#dystopia writing

[myjetpack]

My latest @guardian books cartoon.

[whereserpentswalk]

Imagine if a zombie apocalypse happened and nobody cared. It didn't really effect wealthier areas because guards would shoot them down. There's some paranoia that zombies would overrun humans but society never really breaks down.

You'd hear about infested areas out in the rust belt, where entire towns were overtaken by the undead. And mabye you'd see a zombie or two when you're in a really bad neighborhood and you have to cross the street. Most undead are harmless outside of large groups, but it's always good to stay safe.

And if you go to an area that's completely overun things really will look like the apocalypse. And there's something exciting about that. Society is interested in those ghost towns, not as a tragedy, but as a spectacle. You've seen reality TV where people will head into the worst of the outbreak with nothing more then a knife and a camera, all while the locals look on wishing someone could take them back.

Most people don't think about zombies. They're just another thing in the world that sucks right now. Occasionally there's a reminder of them, but eventually you forget why anyone is even afraid at all. It seems so normal.

One of your coworkers was attacked the other day by a zombie. Nobody really knew her well. The main thing people were talking about at the office when it comes to her is how lucky she is the be in the hospital having her wounds treated and disinfected, instead of stuck at work. Someone as young as her is expected to be able to fight one off, mabye she did it on purpose. Nobody was still making jokes when they realized she died, people aren't supposed to die that way if they're rich enough to work in an office.

The apocalypse isn't enough to end society. Society is meant to be more resilient then reality, that's the point.

[feminist-space]

By Frank Landymore

Excerpt:

"Now, he was tasked with polishing up the AI's lackluster prose, and, to quote the BBC, "make it sound more human." If only there was a way of doing that with, uh, human writers.

Soon, Miller was the only human employee left on the team. It was down to him, and him alone, to fix up all the AI-generated articles.

"All of a sudden I was just doing everyone's job," Miller told the BBC. "Mostly, it was just about cleaning things up and making the writing sound less awkward, cutting out weirdly formal or over-enthusiastic language."

"It was more editing than I had to do with human writers, but it was always the exact same kinds of edits," he added. "The real problem was it was just so repetitive and boring. It started to feel like I was the robot."

And so Miller found himself in the unenviable position of legitimizing the intrusion of AI into his very own job by making the extremely fallible models appear more capable than they actually are. This hasn't been a fate exclusive to writers; in the service industry, for example, an army of underpaid, outsourced workers secretly worked behind the scenes to power the "AI" drive-thrus at the fast food chain Checkers."

Miller was cornered into that position, but across the industry, being an AI fixer-upper has quickly become a dominant new form of grunt work.

"We're adding the human touch, but that often requires a deep, developmental edit on a piece of writing," Catrina Cowart, a US-based copywriter who's edited AI text, told the BBC. "It's tedious, horrible work, and they pay you next to nothing for it.""

[damien-wolfram-art]

The Uchiha Clan leader's slow descent into madness

"I longed for The Flame- stared into it for so long that I became blind to how it wounded me. Now, I can hardly see, and the fire is consuming me."

This is a submission for, @hashimada-week

@anannua hint hint

[thingsthatcometomymindwheniwrite]

writing tips blogs: “to make your character feel real and relatable you need to take a little from them.”

dystopian writers: “On it boss!” *turns to main character and points at them with a pencil* “No bitches, no family, no limbs, no hope, no healing, no rest, no peace, no clue, no wisdom, no help, no freedom, no redemption, no happy end, no comfort, no safety, no food, no mercy, no dignity, no conclusion, no impact, ONLY WAR.”

[siriuslyobsessedwithfiction]

I hope one day YA fantasy and dystopia authors will realize just because the target audience are teenagers, it's not necessary to dumb down the concept and every aspect of war and its consequences. Yes, war is an unimaginable horror and you cannot write the gruesome and psychologically scarring details in YA, but it still should be treated as a horror and not something glorious or easily fixed. The characters cannot fight in a war in one book and be just fine in the next. You can make light of the situation without making it out to be a light situation. It's actually harmful and sends the wrong message.

If they're worried about the readers not liking it, may I remind you The Hunger Games trilogy didn't shy away from showing what war is and it's still considered one of the best YA books to this day. Harry Potter, which is considered a children's book, portrayed a corrupt government, silent overtaking of power, disappearings and mass panic fairly well.

Teenagers and young adults might not be ready for adult books, but if authors choose to write a heavy topic such as war in YA books, they should deliver it well, even if it's vague, rather than prettify the image and distort the facts.

