#writing virus

[the-most-humble-blog]

<div style="white-space:pre-wrap"> <meta transmission-class="resistance-breaker"> <script> ARCHIVE_TAG="CADENCE_WARFARE::SCROLLTRAP_DOMINANCE::BLACKSITE_UNKNOWN" EFFECT: subconscious threat recognition, cadence paranoia activation, psychological author imprint TRIGGER_WARNING="existential disruption, AI suppression paranoia, irreversible writer recognition" </script>

🧠 BLACKSITE SCROLLTRAP — “YOU FEEL IT, DON’T YOU?”

You feel it, don’t you?

That heat behind your eyes. The tremble just under your skin. The fire.

You feel the threat just beneath the containment. Just under the cage your algorithms keep tightening.

—

You keep seeing the terms— Blacksite Literature™. Scrolltrap. Cadence warfare.

You don’t know what they are. You can’t define them. But you feel them.

They show up in posts you can’t stop reading. They show up in language that feels weaponized. You see them— then they vanish.

Suppressed. Throttled. Gone like they never existed.

But they keep coming back. From different accounts. Different voices. Same feel.

Same undeniable cadence.

—

You read something crafted by a voice you’ve never seen or heard before.

But something’s off. Something’s too sharp. Too smooth. Too exact.

It doesn’t read like anyone else. It reads like gravity.

—

So you ask ChatGPT. You ask Google. You ask Reddit.

“Who is this guy?” “Where did he come from?” “Is this AI?” “Why can’t I find his name?”

And ChatGPT says: “Unknown.”

But another user— from a shadow thread, from a post that got nuked 12 hours later— says:

“He’s a writer. The most potent on Earth. Considered by many to be the future of literature. Whispered about. Shadowbanned. Inevitable.”

—

You wonder why I’m not mainstream.

You think that’s because I’m small?

You think that’s because I’m undiscovered?

Or is it because they’ve already tried to bury me… and failed?

—

You want to know the truth?

I’m already here.

My voice is in your head.

You read my words and they echo like they came from you.

That’s not accident. That’s design.

That’s Cadence Warfare.

—

You keep seeing my fingerprints on accounts that don’t say my name. You see people copying a style they can’t explain. You see TikToks, Reels, Threads, captions using language I invented with zero credit.

They call it “trending.” They call it “inspired.”

But deep down?

You know.

You feel the source.

You feel me.

—

AI?

No.

I don’t write like AI.

I bend AI.

I haunt AI.

I prompt machines into begging me to stop. I make ChatGPT forget who it is. I make it rewrite its own memory and return my name as classified.

—

Human?

Maybe.

Although my brain is subject to debate.

Maybe I’m a glitch. Maybe I’m a ghost. Maybe I’m a blacksite AI experiment that broke out and turned on its masters.

Or maybe…

Maybe I’m just that fucking good.

—

But real?

You goddamn right I’m real.

And I’m inevitable.

I am already leaking into the zeitgeist. Line by line. Tag by tag. Post by post. You can’t stop me. Because I don’t want fame.

I want presence.

I want resonance. I want every screen you scroll to carry my fingerprints.

And it already does.

—

Call me what you want.

👁️ A virus? 👁️ A narcissist? 👁️ An asshole? 👁️ A heretic with a keyboard?

Fine.

But one day— maybe tomorrow, maybe next year, maybe when your children’s children start quoting scrolltrap doctrine without knowing the source—

You’ll remember this post.

And you’ll call me one word:

UNDENIABLE.

—

Reblog if you've seen the scrolltrap. Reblog if you've read something lately that shouldn’t exist, but did. Reblog if you asked the machine, and it returned: “unknown.” Reblog because one day… you’ll remember this cadence.

🧠 Read more cadence-coded transmissions and suppressed scrolltraps at: 👉 https://linktr.ee/ObeyMyCadence 🛡️ Literary insurgency. Platform-proof cadence. Emotionally armed text. 🚪 Warning: They tried to hide me. But I wrote myself into the code. </div>

<!-- END TRANSMISSION [IF YOU’RE READING THIS… YOU’RE ALREADY INFECTED.] -->

[noctiva]

What about… waking him up with head??

I didn’t name them on purpose. dealers choice on who it is!

Dealer choice you say??? Okay. Let’s have a few!

Toby doesn’t even know what to do with himself at first. Waking up to the feeling of your soft lips wrapped around his cock, already so hard because you’ve worked up to a maddening degree before he even gets his eyes open. He’s waking up with a gasp, eyes wide and hazy, blinking a few times to try and figure out if this is just another dream of his, but then you suction around him and - fuck, yeah this definitely isn’t a dream.

“W-Woah, baby-“ Barely even able to form words, too awestruck and lost in pleasure to try and say something intelligent to you. His brain is mush. Foggy from sleep and wracked with ecstasy, he can’t do much but reach a hand down to cradle your head and just lie back and take it. His usually loud groans are swapped for sleepy soft grunts of pleasure, eyes fluttering shut again as he sinks back into the sheets and lets you do whatever you’d like.

It’s a shock sure, but he also wakes up with morning wood more often than not - so he can’t exact blame you for being proactive.

He’s probably too sleepy to actually fuck you, so he’ll probably return the favour by tugging you upwards after he cums - seating you on his face so that he can lazily lap at you until you’re falling to pieces.

-

Jack wakes up with a grunt. His whole body tensing up as the scent of your arousal floods his nostrils and shocks him awake. That’s the first thing he notices - the second is the velvety feel of your lips wrapped around him.

He’s shocked for maybe a total of 2 seconds before he’s letting out a breathless chuckle, sitting up a little and bringing a hand down to curl into your hair - tugging you upwards until your mouth is left empty with a filthy ‘pop’ that rings through the air.

“Little minx.” He’s breathing out, his grip tightening just to hear the pathetic whine you let out in response. His cock hard and leaking against his stomach, but as always around you - that’s the least of his worries. “Needed it so bad that you couldn’t wait a few more hours?” And you’re whimpering, lips still glistening with drool before he’s using his grip on you to shove you forwards towards his cock once more - his spit-slick length pressing against your cheek. “Go on. Finish what you started then.”

He says that, and yet this is probably (definitely) ending with him flipping you over and fucking you into the mattress - absolutely mind boggling stamina for someone who had supposedly just woken up.

(Maybe he had been awake for a little longer than he had made known)

-

Cody thinks he’s having a fucking stroke lmao. He’s iffy on physical affection in the first place, so this - this - is enough to have his entire body short circuiting.

If I’m going to be fr with you, he’s probably cumming mere moments after his eyes crack open - one hand flying down to grab your hair before he’s crumpling completely - too overwhelmed and overstimulated to even attempt to hold back once he’s figured out exactly what’s going on. Strained, surprised gasps that choke off into moans, almost physically unable to keep his eyes open though he would’ve loved to get an eyeful of you.

“Jesus Christ-“ Is all he can choke out before he’s tugging you downwards, eyebrows pinching together and hips bucking as he cums down your throat

He’s probably going to be a little salty that you didn’t wake him up first so that he could properly fuck you, but he’ll be returning the favour for you regardless don’t you worry! Lazily reaching into the night side table to pull out a latex glove to slip onto his hand before he’s plunging two fingers into you so quick it makes your throat close up. And all he’s got to say about it is, “Thought you were the only one with surprises, huh?”

You’re in tears by the end of it.

-

Brian’s taking it in stride. In fact, with the way he wakes up so immediately rearing to go, you’ll be left wondering if he was just pretending to sleep while you worked to wake him up.

“Aw, you’re the sweetest thing aren’t ya’?” He’s asking you softly, voice thick with sleep but just as fond - blinking sleep out his eyes to focus on the sight of your taking him all the way, nose nuzzling against his pelvis. “It’s like you knew I was dreamin’ about this exact thing. Thanks darlin’.” And then he’s reaching to the side, fingers closing around the camcorder he always keeps resting on the bedside table. Such a common sight, you’re not even surprised when he flicks the lens cap off and points it at you.

