#tumblr is the last safe haven...for now

[garrus-vakkarian]

incredibly comical that tumblr is like, the only stable & bearable social media site

[doumadono]

ANNOUNCEMENT

This is a turning point for me. I've been silent for too long, but I can't stay quiet anymore.

I'm going through writer's burnout, and it has hit me hard. I've been writing on Tumblr and Ao3 for nearly eight years now (with about 1.5 years on my private blog, doumadono). Over that time, I've written more than 400 stories across various fandoms, created the Sinful Sunday event and a series that many people like, helped many with numerous emergency requests — so many that one masterlist wasn't enough to cover them all.

But all of this has brought me to a place where writing no longer feels like a joy, but rather a duty. In my effort to make everyone happy, I lost myself and took on too much, accepting even the most twisted and difficult requests. It made me anxious and unwell whenever I thought about writing. This is why I haven't been posting much these past few weeks. I missed the breaking point and let myself reach a place where I was seriously considering quitting writing altogether and closing both my Tumblr and Ao3 accounts.

There's something else I need to address. I feel completely detached from Jujutsu Kaisen and Demon Slayer. I no longer feel comfortable writing for those fandoms. From now on, I'll be focusing mostly on My Hero Academia. Even though the manga recently ended, both the manga and the anime hold a special place in my heart. I’ve fallen in love with the story and its amazing characters. This is what feels right to me at this moment. That doesn't mean I'll never write for Demon Slayer or other fandoms again, but not now, not at this time. Maybe in the future — who knows?

Some of you might know that I've been dealing with a flood of hateful anonymous messages. Even though I’ve grown stronger and no longer consider them relevant, it still hurts to read such nasty words. This is another factor why I need to take a break.

So, what's going to change?

Sinful Sunday will no longer cover requests, and the event won't be as regular as it used to be. From now on, I'll post some sinful pieces specifically written for this event whenever I feel it's right. I'll write only for the characters I feel attached too.

Emergency requests will be limited to two slots and will no longer have a 48-hour window to be fulfilled. Once both slots are taken, emergency requests will be closed until I manage to clear the current asks in my inbox.

As of today, my ask box has been completely cleared. I won't be replying to any past asks, regardless of their origin or topic.

Commissions will remain open, as nearly all the requests have been fulfilled.

Regarding the following projects:

The Kvitravn series will be completed this year, but I can't provide a specific date just yet as I'm still working hard to bring everything together.

There's also a new series on the horizon featuring Dabi in the lead role, with a psychiatrist!Reader as the other main character.

As for Kinktober, I made a hard decision it will not be held as an event on my blog this year at all.

As of now, I want to focus on my own little My Hero Academia based AU that I created with my best friend @crystalwolfblog , and this is something that brings me a lot of comfort nowadays, and it's what I want to focus on. I’ll likely create another blog to post everything related to this AU, to keep things organized (the blog will be linked to my pinned post). This little AU was and is my safe haven for the past year and half, and since it contains all of my favourite characters, I want to focus on it fully.

The time for purification has come. I need to rediscover my purpose and find joy in writing again. To those who understand and have stuck with me since the ThePaperPanda days — you’re amazing and adorable, and I can never express how much I appreciate you, guys 💞

I want to share one last thought. This isn’t a statement, but rather a plea to readers: please respect writers, no matter the content they choose to explore. Writing is not as easy as it may seem; it requires a significant amount of time and effort, often taking up our personal time to craft a story. Don't send anon hate. Spread love instead! The least you can do to show your appreciation is to leave a comment, even if it’s just a word or two. For you, it’s a small gesture that takes less than a minute, but for the writer on the other side, it may be a much-needed sign that their work is meaningful. So if you enjoy an author’s work, don’t hesitate to leave a comment. It truly makes us writers feel like we’re on cloud nine.

Love you all, Marcianna

[torscrawls]

A Ghost by Any Other Name ch.2

You can read the whole chapter on AO3! (It didn't fit in tumblr's textbox)

Chapter 1 can be found here.

---

A month later.

For the first time in much too long, Danny could almost pretend that ghosts aren't real.

He kept his eyes down and a nervous smile plastered on his face as he made his way across Wayne Enterprises’ cafeteria. He had a job now and he couldn’t afford to fuck this up. He could be a normal employee, a normal human. No more fighting, no more hiding, no more lying, and no more ghosts. Well, except for himself. But he had not dared to change into Phantom since he managed to shake his parents for fear of his ectosignature tipping them off to where he was hiding.

Danny had simply changed into a human, circled back around after fleeing Gotham, and then stayed there. Who could have thought that such an easy strategy would work? But as Tuck had said, “Your parents don't believe that ghosts can think, of course it worked.”

Gotham hadn’t been his first choice for escape, nor safe haven, but it had proved to be very effective in keeping him hidden. It had been a month since his parents chased him to the city and after weeks of jumping at shadows, rooting through garbage and stealing leftovers, and sleeping in abandoned houses and attics, he felt safe enough to try actually getting a job. The city’s natural ectoplasm had proven to be a great aid in hiding his ectosignature.

He knew that they had followed him when he ran away, but they had gone back home to work on Ancients knew what.

Not that he had ever even dared hope that his first job in the city would be at Wayne Enterprises of all places.

He had applied after several encouraging conversations with his sister, Sam and Tucker. In the end, he had sent the application mostly as a joke. He never would have dreamed that he would actually get in.

Maybe hanging out so much with Tucker had given him a slightly warped perception on how good other people were with tech. Apparently, growing up tinkering inventions in a lab with his life on the line for years actually taught you something. Who would have guessed? Honestly, having to construct his own prosthetic arm out of scraps of metal and trash had probably also helped, since having his arm cut off by his own—

Silver lining and all that.

Danny bit back a hiss of pain as he hurried across the cafeteria while balancing his tray on his right hand, not completely used to his improvised prosthesis yet.

Thank fuck for his accelerated healing or he would probably have gotten some very nasty infections and lost more of his arm. If he would have survived at all.

That didn’t make the constant pain and phantom sensations any easier to deal with. And it definitely hadn’t cured him from the ghost in him like his parents had hoped for.

To their credit; their invention had actually worked for once. It had destroyed the ghost. Too bad the ghost was inseparable from him. It was just lucky that he had realized what was happening, and managed to get away before it took more than his arm. He didn’t think his parents had even realized what they had done. And if he got his way; they never would. Not to spare their feelings or anything, but he couldn’t stand to see them again.

He just wished the distance from his parents worked in making him feel better, but no such luck. Most of the time, he still felt like utter shit with splitting headaches, an ache in his whole body, nosebleeds, and inescapable pain emanating from his lost arm. More than just the pain, he felt unbalanced. Like one of the failed clones Vlad had made. Hopefully it would go away soon; he had never had such long lasting effects from an injury before. Then again, he had never lost a whole limb before.

He desperately claimed one of the few empty tables close to the corner and sank down in his chair with a breath of relief.

The people here seemed nice enough but Danny was too high-strung to really appreciate their kind words and open smiles.

That was why he was shocked when a shadow fell across the table and Danny looked up to see a young man with black hair and blue eyes standing over his table with a wide smile on his face. “Hey! You're new, right?”

Danny blinked. He hadn’t been anti-social before his sudden bout of homelessness and hiding, but he had never been popular enough for someone to approach him in a cafeteria before. He squashed down his paranoia immediately clamoring that this was a trick. He was fine. No one knew who he was. He had to make friends, like Jazz said. He had to move on.

“Yes. I am.” He added a slightly strained smile. “Thanks for taking pity on me.”

Danny knew he wasn’t very used to interacting with people but the man didn’t seem to feel deterred as he simply sat down in a chair opposite Danny and started digging into his own lunch with an easy smile. “No worries! The name’s Tim,” he said between bites and Danny felt himself relax slightly at his casual attitude.

Danny smiled. “Nice to meet you Tim, I'm—” he cut himself off at the last second as he remembered that he wasn’t Danny anymore, couldn’t be Danny if he wanted to stay safe. And Tucker had gone through a lot of trouble to make sure he had a new name, so he better use it. Even if he hated it. He would get used to it eventually. Probably. The smile on his face felt a bit stiffer as he continued, “I’m Dante. Dante Armstrong.”

Tucker had thought it had been hilarious. Dante and his trip in hell.

Danny would have killed him if he wasn’t 100% sure that Tuck would just come back as a ghost to haunt him in a way that would make Technus look like a baby’s-first-computer-virus in comparison.

Across from him, Tim’s smile widened. “Armstrong. Like the astronaut.”

“Thank you!” Danny threw his hands up. “Finally someone who doesn't make fun of me!”

Tim laughed. “What do people usually say?”

Danny crossed his arms as he muttered, “That my name sounds like an action figure.”

“Dante Armstrong…” Tim tried it out, then laughed again. “It does!”

