#he hypnotizes people because if he can control them it’d damn well his right to do so and if they didn’t want to be mindfucked they should

[quietwingsinthesky]

it’s that no one ever believed him that gets to me the most. this is a society of telepaths. and yet when the doctor finds out that the drums are real, he’s surprised. the master is surprised, elated, by the confirmation that he’s hearing something that’s really there, that this thing that’s been following him and hurting him for so long is real.

after a certain point, given that the master is Really Fucking Good at mind control and such, you have to imagine that no one could just pick up on the noise in his head with a little general telepathy. he had to choose to let the doctor in to share it. and. and okay. we need to put aside him striving to be The Best At Controlling People’s Minds in the context of him having his mind violated as a child because if i think about these two things in relation to each other i’ll throw up.

but there has to have been a point before he was so accomplished that he couldn’t have defended his own mind as easily. that he couldn’t keep someone, anyone, from delving into his head and hearing the drums. which means i must conclude, because we find out who put them in his head at all and it’s the most powerful guy on gallifrey, that when he was younger, the people around him did know. they could hear the drums. they could figure out what was done to him. but they did nothing, they said nothing, they told him he was hearing things. because if the lord president wanted to use a child for his own ends, who was going to stand up and stop him? easier to sweep it under the rug. and the master lived with that for so long that finally having just one other person hear the drums was a shock to him.

[unholyplumpprincess]

The Bet

Anonymous commission !!!!!!

Summary: It should have just been a quick win bet to let you finally get your fix of Revenant again. 'Become champion' shouldn't have been too hard, considering you'd nailed him and his squad before he could get you in the past. And yet, of course, Revenant wants to always win. And he will win, especially if it means you're up on the table for him to have. Or. In which you and Revenant have a FWB situation and he's been teasing you for weeks with no relief. So you come up with a bet to mutually solve your issues, totally set on winning. How hard could it be?

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!!!Minors and ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked on sight!!!

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Revenant/Reader

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Revenant has a dick attachment, Reader is gender neutral and has a vulva, mentions of canon typical violence, relationship is shown more as FWB than romantic.

Words: 2.9k

_____________________

As far as anyone knew? Revenant was not a person who played well with others.

That was something he liked to keep up, a good face at that. He was good at growling out hate filled things of how pathetic a person was, mowing down people with a good hearty laugh about it, and making the cameras love him more and more. The Syndicate wanted to keep their little...falter under wraps. The fans all around thought him to be a ruthless killer with nothing but sadism and glee for it in his metal little heart- or rather, lack thereof. It drove them wild with excitement.

However, you knew better. You knew him in ways people couldn’t even fathom.

~Rest under the cut~

You knew of Revenant at his most vulnerable moments. To the way he didn’t immediately resort to violence if you so much as touched his shoulder, to the way he liked being under someone, to the way he squirmed under the lightest of brushes against a sensitive wire. You knew him to be sadistic as everyone else saw him, that may have been true, but what they didn’t get to see was him at his weakest points. Where weaponry was not needed besides a sharp tongue and painful wit.

No, you knew him on his knees, optics swirling with dangerous emotions as you cupped his cheek and told him what a good boy he was. You liked it that way too, that you were the only one who could see him like that. Of course, it wasn’t a strictly one on one relationship, nor was it a relationship at that. Friends with benefits wasn’t the right word either, not with the way he snarled his possession of you- even if he knew better than to stake a claim.

You were an addiction to him. An obsession. Revenant couldn’t get enough of you, and there was power behind that statement, wasn’t there?

The problem to that statement, however, was his want to tease. He wanted you as addicted to him as he was to you. One of his activities and games he liked to pull being making you forced to think about him. And what else better to make you do it than to limit your pleasures of his form? He’d thought it to be a brilliant idea.

You’d thought it to be infuriating.  

But, in the end, it worked, so maybe he was in the right.

It starts as a little game, something you could have laughed at and brushed off. Your sponsors had wanted you paired up with someone different, your chemistry with Wattson and Octane was always something to be excited about. Revenant had been paired up with Caustic and Wraith for the next two weeks of the season. This wasn’t an issue, though you two worked well together, you often butted heads. The issue with this?

Revenant had no issues going solo. And he certainly had no issues antagonizing you throughout firefights.

Out of the corner of your eye you always seemed to see a black and orange lit figure nearby, lit much like the fresh spread of lava. The amber glowing eyes in the darkness out of the corner of your eye always made shivers run down your spine. You knew his totem only allowed him to go so far, but much like a ghost he’d appear and then disappear when you’d finally whip around to aim a gun his direction.