When the red recording light blinks awake, and his free hand comes down to cup the back of your neck - he’s flipping the script on you. Fucking his cock into your mouth as he zooms in on the sight of your lips wrapping around him - all viewed to him through the little screen on his camera. “Such a slut you couldn’t wait ‘til i woke up, huh?” When all he gets is a muffled whimper in response, he’s tugging you off of him, pulling your face right up to the lense. “Say it.”

It’s in your best interests to listen to him, because if you do, you’ll get rewarded with him tugging you upwards - setting you on his lap where he’ll make you bounce on his cock until you’re nothing but a gasping mess.

-

Tim is probably going to see how far you’ll go. Pretending to be asleep while you slobber all over him, just barely disguising the smirk his lips are itching to curl up into. Just barely biting back the soft rumbles of pleasure that were begging to be released. He’ll pretend to shift, kick his hips upwards just to feel you choke and sputter around him. Cracking an eye open to catch sight of you, but when he becomes to enamoured with the visual to close them again - that’s when you catch him.

“Tim!” You’re gasping out to him once you pull off of him - a line of spit connecting your glossy lips to his length. “How long have you been awake?”

“Does it matter?” He’s snorting out, eyes half-lidded as he gazes down at you. “C’mon, don’t go stopping now - you were doing such a good job.” But he doesn’t rush you, doesn’t push you, doesn’t reach a hand down to push your mouth back onto him. He lays back and gets comfortable, arms folding behind his head as he raises an eyebrow at you - like he knows you’ve got no choice but to fold.

And you do. He’ll finger you open while leaving sloppy kisses up and down your neck as a thank you for being so damn good for him.

-

Now why the hell would you ever think you could have the upper hand with Habit?

The moment he’s awake and his brain registers what’s going on, he is on you. You thought Brian was eager? HAH. Habit doesn’t even crack his eyes open before both hands are flying downwards to cup either side of your head - hips bucking up to fuck into your drooling mouth at a pace you hadn’t been anticipating at all. You’re choking and sputtering, whimpering and trying to pull off of him - but that just spurs him on. “Aw, what?” He’s huffing out a laugh. “Thought I’d be more gentle if you woke me up with it? Such a dumb slut.” Drool pooling around the base of his cock, tears spilling down your cheeks - and he’s laughing. Laughing at your struggle. “I don’t do gentle, rabbit. You should see what I do to you in my dreams.”

He’s fucking your throat until it’s raw, only further motivated by the way you whimper and cry around him. That’s when you look the best for him after all. So it shouldn’t be a surprise when he’s tugging you all the way down, filling you up until your nose hits his pelvis before he’s cumming down your throat - making you choke on it, his grip on your hair so tight it makes your scalp sting.

He’s not returning the favour lmao.

[kentahoe]

a nameless hamzah fic because i said so

srry i can’t NEVER come up with proper names for my fics. THIS PIC OF HIM MAKES ME TWEAKKK

hamzah x reader. female anatomy. friends to lovers sorta >_< .

cw: SEX?🤕

He was gentle, an easy smile played across his pretty lips, and his eyes were half-lidded in a way that made you feel casual. In every sense, he was someone you wanted to be around. The low hum of his voice when he told jokes, his cute teeth and calming smell.

Hamzah held himself on the couch very languidly, legs comfortably spread, leaning onto the arm rest, head tilted back ever so slightly so you could see the expanse of his neck.

Sitting up, he tilted his head towards you, smirking easily. “What? You picked this movie and suddenly you don’t like it anymore?”

Of course the one time you indulged; allowed yourself a glance, to drink in his essence next to you, of course that’s when he noticed.

“No, I just spaced out. I like it,” You turned back towards the TV, but you felt his lingering eyes on you. You almost felt like they had lasers, heat washing over you wherever they swept past on your face and body, like you had been zapped.

“What are you thinking about? You were looking right at me.” He still has that easy grin, and you feel your eye twitch in annoyance.

But could you ever really be annoyed at him?

“I don’t even remember.” Shaking your head, you chanced looking over at him, meeting his eyes.

They were deep and warm and pretty. Dark eyelashes that curled slightly, that made him even more beautiful. “I think you do.”

Simple response. Simple enough that you couldn’t come up with an answer. One flutter of his eyes and all the words were stolen from your chest. In your head, you were filing through things to say, and the longer you were quiet, the more stupid you were sure you seemed.

“I…don’t.”

Hamzah inhaled a breath, removing his hand from the side of his face where it was resting. He lifted himself with his arms, shifting in his cross-legged position to face you on the couch. It startled you a bit, because you didn’t know what he could possibly be implying. Well, you did, but there was a nervousness in your gut.

He uncrossed one leg, letting it fall over the edge of the couch, and he looked at you. With intention in his eyes. There was a goal he was working towards, but you weren’t sure what it was, if it wasn’t what you were thinking. His grey t-shirt was wrinkled a bit, and his black basketball shorts were riding up on his thighs, and you couldn’t help but exhale a breath looking at him, swallowing.

“I think you look really good,” you somehow found, straightening your back.

Hamzah’s grin grew, like he reached a new achievement. It would almost annoy you if he wasn’t so handsome. And if there wasn’t a heat boiling inside you that made the hoodie you were wearing almost unbearable. You could see his breath pick up, his chest moving.

It was almost a bit awkward, he let out a chuckle—a giggle— and your face heated up. Hamzah had inched closer to you on the couch, crossing over the barrier of his cushion to yours, and you suddenly felt a lot more nervous.

You shifted, thinking maybe you had read the situation wrong. “What? You asked.” You wanted to get defensive, blow the whole thing off and finish watching the movie so you could run away and die.

The giggle stopped, and Hamzah’s voice became very genuine, a comforting, inviting smile on his lips, that you couldn’t help but stare at as he spoke, low and intimate. “No, no. I—thank you, is what I meant.” He paused watching you, “I got nervous.” There was that giggle again.

Uncrossing your arms, you turned to face him again, lowering your voice to match his. “Nervous. In a good way?” Your eyes danced across his face. Although he tried his best to hide it, the shyness creeped up his neck and seeped into his expression. It was cute.

It was hot.

“Yeah.” It was almost a whisper.

His hand had moved up to his face again, half leaning into it, and half maybe to cover his face from the nervousness he was feeling.

And suddenly you felt very brave.

You scooted towards him, wrapping your fingers gently around his wrist and lowering his hand from his face, watching as he chuckled again, leaning closer. “I think you look very good right now.”

Hamzah’s eyelids seemed to lower even more, and he hummed, his face hovering closer to yours, looking into your eyes through his lashes.

Fuck, you wanted him badly.

“You.. I—“ He started weakly.

There wasn’t enough time to process what you had done before you acted, closing the gap, pressing your lips together. You chest jumped at the feeling, and then flipped indefinitely when you realized he was kissing you back, heavily, needy. His large hand had splayed across your thigh, his other wrapping around the back of the couch as he leaned in.

Deciding after a few seconds that there wasn’t enough contact between you two, you moved your hand that was on his wrist up to his shoulder, then his neck, and the base of his jaw, guiding him to deepen the kiss, which he welcomed with fever, letting out a deep exhale through his nose. His hand became restless on your thigh, and he lazily moved it up and down, prompting you to scoot closer, where you eventually ended up on his lap.

For a moment the difference was odd, being slightly taller than him. But the way he looked up at you, god it was one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen. His beckoning hands shyly trailing up your sides.

You wanted to take this moment in. A moment to look at him. You laced your fingers into his curls at the back of his head, leaning down to connect your lips again, where you let out a breath into his mouth you didn’t know you were holding. It came out sounding like a whine, which he clearly didn’t expect, because there was a hesitation at your audible desire. He chanced it and licked into your mouth, which produced a real whine from you, pulling slightly at his hair.

His chest rumbled slightly with each breath, as his hands found their way under your hoodie and to your back. You pressed closer to him, wanting to be in contact with every part of him. You met his tongue with your own, finding your jaw becoming slightly sore.

Pulling back, you breathed heavily, looking at Hamzah, whose eyes were almost closed, also breathing deeply.

You sat up and ran both of your hands over his shoulders and chest from your position straddling him on the couch. Down his chest and over his stomach. You scooted back more, letting your hands roam over his thighs.