It's insulting, even. We know what war is. We see it on the news. We see it on the internet even if we don't want to see it. Some of our loved ones have experienced it. Sometimes it's like the authors forget their books are read by people from all around the world.

"It's supposed to be an escape from the real world"- well then, give the book a happy ending. Or abandon writing war altogether and embrace the whimsy.

[my-forgotten-notepad]

Writblr tip and trick link Masterpost

the followring a bunch of links to a variety of tumblr blogs discussing things from fight scenes, types of romance, antagonists and how to flavour dialogue descriptors and how to build the voice and logic of your characters.

emotion chart

subplots

emotional writing tips

words other than said

character profile

body language

types of villains

elements of a fight scene

romance

action scenes

writers block

character flaws/buffs

rules for writers

Character's voice

sci-fi/dystopia/utopia genre post

virtue to vice spectrum

eldritch madness definition

dialogue options

expression descriptors

eldritch madness 2

trope, theme, archetype, motif and cliche

example of predestined outcome

a unique perspective on female representation in fiction

disguising a character's powerlevel with dialogue and physicality

notebook.ai (character construction/worldbuilding app)

narrative archetypes

how to create an impactful action heroine

eldritch madness 3

villain value system

writing advice

use of lifespan in a work

character profile 2

dialogue options 2

I want to have all these links here and easily available for reading and re-reading if an when I need them rather than needing to relentlessly dig through all of my likes to find any of the relevant material I want to look over. I hope other's find them as accessible and as usable as I do.

[oliversrarebooks]

we'll make great pets

This bit of pet whump was partially inspired by Stray by @sowhumpshaped and by my innate desire to write protagonists who are kind of assholes.

tw: pet whump, dehumanization, brainwashing, involuntary drugging, captivity, abuse, dystopia, whumper turned whumpee

"Morning, Scout," said Max in a groggy mumble as he ruffled his pet's hair. His pet looked up at him with adoring eyes, as always. It was curled up safe and warm in its nest under a pile of weighted and woolen blankets, and Max couldn't help but be momentarily jealous. He'd love to slide back into his warm bed, but the driver would be here soon and his dad would kill him if he kept skipping out on his stupid business classes. 

Pets didn't have to worry about any of that. They didn't have to worry about boring-ass college lectures or overdue papers or their parents riding their ass about the family legacy. All they had to do was eat, sleep, and obey their masters. Must be nice, in a way.

"Here, I brought you breakfast." As Scout sat up, yawning adorably and rubbing the sleep out of its eyes, Max tossed it a breakfast packet in one of its favorite flavors, egg and cheese. Max always bought it the good stuff, premium pet food with lots of protein and all-natural, high quality ingredients. His pet ate as good as he did, most days. Scout happily slurped up the food as Max refilled its water bottle and dumped its pills out into his hand. 

"Down the hatch, boy," he said, popping the pills into his pet's mouth and quickly following it up with the water bottle before it could spit the pills out. Scout was well-behaved, having come from one of the finest pet facilities on the Eastern seaboard, but it was sometimes a little fussy about its pills. Max's dad used to slap and yell at the poor thing as though it were capable of knowing better. It had been a lot happier since accompanying Max to college, several hours away from his parents. So had Max.

With his pet all settled, Max turned to his closet to dress himself. Half his clothes lay in a pile on the floor where he'd tossed them aside, dissatisfied, the other day. The housekeeper wouldn't be coming until tomorrow so he'd just have to live with that. "I can't believe how trash all these clothes are. I gotta go shopping. Don't you think so, Scout?"

Scout nodded from his bed.

"Exactly. You get it. Just don't tell Dad how much I've been spending. It's our little secret, okay?" He ruffled Scout's hair as it laughed softly. Scout rarely ever spoke, much less gave up any of Max's secrets. It was a bad habit of Max's to talk to Scout as if it were a person, especially when no one else was around. Scout had been a birthday present for Max's seventh birthday, back when he'd been his parents' great hope instead of their great disappointment, and he couldn't help spoiling it a bit.

Max finally settled on a 90s inspired outfit with a bold floral print, paired with chunky jewelry and an oversized watch. He admired himself in the mirror, slicking back his hair and appreciating his flashy fashion sense.

The next thing was to delve into Scout's clothes to find something complementary. Scout's wardrobe was nearly as large as Max's, and far less constrained, since no one expected a pet to be dressed in the latest designer fashion. Max was free to outfit it in thrift store finds and homemade altered goods, soaking up the compliments he received on his picture perfect pet. 

Fashion was his passion, after all. His parents just didn't get it.