Wattson had taken note of your behavior and the callouts of ‘enemy’ being nearby and had paused your squad’s trek to ask if you were alright, if you needed to take a second. You felt like you looked paranoid, not to mention it was a distraction technique- the bastard.

But, hard to think you’re imagining things when not a minute later you’re lagging behind and feel a smooth metal hand trace up your side from behind, a presence lingering behind you. A snarl in your ear and the growl of a voice box, “I could have my way with you right here-”

But when you whip around and press your wingman into his chest and pull the trigger, only a dark laugh follows as he zips back to his totem.

Fucker.

The sudden gunshot gets your teammates attention in question, Octane throwing up his hands in a ‘what the fuck’ gesture to you to which you reply with a half shrug as you speak into the comm, “Shot a cargo bot, missed.”

Even with goggles and a mask he doesn’t look convinced.

--

It happens again and again and again. Revenant likes his games, especially likes it when you’re waiting for him at any turn with your gun ready and your haunches pulled up like a flighty cat. He waits, and waits, and waits until you’re alone or lagging behind before he seems to find you. It’s little things, just a touch, a whisper, almost like a ghost is haunting you and driving you up a wall.

A hand brushes your side promisingly, another squeezes your hip or ass, a gruff voice growling in your ear- nothing above a whisper to never let the comms hear, “What a delicious example you would make if I fucked you open in front of all these cameras.” Wattson caught him that time, having only seen him sneak up behind you before she fired her sentinel perfectly into him and over your shoulder.

Another day, another haunting touch up to your chest, a skim of metal digits up the front of your throat, “A pathetic little toy you’d make for my squad, don’t you agree?” Before you’d managed to whip around and shoot a bullet right between his eyes. Your aim was getting better, but it’s only met with a delighted snarl as his ghost zipped back to his totem.

Every day, for the next week, he avoids you. Well, almost avoids. Revenant catches you in the hall sometimes, but before you can grab him and demand something, he skims right past you with a brush and a grunt of amusement. He’s playing you- playing you like a damned mouse to his cat. His plan is working, you’re fired up, near desperate to have him do the things he promises. But, there was just one, teensy little thing.

In your relationship? Whatever it was? You didn’t give up control. You were comfortable in it, liking to make him your bitch essentially. You liked him on his knees, liked him sounding desperate, hell you’d like him saying ‘please’ if he wasn’t so stubborn.

And he was very, very stubborn about politeness like: ‘Thank you’s and ‘please’s.

So, for him to come at you saying things like that? That was...new. You figured he was taunting you, maybe trying to spur you on, so you try to call him out on his bluff the next time you see him.

And the next time you see him? You don’t let him walk past you.

You push him to a nearby wall, pent up on no sexual relief but even more pent up in irritation. Revenant’s face doesn’t move, no muscles to really pull anything, but he does look at you with a look that must be curiosity- or hunger.

“You think you’re so funny,” You start with a growl to your own tone. It would never be as impressive as his own, but it gets his attention well enough. The way he tilts his head only serves to make your eyes narrow, mocking the same movement with your own head. Your eyes flicker across his face, licking your lips and gnawing your bottom lip briefly. “Fine. You want to be a tease? Play ghost? I’ll play games too.”

You hear him grunt in amusement, his optics hypnotically seeming to spin with deeper shades of oranges. You wait for him to gain interest before you continue, your hand stays twisted in his scarf, keeping him to the wall. It’d been weeks since you’d last fucked, you almost demand it, but instead you huff in amusement back at him. “A bet.”

The word makes him perk like a cat, his metal skeletal fingers wrapping around your wrist idly as you wait for him. Your eyes flicker between his optics as Revenant makes a soft noise in his chest, something that would sound like a rumbling purr on a big cat in contentment. “And what...sort of bet did you have in mind?” He almost sounds like a cartoon super villain the way he purrs it out, his thumb idly stroking along your pulse point. A quiet threat.

“The next person to be the champion is the winner. If you win, you can top next time, do whatever you want to me,” You start slowly, you’d had time to think of giving up control, but even you weren’t so confident as it comes out of your mouth. Almost tight in your throat. But the way he snarls in his chest tells you that that interested him enough.  

“And if I win- and I will win,” You begin again, tugging on his scarf to get his attention again. “You let me do whatever I want to you. Please and thank you’s included. You’ll be a good boy and do whatever I say. Do we have a deal?”

With too good of a bet on the table, of course he agrees. But, you know he’ll eat those words. He’ll be under your heel soon enough and give you that ‘please’ you’ve always dreamed of hearing. You’ve kicked his ass every round thus far with a bullet to the chest and the head.  