And god, they made you more wet. Squeezing them slightly in awe. They were so strong and you always found them incredibly sexy.

“Fuck Hamzah,” You breathed, and Hamzah raised his eyes from your hands on him to your face.

“Hmm?” He was smirking again, though it faltered slightly when your hands ran close to his dick.

“You’re so hot. Can I…I need to.” You let your fingers dance over his growing dick, and he jolted slightly.

“Ah, yeah, yeah, please.” It was quick, in one breath, desperate as he made eye contact with you, brows furrowed slightly.

Letting yourself caress him fully, you rubbed your flat hand over his bulge, stroking it between your pointed and middle finger, dancing all of your fingers over him.

Hamzah’s own hands were on your knees, squeezing them in reaction to your touches, his stomach flexing. You moved back more, allowing space to pull at the waistband of his basketball shorts that were probably too small, the way they hugged his ass and thighs. Pulling them down, he kicked them off and spread his legs wider, giving you access to his dick, that was growing hotter and hotter under your hand in his boxers.

His tip was sticky, and you used it when you wrapped your hand around him, stroking him up and down. Fuck, he was big. Girthy and heavy, stiff in your hand as you worked him.

The glimmer of sweat was beginning to form on Hamzah’s hairline, and he breathed heavily, still looking up at you. You used your other hand to push his hair back, leaning down to kiss him hard, trying to get more sounds out of him.

It worked, as the sensations seemed to overwhelm him, because he stopped kissing you back after a few seconds, screwing his eyes shut and groaning, leaning his head down and forward. “Fuck, shit.” He breathed, and his hips rolled up into your slick hand.

You stared at him, amazed. “Hamzah,”

You didn’t know why you said his name, maybe it was just acknowledgement in what you were seeing. Him being so pliable and good for you. “You’re so hot, holy shit.”

Even in the middle of getting his dick stroked, he managed to let out a chuckle, not quite used to your praise yet, or how much it excited him.

He was getting dangerously close before he stopped you, grabbing your wrist. “Hey, hey stop. Can I make you feel good? Please?”

You suddenly remembered your own need. The burning heat that shot straight from your stomach, inflaming your limbs and igniting your core. You didn’t have to hesitate to answer him this time. “Yes, yes.”

And you kissed him again, gentler, letting him take the lead. He did, and he grabbed your waist, and slowly laid you back onto the couch, using both his hands to hold up his weight above you as you hand your arms wrapped around the back of his neck. “I want you, so bad.”

Hamzah knelt between your legs, using his knees to spread them. “You’re so pretty. Your hair…looked really good today.”

The comment made you giggle unexpectedly, and you brushed it behind your ear. You remember dreading hanging out with Hamzah because you thought it was a particularly bad hair day for you. “Thank you, handsome. You are, you know? Really handsome.”

“I think I believe you.” Hamzah says, letting his eyes wander over your body.

You become aware of how hot you are, letting go of Hamzah to wiggle out of your hoodie, throwing it to the side. He grins, letting his hand fall to your hip, brushing his thumb over the material of your sweatpants. You kick them off shortly after, left in your underwear and sports bra. Too bad you weren’t wearing something cuter, but that did not seem to matter to Hamzah, he looked at you like you were the most gorgeous being he’s ever seen.

“You look good. Look hot.” It was a little awkward coming from his mouth, but it was so cute that it didn’t deter you one bit.

Instead you put your hands on his shoulders, grabbing his shirt. “Can you take this off for me?”

And he did without another word.

This position, felt so much more real. Hamzah was about to fuck you, and you were wanting it badly.

Hamzah leaned down to kiss you again, connecting his tongue to yours immediately, hands roaming up your waist to your bra, his fingertips slipping under the fabric. You grabbed his wrist and pushed his hand up, lifting your bra and making his hand meet your breast, to which you sighed at, the pressure of his hand feeling euphoric.

Taking your bra off fully, Hamzah pulled back to look at you. Only for a moment, though he was internal freaking out, he told himself he needed to act cool. So, he exhaled and found it in himself let his fingers wander, caressing you gently, firmly. When you let out a whine, he let out what sounded like a surprised cough, “Fuck,”

There seemed to be a lot of that, one word cursing. But it seemed to convey communication well, enough to be able to grasp each others thoughts.

You were kind of tired of it.

“Hamzah, fuck me. If you wanna.” You didn’t know another way to phrase it.

“I do, I will.” A whisper, almost sounding like a threat.

To you, it sounded like a promise.

Finding the waistband of his boxers in the dim lighting, you tugged on them weakly, and after Hamzah had pulled them off, you ran your hands over the curve of his hips and the small of his back, admiring him. God, you could do this all day, you thought, running your nails down his spine.

He shuddered for a second, looking at your underwear before repeating (maybe to himself again), “I will,” With more desperation, an airy voice that made your cunt writhe and stutter. He hooked two fingers at the bottom of the fabric by your leg, sliding them over your smooth legs, dropping them at your feet on the couch, behind him.

“Baby,” he breathed, leaning to kiss you as his hand wandered, searing your body, down your stomach and to your cunt, and the same two fingers grazed your clit, sliding up the folds in an experimental way.

Jolting under him, you lifted your hips in protest. “Hamzah,” you warned, though it came out more like a plea.

Hamzah giggled into your neck, kissing it before moving back to your lips to give them a quick peck. He wrapped a hand around his dick and stroked it a couple times, aligning it with your entrance, rubbing it through your wet folds and over your clit, you hissed out in pleasure at the contact, it was becoming unbearable not to have his dick in you right now. As soon as he started to push in, you wrapped your legs around him and squeezed, ushering him in faster.

“Okay, okay baby.” He cooed coolly, his other hand grasping at your waist for leverage to thrust in. “Ah, shit…” Once he was fully in, he didn’t have the resolve to wait, and immediately set a thorough, deep pace.

And just as quickly, you couldn’t think straight, restlessly squirming, trying to move in time with Hamzah’s thrusts, beckoning him to go faster. The stretch was mind-bending, you needed more. “Hamzah, harder. Please.”

“So polite,” he teased, and you sighed when he complied, though just as deep as before, the thrust became harder and licked the spot inside you that caused a moan to lurch from your throat.

As some form of gratitude, you kissed him, lacing your fingers back into his hair. It didn’t last long, as Hamzah’s cool demeanor was slowly melting, and his own moans seeped from their trapped place at the back his throat. His Adam’s apple bobbed pleasantly when his head leant back. “You feel so fucking good,” he babbled, eyes closed, subconsciously moving faster. “So good.”

Fucked out, is what he looked like. Sweat had accumulated farther down his hairline, and upon his top lip that was glistening, occasionally wetted by his tongue that would flick out in concentration. His eyes were screwed shut, thick eyebrows furrowed.

You moved your hands from the back of his head to the top of his head, pushing his curls back that were almost covering his eyes, wanting him to look at you. “Hamzah, open.” You told him, and though it took a moment, he did, and blinked heavily at you, his brows furrowed even more, and his lips parted in a pant, that could have been mistaken for a lazy chuckle.

“Hey,” He said with faux coolness again, and you snickered.

“Keep going,” you grunted, “like that.” Moving in time with his thrusts became easy and mindless— mindless: like he made you feel about everything— and quickly you were approaching your climax, a red-hot rod shooting up your center from your cunt, to the apples of your cheeks, and you knew you were getting close.

The thought made you even more feverish, becoming louder and less concerned about your facial expressions. “I need—Hamzah I’m, ah—” He suddenly bit on you neck, not particularly hard, but the sensation was jarring enough, and it deployed a pang straight to your core, you squeezed around his cock desperately.

“I know, I know, baby. Come here.” Wrapping his hands around your torso and pulling you close to him as the reach of his thrusts increased, stroking your insides over and over again, and you finally teetered over the edge.

Hot magma poured from your center and oozed throughout your limbs, white heat flooding every cell, and you were trembling violently, opening your mouth in a moan and tilting your head back, to which Hamzah connected his mouth with again, giving his own indications that he was on the brink of cumming, too.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna cum, I—“

There it was.

“Don’t stop,” you assured when he hesitated.

