#All while learning how to write in general

[lixiesfreckless]

Drive | l. m.

an epilogue to Punch It, a fic from the PICU

➸ synopsis: "I forgot why I stuck with the sport in the first place.”

His hand reached over the gear shift, sliding his palm into your free one before intertwining your fingers.

“Racing with you though...I think I’m finally starting to remember.”

��� starring: lee minho x reader

➸ word count: 4k

➸ general content: street racer!minho, established relationship, very slight Cars reference, playing twister in a car

➸ warnings: explicit sexual content(MINORS DNI), car sex, piv(wrap it before you tap it), switch!minho(rare sighting indeed), praise

➸ rating: TV-MA

➸ author’s note: this is at least 3 years old, but it's just a DLC for anyone who loves these characters as much as I do <3(also my writing style has changed so much since then, in a good way)

“Ah, a cliff,” Minho chuckled, peering over the edge before turning to you with a knowing look on his face. “I think I can see where this is going-”

“Relax. If I wanted you dead I would have killed you months ago.”

You stepped up next to Minho, pointing somewhere over the cloud of dust that the car brought to the view. Through the brown haze, he could make out a path, or rather, a track, one that hadn’t been used in years. The turns were overgrown with brambles and weeds of every kind, attempting to reclaim the terrain in between the tires wearing them down every so often.

“Behold,” you yelled rather dramatically, throwing your arms out in front of Minho, “the place where I learned to race!”

“You learned on a dirt track?” He scoffed, looking at you in shock. You however, nodded proudly, reminiscing all the times you had run off the road while attempting to drift.

“My dad taught me to drift here,” you laughed, looking over the field, “he knew I couldn’t really destroy anything out here, and boy was I a reckless driver…”

“Do you visit here often?”

“Not anymore...in fact the last time I came here was…” you paused, furrowing your brows as you searched your brain for an answer. “Actually, the last time I came here was right before we started dating.”

“What? Why?” He laughed, crossing his arms. “I can’t imagine you came out here to practice…”

“No no, I just came out here to talk to my dad.”

“Does he come here often?”

It was at this point that you realized you had backed yourself into a corner, because the topic of your father wasn’t necessarily a light one, and truthfully the reason you went to talk to him was for advice concerning the driver you were currently dating. But Minho didn’t know that, nor did he need to know.

“My dad…” you stared wistfully over the racetrack. Memories of summer days spent in cars, with the radio blasting and the windows down came surging towards the front of your memory, but before they could do any damage, you swallowed them all and put on a blank face.

“My dad died in a car accident when I was eighteen.”

Minho’s head fell, instantly regretting that he pushed the topic further.

“Y/n...I-”

“It’s okay, really,” you whispered, giving him a weak smile. “You didn’t know.”

“I come here sometimes to talk to him, because it’s where I feel closest to him…” you explained, heat rising to your cheeks. “That sounds really corny-”

“No no—it's endearing,” he reassured you, before his face changed to one of concern.

He pondered for a moment, running his hands through his hair.

"How did you get behind the wheel after the accident?"

“I didn’t.”

Shocked, Minho slowly nodded his head in silent understanding, waiting for you to continue.

“I didn’t drive for almost a year, actually,” you chuckled bitterly, kicking a rock off the cliff face. “I resented cars, biked to work, barely hung out with friends…that was probably the worst year of my life.”

“Well hey, at least your carbon footprint went down-”

You shot him a glare, and he nervously chuckled an apology before asking you a question.

“So if you hated driving so much...how did you get to be a street racer?”

“I didn’t hate driving,” you whispered. “I was scared of it.”

For someone like you to be scared of driving, Minho almost couldn’t believe it. You were the most fearless driver he met; or at least, that was what he deduced after that fateful duel from months ago. Aside from that, you didn’t seem to be scared of anything, especially not Minho.

“But my dad, he loved cars, almost as much as he loved me probably,” you laughed, walking back towards Minho’s car. “To stop driving was to stop surrounding myself with the one thing that constantly reminded me of him.”

“So what you just...stopped being afraid of cars?”

“Not exactly,” you said, leaning against the hood. “It was really slow trying to get back into it, but then I met Changbin and the rest of the gang, and seeing them drive…” you looked up to the sky, and Minho could see the tears that you were holding back as you smiled, “it made me feel like he never left.”

Minho wasn’t entirely sure of how to comfort you, but he threw caution to the wind and embraced you in a hug, toned arms and cologne enveloping you almost immediately. And for a moment, you were glad that he couldn’t see how easily the tears fell from your eyes once he did that. It almost made you fall for him more, seeing how caring he was when he wanted to be. He didn’t even let you go until you gently pressed on his sweater vest.

“Your dad would be thrilled to know how good of a driver you are now,” he whispered as he pulled away, smiling. “I heard you're the best in the city.”

“Stop it,” you laughed, punching his arm. That sparkle that returned to your eyes made him feel at ease again, thankful that he could bring any sort of ease to you before the air grew quiet again.

“I know a lot of drivers,” you began, leaning off of the hood, “a lot of them drive just to get to places, some drive for the adrenaline rush, or money, or fame, or to ‘be the best’,” you glanced at him playfully, to which he feigned offense.

“For me...I drive to keep the memory of my dad alive.”

For Minho, it was moments like these that made it hard to pinpoint when exactly you had started backing your way into his heart. The ridiculously cocky girl that he met months ago he had come to realize was only a facade, for underneath all of the snarky remarks and banter was a girl that cared deeply for the people she loved. From staying up late with Yeji so she wasn’t alone when she worked on her car, to giving him lessons on drifting, Minho found that to him, you were more than just a rival.

And he was lucky that you even felt the same way.

He could feel his heart beat faster as you made your way inside his car, and he knew it wasn’t from the rush that driving gave him.

“Hey I don’t think I’ve ever asked,” you spoke up, watching Minho land in the driver's seat, “why did you start street racing?”

“Well,” he began, slumping against the leather seat, “I mean I was a professional racer for a minute but, to tell you the truth, I started because I lost a bet.”

Your mouth fell open, not viewing Minho as the type to gamble, but you let him continue.

“I won’t bore you with the details, but I owed someone money, and I knew of some people that did street racing for cash prizes...one thing led to another and I was able to pay the guy back, but not before I was hooked on the sport.”

He looked to you, who had a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from laughing at the absurdity of his backstory, but he only gave you an eye roll before continuing.

“At first I loved it, but I started to get obsessed with numbers and time trials and being the best, and I forgot why I stuck with the sport in the first place.”

His hand reached over the gear shift, sliding his palm into your free one before intertwining your fingers.

“Racing with you though...I think I’m finally starting to remember.”

The car fell silent for a moment, Minho staring deep into your eyes, and you tried your best to keep a straight face, but it was useless. You burst out laughing, ruining the atmosphere, and Minho sighed loudly, pretending to be annoyed.

“Too cheesy?”

“Absolutely,” you snorted, folding yourself in half from the laughter.

“But y/n,” he cooed, leaning over the center console to pull you over to him, “you make my heart race-”

“Gross, get away from me!”

Any bystanders would have thought that two little kids were occupying the front seats of an expensive car with the way you two were now wrestling, limbs flying about and squeals leaving your mouth every other second. Finally, you pushed his arms back far enough over the middle aisle to ensure that he couldn’t tickle you, giggling madly at his little frustrated pout.

However your giggling was abruptly cut short by Minho’s lips on yours, and while being silenced wasn’t your favorite pastime, you had to admit that this was probably your favorite way of being shut up.

Not that you’d allowed anyone else to do that other than him.

His fingers reached over the center console to cradle your jaw, and a dizzying jolt of excitement seemed to shock you where they met your skin. Rather than melting you, that set your skin ablaze, and suddenly you were pressing onto his mouth with equal force, earning a satisfied sigh from him as he tilted your head slightly. The space between you two was diminishing, but not as quickly as your impatient self would have liked, and as he pulled away you had to stop yourself from chasing after his lips.

He held a fiery gaze at bay with a look of mild amusement, a little surprised at how quickly you were unraveling for him, but before he could say something snarky, you took matters into your own hands.

Clambering over the seat, you braced yourself on various parts of the car interior before situating yourself on Minho’s lap, trying not to laugh at Minho’s failed attempt at an unaffected look towards your suggestive actions.

You made a quick mental note that he liked being straddled, but before you could waste any more time, his electrifying fingers held your chin, pulling your lips back into a gentle kiss.

Your hands landed on his chest, and you took this opportunity to slide them up to his neck, slowly feeling every ridge of him through his sweater vest. He couldn’t conceal the smirk that appeared once he picked up on what you were doing, and in return he bit your lip playfully, as if to tell you to behave.

Your growing impatience had no intentions of doing that, however.

Needless, to say, his lip biting only spurred you on, and you returned the favor with a few open-mouthed kisses along his jawline, watching how his eyes fluttered closed in silent delight as he sighed. At last, he quit being shy and let his hands wander downwards, resting on your waist as you leaned farther into him.