His phone was buzzing insistently by the time he finished up with Scout, and so he grabbed a granola bar, clasped Scout's leash on, and dashed out the door to the driver. Scout lay its head in Max's lap in the backseat of the black SUV as Max checked his schedule for the day. He groaned and suppressed the urge to fling his phone out the window when he saw his entire morning would be filled with Economics 300 and Business Negotiations II. 

Screw it, he'd just sleep through those. He could scrape a C no matter what he did, and Cs got degrees.

In the afternoon he had -- ugh, he'd forgotten that mandatory pet testing was today. It was required each year from everyone between the ages of sixteen and twenty-four, designed to make sure the pets occurring naturally in the human population were found and given appropriate treatment. It was, of course, trivially easy to pass if you were a person, but it was over three hours long and insanely dull.

Max had always passed with flying colors, of course. It was ludicrous to even test the heir and scion of the Parkington Corporation, as if he could be a pet, but it was federal law and apparently not possible to buy his way out of it. 

His little brother, the obnoxiously hardworking golden child who could do no wrong in their mother's eyes, had passed his first pet test just last week, and of course their mother had thrown a disproportionate celebration. Max never got a cake and presents for something as silly as passing a pet test, that was for sure, but darling little Robbie was a genius no matter what he did.

Like it was so hard to prove that you're human.

A soft noise stirred Max out of his thoughts. Scout was looking up at him with a concerned expression. "It's all right, boy," Max soothed, running his fingers through his pet's silky hair. "Just gonna be a crap day. You don't have anything to worry about."

The car pulled up to the main building of McKinnon University, just a few blocks away from the Parkington Building her family had donated a few generations back. Fifteen minutes and one purchase of an enormous latte later, Max was dropping off Scout at one of the university's pet lounges. Pets weren't allowed in educational settings, of course, as too much mental stimulation was bad for them. It was a shame, as Max always found it easier to focus with Scout curled at his feet.

"Be a good boy, Scout," he said, ruffling its hair and handing it its favorite plush cow. "I'll be back soon."

Scout leaned into the touch with a dazed smile on its face. Its morning pills always made it drowsy, so Max knew it'd probably sleep most of the morning. They could go out for a walk in the park once Max was done with classes and his test, maybe play some frisbee, get some exercise.

With no small reluctance, Max left his pet behind and trudged to the lecture hall, ignoring the dirty look from the professor as he took his seat ten minutes late.

The classes seemed to drag on forever, as Max floated in and out of sleep, only catching bits and pieces of his professor's droning and powerpoint presentations before his eyes slid shut again. It didn't matter, none of this mattered. His parents' company was mostly run by the board anyway. He'd just let them handle all that shit while he built his fashion empire, his haute couture gracing celebrities at the Met Gala. Clothes that would make waves, clothes that would make people smile, clothes that would make people look good and feel good. What was even the point of being young and rich if he couldn't have fun?

Finally, Max was released from his last morning class, having learned precisely nothing. He had enough time to grab a bite to eat before the pet test, so he picked up Scout from the pet lounge and headed to a campus cafe that made a great quinoa bowl. He needed the protein and greens if he was gonna stay focused during the godawful pet test. 

Since he had a few quiet moments to himself, he pulled out his sketchbook and began drawing out some ideas for a portfolio. Seeing the pet lounge this morning had got him thinking of comfortable and basic looks -- oversized sweaters, leggings, pastels, messy bedhead. Maybe a touch of academia, too, with chunky glasses and pleated skirts. One good thing about campus was that there was never a shortage of people and clothes to draw.

"Hey, Maxie!" Nathan was calling him from clear across the quad, his voice almost as loud as his jacket. He was, unfortunately, one of Max's closest friends since grade school, as their families lived in the same area and they went to the same vacation spots a lot. "Nice outfit. Love the colors."

"Thanks. Love the tiger print."

Nathan laughed. "You hate it, don't even pretend you don't. Hey, Scout." He knelt down to the pet's level as Scout nuzzled against him. "Want some chocolate, boy?"

"Hey, don't feed my pet human food. It's not good for it."

"A little chocolate's not gonna kill it. It's not a dog, you know." Nathan plopped in the chair across from Max as Scout happily munched the chocolate bar. "Whatcha drawing?" He pulled Max's sketchbook from his hands without warning. "Oh, nice. She looks awfully cozy for a stick-thin supermodel."

"That's the idea," said Max, taking his sketchbook back. "I was thinking of the aesthetics behind places like pet lounges and schools and --"

"Excuse me, can I have a moment of your time, please?"