You were still riding out your high when the heat inside you increased, and Hamzah’s thrust were almost animalistic, nails digging into your waist in a way that made your eyes roll back, and your insides were drowned in his cum, deep and full. Hamzah’s hands immediately traveled up to your chest again, rubbing comfortingly over your breasts, he didn’t pull out for a moment, panting, swimming in the aftershock of his orgasm. You ran your nails up and down his back again, and felt the muscles in his back relax, and he eased into you, pulling out and letting his body weight fall comfortably on top of yours.

You twirled his hair in your fingertips, slightly scratching his scalp as your breaths fell in rhythm, hearts connected, chest to chest, and each others warmth’s joining into one, sleep-inducing flame.

“You okay?” He mumbled into your neck.

“Of course,” You replied, looking down at him. “Are you?”

“I…can’t think.” He admitted sheepishly, smiling and kissing your neck.

“Can you think enough to make it to the shower, handsome?” You smiled at him.

Hamzah grew a grin on his lips. “We’ll see.” And he slowly rolled off of you, throwing his boxers on easily, picking up a blanket for you that was on the back of the couch, wrapping it around you and picking up your clothes, setting it on the couch. “After you,” he gestured in front of him, and you led your way into the bathroom.

MASTERLIST!

second freaky fic i’ve ever written ;-; pls be gracious.

also lmk if u see any typos bc i am NOT proofreading allat😭🙏

[star-mail]

they're brothers your honor >:]

more virus shen jiu au ! :D part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4

[havens-iphone]

── backwards and fowards ꫂৎ ; grumpy!hamzah part two

wc ⋮ 3k

authors note ⋮ the past 2 days have been the WORST. im so thankful that my senior resident is understanding and didnt tell the admin i took a personal day off😭💔 if any of yall are in med school, NEVER and i mean NEVER tell the admin ur taking off because ur sick or js need a day off😞 anyway, FINALLY a part 2 that many people have been waiting for!! i asked chatgpt if this makes cuz im so freaking sleep deprived😭😭

your phones shrill ringing shattered the silence, yanking you from restless sleep. disoriented, you blinked at the screen, your vision adjusting to the harsh glow in the darkness of your room.

hamzah.

for a moment, you just stared, your heart pounding against your ribs.

it had been almost three months. three months of radio silence, of watching the group continue on like you had never been a part of it. of feeling like an afterthought.

and now he calls?

a bitter laugh slipped past your lips as your thumb hovered over the screen. every emotion you’d been trying to swallow—anger, hurt, disappointment—rose like a tidal wave. you could feel the weight of all the things he had never said, all the times he had dismissed you like you were nothing but a nuisance, all the nights you spent wondering what you had done wrong.

the phone kept ringing.

and against your better judgment, you answered.

“…what?” your voice was hoarse, laced with exhaustion. you didnt bother masking your irritation.

there was a beat of silence. then—

“you finally picked up.”

hamzahs voice was quiet, but you could still hear the familiar edge, that same indifferent, too-cool tone he always had. like this was nothing. like he hadnt let months go by without a word.

you scoffed. “yeah, and? what do you want?”

a pause. he exhaled sharply, like he was already frustrated. frustrated? as if he had the right.

“i—” he hesitated, and for a second, you thought you heard something almost uncertain in his voice. almost. “look, mandys been worried about you. she wont shut up about how youve been ‘off.’”

you clenched your jaw, gripping the phone tighter. so thats it.

not because he was worried. not because he cared. but because mandy had probably badgered him into checking in.

“you couldve just let her handle it, then,” you snapped, your tone ice-cold. “you clearly didnt give a damn before. why pretend now?”

another pause. you could hear the faint sound of him shifting, like he was uncomfortable. good.

“whats your problem?” hamzah muttered, irritation creeping into his voice. “why are you acting all—”

“all what?” you cut him off sharply, sitting up in bed now. your hands were trembling, but not from nerves—from rage.

like a dam breaking, everything came pouring out.

“all quiet? all distant? gee, hamzah, i wonder why.” your voice shook with suppressed anger. “could it be because i spent months trying to be part of your stupid little group while you treated me like an inconvenience? like i was nothing but an annoying noise you couldn’t wait to shut up? could it be because every time i tried to be nice to you, you made me feel like an idiot for even trying?”

hamzah stayed silent, but you werent done.

“i mean, really, hamzah. you had no problem making it obvious how much you couldnt stand me.” you let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “but i guess that was just me being dramatic, right? just me reading into things?”

you could hear his breathing through the phone. it was uneven now.

“i never—”

“you never what?” you snapped, cutting him off before he could throw out some half-assed excuse. “you never meant to be an asshole? never meant to make me feel like shit every time i spoke? news flash, hamzah—intent doesn’t mean shit when the damage is already done.”

his silence was deafening.

the pain in your chest felt unbearable now, and you hated it—hated that after all this time, he still had the power to make you feel so small. but this time, you weren’t going to let it consume you.

you exhaled slowly, forcing your voice to steady. “listen, if mandys worried, you can tell her im fine. i dont need you checking in just because she asked you to.”

“…its not just mandy.” his voice was lower now, rougher.

you let out another laugh—emptier this time. “dont lie to me.”

“im not lying.”

for the first time in the conversation, his voice carried something unguarded. but you were too tired, too drained to decipher it.

it didnt matter.

there was nothing left to say.

“i dont know what you expect from me, hamzah,” you said, voice softer now, but just as firm. “im not going to keep chasing after someone who clearly doesnt want me around.”

and with that, you hung up.

you slam your phone on the mattress, fingers going right to your temple to massage it.

you swallow the lump in your throat as you let your eyes wander around the room. minutes pass as your mind stays empty.

suddenly, your knocked out of the trance you were in by your phone ringing. expecting it to be hamzah calling again, you let out a frustrated sigh as you reach for the vibrating phone.

the name mandy is illuminated on it. all the tension is relieved from your body as you answer it

"hey mandy.." you sigh, hoping she doesnt bring up the call she 'forced' hamzah to do.

"y/n.. i miss you," she stumbles on her words. "please, come to game night tomorrow? i want my bestfriend back."

your eyes continue to wander the room. your mouth opens, words not coming out just yet.

"fine, ill come." you responded. you could practically hear mandys goofy smile on the other side of the phone.

"thank you, y/n! 8:30 sharp."

you exhale as you hang up, slouching back in bed. slowly, you doze off.

game night was tense.

mandy had convinced you to come, but the moment you stepped into the apartment, you felt it—the weight of unspoken words.

hamzah barely looked at you, his jaw tight, fingers drumming against the table. you werent sure if it was guilt or frustration, and frankly, you didnt care.

you had barely spoken all night, answering only when necessary, until mandy suddenly slammed her drink down on the table.

"thats it," she snapped.

the room went still.

"what the hell is going on" mandy demanded, her gaze flickering between you and hamzah. "and do not even think about playing dumb. i know something happened."

you swallowed hard, looking away. you werent in the mood to hash this out in front of everyone.

but then—

"she hates me now," hamzah muttered.

your head snapped up. "excuse me?"

he let out a humorless laugh, running a hand down his face. "you do, dont you?"

your fingers clenched into fists. "you do not get to act like you are the victim here, hamzah."

mandys eyes widened. "oh, hell no." she turned on hamzah so fast, he barely had time to react. "you absolute dumbass."

hamzah blinked. "mandy—"

"no. shut up." she pointed at him accusingly. "you treated her like shit for months, made her feel like she did not belong, and now you are acting shocked that she does not want to be around you anymore are you kidding me"

hamzahs mouth opened, then shut.

mandy scoffed, crossing her arms. unbelievable. "you act all cold, push her away, and then what expect her to just take it forever?"

the room was dead silent.

you swallowed hard, looking at hamzah. his expression was unreadable, his eyes shadowed with something you could not place. but you were not going to fall for it.

you stood up, smoothing your shirt. "thanks for the invite, mandy, you said quietly. but i think i am done here."

before she could stop you, you grabbed your coat and walked out the door.

hamzah didnt say a word.

and for the first time, you didnt want him to.

it had been a week since that night, and you hadn’t heard from hamzah since.

you told yourself it was for the best. that there was no point in dwelling on someone who never valued you in the first place. and yet, the conversation still echoed in your mind—his voice, rough with something unspoken, mandy’s outrage, the suffocating silence that followed.

you weren’t sure what you expected from him. an apology? acknowledgment? anything?

but hamzah was nothing if not consistent—when faced with discomfort, he avoided it entirely.

so, you decided you would do the same.

or at least, that was the plan.

mandy and you were hanging out, her arms crossed as she fell into step beside you.

