be shy, y/n you can sit down.” She had said to me, I looked at her and sat down in the chair.

“Y/n this is Bruce Wayne,” she put on one of her big, wrinkly, fake smiles, and I rolled my eyes. Of course it’s Bruce Wayne, I don’t live under a rock, though I might have lived inside of one at the current state of this orphanage, “he might end up adopting you today.”

“Hi y/n.” He stretched his hand out to me for me to shake, I looked to Jessie. Then at his outstretched hand, then at his face. I shook his hand while looking in his eyes and let out a weak ‘hi’.

~

Meeting him didn’t go that well but I seemed to have made somewhat an impression, considering I was now on the drive to Wayne Manor. The drive was already too long and boring, he had stopped trying to ask questions, as I would only give him small mumbled answers.

I looked around the interior of the backseat of his car. I was distracted by something when he said, “I’m sure you don’t need a pocket knife on you, let alone four.”

I was shocked by his words and that he knew how many I had on me, and to be honest, I didn't know why I had four to begin with, it was definitely a little extreme to have that many on me, so I played it off with a shrug.

“I collected them.” I lied, “and I couldn't carry them out in my bag because it got checked by one of the workers, so I kept them on me.”

“You have a lying problem, kid, but you don’t have to lie anymore, you’re safe now.” Was all he responded with as he kept his eyes on the road.

Did he just guess that my lying was a form of protection? He wasn't wrong, but I was still surprised he caught on, how could a billionaire CEO be so perceptive? Was it because he had taken in other orphans and guessed based on their behaviours, or was there more to the story?

[theleavesofwesteros]

love hearts (Loki x F!Reader)

A/N: I'm back already with another oneshot (yay)! This one is shorter and it's a valentine's day one, something fluffy/smutty in honour of me thirsting over loki again (and him being my only valentine this year). anyways, i hope you all enjoy and are doing well!

PS: happy birthday to tom hiddleston! <3

PPS: thank you again to @cafekitsune for the divider and the permission to use it!

AO3 LINK: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62925667

She often wondered how she'd even gotten into this situation. Dating a god wasn't just something that people did. People, human ones, especially. Moreover, dating a god who'd been forced and tortured into trying to destroy New York City was even more of an unusual case. How could she even bring that up to the people in her life? She didn't, actually. She and Loki acted like he was a mortal (much to his amusement) and he simply charmed everyone with a well-timed grin and any possible contradictions about their supposed story were forgotten. However, one bad thing about their romance was how unpredictable his appearances could be. His own habits had to do with that, of course. He liked keeping people (especially her) on their toes. But he was also a royal prince to some kingdom on another planet that she'd not yet seen. He seemed keen not to take her just yet. "Mother would love you," he often insisted, but he didn't say as much about his adoptive father. She didn't think she'd be quite fond of the man either, from what she'd heard. 

Loki had been gone for two weeks now. On Asgard, or maybe even one of the other Realms at this rate. He tried, but communication was somewhat hard to maintain inter-planetarily. She understood, but she missed him. Her life was rather particularly mundane, and especially during the colder months, he was the most exciting thing about her. He always regaled her with stories of his centuries of life, or simply got her to do things she would've never thought to do on her own. 

It was February now, thankfully. After a particularly long January, she found that the second month of the year was going by in a flash. Today of all days, happened to be Valentine's Day, the day of love and friendship. She'd never made a big deal of it, or had big expectations for it, but she'd still opted to wear something of the pink/red variety to work today. She'd gotten in touch with the important people in her life and they'd thanked one another for being in each other's lives. She'd even received a small package of love hearts at work from one of her colleagues (everyone had gotten one). With no warning from her lover, she felt it was safe to assume that his business (whatever it was), had not yet been concluded and that he would not be joining her tonight. She was alright with it. Even if she wasn't, there wasn't much she could very well do about it. 

That's why she found herself making a casual meal for herself, something not too complicated, and then pouring herself a nice drink. It was a day to celebrate, after all, and it had fallen on a Friday, so she felt she could indulge a little and welcome the weekend. Even if she was alone to celebrate it this time, she still had herself, and that was an important person to thank and cherish, indeed. 

What she did not expect, was to hear the telltale woosh of magic, rather, of seiðr, that usually preceded the arrival of someone with a far longer lifespan than hers. She'd just finished washing and putting away the very few dishes she'd used for both the preparation of dinner and the cooking of it, when she turned to see just who had teleported into her apartment. She hoped her guess wasn't wrong. 

And it wasn't. He stood there, waiting for her to set eyes on him. When she did, in his (always) dramatic fashion, he spread his arms wide and grinned with pride at himself. 

"I... am back," Loki said dramatically, nearly waiting for applause. 

She approached him and wrapped her arms around him right away, smiling into his chest. 

"I can see that. Welcome back," She says, her entire demeanor seemingly softening in his presence. 

It was impressive how they did that to one another. 

