Help Out Indie Writers With No Ad Budget!

writers are creatures that feed on comments by the way. if you want more of your blorbo from them, give them lovely comments. they love that and will most likely give you more fics about your blorbo

Ooo this has me so intrigued! I did not see that last part coming at all. /pos

Spooky Short Story in a Forest

"This is as far as I can take you." The man driving the taxi said as he placed the car into park on the outskirts of a lush forest. A forest that very clearly has a path wide enough for a car to drive on.

"What do you mean? Can't you drive through?" The man was looking out the car's windshield, he looked like he didn't want to deal with customers anymore.

"No. Cash or card?" He says it with a finality that makes me give up on my curiosity enough to dig out the needed cash and hand it to him. I pushed the car door open and as soon as I stepped out and shut the door, he started zooming away. I turn my head to look at the forest. Hiking my bag higher up on my shoulder, I start walking towards its entrance. When there's a will, there's a way, and I need to get to my hotel at some point today. With each step that takes me farther into the forest, my footfalls get heavier and the impact my feet have on the ground makes bigger and bigger clouds of dirt on the path. With each step, I feel a greater need to go deeper into the forest. The dense fog of leaves over the tops of the trees block the light of the sun, clouding the interior of the forest in a kind of darkness that usually only comes at night. I pull out my phone and use it as a flashlight, which doesn't prevent me from getting my foot caught in a root that grew in the middle of the path. As I lay sprawled on the dirty ground, I feel my resentment for the taxi driver grow, and now, with a bruised ego and a skinned knee, I decide to take a break. I pick myself up, walk over to a tree off to the side of the path, and drop to the floor with my bag. With my back leaning against the hard surface of the tree's trunk, I take a deep breath in. I let my eyes slip closed as I take a few more deep breaths.

"Help!" My eyes shoot open. There are quick footsteps pounding against the forest floor. A young man came from the direction of the scream. "Help!" I scrambled up off the ground, briefly forgetting how to use my legs. Following closely behind the young man is a larger man dressed in black. I quickly looked around for something I could use to defend myself, the only feasible option being a branch that had broken off of the tree I was resting at. It was about the same length and width of my arm, and when I picked it up it seemed to be as sturdy as a baseball bat. During my search, the larger man had knocked the young man to the ground, pinning him with black clad limbs. The young man was struggling to get away, moving this way and that like a mouse caught in a trap. I move as quickly and quietly as I can, stopping just behind the larger man. I raise the branch up high over my head and bring it down with every ounce of force in my body. There is no impact. The branch falls straight through the man's body, hitting and creating a dent in the ground.

"What?" I gasped, forgetting about being quiet. It doesn't take long after that for the young man's screams of terror to turn into screams of agony. All I could do was watch as a knife was plunged into the young man over and over again, creating a pool of blood that just got bigger and bigger. As the man's screams die out, both men start to become translucent. My mouth hangs open as they become more and more transparent until they're completely gone. Slowly, I turn my back and head back to the tree to grab my bag. There's a jack rabbit in my chest as a bend down. At the base of the tree, there's a name. Adam.

I really don't want to discuss this issue in greater detail, and plan to avoid doing so in the future, but I will say this:

You can be anti censorship without silencing the voices of victim's whose experiences do not conveniently back your viewpoint. We are not tools for your arguments, we are living people with lived experiences we should be allowed to express.

Also, just like you wouldn't assume someone talking about how the teachings of the Bible hurt them means they want the Bible to be censored, you shouldn't assume someone talking about how certain media hurt them or was used to groom them automatically means they want it to be censored. I was groomed by certain media, but I am anti censorship. I want to see more human potrayels of victims in media. I am still anti censorship. These things can co exist. I am not going to suddenly stop talking about it because some brain dead idiots on the internet can not fathom nuance. I promise you it is worthwhile sitting down with yourself and examining why you assume victims are always out to get you if they don't repackage their experiences in a way that kisses the ass of your world view. We are people, we are not here for your comfort or convenience. If you are not ready to hear about certain experiences, be mature and block instead of treating us as evil.

If you are using being "anti purity culture" as a weapon to silence victims, you are just as bad as the people who use purity culture to silence victims. Being "for victims" means respecting the experiences of victims viewed as "sexual weirdos" and victims viewed as "too prudish" equally. Pressuring victims to not bring their experience to the table because you constantly assume we want to censor you is a shit thing to do.

Writing Update 5/15/2025

Hi hi! For the most part, I've finished the hero side of the worldbuilding. I mostly just have to think of more holidays. Anyways, here are the categories of heroes for anyone interested (keep in mind this is a draft that needs more polish):

Commons - Heroes that represent common hopes and dreams.