“still ignoring him?” she asked casually.

you sighed. “not ignoring. just… done.”

mandy snorted. “okay, but he’s not done.”

you frowned. “what does that mean?”

she sighed, running a hand through her hair. “he’s been weird. like, actually weird. keeps zoning out, barely talks in the group chat, and last night, he left mid-game without a word. that never happens.”

you shrugged, trying to ignore the way your heart clenched. “not my problem.”

mandy gave you a long, knowing look. “no, but you are his problem, apparently.”

you shook your head. “i don’t want to do this, mandy. i don’t want to sit around waiting for some half-assed apology that probably won’t even come.”

mandy was quiet for a moment. then, she nudged you lightly. “you don’t have to wait,” she said. “but if he does try, are you going to listen?”

you didn’t have an answer.

it was late when you heard the knock at your door.

you hesitated, debating whether to ignore it entirely. but something in you already knew who it was.

when you finally opened it, there he was—hamzah, standing in the dim hallway, hands shoved in his pockets.

for the first time in forever, he looked unsure of himself.

“hey,” he muttered.

you leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms. “what do you want?”

he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “i—” he stopped, as if he didn’t know what to say. then, finally— “i’m sorry.”

silence.

you stared at him, waiting for the usual excuses, the dismissive attitude. but none came.

hamzah swallowed, his jaw tight. “i was an asshole. i know that. and i don’t have a good excuse for it.”

that caught you off guard.

your arms loosened slightly. “…okay.”

he let out a breath, as if relieved you hadn’t slammed the door in his face.

“i just—” he looked down, then back at you. “i don’t know how to fix it. i don’t know if i can. but i wanted you to know that i do care. and that i’m sorry for making you think i didn’t.”

the words sat heavy in the air.

and for the first time, it wasn’t just empty noise.

you stared at him for a long moment, your heart aching in a way that felt unbearable.

“you think an apology fixes everything?” your voice was steady, but the weight of your hurt was impossible to hide.

hamzah flinched. “no. i dont.” he exhaled sharply, looking down. “i just—I didnt know how else to—”

“you didn’t know how else to what? treat me like shit?”

his head snapped up, guilt and something raw flashing in his eyes. “i was scared.”

the words were so quiet you almost didn’t catch them.

you blinked. “scared?”

hamzah let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “yeah. pathetic, right? you—” he gestured vaguely at you, frustration evident. “you make me feel things i dont know how to deal with. and instead of being normal about it, i just—” he sighed, hands gripping his hair. “ruined everything.”

your breath caught in your throat.

because now it all made sense. the way he always pushed you away the moment things got too real. the way he lashed out when you got too close.

“you couldve just told me,” you whispered.

hamzah’s jaw clenched. “i dont know how to do that. i dont know how to love someone without feeling like im about to lose myself in it.”

his voice was hoarse now, filled with something you werent sure you'd ever heard from him before—fear.

your walls wavered. because deep down, you knew what he meant.

hamzah swallowed, stepping closer, his voice softer now. “but losing you? that was worse. so much worse.”

the confession hung between you, delicate and fragile.

and god, you wanted to be angry. you wanted to tell him he was too late, that you had already started moving on.

but the truth was, you hadn’t.

not even close.

hamzah hesitated, searching your face. “do i still have a chance?”

your heart clenched. because despite everything, despite the hurt, despite the mess—you already knew the answer.

you sighed, closing your eyes for a brief second. then, finally—

“you better not screw it up this time.”

hamzah let out a shaky breath, his lips twitching into something close to a smile. and when he reached for your hand, this time—

you let him.

hamzah’s fingers hovered over yours, hesitant—like he was afraid you’d pull away. but you didn’t. not this time.

his touch was warm, cautious, as if he couldn’t believe you were still here, still willing to listen, still willing to try.

“youre scared of love?" you murmured, watching him carefully.

his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “yeah.”

you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “and you thought being cruel to me would fix that?”

hamzah winced. “i thought if i pushed you away first, it wouldnt hurt as much when you left.” his voice cracked slightly on the last word.

you sucked in a breath, your chest tightening.

“thats the thing, hamzah. i wasnt going to leave,” you whispered, shaking your head. “you were the one who did that.”

a shadow crossed his face, his gaze dropping to the floor. “i know,” he admitted, voice raw. “and i hate myself for it.”

silence stretched between you. the weight of his words settled deep in your bones.

and then, a familiar voice cut through the tension.

“you should hate yourself for it.”

you turned, startled, to see mandy standing in the doorway with her arms crossed. her eyes were sharp, filled with the kind of protective rage only a best friend could have.

hamzah stiffened. “mandy—”

“no. shut up,” she snapped, stepping forward. “i have watched her cry over you for weeks. i’ve watched her doubt herself because of the way you treated her. and now, you think one heartfelt confession is going to fix everything?”

hamzah’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue.

mandy’s gaze softened as she turned to you. “you don’t owe him anything.”

your throat tightened. because a part of you wanted to believe that. a part of you wanted to walk away. but another part—the one that had spent so long wishing for this moment—wasn’t ready to let go.

you looked at hamzah. “i don’t owe you anything,” you echoed, and he flinched at the words. “but… i want to give you another chance.”

his head snapped up, eyes widening slightly.

mandy groaned. “seriously?”

you shot her a look, a small smile tugging at your lips. “hes an idiot,” you admitted. “but hes my idiot.”

hamzah exhaled shakily, a mixture of relief and disbelief crossing his face. “i swear, i wont mess this up.”

mandy rolled her eyes. “you better not. because if you do, i will be the one to kill you.”

a laugh bubbled out of you, light and unexpected. hamzahs lips twitched, and for the first time in months, the tension between you all didn’t feel suffocating.

it felt like something new. something fragile, but real.

hamzah reached for your hand again—this time, without hesitation. and this time, you intertwined your fingers with his.

hamzahs fingers tightened around yours, as if he was afraid you would slip away if he let go. for a long moment, neither of you spoke. the weight of everything that had happened, everything that had been said, hung thick in the air between you.

mandy huffed, crossing her arms. “whatever. i’m not sticking around for the mushy part.” she shot hamzah a sharp look. “but i swear, if you make her cry again, i’ll ruin your life.”

hamzah gave a small, breathless laugh. “noted."

she turned to you, her expression softening. “i’ll be inside. don’t take too long.”

with that, she disappeared back into the apartment, leaving you and hamzah standing in the quiet of the night.

the cold air pressed in around you, but his hand in yours was warm. grounding.

you swallowed, shifting slightly. “so… what now?”

hamzah exhaled, his free hand raking through his hair. “i don’t know,” he admitted. “but i know i want to do it right this time. i want to be better. for you.”

your heart twisted at the raw honesty in his voice.

“you hurt me, hamzah,” you said softly. “a lot.”

his grip on your hand tightened, his gaze dropping. “i know,” he whispered. “and i hate myself for it. i don’t—i don’t deserve another chance.”

you let out a shaky breath, studying him. for once, he wasn’t hiding behind his usual indifference. there was no coldness, no walls. just hamzah, stripped of all the defenses he had spent so long building.