"... Is that all? No tears of relief at my unexpected return? Darling..." He frowns, placing a hand to his chest. "I'm offended. I might just go back to Asgard for a redo."

She shoots a heatless glare in his direction. "Don't." 

He groans and moves to flop somewhat gracefully onto her couch, long legs spreading nearly automatically and giving her a great view of his thick thighs. She moves her eyes away before he can catch her and tease her for it. He was still dressed in his Asgardian leathers. The ones she loved so much, the ones that were black, with some gold and dark green accents and all those clasps and flaps and added (unecessary) parts. No helmet, though. She moved to him, sitting next to him, her thigh touching his. It earned her a nearly rakish grin, his eyes already glinting with a particular kind of mischief she'd come to recognize (and cherish). 

"I wasn't expecting you back just yet," She says in the comfortable silence. "Did you forget to send a message?"

"No. Did you miss me, love?" He asks, reaching out to place his arm on the back of the couch. He was teasing.

He could touch her so easily, move his big hand just a sliver and touch the back of her neck. But he wouldn't, and they both knew it. She wanted it too much. 

"Of course I did. I always do." She reassures him. 

He hums, considering her words and being seemingly pleased. 

"And... am I wrong in recognizing today as a mortal holiday?"

She falters for a beat, surprised that he considered that to be information worthy of being stored in his mind. 

"I... well, no. It's Valentine's Day, yeah." 

"Mm, as I thought, then. Good." He says, before conjuring up a small, green cloud of seiðr, which left only a rose in its wake. 

She seemed openly surprised at that. He grins and cocks his head. 

"What? Did you want twenty instead, my sweet?"

"No... I just didn't think you'd be back today, and I also didn't think we'd be doing this."

"Doing... this?"

"Yeah, you know... celebrating Valentine's together."

He seems offended at that. 

"And why the Hel not? Have we become lifelong enemies in my short absence? Have we had a falling out?" He gasps dramatically, looking at her with wide eyes. "Have you... found another?" He asks, knowing full well she hasn't. His facade of shock was already faltering, his eyes gleaming with mirth, and his lip twitching ever so slightly. 

She groans, rolling her eyes.

"No, Loki."

"Then... whyever shouldn't we celebrate this, pet? We are a couple, yes? And not a couple of friends, either..."

The final few words he says are lost to her, mind getting caught up in what he calls her. He only really calls her that when he has particular intentions with her. It makes something deep inside of her warm up. 

"We are a couple... of course we are. I just didn't think you'd care."

"Well... my lover is a mortal, and I assume that she cares for such a popular holiday in her world. I am trying to be nice, you know..."

"And I appreciate that... but I didn't expect my immortal boyfriend to even pay attention to what day it is on Midgard, much less make the effort to gift me a rose." She says, resting her cheek on his arm resting on the couch in thanks. 

He turns up his nose slightly at her calling him her boyfriend. He didn't much like that term, least of all for himself. He found that lover was better.

"Well, dearest, I am trying to be romantic. And nice... nicer. For you." He declares, still holding that damned rose. 

She smiles, and takes it, inhaling the scent of it. It was addicting, and so very fresh. Clearly magical. His doing, of course. It was the most perfect flower she'd ever seen. Its red petals smelled fresh, like dew and earth, but also of their expected rose scent. However, there was something disctinct at the end of the scent... a sort of aftertaste. An aftersmell? She practically sighed in relief at the smell of it. Loki grinned, her reaction and thoughts surely being obvious. Most of all to him, with his mind reading powers (that he swore he didn't use on her unless explicitly told to).

"That's ambrosia," He says in that low, soft purr that makes her insides feel all hot and molten. 

"Ambrosia? I thought that was only for gods to have." 

"Mm... in food and drink, yes, I suppose so. But no one said anything about smelling it, hmm? A simple enough enchantment, pet. Now..." His hand finally, finally moves, moving to touch the back of her neck ever so gently. "What is it you smell, hm?"

She focuses on that smell, trying to name it for him (he seemed to be after her answer like a cat after the cream). 

"It's... sort of woodsy.. minty, I guess... and leather-y?" She speaks carefully, naming the scents out with careful consideration, her eyes closed to make sure she is smelling it all properly. 

Her eyes open, and she finds him looking all smug and proud, his hand now rubbing her neck softly. 

"It's you. It smells like you. This isn't ambrosia." 

"Oh..." He purrs proudly, leaning in. "But it is, my love... ambrosia tastes, or smells, like ones favourite things. I suppose that just means..." He moves in further, pressing the lightest kiss she's ever felt to her neck. "One of those things for you... is me,"

Her pulse flutters both at his words and at the touch of his lips to her skin. God, she just wanted to absolutely devour him sometimes. Okay, all of the time. He was all long limbs, and he was lean, but he was also so built. He was strong, and those shoulders... and that ass. And all the other, more salacious parts of him, and all they could and had done to her. 