“Hey! I believed in you!” Danny leveled an accusing finger across the table.

It only made Tim laugh harder. “Well, that's your mistake!”

“And here I thought you were a nice person.”

Tim smiled wide. “Glad to prove you wrong!”

Danny grinned back, careful not to show his sharp teeth, then he paused.

Now that he really took the other in, he realized that Tim looked a lot like Danny had in the not so distant past; lean, black hair, and blue eyes. It almost made him feel insecure about his new height and the bulk that had appeared almost overnight after running away from Amity. Last he checked he was almost as tall as his da—as Jack. Now, no matter how small he tried to appear, Danny still towered over most people, including Tim.

Sam thought it was because he was finally under less stress, but considering how little he had been eating since running away Danny personally thought it had more to do with his own view of himself than any external factors. He had learnt that ghosts were very easily influenced by how they saw themselves and, well. He had had to grow up very quickly since running away from home.

It also didn’t help that his ghostly side was starting to affect his human side. Now Danny was deathly afraid that it might draw unwanted attention to him. He had stolen glances of himself in storefront windows and bathroom mirrors, showing his now permanently green eyes, his growing fangs, his elongated ears.

He really tried to contain and hide the changes, make them as non-noticeable as possible since the people outside of Amity probably wouldn’t just write it off as “Fenton-weirdness”. The last thing he wanted was to draw the attention of the Bat, someone who would think to look deeper and ask questions. He had heard they weren’t especially welcoming to metas, and even though Danny wasn’t one, he didn’t care to explain what exactly he was. He had already tried that, and look where that had gotten him.

Tim raised an eyebrow at Danny’s sudden silence. “What?”

Danny shook his head, forcefully dispelling the thoughts. He had to focus on his life here and now and how to fit in. “Nothing,” he said and the two of them delved into an easy conversation.

Or, it would have been easy if Danny hadn’t noticed that several people in the room had stopped to stare at them. He felt his shoulders creep higher and higher as he cast about for a reason as to why.

In Amity, he had been used to stares, used to being weird. But here… he was doing his best to fit in and lay low. So why were people still staring?

Maybe they were on to him, the paranoid part of his brain whispered. It had been a mistake to start working in one of the top innovative companies in the country, full of geniuses and people thinking outside the box. Someone was bound to figure him out.

Danny discreetly lifted a hand to tug at his hair, making sure it was still covering his ears. Right now, he just hoped he wouldn't drag Tim down with him when someone found out the truth about him. Luckily, Tim didn't seem to notice the stares.

Maybe it was just his imagination, but a lot of the stares seemed focused on Tim instead of him. Maybe Tim was also an outcast? He didn’t look like it in his well-fitted suit and easy smile, but you never knew.

After a while of easy chatting—Danny was shocked to find that he didn’t mind talking to the other guy—Tim excused himself as he stood to leave, citing a meeting he needed to get to. “Nice talking to you, Danny!”

Danny froze, fork with the last of his lunch halfway to his mouth. “Why would you call me that?” 

Tim laughed easily, not noticing Danny's sudden tenseness. “You've never had a nickname before?” 

There's no way he knows, Danny reminded himself. It's just a coincidence. 

He wondered if Tucker had planned this. He had to admit that it made it easier for him, no risk of forgetting to answer to “Dante”.

He forced himself to smile as he put his fork back down on his plate. “Then I guess it's okay if I call you Timmy?”

“Do that and you'll be called The Big D for the rest of your time here,” Tim said with utmost seriousness and despite himself, Danny felt himself relax as he laughed. Tim made a face at him before walking away but Danny caught a glimpse of him smiling to himself before he completely turned away.

Danny barely had enough time to let it sink in that maybe—just maybe—he had actually started to make a real friend at this place when several people that Danny only knew tangentially, who had only talked to once or twice, swarmed his table.

Sarah, a nice woman from accounting, asked with wide eyes, “You talked to him! How was he?”

Danny blinked. “Who? Tim?”

Kenneth from R&D balked at him. “You call him Tim?!”

Maybe Danny wasn't the only reject here. The thought made Danny feel a bit defensive of his new friend. “That’s his name, isn’t it?”

“Well, yeah, I just didn’t think—” Kenneth shook their head.

“Never mind, good for you!” Julie, a fellow engineer, said as she slapped him on the shoulder.

Everyone in the small group nodded. As if they were surprised Danny had managed to make a friend, that someone would give him their name.

Maybe he hadn’t blended in as much as he had thought. Maybe the people here didn’t like him after all. But that couldn't be it; even if they sometimes questioned his knowledge they never made fun of him for it. They had never been mean. Maybe they just didn’t like Tim. Danny made a personal promise to try and be nice to him if he ever met him again.

---

For the rest of the chapter you'll have to head on over to AO3!

[qoldenskies]

Yes, ever since I've found your Tumblr, I've pretty much stopped making comments on ao3 since it's kind of easier to get my thoughts out on here. But I'll most likely have something special to say in the last chapter. Anyway.

I'm glad we got to unpack the whole "Splinter screwed up" thing this chapter. And I'm starting to notice that no matter what Donnie is going through, as soon as he sees anyone in any pain, he puts aside everything to comfort them. Yeah, usually it isn't for good reasons. But because of Mikey, he gained the courage to walk with Raph all the way over to Mikey's room, let him hug him, stayed in his vicinity despite him literally yelling and crying right in his face, and even brought up the curse and an old memory of Splinter and how he was in the wrong (yeah Donnie they were in the wrong!!) but he forgave him-

Like, even if this interaction isn't perfect, I still think there was some noticeable improvement! He even giggled despite himself! My baby even brought Raph back to the lab and rebuilt Sheldon and told him how Raph wasn't the same and wanted him to know that he was safe.

Like, oh my god, qolden. As soon as the scene came up where Mikey and April were painting in the laundry room, I literally smiled so wide because yesYES. That is exactly what they would do. It's perfect. Make it a safe space! Paint murals in there! Put fairy lights on the walls! Put carpet in there! Make it a safe haven! Because I think there will be unavoidable times when he returns to the laundry room during an episode. So, I don't know, maybe if they decorated it and made it less of a sensory nightmare, that it could actually become somewhat of a peaceful place for Donnie for whenever he believes he might need one.

it was established very early on in CL that while donnie's facade was (obviously) bs, he did actually struggle quite a bit with being emotionally unavailable-- he criticizes and works on himself in private and denies it later. he seems unsure of how to properly apologize. being shouted at or accepting he's in the wrong in front of people is a struggle-- leo's "you could at least pretend to care" (something he says a variation of a few times in CL) is direct criticism of this trait because of course he would find that frustrating while cursed. when it came down to it before, leo was very patient with him because he understood how to communicate on donnie's level. even if he wasn't always able to put up with him he knew how to give him time.

but also in CL its made very apparent donnie was trying to work on it, and they exploited and took advantage of what was currently an open wound in that regard. witch town was a huge blow to his perception and ego, and april's understanding and straightforward push for him to communicate kind of turned his perception of all of it on its head. things like his fight with shelldon, too-- they stuck with him, and that left him open to being hurt. donnie is low empathy and he feels like he's imitating their behavior in order to be more open quite often, which means it was so easy to convince him he was being disingenuous.

now in the fallout of everything, donnie will still struggle to understand and comprehend other people's feelings, but he's desperate to stop them from being upset. usually he would just kind of excuse himself when things got too emotional because the energy was oppressive and he would be frustrated with himself, especially if they reacted poorly to any faux-empathy he tried to provide. (and he did care! he hated seeing them upset! he just didn't know how to make it better!)

all of the fawning and people-pleasing is really bad now basically, which means he will be extremely tolerant and consoling when they're upset, even to his own detriment (it makes him actively uncomfortable and sometimes even afraid, but he's overcorrected himself and is desperately trying to prioritize other people). it wasn't put in the foreground of the scene with mikey but he was genuinely frustrated because he does feel responsible for mikey being so hurt, just because people being upset on his behalf and sticking up for him is ,,, uncomfortable. he went for months without that, and even when he's working past blaming himself he's terrified of others blaming them, too. one of his most confident moments in cw was him shutting off shelldon's weapons when he tried to turn them on raph, and there's a reason for that.