When his lips found yours again, the kiss that resumed was more intense than the previous ones, and you were sure that your heartbeat was matching his rapid pulse under your fingertips. Hushed gasps replaced the chaste giggles from moments before, and you wanted to push him a bit further; sliding your hands along his bare shoulders in an attempt to free him of the crisp white button down that was loosely hanging off of his frame.

He pulled away momentarily, shrugging the sleeves off of his arms and breaking the kiss to get his wrists past the cuffs, then swiftly tossing the shirt against the passenger side window before turning back to you.

Something about the way you hovered over him, face flushed and lips swollen, made him lose all resolve and snap beneath you, pulling you flush into his chest with one arm around your back while the other slid into your hair, gently tugging at the strands as his tongue slid inside your mouth. Your body turned to mush, making you grateful that Minho’s sweater vest was still between the two of you for you to ball up in your fists, clutching onto him like you were clutching onto your sanity.

You shifted in his lap, liking the closeness but not entirely comfortable with your positioning and in doing so, Minho inhaled a sharp breath, breaking the kiss. Panicking for a moment, you thought you might have hurt him, but it was quite the opposite, and upon realizing this you glanced down to see that his pants weren’t looking too comfortable either.

“Sorry,” he winced, not meeting your eyes in fear of the knowing look you would have on your face. “We should probably-”

You cut him off, leaning in to capture his lips in a slow, passionate kiss, laced with a small but noticeable hint of desire, and when you pulled away you were met with a flushed Minho, clearly trying to ignore the way you were sitting on top of him.

“...move to the backseat?” you answered, waiting for him to get the memo.

“Wait...here? You want to do this here?” he whispered, eyebrows furrowing in shock.

“You don’t?”

“I do! I just thought that I would be moving too fast for you and-” you brought a finger to his lips, tilting your head in amusement.

“Moving too fast? For me?”

You watched as his face turned from one of concern to one of annoyance, and you giggled mischievously as he rolled his eyes, huffing slightly.

“I…I was trying to be considerate and here you are, making fun of me…”

“I do appreciate your concern,” you responded playfully, pulling at the strings at his neckline, “however…”

You shifted your hips once more, this time intentionally grinding yourself against him as he trapped his bottom lip between his teeth, and before he could grip you any tighter, he reached over to the door handle.

“Get in the backseat.”

Probably a little too excitedly, you hopped out of the car and into the backseat, kicking off your shoes as Minho put the key into the ignition and rolled up the windows, as well as turned on the air conditioning to combat the heated atmosphere inside the car. He followed after you, closing the driver’s door and jumping in next to you, just barely closing the door behind him as you threw your arms around his neck.

Neither of you could tell if he was pushing you down more or if you were pulling him; either way you two were level with the seat cushions in seconds, frenzied hands doing everything they could to feel the other’s skin under their fingertips. Minho’s sweater vest flew off first, him tugging it off quickly to stop you from stretching the knit to shreds in your desperation.

Your shirt was next to follow, Minho’s teasing finally coming to a halt for him to whisper “off” as he tugged at the hem of your shirt, and you both momentarily sat up for him to pull the shirt over your head and onto the floor. The break from contact was only for a moment though, Minho pushing you back down to litter hot kisses across your now exposed collarbones. You gasped involuntarily, squirming from the light suction as your hands fumbled with his belt, finding the metal buckle a bit too complicated for your lust clouded mind.

“In my...back pocket,” Minho whispered, resting on his elbows to lean against you, “grab my wallet.” His focus went back to moving his lips along your neck, occasionally letting his teeth nip against the skin as you whimpered, hands sliding down his back to the edge of his pants. His leather wallet poked out from the left side, and you took it, looking for a particular foil square. Needy as you were, you weren’t completely delusional.

As soon as you found it, he sat up against the seat, finally allowing you room to breathe as he quickly undid his belt, and your brain started working again, telling you to rid yourself of the shorts caging your arousal. The denim disappeared in seconds, and you looked up to see Minho pulling down his pants and boxers in one go, wincing slightly as his hard red length sprang up against his abdomen. The sight of it throbbing had your core clenching in anticipation, and you could do nothing but wish that Minho would put the condom on faster, or better yet; do it yourself.

Almost painfully slow, he slid the rubber on, but as soon as he looked to you to cage you between his arms again, you ditched your underwear and stretched a leg over his thighs, straddling him once again. An eyebrow raised in pleasant surprise, hands hovering over your hips cautiously, but a hurried nod was all it took for him to hold you tightly, waiting for you to begin your descent.

Just like the rest of him, his shoulders felt firm under your palms, and you buried your head at the junction of his neck and shoulder as your entrance pressed against his tip. A silent gasp was shared between the both of you as you slowly enveloped him in your tight heat, followed by a low rumble from his chest. Whimpering slightly, your fingers dug into his hot skin as you adjusted to his size.

“...Do you want any help?” He whispered, and you slowly pushed yourself away from his chest. The burning desire to move was blazing inside your core, so you shook your head, figuring your own desperation would fuel your stamina for now. His hands slipped upwards to rest on your waist as his head leaned back against the headrest, bracing himself for your movements.

With a small raise of your hips, it felt like flames of pleasure were licking your every corner, and a small moan threatened to escape your throat from the friction. Minho was holding back too, for whatever reason, but you didn’t miss the slight groan that vibrated in his chest, or the way his fingertips pressed into the flesh of your sides a bit harder.

Sinking back onto him made your mind fuzzy; the only thing you could think about was how much you needed to do that again, and again, and with nothing in the way of that, you created a pace that was somehow too much but also not enough, for either of you. Your chest burned with the need to vocalize every time you sank down, while Minho had resorted to leaving the space between you full of shallow breaths, thick with the desire to meet you halfway into every movement.

The way that he was filling you up was more than satisfactory, and to keep your mind somewhat grounded, you leaned down and connected your lips again, electric kisses distracting you from the delicious burning sensation below.

Minho was not having it however; he wanted to hear you, so he distracted you with his mouth in other ways.

Moving away from your mouth, he kissed up your jawline, over to your ear, which you would quickly realize was extremely sensitive to Minho’s hot breath against it. And definitely more sensitive to his voice, in this particular situation.

“Y/n,” he whispered, pressing a kiss just below your earlobe, “can you go faster for me?”

You must have clenched around him hard at that, because his breath hitched in his throat, stifling what would have been a moan as you picked up the pace.

“That’s it...that's my girl,” he almost moaned, tipping his head back as his hands slid up to hook around your shoulders. His hips started to jut up into you, and that combined with his arms pulling you down further every time your hips met was slowly turning you into a whining mess.

The sounds of your bodies meshing together was the dominant sound in the car, aside from Minho’s breathless pants and your endless whimpers, and the sun was far below the horizon now, long shadows finally disappearing and blending into the darkness inside the vehicle. The car was starting to rock back and forth in time with your movements, and the aching need for release was building just as fast as your stamina was diminishing; Minho noticed how you clung to his bare shoulders, signaling that you couldn’t keep up for much longer.

“I...can’t–” you sputtered out, your body close to giving out in the exhaustion and overstimulation of it all. Minho stilled your movements, pulling you off of him as both arms wrapped around your back.

“Slow down sweetheart, I’ve got you…” he whispered, laying you back onto the seat. He hovered over you, guiding himself back into your entrance before resuming a much slower pace, one that made you feel his every ridge, and in a sense this was slightly worse compared to riding him, because you could feel your orgasm approaching with the slowness of a bullet train.

For Minho, it was becoming increasingly difficult to not just drive himself inside you until you screamed his name, but he could save that for later, for now he thrusted inside you with a slow deliberation, and he relished in the way your nails clawed at his arms.

You felt like you could barely keep your eyes open, but when you could, it was a sight to behold. His honey skin was just barely caught in the remnants of the sunset, beads of sweat rolling down his neck and sticking to the various necklaces he was wearing, or dampening his beep brown hair. His face and neck were tinted with a slight glow of red, as well as his lips, which you were only to catch a glimpse of before he dipped down to taste the skin of your chest.

His hand slipped under you momentarily to unclasp your bra, and you just barely helped him slip it off your shoulders, dropping it on the floor beside you. His lips then went back to work, kissing along the sensitive swell of your breast as your core clenched tightly around him, spurring him on even further.

A hand came up to cup one of your breasts, thumb lightly running over your hardened nipple as your back involuntarily arched, and Minho could tell that you were close, with the pitch of your moans getting higher by the second.

“Almost there?” He asked, half curious for your sake and half for his; he wasn’t sure how much longer he could take you before he would start to unravel.

“Yes...close, so close,” you cried out, syntax becoming nearly impossible.