"I've missed you," She says and she finds herself breathless in his presence. 

"Oh, pet... I've missed you, too..." He grins, his voice getting lower, the last few words nearly a groan. 

"I want you to kiss me..." She whispers.

"I'll kiss you... and then I'll kiss you everywhere... and then I shall lick you everywhere." He vows, pressing a kiss to her jaw, this time. 

She groans, hand moving to brace herself onto one of his biceps. 

"I want you to take me... or I can take you..." She says, unable to stop herself from getting closer, from trying to sit in his lap, from simply trying to make herself one with him. 

He laughs softly, even as he pulls her closer, half of her in his lap by now. 

"We've time enough for both, my heart... the night is yet young, and we've a fortnight to make up for, hm?"

"Plus, it is Valentine's Day." She reminds him softly, pressing the first of her kisses to his neck, and then his sharp jaw, and then those damned sharp cheekbones. 

He moans softly at her attentions, holding her closer by the waist. 

"Oh, yes, it is indeed... the day of love, and lust... we must do our best to celebrate it, yes?"

And celebrate it, they do indeed.

[the0-tdh]

UNDER THE MASK

---/•/------/•/------/•/------/•/------/•/------

Jake had always been good at keeping secrets. Balancing his double life as a college student by day and the city's masked vigilante, Phantom, by night was second nature to him. And most importantly—his boyfriend, M/N, had no clue.

Or at least, that’s what Jake thought.

---/•/------/•/------/•/------/•/------/•/------

MASTERLIST / REQUESTS

---/•/------/•/------/•/------/•/------/•/------

"You’re late."

M/N crossed his arms, standing at the entrance of their shared apartment, his gaze locked onto Jake, who had just stumbled in—hair messy, clothes slightly rumpled, and a faint bruise peeking out from his collar.

Jake froze for a second before flashing his usual sheepish smile. "Traffic was bad?"

M/N raised a brow. "You don’t even have a car."

"Uh… subway delays?" Jake tried, scratching the back of his head.

M/N narrowed his eyes. "Really? Because I checked, and the subway was running fine."

Jake mentally cursed. He had fought off an entire gang of high-tech robbers an hour ago, chased them across half the city, and barely made it back before M/N got too suspicious. He could deal with criminals, but M/N’s interrogation skills? That was a whole different kind of danger.

M/N sighed, stepping closer. "Jake… this isn’t the first time you’ve come home looking like this." His voice softened, concern replacing his frustration. "Are you in trouble? Because if you are, you know you can tell me, right?"

Jake’s heart clenched. He hated lying to M/N. But he couldn’t just say, “Oh yeah, babe, I’m actually a superhero fighting crime every night. That bruise? Totally from getting thrown into a wall by a guy with laser gloves.”

Instead, he cupped M/N’s face gently, forcing a reassuring smile. "I promise, it’s nothing bad. I just… help people sometimes."

M/N studied his face, searching for something—an answer, the truth, maybe even a lie that felt less suspicious. Finally, he sighed and leaned into Jake’s touch. "Just… be careful, okay?"

Jake kissed his forehead, guilt gnawing at him. "Always."

But deep down, he knew the truth wouldn’t stay hidden forever. And when that day came, he just hoped M/N would still look at him the same way.

---

Jake thought he had gotten away with it.

M/N had finally let it go—for now—and Jake told himself he’d be more careful. No more close calls. No more coming home looking like he got hit by a truck (even if, technically, that had happened once… but he healed fast).

But life had other plans.

It started with the news.

“The city’s masked vigilante strikes again! Witnesses report seeing the mysterious hero, known as ‘Phantom,’ stopping an armed robbery downtown before disappearing into the night.”

M/N had glanced at the screen, then at Jake, who had been sipping his coffee way too fast to be normal.

"That Phantom guy is all over the news lately," M/N mused. "Kinda cool, don’t you think?"

Jake had just nodded, trying not to choke on his drink. "Y-Yeah. Super cool."

M/N tilted his head. "You ever wonder who he is?"

Jake nearly dropped his mug. "Uh—what?"

M/N chuckled. "Come on, aren’t you curious? A random guy running around saving people, never getting caught? That’s gotta take serious skill."

Jake forced a casual shrug. "I guess."

M/N leaned in, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. "What if it was someone we knew?"

Jake’s heart stopped.

M/N was messing with him. He had to be. There was no way he knew.

So Jake did what any normal person would do in this situation.

He laughed. "Pfft, yeah right! Like who?"

M/N tapped his chin, pretending to think. "Hmm. Maybe someone who always shows up late, with bruises and really bad excuses?"

Jake’s soul left his body.

M/N stared at him, waiting. And then—

He laughed. "Relax, babe. I’m joking."

Jake let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. "Haha… yeah. Joking."

But as M/N turned back to the TV, Jake saw it—just for a second. That look.

Like he wasn’t completely joking.

Like he suspected something.

And that? That was dangerous.

