#JUST PLOT

[tnsophiaonly]

Imagine like you're reading, watching, playing, listening to a book, fanfiction, game, anime, movies, etc., And being the simp you are, always thinking about these characters. Wishing you were there.

But little did you know, the characters themselves think about you, maybe EVEN more than you. Like they cherish every breath, hair, presence, molecule or everything about you.

"Oh how you make me crazy, wishing I could hold your hand but such walls and dimensions depart as from our destiny, if it was only scripted for me to break into your world.."

"I love you dearly, but you're real..."

"Do you think about me? Everyday, every night, every breath, every second, every time, just always? You don't think about others do you?"

"You look so divine [name], I wish I was real like you.. or maybe you're fictional like me.."

You wish they were real too don't you? (Unless they are weirdos/creeps or maybe a menace, maybe not) Why are fictional characters better than real people? Because fictional characters are made to your liking, unlike real people../hj

Why do I srsly want this to be a fanfic, maybe make one and put it in my drafts? Omg the plot... I'm already thinking!! But the motivation..... Anyways you all gotta go and vote on chapter 2 so I can work on chapter 3 already!!!

Love y'all ♡

[shootingstarwritings]

FEStival Fiasco

Part 6

Phecda’s little safe house was near the outskirts of the exam site. A simple apartment building with walls neatly decorated as though a prince lived in them.

‘Maybe that’s why he picked that host,’ thought Centaurus as he made his way down the halls and towards the lobby. Everything was far too pristine, far too unnaturally beautiful. It wasn’t unlike the buildings back at Terras, home world. This place was probably familiar for an Elite like him.

Elite…

“Worms don’t make for such fine test subjects,” Phecda had said. The words still bothered Centaurus. What had he been trying to imply? And did Centaurus want to know? Just the idea of being considered a ‘test subject’ annoying him to no end.

“Is he saying I’m not a worm…?” Centaurus muttered out loud. A few passing residents spared him a glance, the curiosity clear in their expressions. However, Centaurus didn’t pay them much mind. He only wanted to see if their body language betrayed any intent to fight.

Was Phecda suggesting that Centaurus was somehow better than his peers?

“Sunuvabitch,” he muttered as he walked past the automatic doors. Golden flowers and vines made of fine metals decorating the glass. The sheer lavishness of it all made him ill. He was glad to be leaving the building. Taking his first step forward, his gaze instantly shifted to the professor leaning up against the wall just a few feet away from the entrance.

Professor Polaris’ eyes didn’t widen when they wandered over to Centaurus. His pose, lax shoulders and a hunched back, remained static as he spoke up. “Ah! Quite fortunate, seeing you here,” he said, lazily raising his arm in a small greeting. Despite his attempts to seem casual, he had been expecting Centaurus. Polaris should’ve been at least a bit surprised or had some sort of reaction to seeing him.

‘What is he playing at?’ thought Centaurus. ‘He was waiting for me.’

Even after several hours, Polaris retained the same host. For whatever reason, whenever he found a body he didn’t seem to enjoy discarding it until the mission was over. Centaurus had once overheard a student from another class refer to Polaris as ‘overly sentimental.’

“How have you been, Centaurus?” said Polaris as he approached. “I trust your tasks have been finished?”

“Professor,” said Centaurus with a curt nod. “Is there something you need?” Answering his question, for whatever reason, didn’t feel right at the moment. It’d be better to just remain discreet. Centaurus also noticed that Polaris’ stance was unusually lax. His knees were straight, his hands were in his pockets, and his feet weren’t far apart. Weren’t soldiers, especially those with stories histories like Polaris, supposed to be more serious? Despite how little humans knew of their existence, the planet was still enemy territory.

“No, not quite what I need. But I do wish to inform of some of your classmates’ conditions. Particularly that of Alcor.” Centaurus’ eyes widened, and he cursed his sudden reaction.

“What does Alcor have to do with me?” he said, attempting to remain casual.