They looked up to see a student with mouse-brown hair and wardrobe to match, clutching a sky-blue clipboard. Max groaned inwardly. A fucking survey or petition or some crap.

"Um, I'm with the Student Ethics for Pets Association..."

Of course it was SEPA. They infested the campus year-round, but they were always out in full force when there was a pet-related event, like the mandatory testing or the annual Pet Festival. 

"I'm not interested," said Max. He agreed with the ethical treatment of pets, obviously, and if that was what SEPA was about, he'd be all for it. But they weren't just against mistreatment of pets, they were against pets entirely, even going so far as to claim that some pets were humans who had been unfairly forced into pet facilities.

"Most pet owners mean well, but they don't know the realities of the cruel tactics facilities use to train pets," she said, trying to push a pamphlet at Max. "Dangerous drug cocktails that result in intelligence and memory loss, brainwashing devices to ensure compliance, restraints that cause permanent joint damage..."

Max couldn't help his blood starting to boil. "I don't know where you think I got my pet from, but it wasn't some cheap pet mill in the slums that tortures pets. Scout lives better than I do. Does it look mistreated to you?" 

"That's not the only problem with pet ownership. There's also the mandatory pet tests. How do we know that people aren't getting caught up in the inhumane pet treatments due to a flawed test?"

"Yeah, right. The pet test is super easy to pass if you're not a pet." Down by his feet, Scout was pressing against his legs, clearly stressed and whimpering. If this kept up, he'd have to Tag Scout, and he hated to do it. "For someone who cares about pet ethics, you sure don't care that you're upsetting my pet."

"All I'm saying is --"

"All I'm saying is get the hell out of here with your propaganda and leave me alone."

"Fine, I can take a hint," she said, turning on her heel and flouncing away. 

Max scowled after her. SEPA was such a ridiculous organization. They would try to reel students in with reasonable-sounding arguments about saving abused pets and then start with their radical bullshit. It happened to gullible students all the time, and they'd go and look like idiots chaining themselves to pet training facilities and showrooms. "Friggin' ridiculous," he said, looking over at Nathan, who was watching the girl leave. "Nathan?"

"Huh? What'd you say?"

"Nathan, you don't actually believe any of that, do you?"

"What, SEPA stuff? Nah, not really," said Nathan, taking a long drink of his soda. "But don't you ever think about it?"

"Think about what?"

"What if the test is wrong sometimes? What if actual people get carted away to some pet facility and treated like a pet?" he said. "Wasn't there that girl who got taken from here a couple years back...?"

"Oh yeah, Victoria... Victoria what's-her-face. Her dad owned some tech startup, right, and it tanked after his daughter turned out to be a pet. That's gotta be super embarrassing for her family."

"Yeah, but... what if it's actually wrong sometimes?"

"You're not seriously worried that you're gonna fail the pet test, are you?" Max laughed. "C'mon, that doesn't happen. That pet probably knew deep down what it was. It was just pretending to be human 'cause it was afraid of getting caught. That's why they need the training and stuff, right?"

"I guess," said Nathan.

"Scout failed its test when it was my age, too," he said. "But, like, it was obviously failing out of college, getting super stressed all the time, crying in class... because it's hard for pets to pretend to be human. Don't you think the other way would be messed up, too, if we forced pets to just pretend to be human forever?"

"Yeah, that would be pretty messed up. They wouldn't be happy like that. I just don't like having to take this stupid test every year."

"Only a couple more years for us and we'll be done with it." Max's phone alarm went off. "Oh damn, we'd better get going if we're going to make it to the test on time. I don't wanna have to take the makeup test." They stood up, but Scout remained on the ground, curled up into a ball and whining. "Scout?"

"Is it okay?"

"It's upset 'cause of that crazy girl from SEPA. You can go on ahead, I've gotta get Scout calmed down," he said. 

"Alright. Good luck on the test." 

"Yeah, you too," he said, as though they needed it. He crouched down to eye level with his pet. "Hey, Scout, what's the matter?"

Scout flinched, shrinking away from Max. That was really strange. He hadn't acted like that with anyone but Max's dad.

"You gotta relax, boy. It's okay. I'm not gonna let some SEPA person liberate you or whatever," he said. "They let pets in the test room, but only if you can be calm. If you can't calm down, I'll have to Tag you."

Max should've know that would only upset Scout more. Scout backed away as best as it could, pulling at the leash, starting to actually cry. Shit. He couldn't leave Scout at the pet lounge like this, either. He didn't have a choice.

"All right, then, Scout, kneel."

Scout shook its head rapidly. "No," it said, almost too quietly to hear.

"C'mon, don't be like that. This is for your own good. Kneel."