Because if M/N kept looking too closely… he might just find out the truth.

And once that happened, there was no turning back.

---

Jake had been extra careful ever since M/N’s joke—that wasn’t really a joke.

No more close calls. No more last-minute arrivals with bruises he couldn’t explain. He even started taking taxis home just to sell the “traffic was bad” excuse better.

But fate had other plans. Again.

---

It was supposed to be a normal night. A quiet dinner at home, a movie, maybe falling asleep on the couch together.

But then Jake’s phone vibrated.

An alert from his secret comms.

[Armed robbery in progress—6th Avenue. Multiple hostages. Police can’t get in.]

Jake’s jaw tightened. He couldn’t ignore it.

But M/N was right there, sitting across from him, eating takeout and rambling about something that happened at work. He looked so happy. So peaceful.

Jake clenched his fists. He hated lying. But he had to go.

He forced a smile. "Hey, babe, I just remembered—I, uh, left my wallet at the café earlier. Gotta go grab it before they close."

M/N blinked. "Your wallet? That’s… weird. You never forget stuff like that."

"Yeah, well… first time for everything!" Jake stood up quickly, grabbing his jacket. "I’ll be back soon, okay?"

M/N narrowed his eyes. "Want me to come with you?"

"No!" Jake said, a little too fast. "I mean, it’s fine. You stay here, relax."

M/N didn’t look convinced. But he sighed and waved him off. "Fine, fine. Just don’t take forever."

Jake pressed a quick kiss to his forehead. "Promise."

And with that, he was gone.

---

An Hour Later…

M/N was starting to get annoyed.

Jake was still not back.

And then—

BREAKING NEWS: LIVE FOOTAGE OF PHANTOM TAKING DOWN ARMED ROBBERS ON 6TH AVENUE!

M/N turned to the TV just in time to see the masked vigilante flipping over a counter, dodging bullets with insane speed, taking out three men in seconds.

And the way he moved…

The way he fought…

M/N’s heart pounded.

Because that—

That looked exactly like Jake.

He stared at the screen, watching as Phantom took down the last guy with a spinning kick, then disappeared before the cops could catch him.

A minute later, his phone buzzed.

[Jake: Hey, babe. Just got my wallet. Heading back now. Love you <3]

M/N knew.

He knew.

And now, there was only one thing left to do.

---

When Jake walked through the door, M/N was sitting on the couch, arms crossed, eyes locked on him.

"You get your wallet?" M/N asked, voice eerily calm.

Jake hesitated. "...Yeah?"

M/N stood up, stepping closer. "Funny. Because I just watched Phantom take down an entire gang on the news."

Jake froze.

M/N tilted his head. "You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you, babe?"

Silence.

Then—

"...I can explain."

M/N smirked. "Oh, you better."

[wisteriamusic]

I’m pretty sure Nightmare and Dream are immune as is canon but everyone else I like to think is in danger probably only Ink and Error are also immune for completely different reasons.

I like to imagine different kind of Au’s divisions I guess the first type are those who live in a game world their world is a game, game mechanics are often real parts of their world and the rules and limits can be strict or more intense randomly some Au’s can only say the same coded lines and nothing else others have free speech but are made to follow a script like an out of body experience they are less likely to discover about the multiverse so people usually avoid that side of the multiverse and never go into any Au’s they don’t want to go somewhere and then be trapped becoming a coded character, another type are just story Au’s they have bo connections to games or fourth wall entities everything that happens comes from in story characters theirs no player no nothing they have a higher likelihood of finding out about the multiverse but most of the time don’t care, and finally the third kind a mix of both maybe their is a fourth wall entity like a player but their world isn’t a game they just think it is examples would be a player entity controlling frisk and treating the world like a game, or maybe the world has game mechanics and such but their isn’t any Player just Frisk maybe their world is all code and theirs nothing left.

couple good fanfics about things like living in a game world or just a world made of code being The Scientist Series was so satisfying and I loved Error-Handling Message. Underflow a shorter work but it is completed and I like Chara plot twist. Also Undercontrol which I haven’t finished reading but focuses heavy on the fact that they are actual characters with Sans breaking from the sequence but unable to have a happy ending because their isn’t a surface or happy ending actually coded into their world having to leave his world to help Gaster who promises to help if he collects all the pieces of him sending him through the multiverse to meet many new people. All three can be found on Archiveofourown

the player’s existence in undertale aus are very strange to me. for example the player canonically exists in something new, which is canonically a game like undertale is iirc (given that killer’s code was changed), and simultaneously so does the multiverse which is out of the player’s control. and it just got me thinking. like.

everything can be found in a game’s files and then tweaked to your heart’s desire. that’s what happened with killer. but when others enter an au, do their ‘contents’ also get added to that au’s game’s files? are they now editable? is going into an au where the player is known to have a high influence on the world a risky thing to do? if nightmare went into an au where the player is known to change things to fit how they want, could nightmare be changed? or would he be immune?

thinking. of things. really tired edition

[melodyreads]

Our Little Secret

You and Hamzah are in a secret relationship. While you guys kept each other a secret to protect one another, was it really what you both wanted?