Polaris shrugged. “From what I can tell, nothing. But that reaction is certainly interesting. Usually you just shrug and dismiss me whenever I discuss your classmates with you.”

“Well, what’s the news on Alcor?”

“He’s gone,” said Polaris, eyes brimming with… pride? Amusement? Centaurus couldn’t tell. “Left the testing grounds, and it doesn’t appear he’s returning. For all intents and purposes, he has gone AWOL.”

“Oh, I’m surprised,” said Centaurus with a shrug. He had managed to regain his composure. Just a few more exchanges and he’d walk away and be home free. “For all his talk, I wouldn’t have guess he’d just up and vanish. Guess he was all bark and no bite.” He said, forcing a snicker.

“Aww… is that any way to talk about your new friend?” Despite his teasing words, Polaris’ eyes almost looked sympathetic. Centaurus didn’t respond. He dropped his arms to the sides and glared at his professor. “You know, Centaurus… to live freely is to give other freedom. To gift him that chance to escape, that opportunity to shape his own life and future, is something beautiful. Did it feel rewarding?”

“...Why aren’t you reprimanding me?” asked Centaurus, narrowing his eyes. “You almost sound proud of me. Why? Shouldn’t I be…I don’t know, expelled? Punished? Even just scolded?”

Polaris didn’t stop smiling. Instead, he turned around and gestured for Centaurus to follow. “Walk with me. We should talk privately.” Before Centaurus could respond, Polaris had already begun walking off. They were headed towards a more populated part of the fair. Not far from them was a closed, unattended booth. That was most likely his destination.

“H-Hey, wait damn it!” Centaurus ran to catch up with Polaris’ stride. The professor’s host had longer legs, and he almost seemed determined to leave him behind. “Asshole…” Centaurus muttered once he finally caught up. “… it was bittersweet.”

“Hmm?”

“You asked me how it felt—with Alcor. It felt, still feels, bittersweet.” It had been a brief connection, but it was one of the few that Centaurus had ever made. To watch it go and ride off towards a land promising freedom tore at his heart. It was difficult not being envious. “He’s fine, he’ll be happy, out there. But, I’m still here. Still the same.” He looked up at the sky. The sun was beginning to descend, dyeing the world a vivid orange. Everyday, the sky changed hues.

“I try to change,” continued Centaurus, looking down at his rough, scarred hands. It was unfamiliar to him, and yet he still remained the same worm he always was. The faces he wore and the memories he ingested were all different, yet the scars he bore and the faint hope he clung onto remained the same.

Static. Stagnant.

“I wish I could’ve gone with him. I wish I could’ve escaped and shaped my own future with my own hands. But I was scared.” His voice cracked as he spoke. His host’s heart was racing, each thump an agonizing reminder of his own life. Why had he survived while other worms didn’t? Why did he continue to live? “I always thought becoming a Dreadfighter, becoming someone, would bring me happiness and freedom. And maybe it will. But I still wonder why I didn’t just run away with my friend. Why just being someone to Alcor wasn’t enough to let me run alongside him.” He looked up at Polaris. “Professor, did I make the right choice? Or am I just weak?”

“I can’t say,” he said. “No one can know what choice is the right one. We simply choose and allow the consequences to play out. If we don’t like them, we just deal with outcome and make another choice later down the line. That’s what life is, Centaurus. That’s the beauty and terror of freedom.” Polaris raised his arm and stopped Centaurus in his tracks. “And you made your decision. You chose to help Alcor find freedom, Centaurus. Extending a hand out in kindness, even after facing so much abuse from others, from your own kind, takes a type of strength I deeply envy.”

Stepping forward to stand in front of Centaurus’ host, Polaris placed a hand on Centaurus’ borrowed chest and squeezed. “Your heart is scarred, and it remains strong. It’s so easy to hurt someone else because you’ve been hurt. But you chose differently, Centaurus. As your teacher, I am so very proud of the choice you made.”