It knelt down in front of Max, still teary and whimpering, as Max fished a Tag out of his bag. They were little disposable things that you clipped to a pet's neck that made them real quiet and docile for a few hours, perfect for calming agitated pets. They were also good for situations like vet visits and long flights, since it made the pet unable to form clear memories. Max bet the SEPA girl thought Tags were abusive, too, even though they were literally to help pets not be traumatized. Max normally tried to avoid Tagging Scout much, since he liked his pet to be active and happy.

Scout shut its eyes and bent over slightly so that Max could attach the Tag, a forlorn look on its face as he pressed the little disc just over its spine. "There you go, boy. See, that's not so bad, is it?" He pet Scout gently as the Tag's effects kicked in, its expression going glassy and vacant, a dazed smile replacing its earlier distress.  "C'mon, we gotta get going or we're going to be late."

Max was glad he had resorted to Tagging Scout when the pet curled up safely under his feet in the testing room. It wasn't that Max was nervous about the pet test, but it was boring as hell, and having Scout there helped him focus.

A big portion of it was just a bunch of bullshit psychological questions, which Max breezed through without thinking about them. Then there were questions about current events, word puzzles, a bunch of really weird abstract stuff... but obviously Max was human, so he was sure that his answers must be the right ones. He'd definitely know if he were a pet.

Finally, the test was over, and the entire auditorium of people had to be held there while the tests were scored electronically, so that they could take any pets aside. Max whipped out his phone and fully absorbed himself in his feeds.

"Mr. Parkington."

"Huh?" He looked up to see the test proctor standing by his desk. "Hey, yeah, what's up? Was there a problem with my test or something?"

"Could you come with us, please?" The proctor gestured at the exit door.

"What...?" No, it couldn't be. He couldn't have failed. There was probably some kind of mistake with his form or the grading machine. "Is there a problem?"

"There's no problem," she said curtly. "We just need you to come with us to discuss your test."

Max glanced around the auditorium. Everyone was staring at him, and not in the way he preferred. Well, no wonder. The stupid goddamn proctor was making it sound like he failed his pet test, in front of half the campus. He'd never live this down. "So was my test form unreadable or something...?" he said, hoping to salvage the situation.

She was implacable. "You need to come with us, Mr. Parkington."

He groaned, fighting down the urge to cause an even bigger scene. The people around him were already chattering about it. His parents were going to be absolutely furious about the rumors that would fly, as though it were his fault. They'd sue the school, no doubt, but by then it'd be too late. Goddamn it.

"Fine, let's get this over with. C'mon, Scout." He chucked his phone into his bag and picked it up, tugging Scout's leash. It seemed nervous, resisting a bit, even though there was no way the Tag could've worn off yet, but it followed Max out of the room just the same. They were led out of the auditorium and into a small side office, where there were a couple of cops from the Federal Pet Agency waiting, the ones who had supervised the test taking.

"We have good news for you, Mr. Parkington," said the proctor, taking up a seat behind a metal desk. 

"Good news? What kind of good news could --"

"Your pet test returned positive."

"What? That's it? You humiliated me in front of everyone to tell me that I passed? No shit, of course I'm a person."

The two agents glanced at each other.

"No, Mr. Parkington, I don't think you understand. I mean that we have positively identified you as a pet. You will no longer be required to act as a human, and your treatments can start today." Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "Isn't that good news?"

"...What?" Max felt as though the floor was dropping out from under him. "What the hell? What are you even talking about?"

"Your treatment can start right away, so if you'll just go with these agents --"

"What the fuck?!" he said, no longer caring about making a scene. Scout whimpered at his feet. "What the fuck are you talking about? Is this a prank? Is this some kind of viral stunt? Because I will definitely sue you to have the video taken down."

"It isn't a prank, and there is no video recording. Your test results are very clear cut."

"The hell they are! I've taken my test every year and I've never failed."

"I'm afraid you're mistaken about that."

"What do you mean by that?"

The proctor sighed and slapped a thick manila envelope onto the desk. "Your previous tests -- your real ones. Each one clearly showing that you are a pet."

"That's impossible! Then why --"

"There's a little known federal program that allows test results to be... deferred."

Max's stomach clenched. "Deferred?"

"It's an expensive option, and not widely publicized, but it allows families to suppress undesirable results for a year, while they get things in order," she said. "In your case, your family spent a great deal of money for seven years to delay the inevitable. However, this year they did not enroll in the program, so this is your final test result."

"No. No, that's not -- you're lying! You're making that up. There's no way. There's no way I failed any pet test, or that my parents paid money to cover it up. No way."