Contains: fem reader, angst, confused reader, lack of communication, arguing, happy ending <3

a/n: I appreciate all the love I've received for my most recent works. Hope you guys enjoy this one, it's definitely my best yet.

---

From an outside perspective, there was nothing out of the ordinary about this situation. Just two couples out on a double date. Me, Mandy, Martin, and Hamzah grabbing dinner at our usual pizza spot. Nothing suspicious. Nothing complicated. Just friends catching up.

Mandy waved kindly as she saw me approach their group. Martin stood next to her seemingly making a joke to Hamzah as he stood there with his hands in his pockets wearing a neutral expression on his face. That was, until he saw me arrive.

A familiar feeling of excitement filled my stomach at the look on Hamzah’s face. I ran up to him and greeted him with a kiss as I met with our group. He would smile down at me as his left hand placed itself in my back jean pocket.

Except, of course, Martin and Mandy were the only couple actually together. 

I guess you could say me and Hamzah were together too. We basically lived at each other's apartments, always leaving clothes in each other's space. I would wake up to Hamzah’s messy curls aghast on the pillow next to mine. I would plant his face with kisses as he grabbed my waist and pulled me on top of him.  

We were together, but in a, “we don’t want to put a label on it” kind of way. No commitments, no pressure—just what we wanted.

I wasn’t so sure about that anymore.

For me, it was about not wanting anything serious right now. I wanted to protect my relationship with Hamzah, what we had was different than anything I had experienced with boyfriends in the past. For Hamzah, it was more to do with his online image— he didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable with their fans' inevitable perceptions of you if you two were to date. I joked that he was just playing up the “I’m available” act for his followers. He would always roll his eyes but I’m sure this was part of it.

If people found out we were together, it’d ruin the whole thing. Which is why I had to be extra careful. Even around our best friends.

So imagine my horror when, halfway through dinner, Martin suddenly narrows his eyes at me.

“Hey… isn’t that Hamzah’s sweater?”

The table goes silent and my stomach drops.

I freeze with my pizza halfway to my mouth, my brain scrambling for a response. The oversized grey hoodie I’m wearing is definitely Hamzah’s— the words “nap queen” in black letters I envisioned on my chest made me want to laugh and bury my head in my hands at the same time. I didn’t even think about it when I threw it on before leaving.

It even smelled like him.

I set my pizza down trying to brush it off, “Am I not allowed to wear your guys merch anymore? Y’all should be grateful.” I say acting offended.

Mandy’s eyes flick between me and Hamzah, who—thank god—keeps his expression cool, shoveling food into his mouth as he nodded his head at my response..

Martin, however, is still staring. “I swear that one is yours though, isn’t it Hamzah? It has the exact same material as the one you wear. ”

I let out a short laugh, trying to play it off. “I’m not sure why because this one is mine.”

I didn’t even know them at the time they sold this hoodie on their website.

“It looks exactly like Hamzah’s,” Martin insists. He turns to Mandy. “Doesn’t it?”

Mandy shrugs, sipping her drink. “A lot of those hoodies look the same.”

Hamzah finally speaks, his voice casual but just a little too fast. “Yeah, man, it’s just a hoodie. You think I own every “nap queen” hoodie in existence?”

Martin still looks unconvinced, but he lets it go, turning his attention back to his food. My entire body is tense, and across the table, I can feel Hamzah suppressing a smirk.

Under the table, his finger interlocks with mine, a slow, deliberate touch that sends a jolt up my spine. I flick my eyes toward him, and there’s something smug in his gaze—something knowing.

I roll my eyes at him, trying to ignore the way my face feels hot.

That was too close.

But the truth is, I kind of love the risk. I love the way we sneak glances at each other when no one’s looking, the way my body reacts when he’s just close enough to touch but doesn’t. I love the late nights, the whispered conversations, the fact that we’re both holding onto something we’re pretending we don’t want to name.

God I wanted him bad.

---

The party was loud—too loud. Music pulsed through the walls, and the mix of voices, laughter, and the occasional clatter of a drink being set down filled the air. Mandy and Martin were off in their own little world, and I had lost track of most people in the crowd.

Hamzah settled next to me "How're you doing?" he asked, leaning down to meet my ears while looking out into the sea of people.

I sighed in response, "Alright, I guess..." I snapped my head to meet Hamzah's dark eyes, "...Can we go home soon?" I asked sticking out my bottom lip. He chuckled before leaning down once more.

"Come with me," he murmured, his voice just low enough for only me to hear.

I barely had time to react before his fingers brushed against my wrist—just a ghost of a touch, but enough to send a jolt through me. Before I knew it, I was being pulled down the hall, away from the noise, away from prying eyes.