“Professor, I…”

Before either of them could continue, “A-HEM,” a loud and deliberate cough cut them off. They both turned to face a round-faced women with a babbling infant in her hands. “Pride is important and all, but please don’t grope each other where kids can see you.” Polaris withdrew his hands, muttering a sheepish apology as his ears turned red. “Thank you.” With a huff, the woman walked off.

The two stood there in silence before Polaris let out a snicker. “Snrk…! Heheh…! Here I was trying to be all emotional that I forgot humans don’t share such intimacy with each other.” It wasn’t long before he was full-on laughing, shoulders bouncing up and down as that little embarrassed joy filled the air.

Centaurus joined in for a second with a few light-hearted chuckles, but remained paranoid the whole time. “Professor, what’s the real reason you wanted to speak to me?”

“Ah, yes, yes!” nodded Polaris. “Come. We should talk privately.” He walked over to the booth’s closed curtains and gestured for Centaurus to walk in. He didn’t. After a few moments of waiting, he nodded and said, “Smart. Don’t show your back to someone if you’re not 100% certain you can trust them.”

“It’s just common sense.”

“Not to those who can afford it. Those we call ‘Elites.’ I do apologize that to you it is common sense, Centaurus. Or for anyone, in that war-fueled society of ours.” Polaris stepped into the darkened booth first, and Centaurus cautiously followed.

“There’s a lot that needs to be said,” said Polaris, his voice dropping low and losing any of the levity it previously had. “And some that can only be shown to be believed. But I suppose there’s no easy way to ease someone into this next bit of news.

“Centaurus, our society relies on the weak thrown and killed on the front lines or dying in the mines for resources to fuel our machines and weapons to fight. Or even as slaves, not servants, to Elites who see them as lesser.” With each word he uttered, his voice became softer and somber. The look in his eyes, a bit harder to tell in the dark booth, grew dull and damp. It was as if speaking about this was sucking the life out of him.

“War and hierarchy are intrinsic parts of our society,” he continued. “And this decades-long war, having started long before I was even born, allowed for technological prosperity, but social stagnation. It makes sense, doesn’t it? We can’t move forward without risking stability, and no one wants that in the middle of wartime.

“But, Centaurus… you, me, and all who have died and lived in the 20 years have been living a lie. The war has been over. Our Emperor has made fools of us all.”

[these-detestable-hands]

I hope romantic subplots go out of style in the near future

[asteroidtroglodyte]

[lgbtlunaverse]

The world exists in such a baffling state of simultaneous sex-aversion and sex-hegemony. Every social platform on the internet is trying to banish sex workers to the shadow realm but I can't post a tweet without at least two bots replying P U S S Y I N B I O. People are self-censoring sex to seggs and $3× but every other ad you see is still filled with half-naked women. Rightwingers want queer people arrested for so much as existing in the same postal code as a child and are also drumming up a moral panic about how teenage boys aren't getting laid enough. I feel like I'm losing my mind.

[apollos-boyfriend]

we have GOT to kill tiktok/twitter self-censorship i just witnessed a grown adult say the word “smex” out loud to our professor

[mychemicalbrromance]

Guys ive been reading peak

[nihilnovisubsole]

do you ever find yourself bedeviled by writing ideas that are the equivalent of finding a single carrot in your fridge. your brain goes "we should write a pirate story" or "we should write a parisian thief caper" and you ask, "all right, what do we cook with that, then?" and it says "no other ingredients (:"