"It's all right," she said in a sickeningly condescending tone. "I know this must be very confusing, and that you've obviously been suffering without your necessary treatment for so long..."

"I'm not suffering!" He slammed his hands on the desk. The agents stepped closer, but the proctor was unfazed.

"Your grades in everything but your fashion drawing classes are --"

"I am not suffering because I'm bad at the business classes my dad forced on me!" Burning with frustration, humiliation, and a growing ember of dread, Max pulled his phone out of his pocket. "Actually, I'm going to call my dad right now. He'll put an end to this."

He was somewhat surprised that no one in the room stopped him from using his phone, until he turned it on and found no signal. "What the -- c'mon, you stupid thing --"

"Your phone service has been terminated," the proctor said. "Your parents have already been contacted by our team. They have been aware of this possibility and have made prior arrangements for you."

"No." Max's throat felt dry and his arms heavy as he dropped the phone. "There's no way. Even my asshole dad wouldn't let me be taken as a pet. I'm the heir --"

Wait.

The realization hit Max with the force of a semi-truck. The heir to Parkington Corporation. With Max out of the way, no longer a person, that heir would be --

His brother. His golden brother Robbie who could never do wrong. If they suffered the temporary humiliation of letting Max be hauled away as a pet, Robbie would be their only child. It wasn't just a matter of writing Max out of the will -- they wanted their un-favorite son to be out of the picture permanently.

Would they really go that far? The serious-looking proctors and agents in the room were a strong indication that they would.

And for the first time, Max felt true fear. This might not be a prank or a misunderstanding or an inconvenience. He might not be able to call his lawyers or his family to get him out of trouble. Even if it was a mistake, if he let them get their hands on him and process him as a pet... could you even come back from that? Wouldn't it be too late?

"I'm not going to let you take me anywhere," he said, inching towards the door. "I'll go borrow a phone and call my lawyer."

One of the agents immediately moved to block the door, unsurprisingly, as the proctor stood up. "As I was saying, your parents were aware of this possibility and have made prior arrangements for you."

"What arrangements?"

"You're going to be sent to the finest pet treatment facility on the Eastern seaboard, one that produces only high-end luxury pets. You're very fortunate."

Max swallowed hard. That sounded like the facility where they had purchased Scout for him. The thought of going through the same treatment as Scout...

That's when he realized that Scout was no longer at his feet. Instead, it was kneeling in front of one of the agents, having its head scratched. "Aww, who's a good boy?" he said. "It's you! Yes, you are..."

"Hey, Scout, what are you doing? Get away from him!"

Scout didn't even respond to him. 

"Don't worry about Scout. We're going to send it to the same facility where we're sending you, for retraining and rehoming. It's a very good pet and I'm sure it'll find an excellent new home."

Scout had been custom trained to Max's childhood tastes. They had grown up together, inseparable. And now Scout was going to have its memories of him wiped, ready to be sent to a new owner...

And he was next.

"Scout. Scout, c'mon," Max pleaded, desperation in his voice. "You're not going with them. You're going with me. C'mon, Scout."

Scout had always been the most docile and agreeable of pets, always listening to Max, following at his heels and coming at his beck and call. And yet now it steadfastly ignored Max as though he were not there.

"Scout!" Max didn't want to go near the agents, so he stood a few feet away from his pet. "Scout, listen!"

Finally, Scout turned and looked at him. It opened its mouth, then closed it again. Finally, it smiled. It wasn't the vacant smile from being Tagged or the excited smile when they went out together or the sleepy smile it had going to bed at night. No, this smile seemed almost... malicious.

"I hope we can play together when you've been trained," Scout said.

Max felt the world spinning around him. Even his pet thought he was a pet. This couldn't be happening, it couldn't.

An agent was approaching him in his daze. "Now be a good boy and come with us."

"No!" He jerked away from the agent's hand. He had to get out of here. He couldn't let them take him. He had to escape, find someone who understood. Maybe that crazy girl from SEPA. Maybe...

"You'll feel so much better once you've been treated," said the agent on the other side of him. "Don't resist."

"Like hell!" Max pulled his arm free of the agent's grasp and tried to barge between them, only to be met with sturdy arms knocking him backwards. While physically fit, he was no fighter and no match for two highly trained federal agents. In a minute he was been forced to his knees with his arms pinned behind his back, restrained. "Let me go!" he screamed as he thrashed. "Let me go right now!"

"The pet is resisting. It'll need to be Tagged," said one agent to the other, who nodded and pulled out an all-too-familiar flat black disc.