His lips latched onto your neck once more, sucking to leave a deep red mark there as his thumb and index finger rolled your sensitive bud, and that combined with a few more deep thrusts had you twisting in pleasure until finally, you reached your peak. You were sure there would be marks left as your nails dug into his back, your loud moan reverberating around the car interior as Minho slowed his thrusts, relishing in the way you tightened around him.

It was only a minute before Minho was gasping for air himself, on the tip of ecstasy as he sheathed himself inside you at a fast pace, not wanting to overstimulate you for longer than he needed to. Luckily, his resolve broke quickly, and you could feel his warm release filling the condom before he pulled out, chest heaving.

You both fell mostly silent in the afterglow, spent but definitely satisfied, both of you just enjoying being in each other’s embrace before having to get cleaned up. The faint sound of the nearest highway was now the loudest sound in the vehicle, and the sky was turning into a deep shade of cobalt blue, every remnant of the sun now buried under the horizon line.

After a minute you started giggling, a funny thought running through your mind.

“What?” breathed Minho, starry eyes gazing at you through long eyelashes.

“It’s just-” you paused to laugh again.

“When Changbin wanted us to make good use of his car, I don’t think this is what he had in mind…”

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

[victimeyez]

General Professional//Victim updates, opportunities for feedback, a personal note, and possible commission openings.

Sorry! Not a chapter update tonight, but some notes about the writing process and some big changes coming down the line.

I am a few months away from my two year anniversary of writing Professional//Victim! I started the story during medical leave for top surgery, so happy almost-anniversary to my customized titties.

I’ve been doing regular updates now for about a year, and though I’ve not always been able to stay strict to that schedule, I am so glad I have put forth the effort. During my recent hospital stay, I was thinking about dying (I am totally fine, just dramatic) and realized that this story is actually my best and most complete work of art. I have so much art I want to make before I go, but this really is the one that I’ve worked on the most. I want to finish it. I want to make it a full book, regardless of formal publishing options or if I would print it at a loss.

It might sound silly, but whump writers put a lot of time and effort into their works, and it’s important to us. It’s just as meaningful a work as any published accredited work – sometimes more, considering the incredible community feedback and contributions along the way. It’s a very special thing we have here, and I think if I learned every language in the world, I would still fail to find the words to express my gratitude. 

At this point, I’ve had some time to think over the way the story is going, and I want to reiterate that Professional/Victim is a work in progress. While every chapter is edited before it is published, there are a lot of edits that will need to be made before the story is as complete and cohesive as I’d like it to be. Some things are additions I wanted to add later, other things that I started and forgot to continue incorporating, and even more that I’d like to build up further. I am including some editing notes as examples of things I’d like to do, and some ideas that will be implemented down the line.

However, there is also a major change in Professional//Victim that will take some time to implement, but I have high hopes for how it can enrich the story. 

The pivot I want to make will still include all client chapters and many yet to come, but will be a large addition to the story. I’d love to hear feedback on this, so please feel free to weigh in.

I want to better establish the business that Rory, Caius, and Michelle have as “The Dream Team”, with a marketing niche describing their custom work as “fulfilling dreams” and “granting wishes”. Tommy and Caius, with the help of their support, will be mini celebrities in red room circles on the deep web. 

Tommy will have to face the cameras, but Caius wears a mask to hide his face. He’s so vain about his hair, I’m not sure that he would cover it, even with a wig. He’ll conceal his face with a take on the classic Comedy mask, next to Tommy, who is naturally Tragedy.

Pictured: Comedy and Tragedy mask examples from maskshopvenice

I’m thinking Caius will have some kind of dramatic name that he goes by for their social media, like The Wishmaster or The Dream Weaver as part of their branding of “granting wishes” and “fulfilling dreams”. I’m not sure if Tommy should be himself, or if he should have a coordinating moniker for their online profile - Wish or Dream or something like that.

I meant to incorporate more of Caius calling Tommy “Angel” as a pet name, which will tie in with a revelation further down the line, so maybe Tommy goes by Angel? But then that would probably better tie in with a devil or demon motif for Caius. But I like the Comedy and Tragedy motif as well, because Caius is super pretentious and will think of himself as some great actor. (He absolutely is not.)

I like the idea of Tommy being forced into an odd niche as a micro-influencer. I’d like to use this to be able to share more of Tommy having some active talent rather than being just a passive recipient of his abuse – though some people like it when he’s just a victim as well, so there will be a variety. 

While not everyone is able to book time with Tommy, fans will be able to interact with their online presence in multiple ways. 

Videos. I like the idea of Tommy being forced into an acting role in mini tortureporn films that Caius and Michelle write. Caius writes in over the top villain dialogues for himself, Michelle rolls his eyes but makes advertisements for his own torture tools (such as The Cradle from the crossover episode) and keeps up with trends that other viral red rooms are doing. I imagine a whole social network of different channels boasting their paywalled content, and Tommy and Caius are on the higher end of popularity. Like…onlyfans, patreon, youtube, all that shit mashed together. They make mini movies, sometimes with plot and sometimes not, where Tommy is victimized and tortured on film. 

Streaming. They will be doing streaming events where people get to make requests, vote on methods of torture, numbers of strikes, sexual acts, any number of horrific requests one could make. There will be themed streams that are set up as a basis, where people can then give input through the chat. One I have in mind is a marathon puppy-play event where Tommy is kept in a dog cage for several days. At one point, he stages an attempted escape with Caius - just so he gets a fraction of a second where he can stretch his legs out before he is caught and accordingly punished. 

Chats. Q and A for Caius, who eats up all this attention that inflates his ego.  Tommy, who has to answer the best he can to sate his “fans” and please Caius, is also forced to participate. Sometimes he has to give video responses answering them in a floating-head style interview, or has to dictate answers to chats that are typed out and sent back. Torture sexting, invasive questions, and prying fans, oh my!

Photoshoots. Again, these will usually be themed, but can play into Caius and Rory’s interests in fashion. I think it would be fun to incorporate more of Caius having a bonus role as Tommy’s hairdresser and makeup artist, and give a little more characterization and “screen time” to Rory. Rory is now a wannabe fashion photographer, who follows some specific designers and chooses clothing for Tommy. Caius and Michelle choose photoshoot props and themes, ranging from heavenly and angelic to medical torture and gore. 

Speaking of “screen time”, I want to incorporate Rory and Michelle more in general, and I think expanding the scope of the business would allow a lot of opportunity for that. For example, an idea I have was that a similar website/social media to theirs gets busted by the FBI. Michelle and Rory work together to investigate who reported it and get rid of the narcs. Michelle does the tech whiz shit, hacking accounts to leave evidence of CP and tax evasion before sending in a conveniently anonymous tip. Rory talks to people when they need a face, and has very extensive networks of contacts that he can use to collect information and make things happen.

Rory is a great salesman and a social chameleon; he can make friends and network with anyone. Caius thinks he is just as good. He is wrong. I think it could be interesting to have Rory assist in teaching Tommy how to read people – Tommy already has a talent for it but doesn’t know to manipulate people like Rory does.

Michelle is a tech genius. He’s also a weeb and cares a lot about his plants. Michelle keeps track of deep web trends - if a video goes viral of someone getting teeth pulled, Michelle will tell Caius to make a video pulling Tommy’s teeth to stay up on the hot trends! Michelle also implements slight glitches and filters on their videos that could potentially indicate that they are deepfakes. 

He comments on dummy accounts to point it out in order to stir up controversy in the community - now people watch it to see if they think it’s fake or not and argue with each other in the comments section and the feeds. This also helps cast doubt on their identities even if someone was close to finding them out. He makes sure there are places online from old jobs and dummy social media posts that could be used for to deepfake Tommy and Caius, in order to provide some level of doubt that it could be them. 

Michelle also sabotages other popular accounts that rival their business, investigating them on his own until he gets solid info on the people involved. Then he plants CP and evidence of tax fraud on their computers and puts in anonymous tips. He also wipes any trace of their deep web accounts from their laptops before they get submitted to evidence, since he does not want to bring any unwanted attention to their online community at all. Anyways, wasn’t I in the middle of a list?

Tommy’s room. I’m thinking about a kind of auction to add or remove items in Tommy’s room. This could add more variables to spice up his life a little. I’m considering a Something Naughty / Something Nice system where people can be mean AND can be nice, where people can vote on if something mean should be done or something nice should be done for that week. And if the vote is within a certain % of each other, both will happen as a “tie”. For example, Tommy could get a Pacman Arcade Game in his room one week, but his bed gets taken away. He can earn a dog bed to sleep on – but he’s going to have to do/agree to something awful. 

I already set up the concept of Caius giving him rewards to “balance out” the     cruelty, thinking he’s some mastermind psychologist that can maintain Tommy’s will to live, but I need to establish that more consistently. My idea was that he says he does this but is very stingy and detached from thinking of Tommy as human, so he neglects him a lot. Still, I want to incorporate some more niceties and better establish what daily life looks like for Tommy in between clients. It would be horrifically boring to be stuck in the same dim room all the time, and I think it would help flesh him out to show what he does other than read and watch TV. 