He didn’t stop until we were inside an empty room, the door clicking shut behind us. The sudden quiet made my pulse hammer in my ears.

"Wait, what if someone sees?" I whispered, even though I was far too gone to start moving away from him.

Hamzah exhaled, leaning back against the door with a sly look covering his face. His eyes were dark, and the dim lighting cast sharp shadows on his face. "I don't care," he said.

That was a lie. He did care. We both did. That was the whole reason we were keeping this secret.

And yet… here we were.

The tension thickened in the air between us, something unspoken crackling like a wire about to snap. Hamzah's jaw tightened, his fingers twitching at his sides before he finally gave in, stepping closer.

I barely had time to breathe before his hands cupped my face, his touch gentle despite the desperation in his eyes. This was the last look I could register before his lips were on mine.

A slow, deep kiss started, stealing the air from my lungs, and making my heart stutter.

I wanted this. God, I wanted this.

But before I could get too carried away, I thought of where we could have been. Kissing in the middle of a crowd, unwavering concerns about what others around us thought. His hand in mine not hidden beneath a table, but revealed proudly.

The weight of it—the secret, the hiding, the way we only allowed ourselves these moments in the dark—it was all too much.

A sharp pang in my chest pulled me back to reality. Before I could stop myself, I tore away, my breath ragged.

“Hamzah, I—” My voice broke, my hands shaking as I stepped back. “I can’t keep doing this.”

His brows furrowed, his hands hovering in the empty space between us like he wanted to pull me back but knew he shouldn’t. “What do you mean... what's wrong?”

I forced a swallow, blinking hard. “Being with you in secret... it just hurts too much.” My voice was barely above a whisper, but the way Hamzah flinched made it clear he heard every word.

His lips parted, like he was about to say something, but I couldn’t stand there and let him try to fix it with more whispered reassurances, more stolen touches that would only leave me aching for something real.

Before he could even get a word out, I was already out the door.

I pushed past the crowd, the music and chatter barely registering. My chest was tight, my pulse racing. I needed air.

I needed to get out of here.

The cold night air hit me as I stepped outside, but it didn't stop me. As I started to come to terms with what just happened, tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill. I sucked in a sharp breath, hugging my arms around myself, trying to shake the feeling of Hamzah’s hands still lingering on my skin.

Then, I heard determined footsteps tracking behind me.

“Wait.”

Hamzah’s voice.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself not to turn around. But then his hand caught mine, stopping me in my tracks.

I exhaled shakily as he moved in front of me, his brows furrowed, his expression torn between frustration and desperation. Whatever it was caused your whole body to shudder.

“I don’t want to hide anymore,” he said, his voice rough, his grip tightening just slightly, “Not if it means losing you.”

I swallowed hard, my heart hammering. “What about your whole ‘single guy’ thing? What about—”

“Screw all that,” he cut me off, shaking his head. “None of it matters if it means I can’t be with you. I don’t care who knows.”

The words hit me like a punch to the chest, knocking the air out of me.

I searched his face, looking for hesitation, for doubt. But there was none. Just him—bare, vulnerable, real.

A shaky laugh left my lips, part disbelief, part relief. “Are you sure about this?”

Hamzah let out a soft chuckle, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair from my face before resting gently against my cheek. “Yeah, I mean it.” His thumb traced my skin, slow and reverent. “I want you. For real.”

I didn’t need any more convincing.

This time, when I reached out and kissed him, I wasn’t thinking about the consequences. About who was watching or who would care. What came next and what the future held.

From now on, we came first.

---

a/n: Hope you'll enjoyed this!!!!! It's so hard to end stories, but I think I'm getting better at it lol. Lmk if you guys want a part two????????

[oceanwithouthermoon]

"doing all his talking in between panels"

a few examples of this (where he had to have spoken otherwise it doesnt make sense):

some im pretty sure he spoke in but not 100% confirmed:

(he most likely said something in the first part, otherwise idk why they would know he was lying about doing stuff, but then just walked away wordlessly in the second part ☠️ im not sure)

(its most likely that he said something but its also possible that they just noticed his shock and explained. but the others do explain their situation and dont give any indication of being asked like these two did, so im pretty sure he said something.)

(more direct indications of being asked a question, but he probably couldve asked with gestures or expressions, so not sure)

[radaedan]

Ohhhh man, I just found out something cool.

(TW : Mentions of self-harm. Mentions of blood and sacrificial rituals. Nothing graphic though.)

(Och-Kan’s name is taken from a serpent deity of Mayan pantheon so-)

Though I shall bring my own refutation here. The undertones between Mayan bloodletting & Och-Kan's self-harm are different. Whereas in Mayan world, bloodletting was an incredibly sacred thing and was done for ritualistic purposes, Och-Kan's bloodletting seemingly was spurred in an explosion of self-hatred. He probably had nothing holy or sacred thing in his mind when he made that cut.