[redrandomposts]

Hello! thabk you for writing out tills perspective it was very good! And sad :( what does Till think once he finds Ivan gone? Does he know that Ivan is dead or does he think he’s just gone

and if he gets that Ivan won’t come back how does he mourn? I think it could be cool if till got into sculpting to make a statue of Ivan)

Also , I was wondering what if sua gave Ivan a little more time like 3 months or 3 years to get till to love him/kiss him so we could have more time of them loving eachother secretly. I specifically think Till keeping Ivan in the fancy rooms for longer is fun, because till can try out all the things he says he wants to do just long enough to miss them when Ivan is gone

I personally imagine till braiding and brushing Ivan’s hair quietly (because I love the mental visuals of Ivan with longer hair) and putting 1 thousand little sliver clips in his hair as one thing I find really interesting! Or maybe till collecting beautiful clothes to dress Ivan in and having enough time for Ivan to try them on but not enough time for him to receive them tailored (and I was also thinking maybe till considers proposing to him, or at least asking him to be a concubine if that’s not allowed but he doesn’t get the chance to give the ring- just enough time to have one made)

I am not sure if I make sense, I do not write very well but I hope u like this

-🍎

yeah u make sense 🍎!! dw, i have to sort through my thoughts and get it into a tumblr post... and this is mainly what the baseline looks like.

guys i can't believe i did a bad ending ngl i think i'm un-canonizing the bad end for a happy one and the bad end can stay a thought unreleased to the world.

i was thinking of having ivan be there for a month, but that's a kind of long time not to sort through feelings... so a week it was. ivan was practically bed-ridden and spent a lot of time asleep, so till would sneak in and brush and braid his hair and decorate him up. and, well, a lifetime of yearning for something, getting a taste of it, and then forever losing it...guys i'm sick why did i do that?!

happy ending time or i'm beating past me up (im making them eighteen its kinda weird otherwise)

===

the gentle feeling of his hair shifting along like waves in the ocean woke him up. the moon peaked in through the window, spilling its light across the room. the mirror reflected ivan, who was sitting and leaning on another.

the haziness of the entire situation felt like a dream; calming, slow. ivan's eyes were barely cracked open, irises focused on the mirror and the picture it reflected. his head was tilted onto a shoulder, legs saddling another's to make sure he doesn't slip from the very comfortable position he's in.

the brush glides through his hair, gently tugging on his scalp. ivan leaned in the slightest bit. it felt good. compared to his eyes, his lungs, his feet; this person was like a safe haven, a warm spring bath.

he watched as his hair was carefully divided and braided into a relaxed hair style, not pulled too much this way or that. as the end of it was tied with a silk tie, the other hand reached into a box. ivan didn't see it clearly, but if he did, he'd recognize several silver pins with details impossible to get underwater, each a different design.

throughout his midnight hair, stars were scattered across it.

the sound of pen scratching parchment lulled him back to sleep, forgetting the brief moment of awareness.

another painting hung in till's studio, depicting two characters. one, asleep, was in front and the clear subject; the second was behind, carefully pinning the last hairclip in place, recreating the galaxy.

till's pearl was his muse; from paintings to songs, it seemed as if creativity itself sprouted from ivan.

briefly, till fantasized a life where he and ivan would marry. in a month from now, they'd be engaged, and follow a two-year courting period until they're both twenty, and get married.

the entire empire knew he was courting someone at this point. he isn't sure what gave it away; was it the mass amount of jewelry and clothing and paints he commissioned? perhaps someone saw him carry ivan home? or did a servant gossip about it?

till paused, looking at the painting. he had a new idea, and all he had to do was wait for night to come and ivan to sleep.

flowers were delivered to the palace, where till arranged them around ivan's sleeping form. he let his hair fall naturally, but changed the clothing to be looser, as if ivan were floating on the water's surface. the moon carefully shone on ivan's face, giving a feeling of tragic beauty; as if ivan were a corpse on the water, surrounded by the flowers of loved ones.

...till readjusted the scene to make ivan seem immortal.

and, when he stepped back to paint it, he left a light kiss on ivan's forehead.

one night, ivan woke up during a scene. fully awake with conscious thoughts; it had to happen sooner or later.

this one... was a more dubious one that'd be stored under till's bed. his shirt was rucked up, pillow under his neck and shoulder blades to let his head fall back, hair splaying out. his pants were pulled down just a bit to show his hip bone, and the moonlight fell across him to paint a lascivious portrait. till had left marks of himself too; a cloth that lay across ivan's eyes with till's name stitched onto it, jewelry that till had commissioned himself.

ivan was briefly confused by the darkness, before realizing a cloth was gently laid over his eyes. confused, he took it off, stilling at the sight of till painting him.

"what are you..." he couldn't finish his sentence. his mouth had gone dry. the easel was positioned so that he could just barely see the painting, but the glimpse was enough.

there was an obvious artistic choice in it; in the way that ivan's pearl skin was pink, mouth slightly open.

the night ended with a kiss and a kiss and a kiss.

ivan discovered, the morning after, that the knives had completely left. his lungs stopped drowning in unseeable water, and his eyes no longer burned at the slightest disturbance.

till had paraded his fiancé, who wore a veil to shield themself from the world. it was improper to gaze upon them until they wed, after all.

===

slowly edging to being able to write smut... then no one is safe. this is a mess and ooc, but also, i need to get peace of mind on this au

[idontknowreallywhy]

Resurface 36 - Resurface

Story to date in order (Tumblr / AO3)

Previous chapter

A kind of a build-up chapter for Virgil, because he’s decided to be brave and face something but that comes at a cost because I am incapable of letting them be fixed first time around. I also had to apply some very very minor whump to Scott just because it amuses me so to do and he was RIGHT THERE being a doofus and asking for it.

Hesitating to put this one out because there is so much good fic that’s appeared over the last week and I haven’t read it all yet but… I think if I don’t get this one out of draft mode I’m never going to properly focus on the finale chapter and I really need to get that done so I can finally post the art a fabulous someone did for me four months ago when I last thought I was nearly finished 🫣😬🙄

SO… here we go…

💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙

Virgil’s studio was recessed into the cliff which meant it was protected from the elements. It was accessible only via his bedroom and a key coded door meant it was protected…ish from marauding younger brothers.

Although a huge picture window dominated one wall, very useful for those sky paintings, this could and often would be shuttered at the press of the button, transforming the room into a haven over which he had unfettered dominion.

Advanced atmospheric regulation meant he could ensure the air it wasn’t too arid for sculpting or too damp to allow a painting to dry. An objectively impressive array of light fixtures popped out at various levels, the angle and tone of each completely customisable at the flick of a slider (or twelve) on his tablet, meant he had absolute control of what bounced off his surroundings into his eyeballs. And the sound system…

Well.

What would be the point of a soundproof room if you couldn’t occasionally crank it up to symphony orchestra brass section volume. Virgil had played the French horn in high school and fully appreciated the sensation of his ribcage vibrating when the trombones sat behind him got into their groove.

He was safe here.

And yet, he couldn’t settle. Everything felt, off. Scratchy. As if sand had got into a sensitive mechanism and no amount of oil would flush it out again.

Virgil tucked the sketchbook under his arm and got up to adjust the brightness of the overhead spots down a little and nudged the temperature control up another increment. He’d been fiddling with it all morning but couldn’t quite find the precise balance he needed. Turning his back on the easel stool, he sat down heavily on the couch, removed a pencil from behind his ear and glared at the page.

He’d thought it might be a good idea to sketch out a few anatomical poses to build the detail on top of… to save Scott having to hang around while he got the basics done. Despite having shut himself in here all morning, he’d barely got beyond sketching a vaguely humanoid shape. Perhaps he’d got a little more fixated on the angle of an arm than strictly necessary… in fact he’d roughed it out in so many positions his graphite brother was giving off distinctly octopoid vibes.

The real one had been popping in and out all morning, providing coffee and snacks and unspoken reassurance but now was Here and Getting Ready and Virgil was also supposed to be Ready do some Healing. Find Some Closure. Desensitisation. All that healthy stuff. He tried to ignore the creeping doubt as to whether he was, or would ever, in fact, be ready to…

“Can I make a suggestion?”

He jumped a little and dropped his pencil as Scott called out from behind Virgil’s bedroom door. He put the book to one side and crawled under his chair to locate it.

“Virg?” The door opened and he could imagine Scott peering around it, with all the darkness creeping up his neck and around his throat… his heart raced and his breath escaped in a tiny squeak.

Uuuuh… he wasn’t ready. Not ready at all. Maybe he never would be. Maybe this was… maybe he was just…

“Virgil, are you alright?”

Realising he’d frozen with his upper body wedged under the couch and that Scott was inevitably now aiming the Concerned Eyebrows at his behind, Virgil forced out an airy “All good, I just dropped my… my… err…” he huffed a fake laugh to cover up the gap. Stifled the panicky breathing… the word had gone. Just gone. He spread his fingers out, feeling the grain of the wood beneath him, sanded almost-but-not-quite smooth, and focussed on drowning out the whistle in his ears with an inane little tune Gordon was humming earlier. This was transient…

“Pen. I mean pencil. Pencil!!”

The floorboards vibrated a little as knees slid into view just beside him. Navy blue knees. No, not navy. Shade 1620 “Airforce Blue” - he had a tube of it on the easel. He squeezed his eyes shut. Hex 00308F. Several paint tubes, just in case. And some inks. Zero zero three zero eight eff. Navy blue was 000080. The three and the F somehow changed everything.