This would be a piece of cake.

--

It was not a piece of cake.

It seemed the bet WAS really too good because his kill count racks up higher than you’ve ever seen it get. You don’t even place top three with your own squad, maybe fifth in line and watching with a growing, gnawing feeling in your stomach as he climbed the ranks. Each shot perfect, his want for blood seeming to mellow out with his need to win.

Revenant becomes the champion that round, and you hear very quickly from mutters of other legends that he’s refused to do interviews and let his squad handle that part.

It’s not a surprise to you when a hand snatches you and yanks you into the hall as you quickly speed walk to your bedroom. You yelp, regardless, as you’re dragged to someone else’s bedroom.

Revenant’s chest almost hums with his voice box rattling his inner systems with his dark laughter. He doesn’t even make it to the bed with you, slamming you to the door, a hand around your throat and his leg thrust between yours. You make a choked sound, face flushed, and your heart absolutely pounding in your chest.

There’s only a brief moment where he leans into you, growling in your ear, “You did mean what you said, yes? I’d hate to have your screams be of pain.” It’s...almost sweet the way he’s asking for consent- even if it’s quiet. It could sound like a threat, but you understand his quick hesitation. You weren’t-- you’d never been beneath him.

Your quick nodding doesn’t shake him into believing you, he hisses under his breath for you to say it so he can hear you and you quickly chirp like an eager bird, “Yes! Yes- yes, a bet is a bet- have me. Any way you want. S-same safe word I use for you if it’s too much.”

The process from there isn’t slow. You knew Revenant wouldn’t be one to take his time if he had you in his clutches, and only proven to you when in no time you’re being stripped. It’s a bit of a blur, the first few moments. Your brain tries to wrap around it and make sense of it. Metal fingers cruelly squeezing your chest and toying with your nipples, a hand yanking your hair and forcing your head back so you couldn’t watch, the sharpness of metal teeth at your throat- the desperation of yanking your clothing off.

You’re naked before you realize it, back against a soft bed rather than a wall. He’s fit between your legs, hovering over you much like a starved spider, tracing his fingers up your inner thighs and making you quiver from the sensation.

His laugh is fitting for the situation, low and dark and sending shivers up your spine, “Always giving punishment to me,” He begins, his voice deep and resonating throughout his chest with the reverberations of his voice box. “That’s what you call it, isn’t it? And yet, who knew you were punishing yourself...” His voice trails off, his palm resting atop your mound so his thumb can trace from your hole, up through your lower lips to your clit.

The sensation is beyond anything you’ve felt. Though Revenant’s digits are metal and ribbed to allow joint control, they don’t feel sharp nor like they’ll catch. A unique texture experience. You can’t help it when your hips lift up, a sharp exhale leaving your nose as he circles your clit.

Fuck, did he find lube somewhere or were you just this wet?

“Rev-” You start shakily, feeling two of his fingers tracing down through your slick and to your hole. One presses in, almost like a ribbed toy is the way you’d describe it. Your thigh muscle twitches as you resist clamping your legs down on his arm, instead resting a hand in your own hair to ground yourself as you whine.

“If only you let me do this sooner,” He murmurs as his finger presses deep inside of you- fuck it was long- curling just right and testing the waters before fitting a second inside of you. “Could have found what a little, needy bitch you were a lot sooner.”

You would kick him if he wasn’t right. Revenant’s pumping his wrist now, fucking you thoroughly with his two fingers, rendering you ineffective. You knew he wasn’t much for foreplay, but even you’re thankful he’s prepping you. You bite back a sound when a third finger is introduced, his thumb stroking your clit in time and making your inner walls contract in time with the way you sob out a swear.

In no time, his fingers move from you, wiped on your inner thigh unceremoniously. Bastard. But, he introduces your favorite part.

His cock attachment today was something you had picked out. It matched his plating appropriately, a black coloring with deep amber nodes framing the sides and glowing much like his eyes. It was thick, maybe about as thick as your wrist and seven inches long. The ribbed sensation on it made it uniquely shaped with a rounded head leaking the light red coloring of his lubricant reserves.

You throw an arm over your eyes and turn your head as one of his hands grabs your hip tightly, the other guiding his cock inside of you. You bite your bottom lip when Revenant growls, pushing inside of you in near one go with the help of stretching you and how his lubrication helped with the slide.

Your toes curl, pressing your heels into the backs of his leg’s plating, already feeling on edge. “Rev-” You start once more, your voice shaking as you lose focus.