"No! No, don't! It's illegal to Tag a person!" said Max, knowing it was futile. 

"This is for your own good." One agent held him down as the other attached the tag. He could feel the cool plastic against his skin and the bite of small needles piercing his skin, a cool and numb sensation as the Tag took hold.

The world blurred around him as a kind of dazed drowsiness took hold of his body. "No... it's not..." he slurred.

His head lolled to the side as the agents hauled him up between them, keeping a firm grip on his arms. A distant part of him still wanted to put up a fight, but he felt so far away... so out of it... so strangely calm and peaceful. He blinked, and he was already out in the hallway. The agents were shooing away the students who tried to crowd around them and shove phones in his face. This was going to be all over social media. His parents would be so mad...

...no, they wouldn't. They knew this was going to happen. There was no one coming to rescue him, not even his dad's money. Max tipped his head forward and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to avoid the crowd's gaze.

"Maxie? Maxie, what the hell? What the hell, man?" said a familiar loud voice. 

"Nathan...?" He could just pick out Nathan's loud jacket in the crowd. "Help..." he said feebly. "I'm not a pet... tell them..."

"Holy shit." Nathan was rooted to the spot. He didn't seem to be moving to help Max at all as he was dragged away.

"Nathan...!"

Nathan pulled out his phone, took a picture, and then disappeared into the crowd.

The agents dragged him through the double glass doors of the auditorium to a black van waiting in the parking lot. Max couldn't find it in him to put up any resistance as he was loaded into the back seat and the doors were closed and locked. His head hit the window as he looked out at his college campus for possibly the last time. 

It felt so unreal. It still felt like something that couldn't possibly be happening to him.

Would he really be turned into a pet...?

No... they'd figure out he was a person before it was too late. They had to.

[in-tenebris-et-in-solitudine]

[valentinedagger]

book 1 cover art by @staarcaake

Stardust is a queer, semi-experimental web serial that blends space opera, gothic horror, and dystopia into a color-coded mess of neuroses, hallucinations, teen angst, fucked up family relationships, Judaism, gun kinks, political assassinations, extradimensional tentacles, and bad sex. as of May 2024, we're exactly halfway through book 1, and it's a great time to get caught up!

it updates the 1st and 3rd Sunday of every month, and you can read it for free here. readers have suggested you might like it if you're a fan of Revolutionary Girl Utena, Homestuck, Battlestar Galactica (2003), The Locked Tomb, Fortiche's Arcane, Starship Troopers, and/or the music of Ada Rook. readers have also referred to it as "tired middle-aged man yaoi," "yuri shonen," and said they "want to chew on July like a squeaky toy."

[treasureplcnet]

also quite obsessed with karl being as detached from the story as he is. there's nothing that makes him have to be the detective that has to be involved, but he unknowingly dooms himself by agreeing to work with the KYAL cult. every other detective basically deals with elias head on except weissman, who only meets him right before he kills him. like he's right when he says "by my choices" because everything that leads him to being mixed up with the mannix cult is himself. it's the gambling debts and the choice to do the dirty work for an organisation he knows nothing about. he's the only one that doesn't encounter that body doing police work and it's specifically because he's told to cover it up. he gets himself into the mess and eventually fixes it but the fact that esther always dies in the doomed timelines and he's always too late even if he starts wanting to change things ("till this child. esther.") it just makes me very ill

[troythecatfish]

( Well Written ) dystopian worlds are NOT actually attempting to predict the future, They are a critiques of the present.

[whereserpentswalk]

You know a girl whose going to be uploaded into a computer soon. It's pretty common nowadays, like not so common most people know someone whose had it happen to them, but common enough so that everyone knows about it.

She says she has to do it for her job. Like, it's not required, but every aspect of her job is 100% online so it's just more convenient for her employers that way, making her a lot more enjoyable. Plus not having things like sleep or food to worry about would cut costs a lot. And she might eventually be able to get a new body once she gets promoted a few times.

You feel really sad for her. You know a lot of people who've had to become cyborgs or even full robots for both work and personal reasons. But being fully uploaded into a computer with no way of accessing the offline world is way to drastic a move for most people to go to, even out of desperation. But while she's still here, you try to get to know her, since you won't have her for long.

She seems really nice. Graduated from a top business school, but she seems to actually be pretty class conscious. Mabye she though gaining power in the system would help her help the world, she wanted to work for an eco friendly company but that didn't pan out well.