Pinnacles - Heroes that represent hopes that are achievable, but need a lot of work to become reality, and depend highly on the direction of the future. This can include heroes that represent concepts like world peace or futuristic technology.

Ambitions - Heroes that represent hopes and dreams that are more personal, such as hopes for one's family, personal goals, and so on.

Unattainables - Heroes that represent human desires or dreams which can not be attained. Some are obvious like those based on things like flying or shape shifting dreams, while others are more abstract and connect to humans attempting to disregard their humanity.

Tag list: @aweirdshipp, @floofyboi57, @aralithmenathere

AH THEY'RE SO CUTE! It's also cool to learn more about their shared apartment. Like the characterization that Jesse is good at tinkering with things, which would make sense considering what we know about her mother. I literally cheered at the TV broadcast. The plot thickens and I'm pumped to see where it goes!

Chapter 3 - Jesse Slept.

As the bandage was applied, Jesse let out a soft sigh of relief. The sharp pain had gradually begun to find into a dull, persistent ache as the burn gel worked its magic.

Lira, still processing what just happened, sat with Jesse, her hands trembling slightly. Tears threated to spill over, but she fought them back. She couldn’t let this happen. Not to Jesse. Not like this.

The silence of the apartment was suffocating, a stark reminder of their isolation. The two were together, but in this moment, they were still alone. The distant wail of sirens cut through the quiet like butter, but inside, the only sound was the low hum of the air conditioning unit, a mechanical reminder of the world that kept turning outside even while they were trapped in this small, quiet space.

“I’m like a little medical doll,” Jesse choked out through tears, her voice shaking like a leaf behind the mask of confidence she attempted to wear.

Lira let out a soft chuckle before giving Jesse’s thigh a gentle, playful punch. “Just focus on staying alive…” Her voice wavered slightly, then dropped to a whisper just loud enough to hear. “…for me. Please.”

“You think I’m giving up that easy? That I’d throw away everything we’ve built together just because some bullet nicked me?”

“Well—I—no,” Lira stammered. “I-I guess I don’t think you would. But I worry you might not get much of a choice.”

Jesse gave a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “I’m not going anywhere. Not yet. Just like you.”

Tears welled up even further in the corners of Lira’s eyes. Her voice trembled. “Good. I’m just…I’m so sorry you had to take that bullet. I should’ve—”

“Don’t even start,” Jesse cut her off gently. “I stood in the way. You didn’t push me into it.”

“Jesse, we…we can’t do this forever. You know that, right?” Lira’s voice broke while tears began to stream down her cheeks. “I mean…what if that hadn’t been a glancing blow? What if the guard had better aim?”

“I’m not letting you stop me from doing what I can to avenge my mom.” Jesse’s voice was calm—uncharacteristically so. Measured. Controlled. Like she was holding something back.

“I wasn’t planning to stop you, I just—” Lira faltered, her words falling apart as she leaned into her friend, crying—actually crying—for the first time in what felt like forever.

Jesse said nothing at first. She simply wrapped her good arm around Lira and held her close, breathing in the silence between them. Then, gently—unsure why—she pressed a soft kiss to the top of Lira’s head. She didn’t think she felt that way about Lira…at least, not yet. Yet somehow, in that moment, it felt right.

Lira melted into Jesse, clinging tighter until their bodies felt indistinguishable, her cheeks flushed with heat from the kiss. “I’m gonna do better,” she whispered. “I promise you that much.”

Jesse smiled softly and turned on the TV, flipping it to a news channel. Right there on the screen is her completed tag, splashed across a corporate tower like a scar in the skyline. It’s being shown on every news network their basic cable can show.

Jesse let out a soft sigh, the pain ebbing further under the thick bandages and burn gel. The news broadcast played in the background, her tag glowing on screen beneath grainy footage of the high-rise wall. She stares, silent.

It’s done. One step closer.

But that old memory flooded through her again—her mother’s eyes, glassy and unmoving. The sound cut out around her.

Beside her, Lira felt the tension coil in Jesse’s shoulders again. She reached out and flicked Jesse on the forehead.

“Don’t go back to then,” she says, voice quiet but steady. “We can’t change what happened, only what we’re going to do to return the favor.”

Jesse’s laugh is small and dry. “Yeah…I guess you’re right.”

She’s still spiraling, Lira thinks, watching Jesse place a hand over where Lira had flicked moments ago. Every time she sees that tag, she drifts. Every time she hurts, she hides.

Jesse leans her head back against the wall. She always pulls me back. Always. I don’t know how she does it.

Lira shifts closer, brushing her hand along Jesse’s arm. She’s still bleeding for me, even now. And I don’t know if I can keep watching that happen.

Jesse catches the movement and reaches over to squeeze Lira’s hand. Neither of them says anything.

We’re both doing this for the other, she thinks. But only one of us might walk away from it. I want it to be her.