Butttttt, as I am delusional, I also brought my own counter-argument of how this context could also work.

Again, bloodletting was done for ritualistic purposes, from the most mundane activities to those performed by the elites to maintain their rules. In a way, this was how the Mayans 'barter' to the Gods to fulfil their wishes.

The elites used this to show the powers they had by sacrificing their bloods to the Gods. Thus, they legitimized their rules to the people and maintained the social order to kneel at them. These kind of sacrifices were usually done in public.

And usually, the body parts they cut correlated with their intended results of their bloodletting, their wishes.

(Do you think Och-Kan also had cut it down there to get say gex with Xbal-)

Now, let us correlate all of this with Och-Kan's situation when he cut himself.

• Och-Kan was probably at his lowest. Ochkanatlan was in ruin, Daddy Dearest was on his way, and his body tainted with abyssal filth, slowly turning into a dragon.

• As in per OP's observation, he probably made a cut on his right arm.

• The city was burning, or already turned into ashes by then. No one would see him walking to the mural, no masses to witness him, no friends to accompany him. He was completely all alone.

What would a person do in his situation ?

Besides an explosion of self-loathing, I think it was also Och-Kan's last desperate attempt to take control of his situation.

• He did the cut to somehow purify the abyssal taint in his body, or the city itself. As the Gods had sacrificed parts of their bodies in order to give life to humans, Och-Kan perhaps thought that he returned some of it, they would take pity and save his city and the humans he dearly loved. Of course, Och-Kan despised all deities except you-know-who, but what else he could do ?

Or... maybe, in a contradiction between self-grandeur and self-loathing, Och-Kan thought that maybe he was the God who shall sacrifice his body part instead. That he could give lives back to the humans and curb the consequences of his own actions, with his own blood.

• He wanted to show to everyone, anyone, that the situation was under his control. To maintain social order. To calm the masses that the disaster would pass and everything would be back to normal. Don't they see ? His bloods flowed with ease. They showed his power within, the power he still had. His demonstration of power. It was his way to scream, "Order, Order ! I am your Lord, I am still your Lord ! Witness how I sacrifice my blood to maintain peace and security among you ! Witness how I cut deep to save every single one of you ! I'm the one who still rule here ! Hark, I am still your Lord !"

No one was there to applause him, to cheer him. No one was there to even witness him.

• Remember, the body parts one cut correlated with your intended wish. What did Och-Kan wish by cutting his right arm ? I did not find what each body parts correspond to the kind of wishes, unfortunately 😓 so let us take an educated guess.

Right arm is, for the majority of us, our dominant hand. That is what we use to work, to do activities, to socialize. That is what we use to do our things in this world. When someone is a reliable person to their leader, they're called "the right hand man/woman."

Mayhaps... Och-Kan wanted to set the things... right. To go back to his work, his normalcy, as normal as his life had been. He wanted his city back, his people back, his friends back, the things he did in this world. He wanted to be someone reliable, someone people could trust, to be the "right hand man" of...

Maybe he wanted for someone to grab his arm, his hand, to pull him out of his misery. Someone who witness his cut and hear his cries and look at the flow of his blood, and help him.

For someone to save him.

Alas.

His wound only turned into scabs and his blood splattered mural would be his only witness. The proud face beneath the blood taunting him. The blood would dry and stayed for millenias to come, shaping a visage of golden orange mask of horns.

No one saves the king.

hello och-kanation. me and my good friend @osteichthyens have made a discovery.

(trigger warning for mentions of self harm under cut)

(...pun not intended.)

so how come no one is talking about how it's heavily implied that och-kan smeared out this mural of him

with his own blood.

In fact, you can even do some basic forensics based on the splatter textures - such as the method and the time period it occured in.

Time wise?

It could have only occured after the fall of Ochkanatlan. After all, that mural is right in the centre of the city. If it was defaced before the fall, it would have been restored by those loyal to him. That and I doubt they had liquid cheddar back then.

However, it could also occur only before Waxaklahun Ubah Kan came to experiment on him further, which fully turned him into the wyvern we see during the game events - he would've been too large to even enter the building, let alone paint on one of it's inner walls.

Meaning, there was a period of time where he wandered around his empty, broken city with an equally broken body as it was progressing through the transformation, during which he stumbled upon the mural - and seeing it must have pushed him off another deep end.

How?

From the splatters on the bottom part of the mural, we can conclude he made a deep cut on his right arm.

Considering the way the blood splashed, it was most likely a swift slash. One splash in particular looks like it had been smeared with a fingertip.

The shape of this stain implies he first waited for blood to flow into his palm, before throwing it onto his image. The stain from middle to the lower right "branch" might be the first as the other branches lack streaks from dripping. Kinda like with paint, when you dip a brush into some and swish it around, the first slash is always the largest and wettest.

The stains on the floor suggest the same. Those to the right are the largest, while those to the left are the smallest - further implying a quick, swinging motion.