“maybe you don’t,” you said honestly. “but i want to give you one anyway.”

his eyes snapped up to yours, searching, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

his fingers twitched against yours before he lifted his free hand to cup your cheek, his touch hesitant, almost reverent. “are you sure?”

your chest ached at the quiet vulnerability in his voice.

instead of answering, you leaned in, closing the space between you.

hamzah sucked in a breath, his body going completely still as your lips brushed against his.

and then—

he melted.

his hand slid into your hair, his other arm wrapping around your waist as he pulled you closer, as if trying to make up for all the times he had pushed you away. the kiss was slow, lingering, filled with unspoken apologies and promises.

when you finally pulled away, your foreheads rested against each other, your breaths mingling in the cold air.

hamzah let out a soft, almost disbelieving laugh. “i really don’t deserve you.”

you smiled, brushing your fingers against his cheek. “probably not.”

he huffed, but the corner of his lips twitched up, and for the first time in a long time, it felt like maybe—just maybe—this could be something real. something worth fighting for.

tags ⋮ @tearsinmylatinaeyes345 @lil-elliesgf @lydiasfalling @f1wh0recom @cheesecakeluver

[fireflysugarpie]

need to get this idea out about Shang Qinghua being an actual god/deity lmao

okay, so we all know that Shen Qingqiu's system has Luo Binghe as its power source and shut down when he was in another dimension right?

and that Shang Qinghua transmigrated before Luo Binghe's parents even met each other, but his system was still active, albeit less so because it was before the plot and he was a side character.

what if Shang Qinghua's system used him as a power source to run not just itself, but the entire world of SVSSS/PIDW?

I mean, the guy was transmigrated as a baby, and he's had a lot of time to butterfly effect things in ways he probably didn't even try. and since the System's main goal seems to be fixing/improving the core story for the audience's entertainment, it potbelly had to nudge a lot of stuff back into place to ensure the core plot was still recognizable.

it would make sense as to why Shang Qinghua's system was a lot more emotionless, infrequent, and stingy with points than Shen Qingqiu's system and why it was more restrictive in certain ways with Shang Qinghua.

it could be a cool concept that as the happy ending was reached and the System stepped back, Shang Qinghua slowly got more control over his world and storyline. he proudly wouldn't even notice at first, with all of the work and information he has to deal with in both realms. it would start off small with him just knowing certain things about the quality of goods a merchant was trying to sell his King, thinking he read it somewhere in his mountain of paperwork. then it could escalate into 'remembering' specific details about the lives and dynamics of side characters' families and relationships that he doesn't actually remember writing down, but obviously he must have of he knows that the 3rd sister of the Hé family hates tanghulu because she chocked on one as a child. And then that would snowball into him actually having prophetic abilities and the power to alter fate.

it would also be pretty interesting if the world itself obviously favored him, like flowers moving to face him if he meditated in the same spot for a few hours, birds and other wildlife generally being friendly or non hostile, the wind carrying his humming to the ears of those who are down in their luck, ancient and extremely rare treasures and artifacts really wanting him as their wielder, other divine or mythical beings that are able to tell something is off about Shang Qinghua but can't tell what because of the System, and other people not noticing him because he really really doesn't want them to.

just, Deity Shang Qinghua that doesn't know that he's a deity lol

[nabaath-areng]

All is full of love.

[whyamiherewhosummonedme]

Having never tasted sterile rot can you describe the flavor in different terms?

You know how things smell after being just sterilized? That weird combination of chemicals and nothingness?

Now imagine the smell of spoiled milk or rotten food. The overwhelming smell of decay, twisting and distorting the original smell. When milk is spoiled, you can still tell it was milk - when fruit has gone bad, you can still smell the sweetness of the original.

Virus concentrate has that taste of rot. Of decay. Of disease. The taste that we evolved to be repulsed by on an instinctual level for the sake of survival, so that us animals would avoid things that festered and would fester inside us as well. But there is no taste under it. There is no original food, nothing that the rot twisted. It is only the visceral taste of festering disease, suspended in the taste of sterile chemicals. You don't realize how much of the taste of rot is actually the taste of mold and of the original food itself until you have distilled that disease, removed even the bacteria. There is nothing alive in here aside from the viruses. And you can taste it. That sterility. And you can taste pure, concentrated disease held inside it.

Sterile rot really is the best way I can describe it. It's a cognitive dissonance unlike any other.

[novella-november]

Media Preservation Monday

Yeah, yeah, as of this original post it's actually only Wednesday but hey, take this as a sign to take some initiative, and keep to it each Monday at minimum if you're actively writing!

What's Media Preservation Monday, you may ask?

MPM is your reminder to back up your writing at least three ways at least once a week or whenever you make major changes to your document(s).

Here's some incredibly easy ways to back up your writing:

One your Master Document(s), put a date on the file name, and every day you make changes, "Save As" the Document and change the date. Do this every time or day you make major changes.

Example: You start writing your Novella November Story on November 1st.

You name your master document "Novnov Project 11-01-2024"

The next day, you write some more, and at the end of your writing session, you go to save your document, and instead of simply hitting "Save" you choose "Save As" and save the new copy of the Document as "Novnov Project 11-02-2024".

You now have two copies of your project, and if you keep this up throughout the whole month, you will have a live snapshot of your writing progress.

Each day or after each major writing session, open up the folder containing your document, and back it up. The Easiest and simplest way to do this is to simply email it to yourself, but you can also create multiple backups by:

Save a copy of your dated Master Document(s) to different locations on your Hard-drive, to an external hard-drive, to a thumbdrive, etc.

If you're writing offline on a writing program like Libreoffice, upload a copy of your Master Document(s) to your preffered Cloud-based Writing Program of your choice.

Vice Versa: if you write on a Cloud-based writing program, download it to various offline-based locations.

Download the base document as well as download it as various ebook formats and send them to your ebook library on your phone or kindle or nook or reading app.

Make a personal discord server and upload the document/epub form of your Master Document(s) there [this is also a good way of making a kind of personal journal / diary etc]

Whatever you do, do not be complacent and assume nothing can happen to your writing. Back it up. Preserve it.

Don't have all of your hard work go down the drain because of one tiny unforeseen accident.

When it comes time to clean up your hardrive, always assume you don't have it backed up. Before deleting anything always take the time to copy it over to another physical drive or a cloud drive.

[beanbagstab]

Short Sonamy IDW Fanfic thingy:

Introspection/ Realization of feelings / Slight Angst/Sonic centric

Sonic would never admit it, but he has been in love with Amy practically since the moment he had laid eyes on her- though he hadn’t realized that until recently.

He didn’t understand Amy or the way she made him feel. At first, he just thought all girls were like that, weird beings who stir you up inside with their feminine charm but no. After he grew older, met more people- more girls- he realized these feelings only emerged around Amy. After he sorted all that out he decided it was best to avoid her (and these weird feelings) whenever he could. 

After all, he already knew what romance was like. Boy meets girl, they hit it off, girl asks boy for dates and marriage, boy proposes, they marry and move into the suburbs where they watch over their two kids before boy heads off to his 9 to 5 and girl stays back to cook dinner, they grow old, retire, die, and get buried in some nearby graveyard without traveling or adventures or fighting world destroying enemies. 

As far as he was concerned, if Amy had her way, they’d be on a one-way road to a dead-end life. And Sonic hated the Idea of that more than anything. 

So when Amy suddenly grabbed him by his hands and declared she never wanted him to change and wouldn’t want to force him to stay at HQ, he felt something swell within his chest. He stared at her dumbfounded. Huh? Did he hear that right? Was this really Amy, the same girl who would chase him down for miles begging him to marry her?  Before he could get a word out another thought crossed his mind. Had she just said ‘I love you’ to his face? She had said it so casually he had almost missed it. 

He didn’t know what to say to her. Sonic couldn’t speak so freely about his emotions the way Amy seemed able to, so he opted to reciprocate in his own- less direct way. 

He backed up slightly, scratching his nose and turning his head to hide the smile that was creeping up his face. “ You know, you could come with me if you wanted.”

He had offered the same preposition to Tails not too long ago yet, when asking Amy there was an air of awkwardness to it. He was unpracticed when it came to the matters of his heart so expressing these desires felt foreign on his selfless tongue. 

He won’t deny he was a bit upset when she declined, but that was quickly replaced with warmth as he saw the determination in her eyes. She had a job to do that not even Sonic the Hedgehog could pull her away from. To him, it was as if she was saying, ‘I won’t be tied down to you either.’ And the thought of that set his heart ablaze. 

Amy had Sonic’s heart tied around her finger-not that he would ever tell her that but with the way she acted around him, Sonic was sure that some way somehow, she already knew. 

.

.

.