A flicker of pain washes over Jesse’s face as she shifts to lay down on the floor, settling in front of the door. The movement is slow, deliberate, as she tried to make herself more comfortable.

Lira sighed softly and scooted a few inches away, giving Jesse the space she needed, though her eyes never leave her friend. She pulled her knees to her chest, a silent watchful presence.

“Good night, Lira…and thank you,” Jesse murmurs, her voice barely a whisper, still heavy with exhaustion. She closed her eyes, pretending to drift off to sleep, hoping it will give Lira some semblance of peace.

Lira knows better. She knows Jesse isn’t actually asleep—not yet, at least.

The clock on the wall, an old analog piece Jesse fixed up with her own hands, chimed softly. The bells rung out the hour. Ring. Ring.

The familiar melody of the clock echoed in the room, providing an odd kind of comfort in the dim red light.

“I love you, Jesse…” Lira whispered, her voice so soft it barely broke the silence between them.

Jesse fought the urge to smile, her heart skipping a beat at the quiet confession. She wasn’t sure the extent of Lira’s love, but she knew she felt the same. The feeling is foreign, but powerful. After years of pushing away every emotion, this one hit harder than she expected. I love you too, Lira. She thinks, but didn’t dare speak the words. The magic of the moment was too fragile to break.

The pain in Jesse’s shoulder came back in waves, making it feel as if hours had passed. She didn’t move a muscle, desperate to maintain the fragile peace that hung in the air.

Lira counted the seconds every time Jesse’s breath hitched even slightly, keeping track, making she she knew exactly how often it happened—and whether she needed to step in. Whether that meant dragging her to a hospital like she knows she should have done from the start, or springing into action like she always had. This was too much compared to her usual patch jobs. Too different. Too dangerous for her to be the only one working on it.

On the other hand, she knew that if she tried to take Jesse to the hospital now—not even three hours after their little adventure at the Omnigen building—she’d be risking the cops getting to Jesse first.

Jesse shifted slightly, the slight rustle of clothing catching Lira’s attention.

The fragile stillness shattered, replaced by a wave of nerves as Lira watched Jesse like a hawk, heart racing, ready to act if she had to.

Jesse assumed by now that Lira would be asleep. She mumbled, “Fuck, this hurts…Mom, I hope you’re proud of me…”

“You kidding?” Lira’s voice is soft, laced with concern. “Of course she’d be proud of you, Jesse…You went and tagged the main building of the corporation that took both your home and her life.”

Jesse froze, realizing she wasn’t as alone as she initially thought. “Y-Yeah…Right…I guess I did do that…”

Lira let a soft giggle escape her lips and nodded, “Damn right you did. You even beat me to it.”

There was a beat of silence, and then Jesse’s voice floated out, a bit more monotone, drained, forced. “Do you think…tomorrow’s pain is going to be worse..?”

“Whatever happens, we’re still here. That’s what matters.”

Jesse turns her head to look at Lira, lost for words, and offered a small, soft smile.

Lira reached out, brushing her hand along Jesse’s face and rubbing her thumb across Jesse’s cheek.

The moment hung between them—fleeting, but feeling like it could last forever. Both of them were smiling quietly, wordlessly, grateful just for the chance to exist together in this shattered world.

After what felt like hours of unspoken words and emotions, Jesse finally surrendered to sleep, letting it take her into the night.

Lira sighed softly, watching her, before finally nestling her chin between her knees and closing her eyes.

“omg you’re so creative. how do you get your ideas” i hallucinate a single scene in the taco bell drive thru and then spend 13 months trying to write it

approaching the wip carefully from the side like a skittish animal. speaking in a low, gentle voice so it doesn’t run away

Writing update 5/8/2025

It's time for another writing update. Still working on Every Hero Needs a Villain, my object head project. I'm making my way through the character bios. I am trying to just get the basics down, then I'll go over them again and add more personality. Here's Spark's description, because I thought it was cute:

They have a gently yellow and ruffled lamp shade with a lighter and brighter light bulb on their head. They typically wear a skirt that matches paired with a lighter blouse or suit top. Their clothes typically having a shimmering or glittery component to them. They sometimes wear different lamp shades for different effects, having a particular fondness for colorful glass lamp shades for special events, or cloth dotted lamp shades when they're feeling cute. Sometimes they don't even wear a lamp shade for emphasis.

I definitely want to edit it for readability, but so far so good! I hope to have all the bios down by the end of the week, and will notify y'all on Sunday if this is the case.

Taglist: @aweirdshipp, @floofyboi57, @aralithmenathere

Big fan of tragedies where nobody died but these people will haunt each other forever

Don’t mind me, I’m just sitting in a dark room reading my writing out loud like a dramatic narrator to see if it’s working.