A hand on his shoulder, unnaturally tentative as they all still were around him. Still. He scrunched his eyes still tighter and tried not to let it bother him, he wasn’t the type to be bitter about being ‘Poor Fragile Virgil best-not-surprise-him-lest-he-freak-out-and-see-things-again…’ ok, he was still a little bitter perhaps. And being not very kind to himself either. He’d tell Scott off for that.

Scott…

He pressed his fingertips into the floor just enough to stop them shaking, just enough to hurt. As his neck and shoulders tensed in sympathy he felt his brother’s arms curl around him, holding him steady, keeping him from bumping his head on the wooden frame. Holding him steady, keeping him from sinking through the floor into who knew where… he dragged in a breath, cursing his vocal chords for the little whine that caused.

“I’m here. What do you need?”

“Pencil.”

The harmonic skitter of light wood rolling over heavy before the pencil was nudged up close to his hand and he grasped it like a lifeline.

He couldn’t open his eyes, not yet. He was terrified he wouldn’t be able to trust what he saw if he did.

He could feel Scott breathe, the weight of his arm. He could hear the repeated “It’s ok, I’ve got you.”

Yet both those senses had betrayed him before too. Only one had not. It had never lied to him, but, quiet and unshowy, it was easier to ignore if the others told him a better story.

Right now, the impersonal fog of the dry cleaning spray Grandma had used almost overwhelmed him. It was a white noise.

A grey noise?

He reached past the grey for something familiar, something safe - something to prove this wasn’t hollow. There was the ever-present scent of coffee on his brother’s breath and the subtle hint of super-shiny gel… no, he corrected himself, he’d upgraded to the pricier ‘sublime shiny’ recently… which he swore was better despite Virgil pointing out the identical ingredients, smell and, even taste… alright he might have taken the debate a little too far but when Scott had poked his tongue out at him Virgil hadn’t been able to resist giving him a sample. For science’s sake.

The look on his brother’s face had been spectacular.

He chuckled and a little of the dread melted away.

He still needed to sneak some down to Brains’ lab to run a chemical analysis actually…

“Virg? You with me, short stu…OOOFFF”

Scott had clearly ducked his head under the couch to try to see what was going on and the resulting clunk demonstrating he’d immediately forgotten that he’d done so vibrated through Virgil’s teeth.

“Scott! Your head!”

“Is fine. Thick skull, remember?”

“The thickest.” Eyes still resolutely closed, Virgil assessed his tone. It was light, but not the too-light tone Scott adopted when trying to conceal an actual injury from a brother… There was more than a hint of worry, obviously, which Virgil needed to Do Something About because he was painfully aware it was him causing it.

“Virgil, are you ok? What do you need?”

“I’m ok. I… yeah. I’m good.” He was. He could do this.

“Alright.” The audible skepticism was perhaps justified but Scott had clearly decided to let him call the shots today.

“I’m not criticising your process here but would it be easier to do the arting somewhere other than under the couch.”

Virgil grunted, which was frankly all the response the question deserved. Then, eyes tight shut he shuffled backwards. The sensitive skin just below the edge of his little finger brushed against Scott’s leg and he shivered as he recognised the fabric. Polywool. Strong but soft. Permanent military creases. More capable of withstanding a worried brother knee-sliding across a wooden floor than the string of ludicrously expensive but patently unScott-proof suit pants that the CEO wore to TI meetings and managed to destroy on a regular basis. But not robust enough for any kind of action. This was dress uniform. Just for show. He’d never have got in a jet wearing it.

But without it he’d never have got in that jet…

The voice of dread in his heart hissed at him. Virgil tried to squash it, but the edges were sharp and tried to steal his breath. He could feel his pulse begin to race again, echoing back through the thumb-tips he had pressed so firmly into the floor. No, that wouldn’t work. He knew this. He knew how to deal with this now. The hand on his shoulder tightened infinitesimally, lending him strength. So, he forced himself to take a slower breath and let himself acknowledge the thought. It was a logical fallacy, he knew that, but as the counsellor had advised he resisted the temptation to be angry with himself for thinking it. He could see where it came from. It wasn’t unreasonable or stupid for his subconscious to reach for something, anything to blame. It just wasn’t helpful. It wasn’t true.

What was true?

He’d come back. Scott had come back. He was here right now, humming Mom’s song as he rested his head on top of Virgil’s and stroked his arm.

Virgil opened his eyes. Brown floor. Black pencil. 1620... Scott’s legs. He raised his head a little, braced for the darkness…

Light blue?

Light blue shirt? Airforce shirt, yes, but not what he was expecting.

Scott interpreted his frown of confusion before he realised he’d formed it.

“I was going to suggest maybe I don’t wear the jacket just yet? I could, I dunno, just hold it or something. Till you’re used to it?”

Virgil realised he wasn’t blinking enough and pressed the heels of his palms into his eye sockets for a moment.

“Right. I… yes. I’m sorry I…” he huffed irritably “This is so ridiculous.”

“No it isn’t.” Scott squeezed his shoulder again. “And you told me not to say things like that.”

Virgil swallowed the impulse to point out that for Scott it was different. Maybe, after all, it wasn’t so different. In the absence of anything constructive to say he removed his hands from his face and made an attempt at a reassuring smile. It was going quite well until his eye was caught by a rush of movement as the hastily slung jacket slithered off the back of a chair and curled into a pile of darkness on the floor. He averted his eyes and returned his attention to his brother’s face.

“So, what do you want to do?”

Here, Virgil drew a blank. Beyond his request to paint Scott wearing the dreaded dress uniform, he was surprisingly unsure about what he wanted to do. He hadn’t got much past the idea to get himself, Scott and The Uniform in the same room and not go mad.

As the heap of fabric continued to noisily suck all the light from the room, he wasn’t sure the latter part was going as planned.

“I don’t… I don’t actually err…” he tailed off but the point had been conveyed.

Scott hummed again, but not in a musical way this time. That was the ‘IR-Commander-is-formulating-a-plan’ hmmmmm.

“We have all day... no need to rush anything. Do you want to go outside for a bit? It’s really nice out there?”

Outside was Scott’s go-to fix. If things were difficult, he did better in the open air… or at least somewhere with a clear view of the sky. Virgil suspected he knew why and tried not to think about that too much. What he did know was that it was when his brother tucked himself away - when he found a hidey hole, enclosed and dark - well that was when little brother’s alarm bell needed to ring. Outside was good.

Yet, Virgil knew Scott hadn’t suggested it for his own benefit this time. It wasn’t for the air but for the sun.

Virgil’s comfort instinct was more towards warmth. The flannel wasn’t purely a fashion choice after all. It didn’t matter where he was - snuggled in bed, melting his face off in the sauna, taking an excessively long hot shower, hibernating on a sun lounger - it was all good as long as the goosebumps were kept at bay. Gordon had long ago given up trying to persuade him to lower the cabin temperature of Two. If Virgil’s skin was warm and relaxed he had at least a chance of thinking clearly about everything else.

Outside in the sunshine sounded good. It had a decent chance of being better than here anyway, in the bowels of the earth where the darkness was closing in and an icy draft scraped across his face.

So Virgil nodded and allowed his big brother to steer him towards the doorway. Where he stood helplessly for a few moments as he realised the hand with which he’d reached for the handle was a white knuckled fist clutching a pencil for dear life… and he didn’t quite seem to know how to put it down. He shivered again.

Scott rushed around behind him, chattering away and collecting whoknewwhat, then took charge of the door-opening and, taking a firm grip on Virgil’s pencil-free hand, towed him up the stairs and out into the daylight.

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚

[priincekin]

Hyuluka Oneshot - Of Warmth and Withering

Luka, now an Alien Stage victor, comes to Hyuna's door in the dead of the night seeking a place to stay; Hyuna is more than reluctant to agree.

CW for an unhealthy relationship dynamic.

For in-depth tags, please check the AO3 upload! Apologies for any formatting issues, this is my first time ever posting fanfic on Tumblr.

PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS IS NOW AN OLD VERSION. If flow and quality of writing is important to you, I implore you to check the AO3 link.

“Miss Hyuna?”

In her room, Hyuna lay on her stomach, gripping a pillow tightly. She pressed it against her ears, trying in vain to block out the irritating sound of Luka’s quiet, yet persistent. knocking. Each knock sounded like nails against a chalkboard, each making her more frustrated. Clenching her teeth, she prayed that the knocking would stop soon so she could retire for the night.

“Miss Hyunaaaa.”

Another knock, louder.

“Hyuna, please, hear me out. My quarters are freezing tonight, and I cannot sleep. I understand the need for discretion given our situation – rest assured, I can be quiet. A little secret between us, perhaps?”