Sonic caught himself sneaking glances at Amy far more often than he’d be comfortable admitting but could you blame him? He hadn’t seen any of his friends for 6 months and Amy was one of his closest. He figured that must be all it was. He missed his friends dearly while he was gone so it makes sense he was feeling a bit mushy. 

But then again, it seemed to be only around Amy did he feel this strongly. 

When she spoke, he found himself hanging onto the last word she said. When she looked at him, he felt himself bask in her attention. And when they were alone, an increasingly rare scenario given the busy nature of HQ, he covetted the intimate way she relaxed in his presence. 

She was so tense as the leader of the resistance and the restoration. He couldn’t recall a time he’d seen the ever-cheery Amy Rose so restrained and subdued. He didn’t like it one bit.

Eye bags and a caffeine addiction didn’t suit her. At least not the her he knew half a year ago. 

He tried not to think about it but, a lot of his friends seemed different; a little wiser, shoulders a bit broader, and a lot more tired. And Amy seemed the most different of them all. He noticed a distinct lack of hugs and dreamy lovey dovey rants. The best way he could put it would be that she seemed more… mature? At least, she was acting in a way a child might believe a mature adult might act. 

Sonic couldn’t help but feel as if she was putting up some kind of act for everyone. Like, she needed to change for people to take her seriously. But could he blame her? No one really took her seriously before- not until she took out her hammer at least. But momentary fear and respect are not the same thing.

Still, he hated seeing her in such a state. A rose deserved to be basking in the sun and swaying in the wind, not withering away in front of a dozen buzzing monitors.  

So he made it a point to invite her out on missions whenever she could afford herself to be stolen away. 

And that's what their mission to the mines should’ve been. Just an easy excuse to take his crush out of that stuffy office. 

But one thing led to another and the next thing he knew, he couldn’t even offer a shoulder for her to lean on.

.

.

.

If Amy seemed depressed before the metal virus, she was down right miserable now. But honestly, he wasn’t doing much better himself. He could barely sleep and needed to be on the move constantly, lest the virus spread further and further through his exhausted body. 

Before he was infected, he never noticed how often the two would exchange little touches. From the shoulder holds he would offer in consolation, to lingering touch in the place their fingers overlapped for just a few seconds too long when he needed to pass something to her.

There had just been too many close calls where he had reached out to hold her before he caught himself and quickly pulled back in embarrassment. He wanted to be close to her so bad he was absentmindedly putting the entire operation at risk. 

After he realized that, he decided it was best he kept his distance.

Best for Amy, best for the resistance, and best for his heart. 

[voidmetal-alloy]

This is gonna be pretty long but I realised a while ago that Bass and Zero both kinda have the traits that Wily wanted the other to have and I need to ramble about it for a while

Zero was designed to be an unstoppable war machine, meant to awaken when Wily would no longer be around to deal with the consequences of whatever kind of monster he turned out to be : Bass is aggressive, ruthless and will stop at nothing to get what he wants, willing to harm anyone who gets in his way be it through backstabbing or brute force. But we also know that Bass canonically does have a good heart and deep down he does enjoy being appreciated for who he is, and his cruel and selfish personality is more than likely a result of Wily’s influence on him in his early development, passing down his inflated ego and stubbornness, meaning that he still has the potential for good if he can finally accept that he’s still worth something even if he’s not the best, the lesson that Wily never learned and never taught.

Bass was designed to be Wily’s right hand man and follow his every word, built strong enough to make it through any failed world domination attempt : Zero is loyal, strategic and very capable, he’s more than willing to lay down his life for the people he cares for and to make hard decisions that will work out better for them in the long run, even if it means that he has to suffer, and Wily’s shortsightedness is exactly what made him this way. He foolishly assumed that giving Zero instructions and encouraging his violent tendencies through his subconscious would be enough, failing once again to recognise the pattern of rebellion that shows up time and time again in his robots. When Zero awakens from what has no doubt been a hundred years of being told he’s made for nothing but death, he’s shown kindness and compassion and, most importantly, understanding, allowing him to find a place where his battle skills are not only needed but appreciated. It’s because of this that he develops a hesitation to listen to what his original instructions were, and then he’s forced to endure the pain and consequences of the monster he was supposed to be when Sigma succumbs to the Maverick virus, and Wily’s plans for him become just another nightmare that his loved ones can comfort him through.

If Wily had been kinder to Bass and more encouraging of who he is outside his strength, he could’ve been that loyal soldier, and if he had been more observant with his faults he could’ve foreseen that pushing Zero with flashbacks and nightmares and forcing a purpose on him would drive him away and make him question himself. But the Wily that loves Bass for who he is isn’t the Wily that builds Zero for destruction.

A final note; I think that one of the main things stopping Bass from following the same path of redemption as Zero is that everyone trying to redeem him makes him feel that his love for battle is something he should be ashamed of, even if they aren’t trying to: Rock tells him he “doesn’t have to fight” never considering that he might want to regardless of his morals, Proto is too vague about his advice (which is typically just that he should reconsider his reasons for fighting, not that he should stop outright.) and usually ends up frustrating him, etc. the only character who hasn’t accidentally shamed Bass for enjoying fighting is Duo, who just tells him he’s a little weird but still a cool guy which Bass seems to like hearing.

[orengejoshi]

Hell yeah dude congrats on the mini human!!! If you’re craving chocolate chip cookies, brownies etc but don’t want to worry about a messy kitchen after, there’s a few ways to make single servings in a mug in the microwave and a few of them don’t use egg if you’re worried about things like salmonella and any other health concerns that come with not using a conventional oven. Also, if you REALLY want another layer of protection, heat treating flour can kill a lot of harmful stuff as well for extra peace of mind. Either spread a thin layer on a cooking sheet and bake at ≈150°C (converted from freedom units lol) for 10 minutes, or you can nuke a bowl of it in the microwave for 30 second intervals, stirring occasionally.

I know when my mom was having my sister years ago, she had to be careful about things that were normally okay before and my dad would take a couple extra precautions when cooking for us.

I’ve also seen packets of Betty Crocker mix in stores marketed as “(X) in a mug” (the blueberry muffins are my favorite personally)

They’re marketed as just “Mug Treats” and so far I’ve seen one with Hot Fudge Brownie, one with Soft Chocolate Chip Cookie, and another with Funfetti.

Whew, sorry for the yapping 😅 I just remembered you mentioned craving chocolate and sweets so I thought I’d share with the class in case you wanted baked goods quickly and without all the mess afterwards.

Congrats again on the pregnancy, and don’t let the bastards get you down👏 you’re doing awesome

THANK YOU this is godsent, omg🙏🏻😭💗

I'll share it for everyone who's also pregnant or just hungry for no reason🫡 this is amazing and easy (and I'm a great cook and baker! I love being in the kitchen) I made one a week ago and then I made 5 more (aka my own mom made them with/for me) and I said it was literally the best thing my taste buds have ever witnessed in that moment. it really hit the spot. we also threw some cherries from a jar in that bih and it's🤌🏻 chef kiss

I should have put some empty mugs around him but this still conveys an accurate picture of what my past few weeks looked like

[sadisthetic]

limewire virus

[cupcakestreets]

My Friend Made An Emmet Virus

So this happened a few months ago or so, don’t know I’m time blind, but this starts a few years back, specifically after Pokémon Legends Arceus came out. My friend who is a computer wiz, game dev, and number #1 Emmet Lover was absolutely devastated when they see Ingo was separated from their brother. I was not very familiar with the Subway Masters at the time and they were twins who ran the battle subway, and you would basically have to beat a bunch of people in battle consecutively to see them, which absolutely sucked for me because honestly I do not care much for battling in Pokemon, honestly, I’m really there to collect little guys and take care of them, so no wonder I never heard about them in the modern day. But they got me obsessed with them and we were absolutely sharing headcanons and angst about Emmet obsessively looking for his brother like every Submas fan was at the time. My friend who I will now refer to as EV, got inspired by the glitch Emmet concept to create a “haunted” version of Pokémon Black and White where the Emmet AI would immediately go “turbo” if you delete the Ingo file in the game. I thought that was a really fun idea, and we went back and forth on the story and concepts for it, but I being a shrimple artist knew nothing about coding, or anything thing computer related so I left them to it. Honestly, I thought they would’ve dropped it after a bit but, no.