A yank of your arm makes you whine, trying to tug it back, but his hand snatches your jaw and forces your head towards him. “Look into my eyes when I fuck you raw. Remember who you belong to.” He snarls, your eyes fluttering open near on command and meeting deep amber optics. They swirl hypnotically, a hint he’s recording this for his own database. Bastard.

But, you can’t find it in you to care. Letting him hold your jaw to keep you there, his thumb tracing your lower lip as his hips slam into you again and again. He’s always sensitive, he won’t last very long, and you were already on edge.

His pleasure is expressed through huffs and growls, his voice box mimicking a moan only to branch off into something static-filled as if losing connection on the phone. Choppy, echoing, and yet his optics never leave your half lidded eyes. Your lips are parted to express your own pleasures, eyes fluttering and near rolling back into your head as his hips slam into yours again and again. It’d bruise you, that much you knew, but you can’t find it in you to tell him to be gentler.

“Reven- Rev—cu-cumming, don’t stopdon’tstop-” Your voice shakes, edging off into a wail as you start to cum with jerks of your hips. His groan is music to your ears, a low sound reverberating in his chest as his back hunches inwards, looking ever so much like a spider as his hand slips from your jaw to wrap around your throat. He’s cumming with you, his cock jerking and emptying at least half his reserve in you.

You’re panting, dizzy and euphoric. A soft laugh leaves you, gently nudging at his chest, “Should- should have let you top earlier, huh?” You laugh playfully, breathy and unfocused.

“Who said I was done with you, little thing?” He snarls back at you, shoving you right back down onto the bed and crossing an arm over your upper chest to keep you down.

Revenant intended to milk out his winning. All night if he needed.

He intended to make you scream loud enough for the whole compound to know appropriately what this ‘thing’ was between you two.

That you were his.

[bangchanshehe]

The Trespasser pt.4

You were on top of the world with the new title of leader of your family’s clan. You were the strongest clan in all of the orient and you were proud. But your family feels that there are threats still lurking around making you a target. When they introduce you to a potential man for a business and marriage merger will it help your clan or make matters worse?

Word count: 3.7k

Wonho x Reader, Shownu x Reader, Jooheon x Reader

The past few days had flown by and you did lots of menial and dumb tasks to make time go by. Everyone around the house questioned you when they noticed you cleaning the house up or doing lots of overtime, thinking that something was bothering you. But like the holed up and skeptical person you typically are in these types of situations you smiled and replied with a total lie.

The truth was that you were technically okay regardless of how the entire “proposed marriage deal” went, but you just felt still so insecure about how a baiter for a very powerful family would want to get into a marriage at such a young age. Sure, if it had to do with the family business and Marriage for profits it would make sense. But baiters are notoriously known for being completely cut of from their emotions, which is why they can lie and sleep around with people the way that they do. They take but never give anything in return and it made you question Hoseok’s authenticity.

And although you were not looking for an emotional, and legitimate marriage of love you did want for your legal husband real or fake, to be loyal to you and your business and have honest intentions. You could care less if Hoseok was the leader of his family’s clan or not, you just wanted the mutual benefits of being partnered with a Shin.

You went over everything that you wanted to ask Hoseok as you got ready for your meeting at Icon. It was 8:30 and you looked over your figure in the mirror and smiled to yourself. You looked damn good, suited up in a solid black fitted pant suit, and jacket… minus the shirt underneath allowing for your black lace bra to be the focal point of your outfit. You put on your fire engine red lipstick and matching red heels and then strut out of your bathroom.

You felt your phone vibrate and you looked down at the screen

Shownu: Just arrived

You smiled at the text from Shownu and your body instantly relaxed a little bit. You had planned to have him there for a little bit more security, but asked him to blend in with the crowd, so you could talk to Hoseok without any uncertainty on his end.  You grabbed your keys waved bye to the boys and then stepped out into the night air, ready for what was next to come.

  The drive was only 20 minutes from your secluded house and you pulled into the parking lot of Icon in what seemed like no time. You put the car into park, scanned the parking lot to see if you could recognize any vehicles or people walking around and then picked up your phone to text Shownu.

Me: just arrived, about to go ins-

You dropped your phone, when a sudden knocking on your window startled you. You let out a huff and looked over with a glare to whoever caused you to be scared and then relaxed a little when you recognized Hoseok hunched over, looking inside at you with a wide smile.

You picked up your phone, took out the keys and stepped out of your vehicle giving Hoseok only a polite head bow and smile.