He trailed off, mumbling the last part more to himself than to her. Hyuna rolled her eyes in response. As far as she was concerned, he could keep talking to himself forever for all she cared. She was determined not to let him in, not this time.

"Hyuna," he said, his voice growing more desperate by the second. "I know me winning Alien Stage might have put us at odds. It's bitterly cold out here, and frankly, you’re the only one I feel I can approach. Could I perhaps trouble you for a bit of warmth and company, just for tonight?" At odds? What an understatement.

Hyuna shut her eyes tight, nails digging into her pillow as memories flooded her mind. She could see little Luka in her mind’s eye, outside her door, tiny and shivering in his too-big white fur coat, his cheeks flushed from the cold. Those memories hit her hard - all those nights when a scared, sniffling Luka would tiptoe into her room, looking for the kind of comfort only she seemed to know how to give. He'd huddle close, his small hand holding hers, feeling safe only next to her. Things were simpler then, their friendship a little haven from the hell they lived in. But now, well, things had changed, and he had no place in her room.

Still, Luka persisted, each knock slowly gnawing away at her resolve.

‘He doesn’t deserve your sympathy’, she reminded herself. ‘Not after everything.’

Hesitantly, Hyuna sat up, her heart torn. Could one more night really cause any harm? She wondered. Dewey and Isaac had advised her to be firm, but they wouldn't know about this. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

Shaking her head in resignation, she pushed herself up to sit on the edge of her bed. Hyuna reached for a cigarette with trembling fingers, her hands fumbling slightly as she lit it, the orange glow briefly illuminating her conflicted expression. Taking a deep, steadying drag, she let the smoke swirl around her, hoping it would calm her down and let her think straight, Finally, with a heavy sigh, she stood up, shuffling toward the door.

Hyuna yanked the door open with a force that echoed down the hallway, her eyes instantly locking onto Luka's pitiful form. He looked up at her, his cheeks unnaturally pale. Right. He never did do well in the cold.

She propped herself against the doorway, an eyebrow raised. Taking a long, lazy drag from her cigarette, she let the smoke billow out, watching it hang in the air; really, she would rather look at anything other than Luka. “Alright, Luka, out with it. It's too late for your shit. What's the big emergency? Lost your teddy bear?”

Luka flashed a disarming smile, the kind that usually got him what he wanted. “Ah, depriving me of your charming pet names? You wound me,” he quipped, effortlessly sliding past her into the room. With a flourish, he removed his luxurious coat, which now fit him perfectly, draping it over her rickety old chair. He let out an exaggerated sigh, as if shedding the weight of the world along with his coat. “Though I believe I made my situation quite clear. My room is cold, and I cannot sleep, and that is all there is to it.”

“Right. Riiiight. Because the segyein would totally let their precious little pet become an ice sculpture, huh?” Hyuna scoffed and put her hand on her hip. If looks could kill, Luka would be on the ground writhing in agony. She watched, half-amused, half-irritated, as Luka practically sashayed over to her cluttered vanity. He began fussing with his hair, his reflection preening back at him.

“Make yourself at home, why don’t ya?” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh wait, you already did. What’s next, Luka? Gonna raid my beer fridge too?”

“Ah, making myself at home? If you insist,” he retorted, catching her sarcastic tone. “Though, I'll pass on raiding your beer stash. Not quite my taste.” He picked up her scarcely used lip gloss, examining it with a curious eye. With a subtle smile, he admired the glitter's shine in the soft light.

“Your thoughts, darling?” he inquired, turning towards her as she sat on the bed. His tone was light, yet there was a sharpness in his gaze, a hint of calculation in his seemingly casual demeanor.

“Call me darlin’ one more time and I swear I'll superglue your lips shut.” Hyuna sat down on her bed, inhaling more smoke. She watched Luka like a hawk, deeply anxious about his every move. Obviously, she couldn’t trust him to behave himself. Why the hell had she let him in? Since when was she that stupid? Between the power he held over her and the shit he pulled in the last round…

“I must admit, I’m not too fond of your recent attitude.” Luka hummed, turning back to look at his reflection like it was a long-lost friend.

“Piss me off one more time and you’ll get more than my attitude. I don’t have the time for your bullshit.”

“It seems to me you have nothing but time for your dear childhood friend.” Luka’s voice dripped with a mocking sweetness as he gazed at her reflection in the mirror. He batted his eyelashes with an exaggerated innocence, a smug smile playing on his lips, fully aware of the irritation it would provoke in Hyuna. She clenched her fists, but kept them squarely at her side, refusing to give him the satisfaction of her anger.

“Oh, please. My childhood friend? That guy’s long gone. This person in front of me? I don’t even know who you are anymore, Luka. You’ve changed, and not for the better. So do me a favor, take your drama and get out of my room. I’ve got no space here for strangers.”

As he did with everything he disliked, Luka ignored her and instead sat down closely next to her. His perfume, a mix of white musk and sugar, was uncomfortably familiar to her.. He leaned in, his voice dropping to a low whisper. "You're right, I have changed as of late. It’s for the better. I’m no longer the fool you had to protect in your youth.” He paused. “But some things haven't changed at all..." His hand brushed against hers, a bold, yet seemingly casual gesture coming from him.

Hyuna's heart raced, but she quickly pulled her hand away, glaring at him once more. What an asshole, having the nerve to try and flirt after everything. "Don't play games with me, you bastard. I'm not one of your fangirls. You don’t get to whisper sweet nothin’s and expect to get away with it, you hear me?”

“I’m not playing games, Miss Hyuna. I genuinely miss us… I miss what we had.”

"Ya can't just waltz back into my life and expect things to be the same," she said, her voice quivering slightly.

Luka extended his hand, his touch unexpectedly tender as he cupped Hyuna’s cheek. “I know I’ve made mistakes, more than I can count. But here I am, darling, trying to make it right..” His thumb traced a soft line across her cheek, a gesture so familiar and yet new at the same time. For a fleeting second, Hyuna found herself yielding to the warmth of his touch, her resolve wavering. It was getting harder and harder to be angry with him.

Anakt, it was awful, the way he could sway her with a few words and a bit of touch. She knew damn well what was happening, that this was the very reason they kept going through this cycle. But she could never bring herself to stop it.

The tense moment was broken by a sudden knock on the door, followed by Dewey's voice. "Hyuna, you good in there? Heard voices."

Hyuna jerked away from Luka as if burned, the sudden intrusion of Dewey’s voice at the door snapping her back to reality. “I’m fine, Dewey! Just… talking to the walls, you know how it is,” she called out, forcing nonchalance or something resembling it.

She moved to the other side of the room, putting as much distance between herself and Luka as possible. His gaze lingered on her, loaded with an unreadable emotion that only added to her agitation.

As Dewey quickly agreed with her and walked off, Hyuna began to pace the perimeter of the room like a madman. Luka’s eyes watched her every. She bit at her nail, her body tight with tension, her mind racing with thoughts she dared not voice. The urge to lash out at Luka was overwhelming, but she bit back the scathing remarks teetering on the tip of her tongue. She knew all too well that throwing him out would only escalate the situation. The segyein were always looking for a reason to come down on her, and Luka, their prized victor, would make the perfect catalyst for her downfall.

“Luka,” Hyuna choked out, finally, after what must’ve been five minutes of awkward silence. “you know damn well we can’t do this. Not here, not now, never. After what ya pulled in the finals, I can’t trust you. Literally pushing that guy to his death?! You played it off as an accident, but I know you! You had a weird-ass look on your face as you approached him, and your elbow jutted out, and-- Anakt, how did anyone fall for that shit?!--“

“Because, Hyuna, no one else sees through me like you do.”

Hyuna whipped around to face him, jaw on the floor. “You… you actually… what?”

“Yes, I admit it. It was no accident, though I prefer to call it insurance for my victory.” Luka’s voice was chillingly calm as he stood up and closed the distance between them, his movements deliberate. Hyuna’s breath hitched, her body instinctively recoiling, but she was rooted to the spot. As his hand reached out, brushing through her hair with a disgusting tenderness, a shiver ran down her spine. “I pushed him off the ledge. I knew I had solid rapport with the segyein, and they wouldn’t think twice about the chain of events. Why, one of them even said that it was delighted with me for getting him out of the competition. You know well how much of a pain he was. He was not victor material. And neither are you…”

The room felt colder, the air heavier. Hyuna’s mind raced, grappling with the revelation. Her first instinct screamed at her to lash out, to confront him with the full force of her rage. Yet, fear and shock stifled her, muffling her voice to a choked laugh, one that sounded hollow even to her ears. “… well, at least you’re being honest for once, huh? That’s rare for you, nowadays…” Her words were laced with sarcasm, but her voice quivered nonetheless.

Luka tilted his head, scrutinizing Hyuna's reaction. "You seem calmer than I expected.”