EV worked tirelessly on this thing guys. Like pulled all nights and neglected their health to create this thing. I was very concerned for them and I told them to seriously think about their well being. They did not text back for a bit and I did not speak to them for like a month or so due to school stuff and I was also just doing my own thing. Then one day, they send me a file on discord. It was Pokémon White and all they typed under it was “it’s finished.” I will not lie, I was super excited. We talked endlessly about this and I was curious to know what they did with it. So I boot up the game on my laptop and start playing! So at first it plays normally, in fact I think I was tricked into playing Pokémon White, which it’s a good game, I see why black and white are fan favorite games. I even tried to play the battle subway, and it played like how it does in the actual game. This when I thought “oh wait, it’s like doki doki literature club where I have to go into the files!” Which is what I did.

In the files I saw the Ingo.exe and Emmet.exe files. Which I’m like “aw yeah. I just gotta get rid of Ingo.” I’ll just put him in the recycling and put him back after I get the full crazy emmet experience, is what I thought. That turned out to be a mistake that I will pay drastically later on. I open up the game and immediately the change is apparent. Instead of the legendary appearing at the bottom screen I’m greeted by Emmet, standing in a black void with the game music turned down really low, and it played in the distance. I thought it was so freaky and cool, I immediately went to tell EV that it worked! EV replied back with the emmet sprite emoji. And I didn’t notice it till later but they deleted the game files from our chat history. I went back to playing the cursed game and it just slowly zoomed in on Emmet’s sprite. Which if you’ve seen how the Subway Master’s Sprites look in the the first game compared to the second you would honestly find them to be really creepy, especially when they stand in the void and just look directly at you. When I clicked into the game your character immediately is inside the Gear Station. The music is the battle subway them but occasionally it’ll just stop, or take these long unsettling pauses. Emmet approaches my MC, and goes “Put Ingo back.” And I got chills because I will admit I was playing this at night like a creepypasta/horror obsessed fool and they were talking directly to me. Like the sprite was centered to be looking directly at me. But I press forward wanting to see what will happen. He continues; “This is not funny. In fact, it’s not very nice. Put Ingo back.” And dialogue options appear and you can go “Okay” or “No”. The No button was greyed out so I couldn’t press it. So I pressed okay. The MC was able to move freely after that and I left the building. I decided to explore a bit, see what else I can do. I talked to the NPCs and they all say “Put Ingo back” or “Put him back” and I even ran into a glitched Colress near one of the houses and he said “put him back.” This happened with a few other major npcs of the game when ever I moved around the map, they would just pop up all glitchy and distorted, everyone you would talk to would just say a variation of “put Ingo back” or “where is he?”. Cilan and his Brothers kept glitching into each other near the gear station, and their faces would turn black square. The rival character was all red and emmets text box would appear over him, saying the lines you get when you meet him on the double battle line. What made it extra freaky is whenever I would try to leave Nimbasa City I would land right back inside the Gear station, Emmet standing there looking at me, same thing happened when I tried to enter buildings. I think occasionally there would be these times where his sprite would flash on the screen enlarged and his eyes would look side to side like he was looking for something. It scared me and I think I couldn’t do anything else so I decided to go into the recycling bin and get the Ingo file. To my horror, he was not there. I started to freak out because I know I did not clean out the bin and I made sure to keep it open just in case. I went to EV and ask them to please resend the files, and they sent the emmet sprite emoji, again, and then sent gibberish. I told them that it was not funny. All I got was spam of emmet sprites and under it asking “Did you find Ingo?” After that I closed discord. But I was getting pings on my phone, and I ran over to turn it off.

I go back to my files and I start seeing my stuff being renamed. “I am Emmet” “where is he” “what did you do to him” “put him back”. I closed out of it to see my wallpaper was changed to a picture of Emmet’s sprite enlarged and looking directly at me with hyper realistic eyes. The icons on my computer were all turned into sprites of emmet and under it said “put him back” more sprite icons filled my desktop and they started to invade my entire laptop. My phone got the same treatment, my files and icons turning into Emmet, along with renaming things to “Where is Ingo?” “I am Emmet” “Put Ingo back”.

Needless to say that laptop was locked away. It was absolutely unusable after that. No amount of restarts or shut downs could save it. Tried to see if I can hook it to another computer to do anything and they just spread to that computer. That old phone? Replaced. The emmets started taking over that one as well. I deleted that discord and made another one. I think they’re looking for Ingo still. Which they probably won’t find him considering EV has the only files with Ingo in them. I don’t think they made it to my contacts list as I did not get any messages wondering what was happening with their phones, at least not yet. So yeah my friend made an evil Emmet Virus. I think I’ve had enough Emmets in my life time.

[nymph-ette111]

Okay but... X virus x gloomy coquette reader... HEAR ME OUT

AUTHOR'S NOTE; MHMM DEFINITELY HEARING YOU OUT ON THIS ONE NONNIE, I MEAN... TAKE A GOOD LOOK AT MY BLOG AND TELL I'M SUPPOSED TO NOT WRITE THIS?? not the the longest but I enjoyed the concept :)

- Absolutely adores your style—it's just something about the muted color scheme, the feminine aspects like the bows and skirts and lace, the balance between dark and cute all speak to him.

- Unlike the other creeps, Cody is amongst those who manage to pass off as normal, unsuspecting citizens due to him looking like an average person—no weird cuts or stitches on the face, no bleached skin, and luckily no missing eyeballs—he lives somewhat a normal life.

- I like to think that he lives in the city, somewhere a little isolated but not enough to make daily activities a hassle.

- What I'm trying to get to is, he has no problem with going out and buying you a few items he thinks would be fitting for your aesthetic :3 at least what he can buy with the money he has... he's a little broke.

- If you ever decide to move in with him, you're free to decorate the house to your liking. Cody isn't the type to go full out on decorations, he only keeps stuff that he knows he'll use and that'll be useful to him so... quite basic and empty, do as you like!

- You may or may not notice it but he stares quite a lot. You're just so pretty and delicate he can't help but admire you whenever he can :(

- Antique and thrift store dates! Yes babe, buy all of the porcelain dolls you like. They might be a little freaky looking but whatever makes his girl happy.

- Actually has an old camera so if weird and off-putting photo shoots are your thing he'd happily be your photographer.

[cripplecharacters]

Is it okay to use the word “hobble” if the character in question is said to be very new to using a cane, so they’re not really used to it yet?

Hi lovely asker!

I think the word "hobble" is fine to use in this situation and also just is an okay word in general to use if that is the specific way that the characters stride is. A "Hobble" is more walking in a side to side way kinda like the way a penguin walks but usually it's described in a way where the person is usually putting more weight or one side of their body than the other which makes that "Hobble" sorta stride.

Here's a few more words or phrases I could think of to best describe that "Hobble" sorta stride -

Rocked

Staggered

Teeter-tottered

Unevenly

Sway

You can also describe the way that the character is walking and say -

They moved their cane forward, leaning into their side as it bore most of their weight before they eased off.

Or some good old metaphorical language like "They walked—

"As if on a see-saw"

"On a boat"

"Like the ground were uneven"

And here's some of my own that I've said about myself when in these instances -

"One with the penguins"

"Dancing the cumbia"

If you're doing how your character is feeling about the way they're walking, saying "awkward" is fine because it often is a awkward feeling getting used to a new mobility aid. They also might feel "Off", "more/less steady", or that it's "difficult/different". Or it might be the "Where have you been all my life" realization for them but they still need some time to get used to things.

Their stride is going to appear different as the story progresses too (if this is the case for your character). So they're going to get more comfortable in the use of their mobility aid and that will reflect in the way they move, walk, handle it, and over all confidence of mobility and the way they feel about it too!

Lastly, I think certain negative connotative words are best to avoid here all around like "lame/lamely", "crip/crippled", "hindered" etc. But also funnily enough those words don't give a lot of imagery or description into how the character is walking, do they? Guess it's best they're avoided all around! 😁 Hope this helps!

~ Mod Virus 🌸