“Sorry to scare you” Hoseok said rubbing the back of his head and giving you a smile  “I pulled in at the same time as you and figured it’d be easier to go in at the same time instead of having to look for one another inside.”

“ah, no worries “ you gave in. what he said did make a little sense from a logical standpoint “shall we?” you asked him pointing with your hand towards the building

“yes, please” he said with a megawatt smile  

You walked silently for a moment and as you got closer to the front doors Hoseok cleared his throat and leaned in closer to your ear.

“By the way… you look really good tonight.” He confessed

You turned your head to look at him and then scanned his outfit. He looked really good in black trousers and a black button down shirt tucked into his pants with the top few buttons undone. He knew what he was doing trying to draw attention to his chest and then you laughed to yourself. You were doing the same thing weren’t you? Marketing yourself. His hair was parted nicely and styled back, and his skin looked flawless.

You would typically respond with a polite response back, but Hoseok knew that he was good looking and it was no use using flattery on him.

“thank you” you responded with a small smile before turning back to the doors and entering the loud and busy club, bypassing the people waiting outside to get inside.

As you entered you felt the pulsing of the bass of the music vibrate through your body, and the lights strobe and dance across the club in a hypnotizing manner. The smell of alcohol, cigarettes and sweat clouded your nose and countless bodies, swayed on the dance floor. You lead Hoseok towards the back of the club where there were private booths and took a seat in a corner booth were there were few people and privacy curtains.

As you sat down Hoseok smiled and reached for the curtains, making sure to close them tightly as to block out as much of the music as possible.  You watched his arms as he worked on the fabric, unfashioning it and pulling it to a close.

“Do you want to order anything?” Hoseok asked you

You gave him a small smile and shook your head no.

“I don’t drink in public.” You answered his question

Hoseok raised his eyebrows and nodded his head “good, neither do I, unless its important for a job” he responded. “so… what questions do you have for me?” he asked right off the bat

“lot of things, as I’m sure you could imagine….” You stared off “ first… my parents mentioned that you had seen me many times when I was a child, but I never met you? Why is that?”

Hoseok raised a single eyebrow and contemplated for a moment on how to respond before he gave you a very simple one. “I had a very busy schedule as a child”

“look… I don’t mean to be rude. But if I am even going to consider a contractual marriage with you then I need to know a little bit more about you.” You spoke up and Hoseok shifted in his seat and looked down at the table before looking up at you with a stern expression. “I know that you were in some sort of accident and had an injured back, but why would you even bother coming to see me if you had to leave for such a said busy schedule”

“okay that’s fair” he replied with a deep sigh “when I was 12 I was in a drunk driving accident. The driver hit our car and it caused us to flip and the car caught on fire. I had to have 2 spinal surgeries, jaw reconstruction, titanium plates in my arms and a knee surgery.”

You looked at him with wide eyes as you processed what he told you. You could not even begin to imagine the amount of pain that he had to be in.

“It took a long time to heal and for a long time I was completely wheelchair bound, because my spine and body wasn’t strong enough to support me. I had lots of physical therapy, and because of my condition I wasn’t able to tolerate lots of moving around from place to place or sitting in one spot for long.” He continued

“I’m sorry that happened. That had to be very difficult to get through at such a young age.” You spoke up “but I’m still curious as to why you would still come to events involving me”

Hoseok’s serious demeanor suddenly dropped a little and he let out a small smile and chuckle “actually I’ve been told from a very young age that you would be my wife. Our parents have been planning our marriage for a long time.” He confessed

Your jaw dropped a little and you sat back in your seat remembering your mother call Hoseok her “Son-in-Law”. Had it been anyone else you would have not been so convinced so easily, but you didn’t doubt it for a moment after the whole spectacle your parents put you through at their house.

As soon as you let that idea settle in your mind you decided to ask Hoseok more questions that had been weighing on your mind.

“so is it still true that you have no intentions of pursing the leader position of your family clan?” you asked him

“it’s true. After my accident I had a lot of time to think about my future and what I wanted to do, and I decided that I was lucky enough to get a chance at life so I wanted to do something that would allow me to have a little more time to enjoy my life and the finer things.” He answered

“so then what does this marriage do for you?” you asked him

“well…” he said and then cleared his voice and adjusted his posture “since im physically unable to be the leader, the marriage allows for the clan to stay in control of the shin family. It essentially puts me in the most control without having the title or workload of leader if anything happens to my brother.”

“your brother Is in control now?” you asked and you received a nod in return “and what exactly is your position now?”