Hyuna let out a long sigh, sinking down to sit on the edge of her bed once more. "Oh, I'm pissed as all hell. But not surprised. I always knew you had it in ya to pull some underhanded shit like that." She shook her head, a bitter smile crossing her face. "I just didn't think you'd take it that far. Guess you really have changed."

"It was necessary for my success," Luka replied matter-of-factly. He sat down next to Hyuna, tentatively snaking an arm around her shoulders. She stiffened, but didn't pull away. “I’m now in a position of favor, Hyuna. Think about it — they’ll treat me better, and naturally, I’ll ensure you’re taken care of too. Our lives, they’re about to change for the better. You’ll see, it’s all going to work out in our favor.”

Hyuna turned to look at him incredulously, her face turning the slightest bit red. From anger or embarrassment, she had no clue. "Our lives? I want nothin’ to do with your success, Luka. Especially when I know you’d throw me under the bus if it helped ya. Or should I say, under the stage light?!”

Luka's confident expression faltered. He brushed a strand of hair away from Hyuna's face, his voice softening. "You know that's not true, darling. I had nothing to do with your accident.”

"Don't lie to me! You've always been obsessed with fame, you don’t give a shit about me, deep down.” Her voice broke as she gestured down at her prosthetic leg. “Look what you did. That had to have been your fault.”

"That was not me. I haven’t any control over the stage lights."

“Really?! Or did you sabotage it like everything else so that I couldn't beat you?"

Wordlessly, he shifted closer, reaching for her hands, but Hyuna backed away until her back hit the wooden headboard.

"I don't know anymore," Hyuna said bitterly. "Just leave me alone. I don’t wanna talk about this."

Hyuna pressed the release button on her prosthetic leg at the knee joint, disengaging the lock. She gently slid the prosthetic off her thigh, setting it next to the bed. All the while, Luka tried to whisper more sweet nothings in order to change her mind, but she pretended like he wasn’t even there.

With a huff, she threw her covers over her head and laid her head on her pillow; a clear dismissal. If he didn’t get the idea from this, he was hopeless.

She waited for Luka to leave, but instead, he quietly lifted the edge of the comforter and peered in. Hyuna curled up into a ball, pray

Despite Hyuna's closed off body language, Luka crawled into the bed beside her, encircling her waist with his arm. As he curled against Hyuna's back, she tensed, conflicting emotions rising up. His familiar touch, though cold, brought back memories - both sweet and painful.

"What the hell are you doing?" Hyuna said through gritted teeth.

"Nothing,” Luka mumbled, pulling her closer and hiding his face in the nape of her neck.

Hyuna drew in a shaky breath, resentment warring with lingering affection. Silently she covered his hand with her own, not pushing him away or pulling him closer. They lay in silence as the minutes ticked by, bodies entwined, her thumb slowly stroking over his knuckles. Hyuna slowly relaxed in his arms, leaning back into his touch.

“I can’t believe I’m lettin’ ya do this.”

“I can. I know you’ve missed me just as much as I’ve missed you.”

“Shut up. I like you better when you’re quiet.” Hyuna snapped.

Luka lightly chuckled, tightening his grip on Hyuna. At least he had the decency to be silent.

But Hyuna still wasn't having any of that. She pushed him off, a glint of defiance in her eyes. Luka's lip curled in a fleeting show of disappointment, but before he could react, she flipped him over and spooned him instead. "Big spoon? Ha, as if. You're in my world now, Luka," she said. Poking his cheek, she couldn't help but snicker at the warmth of his flush. "Aw, are you blushing? Cute. Don’t even try to complain about being little spoon — You begged to be here, remember? My bed, my rules."

“I’m sure we look absolutely ridiculous right now.” Luka muttered. “Since I should be big spoon and all…”

“Why? I’m taller. I’d argue this looks better!”

Luka huffed, but not once had he attempted to tear himself away from her touch. Hyuna smirked against his shoulder, closing her eyes. This was far more comfortable than she’d ever like to admit…

The good thing was that, by the next day, she was sure that they’d both be denying that this ever happened. Maybe that was for the better. But for now, she’d let herself enjoy the moment, regardless of how traitorous it was.

[ivanwm-05]

The Thousand Of Us (WIP)(Updated@82K words)

Name: The Thousand Of Us

Genre: Superpowers/Post-Apocalyptic/ Sci-fi

Story plot:

Your story begins at what everyone largely saw as the end of the world. There was a bright flash that illuminated the night sky so brightly, it was identical to day as thousands of missiles in a last-ditch effort to save mankind collided with a ginormous asteroid entering our atmosphere.

You wake up two years later and find out that the crisis was averted, but a new crisis of similar proportions was created. The asteroid was carrying a never before seen element, mixed with the radiation that bathed the earth. It created a chain of genetic mutations that wiped out nearly the entire population of the planet and put every other living being in hibernation for two years.

For starters all adults are dead, only a thousand people 18 years of age and below around the globe survived, and the thousand of you that survived, wake up to discover that you each now have unique powers. The only problem is that you’re not the only ones that same phenomenon gave powers, also mutated every other living organism on the planet to varying degrees and they were also in hibernation for as long as you are, so they have about 2 years worth of hunger to satiate.

Would you focus on Survival and Rebuilding? or would you try to Unite or Conquer other groups of teenagers to form a more powerful force against the threats you face? Would you try to Find a Cure or Solution by striving to find a way to reverse the mutations in animals and restore the planet to its former state? or would you struggle in Navigating Moral Choices? You could Uncover Hidden Powers or struggle to Establish a Safe Haven for you and your group.

Features:

You can select one out of a long list of abilities, ranging from just flight to insane regenerative abilities to even earth-shaking strength or even necromancy.

Struggle to stay alive as you do not just have to watch out for mutated plants, animals, and even crazy weather conditions, but also have to watch out for other humans who seek to conquer and lead the rest of the survivors with their terrifying abilities.

You get to choose your MC’s demeanour and how you react to situations. You can be cold and calculative or you could be shy and reserved.

Most involved characters are up to 18 & older including the MC.

Hidden pathways will be made available based on certain choices made within the book that will reveal new endings and shape the LIs future just try to explore this new world.

There might be some explicit scenes but if there are you’ll have the option to fade to black. Mild gore might be unavoidable and there would definitely (depending on your choices though) be death scenes.

Romantic Interest:

I’m gonna try to make this relatable so no definite number yet but nearly every person you encounter, depending on your interaction and relationship with them can be romanced by your MC.

MC can romance male/female/non-binary characters.

I would also create LIs that exist outside of the MC to showcase that the MC’s involvement in their life created a change within them.

Polyamory possible.

Current Word count: 81,679(without code) and 492,008 (with code)

Code is pretty beefed up because I want to branch this out as much as possible so you have the liberty to make whatever choice you desire and live with the consequences.

Updates would come in a format of 100k words per update and patrons get +30k word access ahead of the general public.

To play the demo, go here: Play Demo 

My Tumblr page: Tumblr 

Support me on Patron

Any and all feedback and suggestions would be appreciated.

And also, I would really appreciate if you could take some time to screenshot your final stats after the Demo. It'll really guide me in the next updates.

Oh and if your good in art, you can help me in making the Cover of this game, just send in whatever you have. Thank you☺

[missionkitty]

hey all. i'm sure you've seen the news.

i think i'm going to be taking a step back from socials for a while, tumblr included. i'll still get on to post art and moonlight valley updates (now more than ever, believe me) but it hurts me to scroll right now.

i'm angry. my family is at risk now more than ever for what will inevitably come. i don't talk about my private life much on here, for my own privacy and my own sake. but i have two young children and a mexican partner and a latino heritage and a latino last name. my partner just got laid off about a week and a half ago.

i have been trying. so hard. to keep it together and to stay hopeful.

and i'm not going to break. but i keep seeing so much aimless anger and apathy and not enough paths forward during this election cycle. we're here now. the worst-case scenario has happened.

but none of that can stop me. i have to put on a brave face for my children. i have to protect them and my partner.

maybe--just maybe it will be okay. but i've read what the gop has promised they will do, and now they have the power to do so. but i will do whatever it takes to protect myself and the people i love.

if you want answers, here's what i've got:

look for community initiatives to participate in. don't have any? then befriend your neighbors. create something--bake, draw, write, cook, then go share it with your friends and your neighbors.

if you're particularly angry, like i am, find out when your local city council meets. go to a meeting and bring up your concerns. find out the concerns in your neighborhood or community and begin organizing how to address these issues. maybe even run for council yourself when a seat opens.

lay down your roots. provide a safe haven for the people around you. and take care of yourself. eat well, dance to three of your favorite songs every night, and start taking a multivitamin.

sleep well and live well.

i'll see you later.

[haleigh-sloth]

The real academia were the friends we made along the way

(another many month old ask I'm so sorry)

No but forreal.