After that, the two largest stains suggest that for some time, he simply stood there, while blood dripped off his arm onto the floor and formed a puddle. Maybe completely out of it. Maybe taking in the sight of his ''artwork."

Since his blood posseses Pyro adjacent qualities, it might've started forming a scab by the time he turned around and walked away - which would explain the even spaced and shrinking size of the droplets.

And that's where the crime scene ends, as far as I'm concerned. If there's someone out there who's more knowledgeable about forensics, let me know if I missed something.

Conclusion?

Holy shit did this guy have issues.

[lord-squiggletits]

Speaking of Tyrest. A lot of people forget that he treated Pharma with absolute disdain, not only using him as a test subject for a clearly painful mass murder machine, but talking to Pharma like he saw him as nothing but some henchman to order around that was nothing more than a 'diseased cripple' if Tyrest hadn't come to rescue him.

Like it really is an interesting background dynamic with some curious implications, but when you look at fandom posts from around that issue/the years after, for some reason people just saw "Pharma worked with Tyrest" and concluded Pharma is a card carrying bigot ksjfnskxkd. Like yeah Pharma didn't do anything to stop Tyrest but it seems his main beef with the Autobots was with Ratchet in particular and maybe a general disdain for his ex-comrades. As well as continuing to hate Decepticons which like, not even the "good Autobots" are immune to (even in Pharma's introduction, First Aid says in his journal something like "yeah we all hate Decepticons, but Pharma REALLY hates them"). And despite what fandom likes to construe there's really no evidence in IDW1 that Autobots and Decepticons are different "races" or "types" of Cybertronians, so Pharma hating Decepticons really isn't a bigotry/robot racism thing. And instead probably has something to do with, idk, the 4 million year long galaxy-spanning blood feud war, or maybe being blackmailed and tortured into insanity by the Biggest and Most Decepticon-y of Decepticons.

Tyrest treated Pharma like trash, the other Decepticons working for Tyrest (how come no one ever brings that up btw) also hated him, so if anything it seems that Pharma was more of a rogue element only staying with Tyrest bc he was his best option and probably had no way to even escape.

I'm glad that at least in recent years the fandom has acquired a keen reading eye and good taste to finally recognize Pharma as the (accidentally) complex character he is instead of making him some posh, racist Starscream clone SHSJDGSGDH

[memento-morri-writes]

I've been thinking a lot about how Rook's reunion with his former mentor, Zara, is going to go, and since I can't predict what the DM is going to have her do or say, I can only dwell on what I know is going to happen. Which happens to include taking off the illusion ring that's been hiding his injuries from her. So have a snippet of the description I have planned for that moment:

tw for description of (mostly healed) injuries

He hesitates, twisting a ring on his finger. Looking at it more closely, she can tell it’s very finely crafted, and must have been very expensive. A large emerald is set into the band. Rook sighs, and pulls the ring off his finger in one quick motion.  Immediately she’s struck by the difference in his appearance as the illusion melts away. He looks awful. His warm, healthy skin fades to a dull and sickly grey. There’s huge bags under his deeply sunken eyes, and his cheeks are hollowed, as though they have been carved out by an overeager sculptor. He looks like he’s recently risen from the grave.  While he was thin before, now she can see his ribs under the skin, and his collarbones are exaggeratedly pronounce. Thin white lines left by dozens upon dozens of recently healed cuts are scattered across his body. On top of that, faded bruises cover most of his visible skin, a mottled mosaic of purple and yellow. They’re clearly days, maybe weeks old, and she can only begin to imagine what they must have looked like when fresh. Bandages are barely visible under his shirt, wrapping around his back, hinting at even more injuries.

[tittyinfinity]

No seroquel means no sleep for me I guess. I've been trying for hours

[simcardiac-arrested]

[gibbearish]

its been fun watching the hbomb subreddit try very very hard to stick to the "if anyone harasses james on my behalf they wont see the light of heaven" by imo overcorrecting to "any time anyone mentions somerton ever it's because you're obsessed with him and want to pick on him because he's the villain of the week" bc its like. yknow actually i dont think people keeping an eye on his various attempts to weasel back into the spotlight and keep doing his same old shit over the last /two months/ is the same as harassing him because it's hip and fun. i think maybe those are not the same thing

[sonknuxadow]

I believe that IF Silver IS a descendent of Sonic/Shadow/Amy/anyone else, he's a descendent via adoption because the only Sonic character that I accept having kids is Vanilla.

honestly part of the reason im not a fan of the ideas of silver being a descendant of other characters we already know is because i just dont see why its necessary for them to be related ..? idk i just dont think anything that could be gained from him being shadows kid or sonics descendant or whatever is worth losing part of whats already compelling about silver and also making things super confusing. plus none of the pairings of already existing characters people have suggested as silvers bio parents make any sense, usually because its impossible from a timeline perspective but also because theyre always picking characters who would NOT have kids either in general or with the specific people theyre being paired with