“I handle some business deals and negotiations with my brother behind closed doors, but on an everyday basis I usually just bait.” He confessed

“and it doesn’t bother you that you cant take the position?” you asked him

He gave you a smile, but you could tell that he was straining his jaw. You could imagine how difficult it would be to constantly struggle with your position and health. And then to top it off he had to be here with you because he had no other choice, if he wanted anything to do with maintaining the family’s control.  

“of course it bothers me… I’ve been trained since young how to run the business and now all I can do is sit back and watch other people do what I was supposed to do. And don’t get me wrong my brother makes a great leader, but the way he executes some deals really gets on my nerves.”

“that’s understandable” you agreed “since this would be a contractual marriage, how would you expect our family to benefit your business and vice versa?” you asked him

“money and business isn’t an issue, the only thing we are wanting to take from your family through the marriage is a healthier reputation, and if absolutely necessary allyship in times of warfare with other clans.” He answered sincerely

You nodded your head and concentrated on his request “then our needs are similar. This marriage in most needed in our case for reputation as well”

“good” Hoseok said softly

Hoseok gave you a polite smile and you returned one to him. Prior to the meeting you felt very uneasy about the possible outcomes of this meeting, but after talking with Hoseok you realized that they two of you were here for pretty similar reasons.  Hoseok’s clan has a reputation of having the weak son, and your clan was labeled weak because you were a woman. Which made both of you an easy target, but with each other as reinforcement you both become closer to indestructible.

“so lets talk more about you and I and not the business…” you started giving Hoseok a more relaxed impression. Hoseok looked you up and down and gave you a small smile before leaning into the table and crossing his arms Infront of himself “how long do you ideally want for this marriage to last?”

He thought the question over for a minute and then responded “honestly, the longer the better. And I think that stands for the both of us if I’m being honest”

You rolled your eyes slightly at his response  “I’m not saying that I’ve agreed to anything yet, but an indefinite contract marriage is a little… excessive” you said “how would you feel about starting off at 1 year to get comfortable and familiar with one another and the business and then if we still feel as if we can get along and be beneficial to one another we can extend and redraw the contract?”

Hoseok considered the proposal for a solid minute and you held your ground and you gave him a serious look as you maintained eye contact. Finally, he gave you a small smile and then broke his silence.

“do you find me to be unsatisfactory as a potential husband?” he asked you seriously

You laughed and shook your head before giving him a small smile “my request has nothing to do with you not meeting my standards, but everything to do with whether or not I find it to be a good business move.” You answered and Hoseok sat back in his seat a little “to be quite honest the only reason that I’m here is because my family requested it of me and I think I might potentially be extra security for the clan, not because I have any interest in getting married. In fact, I have never considered marriage or even a serious relationship to be in my near future.” you answered

Hoseok nodded in understanding “so you aren’t seeing anyone?” he asked

You were about to nod your head but you hesitated for a moment unaware of how to go about addressing your relationship with Shownu and Jooheon. It wasn’t like you were completely single because you did have somewhat of a relationship, even if you didn’t have titles for each other. You weren’t together but you also weren’t just friends. Friends with benefits?

“something you can’t put a label on?” he asked you

You gave him a small nod in response, and he smiled back at you

“if we do proceed with things is it going to be an issue with your friend?” he asked

“they already know about this arrangement and what it could possibly mean for the future…” you said without think twice about how much you just shared

“THEY?!” Hoseok asked with wide eyes and a shocked look on his face “like two people at once?” he asked you looked up at his with wide eyes at his reaction “do they know about you seeing more than one person?” he continued to ask

You scoffed a little pissed that he would insinuate that you were a cheater “of course they know about one another.” you answered “and yes… I didn’t plan it but it just happened to be this way”

“wow” was all he said as he looked you up and down “okay just a few more questions…and don’t get mad at me for what I’m about to ask” he commented making you curious as to what he could say to piss you off

“how realistic do you want this marriage to look to other people?” he asked you and you relaxed

“realistic enough that people won’t want to fuck with either one of us” you answered

“okay then what would the living arrangements look like?” he asked

You stopped for a moment caught off guard by his question, and quite unsure not having ever considered the question.