Even with the disappointment, there are a few things that make it to where I wouldn't take any of my time back:

I've made a lot of friends. One of which became an irl friend and is one of my best friends. We travel states to see each other and plan trips together. I wouldn't trade my time in BNHA for anything! (@redphlox). I formed a server some years ago and added a few people here and there and it became a safe haven to bitch and moan about life and talk about whatever story we're into at the time. It's been a consistent space for me online that I very much enjoy, I hope the others enjoy the space also. We're still active in it in bursts since we're all adults with lives and things, but it's so nice to have one consistent space to go back to. I'm so grateful for the small little community I formed on different platforms, tumblr, discord, twitter. I have no regrets honestly. Other friends I've made that I've met in person a few times and plan to again in the future also!

Getting SUPER into BNHA actually motivated me to re-read my favorite series that I'd engaged with in middle and high school and look at it through a meta lens. Even though BNHA burned me, it led to me appreciating my favorite stories (both old and newly discovered) so much more now that I'm older and take the time to catch onto things I breezed over as a kid. It made manga (and any story I consume) a lot more enjoyable, and for that I'm grateful.

Last but not least: I've learned my lesson. Never put faith in an author. Lmao. I haven't been burned by a woman author but I won't hold my breath. I'll pray that Blue Exorcist, Daemons of the Shadow Realm, Black Butler, and D.Gray-Man all have satisfying endings that won't make me regret following the stories (DGM I've been following for 11 years so...pls Hoshino don't let me down). While I'm less concerned about these stories, I still will remain skeptical and just hope for the best rather than indulge in any level of confidence I may have in the authors.

[briefunknownnerd]

Hi, friends! I'm a pretty new content creator here, even though I've been on Tumblr for a little over a year now. I've got some ideas rattling around in my brain, and I just wanted to share a little piece from a fanfic I'm writing that's going to be published on AO3 as soon as I've completed it! I'm on 16k words (out of how many? who knows I'm just getting started) so far, and I absolutely cannot wait to share! Without further ado, the prologue. With all my love, Em

Once upon a time, there was a girl made of stars. She lived off of moonlight and honey, drinking the nectar as much or as little as she liked. And she coasted off of those stars, with wings softer than silk and lighter than air. For she loved the stars- the dust that was in her very bones. 

Every star was different. Some shimmered and sparkled, others were angry red things that could burn her fingertips. Her favorite, though, were the ones that twinkled and winked in and out of existence. Those stars were her haven- away from the paradise she called home. The girl went to the stars whenever she could, away from lessons that covered the whole span of the universe. From the dawn of creation, to when the seers will tell when each star, planet, and creature will die out. 

Upon reaching her 28th year- in mortal terms- she was bestowed a glorious sword made of heavenly fire. The flames upon the blade did not burn the girl, for she was partly made of the same fire herself. Fire and stardust. Life and death. 

The flames licked at her skin and danced when she smiled. 

The girl made of life and death was thrust into a battle with no training. The sword was her best friend and kept her safe- for she was lonely. For eons, she waged wars and fought battles, and named the sword Kavod, for she bestowed holy righteousness upon her enemies. 

The girl was sent to earth, back and forth, for millennia, protecting the little mortals that her Lord cared about so much from unholy entities. However, when she flew down to earth in robes made of hyacinth and fire, with trumpets and pipers playing their tune, she grew fond of one. Too fond. 

The girl made of the stars fell in love. 

She had gone to bed with the man she loved, pouring her heart and soul into loving him. By a jealous God, she was whisked away back home. When she returned, with streets paved with gold and gates made of sparkling diamonds and pearls, she was outcast. Down and out to earth to live a mortal life, for falling in love with mortals was forbidden where she came from. And every night that she was on earth, she looked to the stars to make a wish upon each one. A wish to live her human life to the fullest, to keep her love, to fight glorious battles like she once did when she was young. To stretch her wings again and to fly to the stars, and to drink the nectar one last time. But the girl made of stars was no more. 

[fizziepopangel]

(Warning for suicide and online harassment) There is a Google document about a now deceased Radiodust shipper was that harassed over not liking Huskerdust in a discord, and the shipper committed suicide last December. A person with the username rainbowpiss34 has posted the document here on Tumblr. I thought you should know about this since you like Huskerdust.

Ok, so this was definitely something I hadn't heard of before. I know that ship wars are a thing within fandoms like this, and I know that it's not gonna be much different here in our little fandom, but I have been lucky enough to have never been in the midst of anything like this. I think civil wars like this are honestly really upsetting because fandoms like this are meant to be safe havens and happy places for most, and things like ship wars can turn it into something really ugly and honestly give the entire fandom and show a bad name. Like we're all in one fandom and we're fighting each other over which character belongs with who and bullying each other to tears over it.... It makes us all look insane and that reflects poorly on our fandom. When we start turning on each other and making our own fandom an unsafe and unwelcoming place to be like this, I think it is well past time that we take stock of ourselves and how we let our investment in what we love run us. While I myself am an avid Huskerdusk shipper, I actually like a few different ships within the Hazbin/Helluva universe, even ones that aren't canon, and I have no problem writing for most of them because that's the fun of what I do within this fandom. Everything on my page is meant to be fun; my page as a whole is supposed to be a safe, fun, and drama free space where we can all enjoy Vivzie's amazing creative hellaverse together the way she intended her shows to be enjoyed.

I hope my page continues to be a safe and fun place for us to do this, but I would also like make sure everyone knows that my dm's and asks are always open to talk about things like this, chat, or bring attention to any issues my posts may have caused so that they can be addressed before anything gets too out of hand the way the ship war mentioned in this ask did.

Stay safe, and everyone have a hellish day❤️

[princessstarryahri]

Grieving the Living

Today I went no contact with my own mother. I don't know if Tumblr is the right place to post this but I just need to get it off my chest. To make it clear, I LOVE my mother. No matter how much she's hurt me, in spite of the trauma she caused me, even when she put everyone else before me, I still love her.

She had me too young and maybe she never should've had a child. I'm her only one, but I'm a girl and she's always wanted a boy (she told me that). From birth I was different and maybe a handful. I've always been a crier and in my family that's a weakness. I was always told I'm too sensitive and I needed to be stronger. I needed to be better... I tried, I really did, just so they'd love me. But I never could meet their expectations, only fall short. My lofty dreams were degraded and crushed so I'd keep my feet firmly planted on the ground... She was just trying to protect me right? Her philosophy was that the world is cruel so you have to be prepared for that, there's no safe place out there so there's no safe haven at home.

I never felt safe, or comforted, or loved. But she loved me, all mothers love their kids right? I just don't think she ever truly liked me. She always pointed out my faults and failures. She would mention some achievements but those were far and few between. I always felt like a failure. Of course I became a people pleaser and searched for escape. I fell into the wrong crowd and did some drugs, drank, partied, and that led to me being raped. I was 15 or 16 when it happened the first time. I was a virgin then... She had an opportunity to protect me, to stop it from happening but because she was mad at me, she just yelled at me. The guy had given me some drug that did something to me, I don't know what it was but I was terrified. He kept calling and texting until I did what he wanted. I needed her to help me but she just yelled and sent me to my room...

When I finally told her what happened she called me a liar. So I dealt with it alone. I was hurt, scared, and confused. So I sunk more into drugs and alcohol to numb the heavy emotional burden. The second time it happened I was with someone I thought I could trust. I was an adult then...

I learned not trust anyone and put my walls up. She wasn't there to help pick me up, or comfort me. I hid it from her. I hid everything from her. She always told me I could go to her but when I tried I only walked away with more emotional turmoil and lower view of myself. I contemplated suicide many times and even tried to take my life three times, just to escape her. Each attempt failed and I pushed forward.

My last relationship was a domestic violence situation that I became stuck in for three years... I couldn't tell her for fear of being further put down. He took what little of me there was and I couldn't face her, even though I needed her so much. Eventually by some miracle she helped me that once and I will always be grateful for that. But once I was in the healing stage and back in therapy, I realized a lot of my childhood was not normal. I pulled away again but whenever she needed to talk and vent I was there. Like always I tried to help since she is not emotionally intelligent. She's a person who thinks emotions are weak, so now that she can't run from them anymore she suffers. I wanted to help because I was always in tune with mine and I see it's not a weakness but a strength. But in her eyes I am a terrible daughter because I should have been calling regularly. I should be the one making the most effort and doing what she expects.

Because I suffered from mental illness as a child, I should be making up for it because I was a bad child. It's my fault our relationship is strained, because I was a bad child. It was my fault I was raped because I was a bad child who didn't listen and heed her warnings. It's all my fault because I was a worthless child.

Now, I know this is the best thing because she hurts me so much but still I'm crying because this breaks my heart. I love my mother but she will never love me the way I need to be loved. I have to leave her behind and live my life, move forward. I am Free at last but I grieve for the living. It does feel like she died. Everything will be alright, however tonight I just want to cry and sob and hurt.