Now onto ideas and edit notes - if you’re interested in behind the scenes writing stuff, here is a peek at how my brain works on this stuff. Be warned: it’s a mess.

– Caius gives Tommy a bath in His Hands. Specify that Caius brought in a bathtub plug - Tommy is not allowed to have one because they are concerned he could try to kill himself. Tommy has a secret one he made out of wadded up paper - it doesn’t work as well and still slowly drains but he can take little sit baths at least

–Idea: Sam puts Tommy on new antidepressants and he develops erectile dysfunction. Caius wants him to be able to “perform” sexually when he wants, but Sam doesn’t see the need for him to be able to have erections. Sam tells Caius that he can take the medication off a few days before he sees a client if he needs to be able to get hard when he goes to them. Caius either ignores Sam’s instructions not to give him the pink aphrodisiac while he’s on it, or thinks he stopped the medication but removed the wrong pills from his diet. Tommy has a bad reaction - fever, seizures, hallucinations, a blood clot that has to be removed, whatever sounds fun. Is it at home? Is it with a client?

-Possibly establish a dumbwaiter in Tommy’s room

-Possibly establish a camera feed in Tommy’s room?

- Add punishment cabinet to Tommy’s room - a standing dresser or something, needs to be lockable, contains all manner of nasty shit Caius might like to use on him.

-Establish what cleaners Tommy is allowed to use - only non-toxic ones that he couldn’t kill himself drinking.

-Make a final decision and stick to it when it comes to Tommy’s clothes. I initially had it in mind that he has a trunk under his bed that Caius can unlock to pick his clothes for him. The idea was, he has no shower curtain or clothing that he can use to try to strangle himself. This is too impractical, they would literally have to keep him naked all the time. Establish a closet or dresser and what clothing he has. 

-Iron out exact setup of Tommy’s room

-Retcon basement design to make it into a whole little studio for filming.

-Add consistencies of Tommy having a high amount of drugs and pills he has to take every morning and night. Add humiliation of specific body washes, lotions, creams, and tinctures that Caius “supervises” him putting on, or does it himself. 

-Decide on side effects that Tommy experiences from all the drugs he gets and how they affect him.  

-Quick note: I spell Michelle’s name that way because I want people to read it closer to the french pronunciation, since Michelle is french-canadian and has a french-canadian accent. He does not let people use the anglicized version of his name. However, I think spelling it that way just causes some confusion, so I’m thinking about correcting the spelling to Michel. I’m also considering writing his accent out. Some people might think that’s offensive. I might not care. We shall seeeeee lol.

Moving onto COMMISSIONS 

I love writing this series, and I would happily do it as a full time job if I could! Unfortunately I cannot do that, and have to work 45 hours a week with a shitty commute instead. 

I am disabled. Sometimes I’m okay, and I’m out going to the gym and adventuring! Other times, I’ll be bed bound for a week. It can flip very suddenly, and it typically ranges from mildly difficult to completely disabling. This puts me out of work, and can put me out of writing as well since it affects my cognitive functions as well as my body. I also had a kidney infection that went septic and wound up in the hospital for a week.

All this to say, I have wiped out my allotment of PTO at my job for the rest of the year. Any time I have to take off, or even want to take off, is unpaid. This is a big safety net that I have lost, and considering I mostly live paycheck to paycheck, it puts me in a vulnerable position. I am considering adding commission openings for my writing in order to try to earn a tiny bit on the side.

I don’t know exactly what commissions would look like, or if they would be desired at all. Maybe they could be prompts for chapters, or custom chapters that people get to decide what happens. If it’s not something I want to fully incorporate into the story, I can list it as AU bonus content, or it could be private to the person who commissioned it.

Other ideas:

-I could offer one shots

-Beta reading with editing suggestions and feedback

-Patreon previews and votes

-Whump drawings, though I don’t have a big portfolio and need to get better at digital

-Whumpy fanfiction commissions

I’m not sure if anyone would be interested, or if there are other things people might like. This is definitely another area I’d like some feedback on.

This has been a long and rambling update. If you have read this far - or even skipped some stuff and got to the end - I salute you. You have earned: a kiss on the forehead. With tongue. 😛 

~

Taglist:

@suspicious-whumping-egg  @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @whumpyourdamnpears @generic-whumperz @lonesome--hunter

@whumplr-reader @theelvishcowgirl @sunshiline-writes @dont-be-gentle-please @galesgallery

@2in1whump @sparrowsage @whumpinggrounds

@morning-star-whump @leviiio @alexmundaythrufriday @defire @jumpywhumpywriter

@light-me-on-pyre @slightlydisturbedbeans @dislexiher @knivestothroats @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

@2in1whump @sparrowsage @whumpinggrounds @galactic-worm @hellodecisionparalysis

THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH AND WELCOME @there-will-always-be-blood !!!! Sorry this isn't a regular update, I'll be back to those shortly.

[rhapsodybenny]

I think you could make it work by saying that she has intensively trained to, essentially, be a badass, simply because she personally found the physical aspect interesting. And as a result, all her decisions stem from her having abilities that open options normally closed to other Vulcans. While Vulcans find some of her decisions disagreeable because they don't have her knowledge and experience that turn risks into near-certainties, most of her decisions seem quite logical to Vulcans once provided details of her physical capabilities.

Since joining Starfleet as a security officer, she consistently verifies her understanding of various facets of her exact physical capabilities. Three examples:

Her ability to accelerate to, maintain, and stop from her top running speed. (Useful for combat scenarios.),

The strength and speed of her arms and legs. (Useful for throwing items, punches, and kicks.),

Her accuracy with her Starfleet phaser.,

This list of things she consistently tests and practices is a few dozen items long, and contains skills of either great importance or great versatility. She also maintains an understanding of how her performance of these skills is affected by various common handicaps — fatigue, encumbrance, zero gravity, etc. But she also maintains a second list of skills. These skills are more… esoteric. It started as a list of skills not worthy of the first list’s high standards for understanding and practice, but still important to maintain — proficiency with various improvised weapons, specific combat scenarios, fighting while handcuffed, etc. But this second list has grown, because every time she could’ve made a more favorable decision if she were more confident in a certain skill (like jumping out of a shuttle, or sealing a subspace rift, or doing a keg stand, or evaluating whether intimidation would work on a certain enemy), she puts the skill on the list, practices it to a shine after the mission, and then practices it occasionally to make sure she’s still got it. In her free time, she completes “adventure” holodeck programs, generated by the computer to incorporate novel applications of her versatile consistent skills, as well as requiring her to practice random selections from her second list. It’s actually why she signed up to join Starfleet — a holodeck was the logical next step to continue developing her skills once she began nearing the extent of what she could do in a traditional training environment. Her character development involves her having to come to terms with the fact that pairing a job of intense adventures with a hobby of intense training is just too demanding for anyone. She has to learn to give up on continuously getting stronger and better, and find enjoyment simply in meeting her own standards, not in raising them. (This is an allegory for continuous growth under capitalism.) The first time a friend dies on her watch, she feels the mistake was not in any decision she made that day, but in the decision to stop raising her own standards. She writes a list of the hundreds of skills she would’ve learned by now if she’d “made the right choice,” and shuts herself in the holodeck with a new, punishing adventure program designed to teach her all of them. Eventually, she’s forced to reckon with the fact that she can’t do this. In fact, she was never capable of reaching the point she projected she’d be at by now. Her physical limits, as well as the limits of how much she can practice before things start falling through the gaps, actually laid not far beyond where she stopped. With this realization, she finally accepts that she truly did all she could. And now, of her own accord, she chooses for the first time to lower her standards, accepting that she needs rest after keeping herself right at her limits for so long.

I like the idea of a Vulcan character who constantly does very reckless things so her human crewmates think she's strange but then she always has a logical explanation she delivers with absolute confidence.

"No, it was perfectly logical for me to jump out of the shuttle at that time. I had a breathing apparatus, and I was certain I could seal the subspace rift by hand before the Romulans opened fire. This was the only solution that would result in zero casualties. I might have died, but giving up is illogical."

She's known as one of the most fearless members of the crew.

Other Vulcans try not to acknowledge her.

[clancycatears]

hi! asking to a certified gaz writerz, how would you recommend new writers to appropriately write for gaz? along with watching cutscenes and gameplay, i wanted to ask how you personally write kyle ? i ask this because i don’t see a lot of kyle representation in fics and i wanted to ask of how to write him as a romantic interest and thought you would know best instead of just mischaracterizing him. i hope you understand that my ask is out of genuine curiosity and wanting a talented writer’s point of view. i appreciate your feedback. i hope all is well during your hiatus.