“do we have to live with each other?” you asked

“of course, if you want it to look real….” he replied “I live at home with my parents so its probably not ideal for the kind of lifestyle you want”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked him

“well… you live on your own and you have… partners” he answered honestly

“if things proceed then I would be willing to open up a bedroom and office for you” you replied

“and would things be strictly business or would we be open to pursuing one another?” he asked and your eyes went wide at how brazen he was being

“just business!” you quickly replied “as I said earlier I have no intentions of being in a relationship. Anyways… being a baiter wont make things complicated for you after the contract begins right?” you asked him

“no… not at all” he said with a small smile “usually the baits take anywhere from 2 to 6 months and at most I would be gone for only a few months at a time but that is only for the tough and rare cases” he explained

“as long as you can insure that my home and clan won’t be in danger from your baits following you to my home then I am totally fine with whatever you need to do” you answered

“usually during the job I stay in an old apartment so that there aren’t any issues or slip ups.” He answered and then was silent for a few moments “okay well I think that you and I have some things to think about now… and decide if we want to seriously continue to the next step” Hoseok said with a smile

you nodded your head and gave him a polite smile. “you can stay if you like, but since we are done here I will go home.  and I will try to get back to you soon with more information” you politely bowed to him and then stepped out of the private booth.

“Wait!” Hoseok called after you

You hand just made eye contact with Shownu as Hoseok called you and you turned your head to address him

“I’ll be leaving too…. This isn’t really my scene” Hoseok said with a smile “let me walk you out!” Hoseok offered and you gave him a smile

As the two of you made your way across the club you noticed the vibe had shifted in the crowd of people. The music had gotten more seductive, the clients were drunk, and people were no longer just having a good time. Most were partnered off and grinding on strangers, giving them a look like they were ready to fuck on the floor if they could.

When you finally reached the front of the club you took a deep breath, enjoying the smell of clean air. You clutched your arms and looked up at the night sky to see the stars and moon hanging just above you, happy to just be out of the sex fueled building.

As you stepped as much as ten feet away from the front door you hear it open once more, and without even looking behind you could tell that it was Shownu. Hoseok however decided to look back and he scoffed before turning back around.

“is he one of your guys?” he asked calmly under his breath just loud enough for you to hear

You just barely peeked over your shoulder to confirm and then hummed as an answer.

Hoseok chuckled and then gave you a smile “I’m guessing that he’s one of the two that you mentioned?” he asked and you turned to give him a look of curiosity “he looks like he wants to bite my head off, so I figured that it was safe to assume”  he joked

Now you completely turned to look back at Shownu and chuckled at the look of disgust and unhappiness on his face. You were sure to get an earful when you got home about all of his opinions on what type of a person Hoseok is. You let out a soft sigh and then smiled down at the ground. This night could have taken many different turns, but you were relieved that things were at least starting off on a half decent track.

 When you had finally arrived in front of your car, Hoseok gave you a soft smile before pulling his phone out of his pocket and handing it over to you. You took the phone and looked up at him with wide, curious eyes. Did he want for you to save your number in his phone? You unlocked the phone and quickly added the number for a second phone.

Of course things were starting off well, but you weren’t dumb enough to give him your personal number. If he needed to contact you he could email or text your spare, unregistered phone.

You handed the phone back to him and he quickly tucked it back into his pant pocket.

“thanks for meeting me tonight, it allowed me to understand you and the contract a little bit more” he said politely

“yes, thank you as well. It was very important for me to have some clarity before I decided to move forward” you said as politically and general as possible, hyperaware that you had a nosy Shownu lingering over your shoulder.

Hoseok gave you a smile, looked you up and down once more and then turned to Shownu and gave him a cheeky grin, before yelling out a little too confidently

“Hey buddy, take care of her for me tonight”

He winked at Shownu and then moved on to find his own vehicle avoiding the death glares and cursing that was falling out of Shownu’s mouth like fire. You turned to give Shownu a secret glance before you quickly got into your car, avoiding having to have any kind of conversation with Shownu while he was this annoyed.

Shownu stared at you with a frown through the windshield for a moment before he resigned and finally got into his own car, ready to follow you home.

You let out the breath that you didn’t know that you were holding in and turned the volume to your music up slightly, because you had exactly about a 20 minute car ride until the second hard part of the night begun.

[everlarkbirthdaygifts]

Happy Birthday, sunflowerslyf!

Apologies for the delay on your gift, @sunflowerslyf! We hope you had a wonderful back on the 16th, and got all the presents you wished for! To bring your party back around, @ally147writes has written a story just for you!

AN: Sorry for the delay, @sunflowerslyf! I’ve been pretty sick the past week or so, but I’m kind of on the mend! Full disclosure, I don’t know if this qualifies as a ‘meet-ugly’, but you wanted some smut as well, so I had to make a few modifications. There’s no actual smut in this story (sorry...), and there’s a lot I’d love to go back in and add or flesh out since I did rush it finished a little, but I hope you’ll enjoy this anyway ;)

This story was inspired somewhat by the police station scene between Jennifer Grey and Charlie Sheen in ‘Ferris Bueller’s Day Off’.