Sorry for the personal post, I know that's not why you come to my blog. Regularly scheduled Eren posting will resume tomorrow.

Pictures of my comfort characters just because I need them right now.

[bellaxgiornata]

hey there! if you’re looking for some more fun ask questions, maybe 11, 32, and 42? (if you can’t tell, i really adore your writing and trust your judgement so am super interested in which of your own fics you recommend the most as well as any other writers or fics you like) thank you!

I am still open to answering this and I'm so sorry it has taken me so long to respond! I like to try to be thorough in my responses. And thank you so much 😭❤️ That means so much to hear about my writing, it's something I'm very passionate about. Hearing that it's appreciated means a lot! ❤️

As for fics of my own to recommend, I think most of y'all already know about Falling for the Devil when it comes to Matty. And for those who enjoy that series, you'd probably also enjoy The Devil at Your Window. For those who enjoy sexual tension and smut for Matt, I'll toot my horn about Break the Tension. It's not my usual Matt x Reader fic but I think it's been fun to write a Matt who's kind of a desperate asshole (for reasons which will eventually make sense).

For Mikey I'd recommend Safe Haven because it's a series full of plot and surprises. Plus who doesn't want to share a bedroom window with Mikey??

As for Frank I'd recommend either of my series': Neighbors or You're Safe With Me. Both are fun and have/will have suspense!

As for the questions you asked, I'll answer them below the cut because this is going to be a long post 😅

11. Link your three favorite fics right now

I notoriously haven't read much in the past year because I have limited free time and cannot seem to stop writing long enough to focus on reading (something I am sure will change once I have a newborn in a few months and am awake at all hours of the night...). But I love these stories and even though I am not caught up on necessarily all of them, I know many things that are planned for them/have happened and I have read many screenshots as these fics have been written!

And Then I Met You by @souliebird

Cooking Up Love by @loveroftoomanyfandoms

Cadence by @she-likesorchids AKA @theradioactivespidergwen

(Hopefully all the links are correct because I am trying to write this on my phone 😅)

32. Name three of your favorite fanfic writers

There are SO many wonderful writers here on tumblr so picking just 3 is honestly impossible. I literally can't so I'll just list a handful of writers I've actually been able to read some works from and have enjoyed here on tumblr (and that I can think of off the top of my head) who write for Matt, Michael, and/or Frank (and possibly even vamp Henry):

@she-likesorchids

@souliebird

@loveroftoomanyfandoms

@mattmurdocksscars

@sunflowersandsapphires

@shiorimakibawrites

@mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment

@yarrystyleeza

@itwasthereaminuteago

@pastafossa

@peterman-spideyparker

(There's absolutely more and I apologize for my brain blanking, plus the list of writers on my TBR list is huge 😅)

@farfromstrange

@courtforshort15

42. What’s the last fic you read? Do you recommend it?

An Ode to a Coat by @pastafossa

YES EVERYONE GO READ IT. As long as you're over 18 of course because it's smutty goodness.

[themotherfuckingfox]

I do think I'd actually benefit from being a little active on here again. Something new about me since I've been active on here is... I'm a published author now! That's cool! Nothing crazy, just a handful of short stories. But, you know, life happened and I got ~depressed~ (or, more depressed then usual) and like seven years went by and now I've been trying to rebuild my life for the last couple of years and! Here I am.

New year, new me?? Idk.

I'm like, kind of a fan of New Year's resolutions? I understand why some people aren't. I enjoy the idea of them, but I'm generally extremely kind to myself when it comes to making my own. This year mine were essentially just to write more and focus more on my Youtube channel.

Basically, just goals I already had, but now it's 2025.

The thing about the writing is that I'm a creature of habit to the EXTREME. I used to have and use Microsoft Word before they changed to a fucking subscription based service????? (I HATE SUBSCRIPTION CULTURE!!!!) When I stopped being able to use that for all my writing, I stopped writing regularly.

Google Docs has sort of taken it's place but I can't figure out a good storage method. I can't figure out how to use folders in an efficient way? It feels so clunky to me. So I've taken to writing in real, physical notebooks... But then it's just stuck in a real, physical notebook. I suppose I should and will probably at some point transfer it online, I just.... don't know where to put it. I wish I still had microsoft word >:|

Anyway, what I'm getting at is perhaps Tumblr is just the thing I need.

I loved this place back in the day. It was my safe haven from mid-high school to mid-college. These days it's been TikTok, but heyo! Big bans loom.

If you've read this far/if you still follow me from back in the day/if I know you in real life and we haven't talked in a while, I'm glad you're here and I'm glad I'm here.

(I don't know how to end things)

[sainthekla]

ɪɴᴅᴇᴘᴇɴᴅᴇɴᴛ ✦ ᴍᴜᴛᴜᴀʟꜱ ᴏɴʟʏ ✦ ᴘʀɪᴠᴀᴛᴇ ━━━ 𝐊𝐀𝐑𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐊𝐋𝐀 ━━━ ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀᴄᴛꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴘᴀᴜʟ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴄʟᴀ ʀᴜʟᴇꜱ ✦ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ✦ ᴛᴀɢꜱ ᴀʟᴛᴇʀɴᴀᴛᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀꜱᴇꜱ ✦ ᴍᴀɪɴꜱ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅꜱ Other blogs: @alitlantern @evergreenfire @forgiventruth

❝ Let the blade pass through the flesh, let my blood touch the ground, Let my cries touch their hearts. Let mine be the last sacrifice. ❞ ━ Andraste 7:12

◂ MUN ▸

✦ Melody, 29, they/she, EST time zone ✦ Disabled, chronically online, horrendous sleep schedule ✦ I write erotica for a living ✦ Account is 18+, NSFW is for 23+ ✦ Anti call out culture ✦ Haven’t been on Tumblr in probably 5 years, but I was here in the advent of RP and have a long, sordid history with it ✦ Have played all the DA games + DLCs, working through the books now ✦ Discord will be given out liberally to those who ask ✦ Other blogs: @alitlantern , @evergreenfire

◂ FOLLOWING ▸

✦ I follow first but will unfollow if mutuals are not established within a month ✦ I don’t always follow with the intent to write. Sometimes I follow people just because I like the way they write, or I want to read their headcanons, or I mean to write with them in the future. I’m not in a rush here to figure out what to do with every last mutual. If that bothers you, please hard block me. No hard feelings! ✦ Dupes are welcome! We don’t have to write anything but I would love to be friends with people who love Karl as much as I do!

◂CONTENT ▸

✦ NSFW will likely be present. I will tag simply as "NSFW" ✦ I generally attempt to tag common triggers, but I may miss some ✦ I am sex positive, kink friendly, and a taboo safe haven. I don’t believe in “pro shipping” or anything of that ilk. As long as you’re an adult and not hurting anyone IRL, I beg you to write what you want. With me, even! I’ll write fucked up shit with you gleefully! Censoring will only aid the corrupt ✦ If you want to write NSFW with me but don't want it on the dash, I am more than happy to move it off platform ✦ Also equally happy to fade to black, NSFW is not a requirement for ships ✦ Favorite genres: Angst, hurt/comfort, combat, NSFW/erotica, fluff ✦ Dark/Mature/Taboo themes will be mentioned ✦ All replies are put into my queue, unless it's a starter or something I am biasedly excited for. My queue publishes one reply, one ask, and one random post per day in the morning est. I'll generally answer asks and do the odd reply in the afternoon/nights as well. Always feel free to ask me where you are in the queue!

◂ FORMATTING ▸

✦ I use xkit rewritten ✦ I do not have icons but I don't care if you use them! ✦ No need to match my formatting. If something about my formatting makes it difficult for you to read, please don't hesitate to tell me. I will change it for our threads ✦ Please move ask responses to separate threads, linking to the original. Also, it doesn’t matter how much time has passed since I answered the ask; always feel free to turn anything into a thread!

◂ WRITING ▸

✦ I prefer in depth plots and dynamics that span over multiple threads ✦ I don't mind using memes as a vehicle to starting a dynamic, but once established, I will always prefer to chat about where the story can go ✦ This is controversial but my biggest pet peeve is dropped threads. I’m disabled and have a very limited attention span, but I will still always go out of my way to not drop threads. It may take me weeks to reply, but no thread is ever dropped unless we’ve talked about it. I really hope for the same level of commitment to this hobby from those I share it with

◂SHIPS ▸ ✦ I wholeheartedly ship Karl/Anders but I won't force my headcanons on anyone I write with. Ultimately, I want to find a dynamic that works for both of us! ✦ I'm open to all sorts of dynamics; from fluffy to toxic. I have no triggers or limits and will happily write on or off the dash depending on our level of comfort ✦ I may drop ships in time if I feel like my energy isn't being returned, but I will always speak with you about the issue first before assuming anything