~ ☀︎ anon

hi anon! first of all, thank you for the message. it truly means a lot. i’m in no way that talented (that goes to my mutuals), but knowing i’m a certified kyle writer in your eyes delights me. <3

so in all honesty, i write kyle to be the characterization of my ideal lover—because he’s my ideal man. it’s not necessarily because he’s black, but because i think he has a stellar personality that matches my wants like a puzzle piece.

to make it known—i’m a white author who is kyle centric. i don’t see others flaming me for that, though, so i feel i am doing something right when i write him, lol.

when i write, i care more for personality and behaviors rather than skin color (hence why i keep reader descriptions as much of blank slate as possible). as much as my writing with him is really self-indulgent, i want others to enjoy my work while letting them put themselves into the perspective of myself. (does that make sense?)

i did learn about an account recently, and i feel it’s very beneficial for those that are curious about learning how to write a black character. i recommend @creatingblackcharacters if you ever want to get into writing for kyle yourself. :)

kyle is also a fictional character, so honestly, you can write him however you’d like in a romantic sense. meanie kyle? go ahead. whore kyle? go ahead. soft kyle? my personal favorite, so that’s what i go for.

i just think it’s best to be mindful when writing for a poc when it comes to describing the skin tone, colors, eyes, facial features, all of that. like how kyle doesn’t blush, per se, but rather his cheeks darken and heat up.

but in general, i write for kyle mainly because he’s pretty, he’s silly, he’s my type, he’s all i want. lmao. personality just differs with every author.

also, no kyle representation? say less, anon, i will gladly provide whatever i can. <3

[leapdayowo]

[title pending] character exploration

      I started to suffocate in the pungent wall of smells that was every forest in the world combined into this one small clearing. My nose itched at the thick musk of strong trees and the sweet tang of dense canopies and wild moss. Around me the tall grass began twisting like snakes as animals emerged from their writhing sea and surrounding woods. Birds, deer, big cats, and bears. Insects crawled and leaped. Their sharp little legs pricked my skin and I bent into myself, shielding my face, in an attempt to get away.  Rustling

Buzzing

Pricking

Sniffing

Steps

Closer and closer-

     And then everything went still, except for my racing heart, which became deafening in the silence. I peeked around from where I had curled into myself at the strange display of grass blades reaching toward me and the animals’ stares. Despite the blaring sun above, I felt myself turn cold. Something inside of me whispered that I needed to respond, that I had entered a conversation of some sorts. The plants and creatures were waiting. Waiting on me.

     I squeaked out a shy greeting. In response, a deer stomped its back leg and flicked its ear, displacing a bird which had been resting on its antlers. The bird fluttered down to the ground right before me. It was slim with green tipped wings and a white band around its neck. Its dark eyes observed me with more weight and intelligence than expected from such a small creature. It hopped closer to me and seemed to be sizing me up. Slowly, I reached my hand down to its level, which it flapped onto without hesitation. Before I could more my hand again, the little bird pecked at the flesh of my palm. On reflex, my hand jerked away from the bird which startled it off its perched. With a quiet apology, I placed my hand back down. This conversation had just begun and I worried I had already ruined it.

     Instead of flying off, the little bird flapped onto my shoulder. Distracted by my worries of what the bird might do next, I failed to realize that some of the animals had closed in around me. The buck the little bird had been perched on gave me a curious sniff which startled me. It poked its nose through my hair and began nibbling at a few strands. A strange and fat creature waddled up to me. It had short and sleek fur and wide webbed hands that padded at my pants and stomach. More and more of the animals came to observe me. As they did, the grass seemed to follow my every move like I was the sun. The little bird meanwhile had settled on my shoulder and some of the animals took that as their cue to lay down and rest. A big cat playfully plopped down in front of me onto its back, its tail flicking and its eyes expectant. Against my better judgement, because I knew what sharp claws lay sheathed in those soft paws, I sat more comfortably on the ground and reached my hand to pet its stomach. It gave a strange rumbling noise in return, but it did not bite, so I continued to pet it.

     It took me a little longer to realize that the suffocating smell and pressure of the forest had waned. My lungs took in easy breaths and I sighed with relief. Whatever test had just happened, it seemed I had passed. My heart had slowed to a steadier pace and I was reminded of the aches in my arms from crawling all morning. I laid down next to the big cat, letting the little bird adjust its perch to somewhere in my tangled hair, and basked in the warmth of the light as I drifted to sleep.

[fuumiku]

Demon AU (krkb)

+ bonus Kuro

Kurokabuuu!! If Kabru gets to be naked then so does Kuro, equality for all 🔥Not to break the mystique but in that intro comic Kuro isn't flexing he's just pushing Mickbell away bc he about to be in business mode gdbdg. Was weird trying to make Kuro look more demony, did not work very well except for making him buffer but hey...! A black dog demon yeah yeah yeah...!

I have accidentally recreated Howl's Moving Castle... NOW HEAR ME OUT- The base concept for my satyr Kabru AU (the initial idea was the sketch where he has no horns haha) now turned demon AU was materializing Kabru's fear of anything monster, particularly his insecurity as a kid of being an incubus('s child and that making him a monster), and helping him work through it so he can love himself and others and the world better, but everything started clicking only after thinking about Kuro's role in the setting more. He's this feared dude with a witchy reputation and a lil rhyme about how everyone should stay away from him for their own sake etc etc, but he's not a demon just a dog dude really. The setting in this AU is much like Dunmeshi, but all monsters are called "demons" instead and tied with this concept of demonic not just monstrous, there's special generalized fear in them being kinda fundamentally evil. But they're just beasts, and sometimes just demihuman races, like Kuro. Magic does exist though, and curses, and yeah just a folk kinda vibe!

Kabru because he's become supernatural knows how to speak Kuro's tongue now too, or maybe he's always known it idk... But Kabru sought Kuro out because he's The demon guy around, thought if anyone around would know how to do anything about his having become a monster it'd be him- Mickbell is there too ig like waaa this innocent-looking (def isn't) human loves this demon and lives with him, alone but peaceful as hermits in the woods? Wah wild. Wah we can still have love?? Wah we can fall in love together and live happy monster lives even if ostracized??! Wah wait I'm not even a monster it was just my own latent magical powers cursing myself because I worried and believed myself to be a demon so intensely for so long?!! Wah we can truly have it all...... Growth feels so nice. Except Mickbell, that grown ass man is not finding inner peace yet. Still he's chill here since he's a side char not a main one

It's how Kuro's confident in himself despite everything being stacked against him, it's how he still trusts and likes himself, it's how he just wants a simple happy life and pursues what he wants, it's how he takes things simply... Self-critical Kabru always neglecting himself over obsessing about the greater good could learn from him........ Kuro is the only one after his transformation that unconditionally welcomes him and shows him compassion and it's all so confusing to him, especially since at first Kabru wouldn't even offer that same humanization to Kuro, only risked it out of necessity for his own circumstances, but he gradually becomes able to see the humanity in him despite his appearance, mannerisms, way of life and ideals, until he sees the humanity in him and himself too despite their appearances, until he finds there's nothing wrong in this routine and life of theirs in this isolated magical little place, until........... Just about accepting all of those fuzzy inbetween ways to be that are unclean and hard to understand from the outside, and growing comfortable in them and loving himself and kuro and the life they've made together.......!!!!!! What if through humanizing you I humanized myself... What if through growing a understanding for each other wevalidated ourselves, love as self-love...

I love including Rin into things, for a more plotty story it'd be neat if she tried and followed Kabru... He up and disappeared and she's a capable mage and she doesn't know what his plan was because he never tells her anything so she goes out and pursues him- Could even be the main antagonist besides just idk self-hate and townspeople lol, like she thinks Kuro is keeping him prisoner or something and also because she kinda represents the same kinda social trauma Kabru has, where she's strict about conforming and being an irreproachable undeniable human so she kind of wants to drag him back to that state he was in of anxiety over acting and being human enough...... But of course in the ultimate confrontation when she has her staff pointed at Kuro and they talk, she's hurt by him not confiding in her and thinking of her as someone who wouldn't help, but she understands and stops and yay happy ending :> And if we want them to be in this Holm and Dia may be allies I feel 🤔Like maybe they help out Kabru when they see him, help him escape their human village at one point or something, Holm is quite nice and cares for spirits and Dia's fled her home too so they kinda get it in a way, it'd contrast Rin... This isn't about the Laios party lol. Rin & Mickbell shenanigans would lowkey be fun like maybe Mickbell tricks Rin into thinking Kabru IS there against his will so she can take him away and the status quo of Mickbell not having to share Kuro with anyone is preserved, or maybe they just shittalk and grumble together. Gbdgd this is a plotline about accepting change and these two are noooot happy about it

So yeah he hates being a monster that's the schtick!! Won't a cool dog man pleaseeee turn me human again. Surely he can do that right. So he goes to live with this feared coolass magicky guy and that guy's little guy at his weird home and through making connections and self-love the curse you actually unknowingly put on yourself gradually lessens and disappears, but you don't care anymore because that's the point 😌 Which is why I call it a Howl's Moving Castle recolor gdbd

Kabru is usually the voice of reason within kurokabu so it's really fun switching the roles in that way. If you're just stumbling into this and are sooo confused first of all congrats on getting so far second I can't overstate how unironic this is + if you want more explanation about the ship I made a brainstormy manifesto here <3 Like, did you know Kuro's name is actually Yodan? He was likely called Kuro by Mickbell due to the language barrier. In this AU it's because no one's interested in him as a person so people just give him an ominous title that means black. But Kabru learning his name and Kuro willingly giving away that information and Kabru feeling the weight of it because he really thinks this'd allow him to control him (he can't actually control bc he's not a demon! No one's a demon yay! Just weirdo humans who get otherized)......