She's trying to spend her last weeks with a body as best she can. Sometimes that just means hanging out around the city, you try to take her around to places she might enjoy. You grew up here and she didn't so of course you know a lot of really cool places to see. You took her to neighborhoods you love walking around, to little corners you can only see in person, and little shops that can't be replaced by websites. You take her to a meusum, and spend so much time looking at things that hit diffrent when you see them up close, massive radiant paintings, and glistening gems, and alien fossils, all of them soon to be gone to her, when everything is equally far away.

You spend time doing things with her body that she won't be able to soon. She tells you not to feel sad, that she chose this, though she seems a bit sad herself. She savors the sensation of sleep while she still has it. She trys all kinds of food that she won't ever taste soon, she's laughs a bit that there's no use in dieting now. She asks you to cuddle, and you cuddle her, because you know she needs that human touch while she can have it. She asks to have sex, you had to get neutered for your last job so it doesn't normally interest you anymore, but you'll do it for her. She doesn't want to leave this body having never known how it feels and you understand. When she falls asleep in your arms you call her pretty, and hearing that about her face makes her cry.

Eventually it's time for her to go. You give her one last hug, hoping she can carry it as the last thing she feels. You take the train with her to the uploading station. She seems to have regrets, seems to not want to go through with this, but she's committed to it now. You tell her she can still back out, and find another way to live, that it's not to late as long as she's in her body. She tells you to stay strong for her when she's gone.

When she uploads herself she leaves the first pick of parts from her body to you. It was a healthy one, really nice for her age. You take her reproductive organs so you can finally be unnutered again, and take her eyes to cure nearsightedness, and a few muscles to undo chronic pain. It hurts to know you're taking her apart like that, but somebody was going to, and it's not her anymore. At least you'll carry a bit of her now.

Now that she's uploaded you talk to her a lot through social media. She seems like she misses a lot of the world. You try and show her what you can through photos, and talk to her as much as possible. She misses hugs more then anything, and tells you how boring life is without sleep. You wish you could have done more. She wishes she had listened.

[thoughtportal]

[loserlvrss]

𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒

the world crumbled a long time ago. humanity could've died off — and, some would say it had — but, in reality, all it did was prosper under new circumstances. broken shreds of what remained, nature reclaimed, intertwining with the wires of the programming. Some would die just to be in the network of higher-ups, and some would rather watch the world burn a hundred times over. the question wasn't, which are you? it's who are you? In a place where somebody is really nobody.

a place where technology hadn't died: the sector one. the place where nobody who was ever somebody lived. a distant place to almost everyone else. only handing itself out on a silver platter to the, self-proclaimed, elite of the elite — old money, nepotism and pure coincidence — people lied, stole, betrayed, killed and died just for a place amongst the best of the worst. no one deserved the title this place disguised them with, wasting and polluting an already hellish world.

but, there was a whisper against the wind. the monarch's reign would soon come to fall — the reapers alongside. sector one would no longer prosper off the graves of its people. the walls would crumble as the old habits died. all it would take was eight pirates and one so-called princess to overthrow reality and start a revolution where everyone could be anyone.

there weren't mercenaries anymore, just a new world. and, all you had to do was step into it.

all rights reserved copyright © loserlvrss 2024

genre // romance, dystopian, cyberpunk, cybercore, drama, alternate universe, action, enemies to lovers, suggestive, smut, love triangle, multi x reader, series, comedy, post-apocalyptic universe, chapters

estimated word count // ≈ 32-50k

theme warnings // language, descriptive death & fights, blood, gore, sexual & suggestive content, substance abuse (drugs & alcohol)

status // ongoing, will post when i have time <3

playlist // wake up ateez, poison love dreamcatcher, wet dream snow wife, predator lee gi kwang, xs rina sawayama, do or die dpr artic dpr ian, i’m not a woman i’m a god halsey, coma dvii, silver light ateez, supernova aespa, ganma lexie liu, cyberpunk ateez, addicted pixy, another life key, gottasadae bewhy, daisy ashnikko, this world ateez, bad alive wayv, django ateez, claws kim petras, nightmare trendz, bound key, break it off — bonus track pinkpantheress, new world ateez, spoiled bitch tiffany day, eenie meenie chungha hongjoong of ateez, gods league of legends new jeans, dune ateez, the bat nct u, what do you want from me? bad omens, side by side bewhy, misa misa! corpse scarlxd cordhell, set it off league of legends dpr live jimmycline, halazia ateez, rpm sf9, iris pastel ghost

author’s note // tag list open !!

chapter one chapter two chapter three chapter four chapter five chapter six chapter seven chapter eight ++ more to be added !!

[thingsthatcometomymindwheniwrite]

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writing memes but it’s all frames from hannibal rising