[dear-ao3]

pov your ex held your collection of thrifted spoons hostage for over a year (not entirely his fault, they got mixed up in his things during a move and you did not realize it, though he did adamantly deny that he had them) and reached out to your roommate on instagram nine months post break up after being thoroughly blocked for several months just to ask if you were still roommates and then to very cryptically reveal that he had in fact found the spoons (among other, mystery items that he did not reveal and you also have no idea what they are) in his car that he had not driven for a year cause he decided to make the worst financial decision of his life and buy a tesla and then tried to coordinate a meet up to drop off said spoons and mystery items which you did not want but you do want your spoons so you told him to either mail it or show up to your place of work when you were not scheduled only for him to entirely miss the point and still try to see you, then you reveal that you do not want to see him so he finally says that he will put on his big boy pants and mail it (though him actually mailing it is entirely unlikely) and also aparently hes gotten a perm since the last time you saw him and it looks terrible

[reipx]

This is basically what happened after Jin lan city right

[bamsara]

I think that one thing people fail to understand is that unsolicited literary criticism coming from an online stranger who is reading with no knowledge of what the authors intended goal is, is not going to be received the same as say: the authors beta reader or friends who know what the authors intended goal and has the sufficient knowledge and input to help the author reach that desired outcome.

"But I'm only trying to be helpful" How do I know you have the knowledge and literary skill for you to be able to actaully do that when we don't know each other and you are essentially a stranger to me? Are you applying this criticism based out of personal biased experience and desire to see the story or characterization be driven in another direction or tweaked, or do you know the author's intentions for the character? If the story is incomplete, are you basing your criticism of a character on the incomplete narration with only partial information available of them or are you building up a report until the story's completion? Did the author provide you with the information needed to make a fully informed criticism?

Have you discussed with the author what their plans are or are you assuming them based off the narration, especially if the narration is proven or implied to be unreliable or missing key points of the plot? Are you unbiased enough to help them reach their desired outcome for the characters and story regardless of your personal feelings towards the characters/antagonists and setting? Can you handle being told your specific input isn't wanted because you're a reader and/or have no written anything relating to their genre or topic? Do you understand and respect that the author's personal experiences might influence their writing and make it different than how you would have done it personally? Do you understand if an author only wants input from a specific demographic relating to their story?

If it's for fanfiction or other hobby media, are you holding a free hobby to a professional standard? Are you trying to give criticism because you feel like the author has produced 'subpar job performance' of their fic? Are you viewing their work as a personal intimate outlet or something that must conform with mass media? Are you applying rules and guidelines when the fic is shared for simple sharing sake? Is your criticism worded appropriately and focused on the parts where the author has requested input on rather than a general dismissal and or disapproval?

Have you put yourself in a place where you assumed you have the input needed for the story to evolve better, or have you asked what the author needs and what they're having trouble with? Can you handle having your criticism rejected if the author decides their story doesn't need the change and not take it as a personal offense against your character? Are you crossing that boundary because you think you are doing the author a favor? Are you trying to be helpful, or do you just want to be?

I think sometimes when people hear authors go 'please don't give me unsolicited writing advice or criticism' they automatically chalk it up to 'this author doesn't want ANY constructive feedback on their stuff at all' and not "i already have trusted individuals who will help me with my writing goals and- hey i don't know you like that, please stop acting so overly familiar with me'

[pokimoko]

I can't keep being fundamentally changed as a person by animated movies, it's just not sustainable.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

brain please wake up and draw

bonus :

[raepliica]

i think they should take turns cuddling for healing purposes

[collgeruledzebra]

the thing about trying to recommend fiction podcasts to someone who isn't familiar with them is that not only are so so many genres represented but also the level of production can fall anywhere from "basically an audiobook" to "major motion picture minus the pictures"

[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

We all know the semi-canonical ‘all the Robins know to hide/duck inside of Batman’s cape, even as adults’ thing.

We also know that Danny ‘is LITERALLY a ghost’ Fenton sucks at remembering his own intangibility while ALSO forgetting to look ahead of him.

All I’m saying is, Danny Fenton (or Phantom, if you’d really like) would absolutely SLAM into Batman on accident while running on roof tops and Bruce ‘Brooding Instinct’ Wayne doesn’t even think twice about letting the kid hide and scanning around for danger before there’s a record scratch of ‘wait who tf is this?’ kicks in.