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Other vers because I 1) really like it and 2) am very indecisive. I overthink every single slight color change I stg lol

Sigh....... Like bro what if we were both so so far away from home and we knew we can't really go back and we've made our peace with that but man I miss not having been ripped away from my homeland and we are both so so isolated in our own ways in our presents and with a small yet gigantic gesture of compassion and of seeing each other we can learn and grow together with secret study dates where I teach you how to communicate the same way you're teaching me your language, we are both reaching across to each other we are both finding in one another a presence and humanity that feels so rare anywhere else. A sliver of warmth a sliver of home but also a sliver of the new, and embracing that things are changing and that we've changed and wow the animality within humanity and the humanity within animality!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hey bro your humanity I am only now fully grasping and coming to terms with is so hot bro............ What if your beastly features ended up making me more comfortable in my own stinky human animal flawedness bro........ What if we could just be together reassured through each other that we're human enough no matter what and that's all we need to just be and wahhhhh aughhhhh

Kurokabu is Kuro needing to choose between Kuro and Yodan. Kurokabu is needing to feel comfortable in animality within humanity. What if we stopped repressing ourselves 🫶

[kittygawa--jr]

:/

[fionnaskyborn]

People like this have made me terrified that I am mischaracterizing my favorite character by playing into his strengths and emphasizing them so much... That I'm making things "too anime", "too over-the-top", and by doing that straying away from the groundedness that made the character compelling in the first place... But I think it's better to be a fan who loves someone so much they're willing to step into goofy over-the-top showcases of strength and morals out of love than being a fake fan who only ever rags on what they proclaim is so dear to them. I dunno. I don't think I'm wrong in saying that. I'm hella insecure when it comes to my own writing, especially with this guy because I want to do him as much justice as I possibly can as a writer. But I have to convince myself that it's not too much.

[russeliarat]

We were meant to get work done tonight for college since the deadline is tomorrow and yet I managed to open the laptop to get stuff done and Hyrule decided to front, go 'I don't know these words' and go walk in circles for two straight hours instead.

LIL BRO WE WILL FAIL IF YOU DON'T HELP US PICK UP THE SLACK

Russ

[ghostclangen]

Marshlily dreams of the Dark Forest again. The smell of rot fills her nostrils, and she retches, barely holding down the contents of her stomach. She’d dreamt about it every night for moons now, but she still can’t get used to the squelching of mud between her toes, the only sound in the uncannily silent expanse. What did she do to end up here, so far from StarClan?

She takes a few steps forward, but quickly stumbles. The shaking is worse here, rapid jerks that make it difficult to walk—not that trying to run away would save her. 

“Is anyone here?” she calls, as she always does; her words are chopped up by the tremors that wrack her body. It’s with a frozen feeling in her stomach that Marshlily realizes that that’s not the only thing cutting her off; in what feels like just seconds, her throat has become clogged with foul-tasting blood. She hacks it up, splattering red on the damp ground, but it just keeps coming, choking her more and more by the second no matter how much she coughs and splutters.

This hasn’t happened before. This is new. Panting between coughs, she stares down at the pool of blood that’s growing on the grass before her. She’s faint, fainter than she should be; it’s not so much a loss of blood that makes the world bleary, but a sort of … a sort of … Marshlily shakes her head, unable to think of some way to describe it but finding herself unable to think of the words. 

She digs her claws into the earth to keep herself grounded. Her mind, however, can’t be gathered so easily; the dissolving feeling lingers. I’m all apart, the part of her that remains within in her grasp thinks. Through a mouth of blood, she gives a garbled cry once again: “Is anyone here? Help me!” 

After a few moments of silence, Marshlily hangs her head and whines gutturally. Why does she even try anymore? Nobody ever answers …

And then someone does. 

A familiar voice echoes in her ears, high-pitched and scratchy: “Marshlily …”

Weakly, Marshlily lifts her head, her ears pricked. “... Hornetstar?” she asks. “Where are you?”

“We care about you, Marshlily.” “We need you, Marshlily.” “Come home, Marshlily.”

Marshlily looks frantically from side to side, looking for Celebi, Crageagle, and—her heavy heart jumps in her chest—Charredtail. “Where are you? Where is everyone? Did you come to rescue me?” 

As the voices continue, they begin to sound closer, and with some time, Marshlily can pinpoint the direction they’re from. She takes a wobbly step toward them, but she makes it only a few taillengths before the voices of her loved ones fall quiet and a piercing scream erupts inside her brain. It’s like that alien feeling she’s been having, but worse, overwhelming her senses. There are no words put to it, no way to understand what’s going on, just a desperate yowl. 

“Leave me alone!” Marshlily cries. “Let me go!” She sinks to the ground in a heap as the screeching continues and begins to scream herself, wearing her bleeding throat raw. Of course it wouldn’t let her go. Of course her only hope would be a trap. The dissolving feeling, which had dissipated slightly, comes back with a vengeance. She really could just lie there and give in—it’d be a lot less painful …

As soon as she resigns herself to the faintness, though, something cuts through the screaming. It’s faint, but it’s there, and little by little it gets louder until Marshlily can finally hear it clearly: “I love you, Marshlily. I’ll always love you.”

It takes Marshlily a few moments to recognize the voice, but when she does, her breath stops in her chest. “Mom?” she asks, her voice wobbling. “Mom, is that you?” Half-remembered memories float to her head: milk scent; a soft, murmuring voice; the warmth of her siblings snuggled up against her. 

The voice doesn’t answer. Instead, it continues, “You have to keep going.”

It’s with uncertaintly that Marshlily gets to her paws, and the screaming in the back of her head never relented, but nonetheless, she does. Her movements are jerky and discoordinated, and she stumbles over her paws more than once, but with nothing else to do, she follows the voices of her loved ones: “It’ll be okay, Marshlily.” “You have to keep trying.” “Just follow my voice …”

She can’t begin to tell how long it takes—it could have been minutes or days; they’re all the same here—but eventually, as Marshlily continues in her unsteady gait, something shifts behind the rotting trees. The air here is always a bit misty, but this is different: a hulking wall of fog hangs ahead of her, condensing in mere seconds as she approaches, as if it were waiting for her. 

Tentatively, Marshlily pads through the last few trees ahead of her and into a small clearing. She can see the fog clearly from here; it writhes like something alive, but she doesn’t find herself unsettled by the breath-like undulations. Instead, she’s overwhelmed by a feeling of welcomeness and love. She takes a few steps toward it and realizes something: she can walk straight now. The jerking has stopped, and when she swallows, she finds that there’s no taste of blood in her mouth any longer. She’s thinking clearer, too. 

“Come here,” a chorus of voices says, and Marshlily grits her teeth. What if it’s a trap? What if she never gets better? What if she falls right back into the thrall of whatever—whoever—is screaming inside her head? 

But then, what other choice does she have …? It’s stay here and dissolve into nothingness or risk the pain of whatever might lie on the other side. With just enough trust to allow the warmth of it, Marshlily braces herself and runs through.

She jolts awake into a world of silence. No, it’s not silent … there’s the birds, the rustling of leaves in the wind, the rushing water of a nearby stream. What’s silent is the inside of her head: no screaming; no vicious, alien thoughts; just her own internal monologue, so much clearer than it has been in moons.

Marshlily takes a few breaths in and out, in and out, then closes her eyes shut. What if this is just a dream? What if this is the Dark Forest playing tricks on her? How can she trust it? 

Tentatively, she brings herself to her paws and stares out across the land; she’d run far from the Cavern the night before, but she’s still high enough up that she can see across all four territories from here. There’s PrairieClan’s, out in the tall grass of the moor; that over there is SerpentClan’s, wrapped in the shadows of the forest; and way on the opposite side is MoonClan’s, a mix of warm sand and tall trees. They’ve never looked so beautiful. Surely the Place of No Stars and its denizens could never create a place like this.

“Marshlily!”

The echoing voice comes from somewhere above her, and Marshlily turns to see Hornetstar bounding down the rocks, Hubert, Celebi, and Nettledawn in tow. She slows down as she approaches, her pawsteps becoming (rightfully) tentative, but she doesn’t flinch away in fright, which is more than Marshlily could ask for, really.

“Hi, everyone,” Marshlily croaks, and winces at the ache in her throat. For a brief, panicked moment, she thinks it’s blood that’s making her voice groggy; common sense kicks in when she realizes that the only thing she tastes is stale morning breath. She laughs at herself internally; of course her throat is sore, she’s been sleeping for … “How long was I gone?” 

“Days!” Hornetstar says. “You weren’t responding, just flailing around and talking to someone. Were you dreaming about Kestreltail?”

Marshlily can’t keep back a melancholy smile at the sound of her mother’s name. “A little bit.”

“Come on, stop with the chatting,” Hubert says, taking a couple steps toward Marshlily. “How are you feeling? Are you still sick?” 

Marshlily thinks on it for a long moment. The violence in her head is gone; she turns to Hornetstar and hears no disembodied urge to attack. She turns to walk a few paces this way and that, and her body doesn’t jerk, or even twitch. “I don’t think so,” she says finally, turning back to the others. “I think I might be okay.” 

As soon as the words are out of her mouth, Hornetstar is pressed up against her, purring up a storm. “I was so worried! I thought you were going to … I mean, I was scared that …”

Marshlily chuckles and nuzzles her face into Hornetstar’s shoulder. “You and me both, Hornet,” she says, voice muffled by her thick pelt. “You and me both.”

[ippnoida]

BriBooks Group launches The BriBooks Times

BriBooks, the world’s largest book writing and publishing platform for students, has announced the launch of its newest venture, The BriBooks Times – a concise newspaper crafted entirely by the platform's top young authors. This innovative publication aims to empower young journalists as creators and inform readers with fresh perspectives, all while promoting a culture of learning and curiosity.

At The BriBooks Times, young journalists follow a strict format to ensure clarity and impact: Title + What Happened + Why is it Important + Learn More (links)-all under 150 words! This concise approach ensures the content is engaging and easy to understand for readers of all ages.

“The BriBooks Times is more than a newspaper; it’s a platform for young minds to share their voice and inspire a global audience,” said Ami Dror, founder of BriBooks. “It’s our gift to these young journalists-an opportunity to showcase their talent and make a difference in the world.” The newspaper features diverse sections. 

Top of the News: The main story of the day (local to India);  International: Key global events; Technology: Explained by kids, for kids (video); Sports: Local and global highlights; Trivia Question of the Day: Interactive and thought-provoking; Science Story of the Day: Captivating discoveries (video); Entertainment: The latest in movies, music, and more; Book of the Day: Reviews of BriBooks-authored works and; Game of the Day: Video game reviews (video).

Videos are an integral part of the publication, with three sections daily featuring 59-second videos created by the young authors. These segments tackle intriguing questions like “What is the PillCam?”, “How can you predict an earthquake?”, or “When will the first human walk on Mars?”, designed to make creators shine and leave viewers feeling smarter.

The daily publication will rotate its sections to maintain variety and encourage creativity. With each article, The BriBooks Times strives to engage readers with fresh insights and empower the next generation of creators and thinkers.

[sonderden]

It's been several days and I'm still bothered by the many 3 (out of 5) star ratings for a book I just finished reading because

1) I enjoyed it a lot, and admire it from a craft perspective. I feel naturally defensive of my own enjoyment when I see others calling this work annoying or boring or meaningless. It was the first book in months I've been able to read through to the end without getting distracted and letting my library loan lapse partway through, it was genuinely compelling to me, and it had plenty of meaning about mortality and humanity and choice -- and what it means when the choice of life and death is in your own hands. People saying they didn't see any of that... I know it's honest to their experience, and it's fair in its own right, but it still bothers me that so many people said it on the book tracking app I use.

2) Several of the reviews hate the lead character, specifically, and I'm bitter about the inaccuracies of WHY they hate her -- I almlst want to reply to one reviewer in particular, "If you're going to have problems with a major character, have problems that are actually there on the page and don't invent them out of thin air." Some also hated the romantic sub-plot and said it had "unnecessary bodice-ripping" when I, personally, found it way less romance-focused than other fantasy novels I've read in the past. Again, this is probably a personal perspective thing, but compared to the books that faded to black or had a graphic sex scene every other chapter I'd say 2.5 scenes that involved so much as kissing and only 1 short bedroom scene through the entire book is pretty tame. It's fine to be upset that there was romance and/or sex, but at least be accurate about how much there was and how it was handled.

3) While I know this one is specifically due to my being a writer and that the issue it brings up is more nuanced than just "be so kind to everyone that you lose all your critical reading skills and/or ability to resonate emotionally with books and other forms of fiction," and that the average person is in fact unaware of what it means to write a whole novel or series, any review that says a book was bad or just wasn't their thing without acknowledging the work that the author put into it has the potential to discourage that author and/or others from ever making or sharing their work again and that can decrease the number of books in the world. Which sucks. It's hard to avoid, but it sucks. Sometimes I think I just shouldn't read book reviews at all, before or after my own reading of a novel/novella/series.

[humanjarvis]

the world when you're with me

synopsis: you seek out sylus for comfort after realizing you were wrong about him.

tags: comfort, fluff, implied avoidant!reader learns to trust sylus, implied avoidant!reader clings to sylus, sylus takes care of reader from afar, sylus has mephisto and the twins follow reader but wbk pairing: sylus x reader, reader is mostly mc word count: 802

a/n: is this the peak of literature? no. did i need to write it after the day i had? yes. did i need to post it today? no, because i’m trying to stagger my posts more, but here we are. anyway 4k caleb pwp coming tomorrow 

For the first few weeks after you’d infiltrated the N109 Zone, you’d avoided Sylus Qin like the plague. 

After being scared out of your wits by the first version of him you'd met—the cold, unavailable criminal mastermind who’d forced you to shoot him within 5 minutes of knowing one other—you were unashamedly wary of working with him again. 

But Sylus’s intel was unrivaled. More and more often, you found yourself visiting the N109 Zone to meet with him, eventually not even bothering to book a place to stay. There was always a guest room at the Onychinus base prepped for your arrival.

As you spent more time with Sylus, he’d noticeably changed his approach to interacting with you. Rather than forcing you to resonate with him, he’d explained to you how his Evol worked, letting you aim his hands at some training dummies to test it out yourself. Instead of unceremoniously shutting you out when he was tired, he’d drag his robe-and-slippers-clad self to sit beside you on the sofa, answering your cautious questions by practically giving away all his secrets. 

His shift in attitude hadn't stopped there. Sylus had clearly been using that endearingly incorrigible crow to keep tabs on you, but for the strangest reasons. 

Whenever you had a bad day at work, some building-wide maintenance emergency would magically appear, forcing your team to cease operations for the rest of the day. He’d text you a couple hours after your early dismissal, saying he was in the city and inviting you on an evening joyride to clear your head.  

The day after you’d lugged a case of water up the stairs to your apartment, having to pause a couple times to catch your breath, you came home to see your fridge mysteriously stocked with groceries. The only traces left behind were the masked twin figures you spotted scurrying away from your window. 

When a new phone showed up at your doorstep one day—you never even told him you’d shattered your screen, you thought—you’d decided that Sylus wasn’t as bad as you’d once assumed. Not anywhere near as bad, in fact. He was thoughtful, generous, and helped you without taking credit or forcing you to ask for it. You’d never had that before.

Which is why, somehow, you find yourself standing in the doorway of his armory, studying him silently as he polishes an antique-looking gun.

When he notices you, Sylus looks up, raising a delicately arched eyebrow. “Something wrong, kitten?” he drawls, subtly checking your body for injuries. 

Mind numb from your absolutely dreadful day, you stay silent while Sylus looks at you expectantly, his hands forgetting their earlier task. 

But for the next minute, you remain hovering in the doorway. You expect him to get annoyed—you almost want him to, so you have an excuse to go back to relying only on yourself—but all you see on Sylus’s face is patience.

When you start shuffling toward him, that patience mixes with a glimmer of anticipation that he visibly tries to suppress. You need him to be calm right now—an anchor, he thinks. If he loses his composure, if he startles you with his excitement at your approach, you might bolt at any moment. 

Sometime during his inner struggle, you reach him. Meekly, you stand before his chair, briefly opening your mouth before closing it. 

“What is it, sweetie?” he asks softly. “Tell me, and we can figure it out together. I’ll personally track down whoever seems to have stolen your words from you.”

At his offer, you break, collapsing into his lap. His large, warm hands immediately encircle your waist, and you bury your face into his neck, inhaling his leather and spice cologne. 

“Aw,” he coos in his baritone voice, rocking you slowly in his embrace. When he lifts your head an inch, you resist, letting out a soft whine. Gently, he guides your head back to his chest, his quickening heartbeat thumping in your ears and grounding you in the the moment. 

After several moments of silence, your deep, shuddering breaths the only interruptions, Sylus murmurs into your ear. “When I noticed you never ask for help, I was worried the world may not be treating as well as it should. You must be very tired, hmm?” he asks, rubbing his chin against your hair. 

Tightening your arms around him, you sit there for a while, his steady breaths seeming to mend a decades-long rift in your heart.

The next time Sylus tries to lift your head, you let him. He pulls your face from his neck so he can look into your eyes, hoping his gaze conveys his sincerity, before pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. 

“You don’t need the world when you’re with me,” he promises. “I’ll treat you better than it ever could.”

[hellsvoid]

things i've done when bored (surprisingly often on trains):

- learn all european countries

- learn all european countries' flags

- learn all U.S. states

- learn all U.S. states' capitals

- learn all canadian provinces and territories

- learn all canadian provinces' capitals

- learn all great lakes

- learn all north and central american countries

- learn all north and central american countries' flags

- learn all south american countries

- learn all south american countries' flags

- learn the navy alphabet

- learn morse code

- learn Ezekiel 25:17 in Samuel L. Jackson's intonation

- write Ezekiel 25:17 in morse code

[hermitadaymay]

WELCOME TO HERMIT-A-DAY MAY 2025!

Another year, another Hermit-a-Day May! I'm so thrilled to be able to bring this event to you all for the third year in a row.

THE RULES: 1. Any type of fanwork is welcome so long as it features, or is otherwise inspired by, the Hermit of the day. 2. Tag #hermitaday to have your fanwork reblogged, or submit it directly to the blog (Please note that while we recognize the value of fanworks involving more mature themes, and they can certainly count toward challenge completion if you're keeping track for yourself, content on this blog will be kept "PG-13" so that all may enjoy.). 3. Fanworks for one Hermit posted after the day rolls over to another Hermit's day (per the US Central time zone) will be reblogged in one big queue in June. 4. Traced or stolen work is NOT welcome. If we discover you have posted traced or stolen work, you will be given one chance to delete it and apologize, or you will be blacklisted from the blog. AI-generated/assisted pieces are similarly unwelcome and will not be featured on the blog. 5. We are not interested in seeing captions or tags in which you disparage your art/skills, and will not be reblogging posts where this happens. We're all improving all the time. Be kind to yourselves. 6. Technically not a rule, but we strongly recommend adding alt text or description to all images. Click here to learn more about writing alt text - it's pretty easy!

WHY SHOULD I PARTICIPATE? To show love to every Hermit, from the most to least subscribed, from those who have been on the server from day one to those who only joined this season! And because challenges are fun! And because we are once again out here for a good cause: we're running another fundraiser for Gamers Outreach, featuring art incentives by nine amazing artists. Learn more about our incentives in these posts:

MILESTONE REWARD POST

INDIVIDUAL REWARD POST

RAFFLE POST

WHO’S RUNNING THIS? Hi! My name is Luna! You can use ze/hir, she/her, he/him, or ro/ros/roseself pronouns for me. My main blog is @as-if-unreal. Helping me out this year is the incredible Mod Sky ( @skyspersonalhell ), who uses any pronouns!

BONUS DAY PROMPTS EXPLAINED UNDER THE CUT

FAVORITE "ALT" HERMIT - May 4th HoTGuY and Poultry-Man. Helsknight and Evil Xisuma. Renbob and - look, you get the idea. This server is full of theater kids ready to toss on an alternate skin and play into a brand new character at the drop of a hat. Who's your favorite?

OUTFIT SWAP - May 9th What would Doc look like in Cleo's Life Series leotard? How would Cub fare in Wels's armor? What laundry day mishap could lead Mumbo's suit to lose its sleeves like Skizz's? Only hilarity can come from this...

GROUPS AND COLLABS - May 14th This month is all about one Hermit a day... but what we really love is when they interact with each other. What does your favorite duo or group of Hermits get up to together?

FAVORITE BUILD - May 18th The Hermits have put thousands of hours into their builds, from cozy starter bases to the sprawling halls of Deepfrost Citadel, from idyllic natural landscapes to machines the size of mountains. Which builds have inspired you?

TFC - May 23rd While he may no longer be with us physically, TFC left behind him a legacy of quiet care and good humor, and Hermitcraft would not have been the same without him.

FRIENDS OF HERMITCRAFT - May 28th There are plenty of shows, podcasts, competitions, other servers, and more woven into the internet ecosystem around Hermitcraft, and plenty more people involved in them. Today is for celebrating all of those who, while they may not be Hermits themselves, exist and entertain in proximity to them.

[reasonsforhope]

No paywall version here.

"Two and a half years ago, when I was asked to help write the most authoritative report on climate change in the United States, I hesitated...

In the end, I said yes, but reluctantly. Frankly, I was sick of admonishing people about how bad things could get. Scientists have raised the alarm over and over again, and still the temperature rises. Extreme events like heat waves, floods and droughts are becoming more severe and frequent, exactly as we predicted they would. We were proved right. It didn’t seem to matter.

Our report, which was released on Tuesday, contains more dire warnings. There are plenty of new reasons for despair. Thanks to recent scientific advances, we can now link climate change to specific extreme weather disasters, and we have a better understanding of how the feedback loops in the climate system can make warming even worse. We can also now more confidently forecast catastrophic outcomes if global emissions continue on their current trajectory.

But to me, the most surprising new finding in the Fifth National Climate Assessment is this: There has been genuine progress, too.

I’m used to mind-boggling numbers, and there are many of them in this report. Human beings have put about 1.6 trillion tons of carbon in the atmosphere since the Industrial Revolution — more than the weight of every living thing on Earth combined. But as we wrote the report, I learned other, even more mind-boggling numbers. In the last decade, the cost of wind energy has declined by 70 percent and solar has declined 90 percent. Renewables now make up 80 percent of new electricity generation capacity. Our country’s greenhouse gas emissions are falling, even as our G.D.P. and population grow.

In the report, we were tasked with projecting future climate change. We showed what the United States would look like if the world warms by 2 degrees Celsius. It wasn’t a pretty picture: more heat waves, more uncomfortably hot nights, more downpours, more droughts. If greenhouse emissions continue to rise, we could reach that point in the next couple of decades. If they fall a little, maybe we can stave it off until the middle of the century. But our findings also offered a glimmer of hope: If emissions fall dramatically, as the report suggested they could, we may never reach 2 degrees Celsius at all.

For the first time in my career, I felt something strange: optimism.

And that simple realization was enough to convince me that releasing yet another climate report was worthwhile.

Something has changed in the United States, and not just the climate. State, local and tribal governments all around the country have begun to take action. Some politicians now actually campaign on climate change, instead of ignoring or lying about it. Congress passed federal climate legislation — something I’d long regarded as impossible — in 2022 as we turned in the first draft.

[Note: She's talking about the Inflation Reduction Act and the Infrastructure Act, which despite the names were the two biggest climate packages passed in US history. And their passage in mid 2022 was a big turning point: that's when, for the first time in decades, a lot of scientists started looking at the numbers - esp the ones that would come from the IRA's funding - and said "Wait, holy shit, we have an actual chance."]

And while the report stresses the urgency of limiting warming to prevent terrible risks, it has a new message, too: We can do this. We now know how to make the dramatic emissions cuts we’d need to limit warming, and it’s very possible to do this in a way that’s sustainable, healthy and fair.

The conversation has moved on, and the role of scientists has changed. We’re not just warning of danger anymore. We’re showing the way to safety.

I was wrong about those previous reports: They did matter, after all. While climate scientists were warning the world of disaster, a small army of scientists, engineers, policymakers and others were getting to work. These first responders have helped move us toward our climate goals. Our warnings did their job.

To limit global warming, we need many more people to get on board... We need to reach those who haven’t yet been moved by our warnings. I’m not talking about the fossil fuel industry here; nor do I particularly care about winning over the small but noisy group of committed climate deniers. But I believe we can reach the many people whose eyes glaze over when they hear yet another dire warning or see another report like the one we just published.

The reason is that now, we have a better story to tell. The evidence is clear: Responding to climate change will not only create a better world for our children and grandchildren, but it will also make the world better for us right now.

Eliminating the sources of greenhouse gas emissions will make our air and water cleaner, our economy stronger and our quality of life better. It could save hundreds of thousands or even millions of lives across the country through air quality benefits alone. Using land more wisely can both limit climate change and protect biodiversity. Climate change most strongly affects communities that get a raw deal in our society: people with low incomes, people of color, children and the elderly. And climate action can be an opportunity to redress legacies of racism, neglect and injustice.

I could still tell you scary stories about a future ravaged by climate change, and they’d be true, at least on the trajectory we’re currently on. But it’s also true that we have a once-in-human-history chance not only to prevent the worst effects but also to make the world better right now. It would be a shame to squander this opportunity. So I don’t just want to talk about the problems anymore. I want to talk about the solutions. Consider this your last warning from me."

-via New York Times. Opinion essay by leading climate scientist Kate Marvel. November 18, 2023.