Rated M for mostly for language and a little touchy-feely business. Unbeta’d. All errors are my own.

At least, Katniss notes, the whole place smells like bleach and latex.

 More than she could say for the parlour Jo dragged her to. She doesn’t remember a whole lot about that night other than the stench of cheap beer, vomit, and unwashed hair.

 The only other thing that doesn’t separate this place from the tattoo parlour is the clientele.

Katniss tugs her cardigan tight and crosses her arms and darts her gaze back and forth between the others occupying the seats around her. Between the young girl with the spiked, blood-red mohawk and the two guys who look like they’re members of violent biker gang, she’s the most demure one here, that’s for sure.

“So…” A low, sensuous says from the chair two down from her. “Where’s yours?”

 She freezes. The guy’s been watching her since she came in, and she’s been doing all she can not to stare right back, because he’s somehow the encapsulation of all the things your mother warned you to be careful of in a boy. Blond hair styled in an undercut, with the curls on top left untouched; blood-shot blue eyes, lined with something dark that might be smudged eyeliner or the evidence of a good, hard punch, that somehow still hold hers with an alertness she never would have expected; a small hoop glints from his eyebrow, and another two in the ear she can see. His white shirt, maybe a size too small, is a tight fit around his ornately tattooed arms, and it hugs his tapered torso almost obscenely. A leather jacket is slung over the arm of the chair, smooth and old and worn. She wonders if he got it second-hand or stole it, or maybe both.

 She lets out a breath and faces him front on. “My what?”

 He grins lazily. She crosses her legs. “You’re in a tattoo removal clinic, remember? So, where’s your shitty ink?”

 “Oh.” Her cheeks flush. “It’s, uh… not visible.”

 He snorts. “No shit, sweetheart, you’re covered from head to toe. So, unless it’s on your tits or something, mind at least giving me a hint?”

 Her jaw drops, but she recovers quickly and flashes her most menacing scowl. And pulls her cardigan a little tighter over her chest. “Go fuck yourself.”

 He grins wider. She swallows. “You’re kinda pure, aren’t you?”

 She swivels forward. “I don’t need to defend myself to you.”

 “That’s exactly what you’re doing, though, aren’t you?” He stands, and he’s not much taller than her, maybe a couple of inches, but he’s broad, built like a wrestler. He shuffles a little and settles in the seat beside hers and leans in close. She steals a breath and nearly shivers. Cinnamon and dill, fire smoke and something like warm, fresh bread.

 And something else a little like whiskey. God, is he drunk?

 Did someone turn up the heaters? She was freezing just a moment ago.

 “What are you doing?”

 He holds up his hands, both large enough to span her waist and then some.

 “Nothing at all. Just getting to know you. Can’t do that from all the way over there.” He grins again, and his teeth are perfectly white, though not perfectly straight, which is kind of a relief. “So,” he leans in close, “is it on your tits?”

 “What the fu — no! It’s not!”

 “Bummer. Thigh? Wrist? Ass?”

 “Jesus, why do you care so much?”

 “Just making conversation. I’ve been waiting in here over an hour now.” He smiles again, a little more subdued this time. “You’re by far the most interesting thing in the room.”

 She watches him stretch his legs out. Those black jeans will be the death of her. “Those lines ever work?”

 “I don’t know.” He bats his lashes. “You tell me.”

 She rubs at her eyes. “Why don’t you just leave me alone, dude?”

 “You’re really not going to tell me where it is, are you?”

 “Just not sure why you’re so curious.”

 “And I’m not sure why you’re so scared.”

 “Well,” she says, swallowing again. “Where’s yours?”

 “On my stomach. Wanna have a look?” Without waiting, he stands and whips his shirt up, revealing a set of abs that have no place on a seedy-looking dude at a tattoo removal clinic.

 She blinks at the expanse of colour decorating his body; abstract swirls like fireworks, flowers and faces, a bird in flight and wall of flames, every single one so sharp and intricate they look like they belong on a canvas in a gallery, though she concedes this man’s body is a more than acceptable substitute.

 “I… which one?”

 “This one.” He gestures to a trident slung low on his hip, disappearing into his jeans. Please, Jesus, don’t take those off, too. Or do, maybe, fucked if I know…

 “It’s… uh…”

 He snorts. “You can say it. Looks like shit. Not my best work, that’s for sure.”

 “You did it yourself?”

 “Most of them,” he says with a shrug, like it’s no big deal. I frequently stab myself with a needle for kicks. “Just not usually hammered when I do it.”

 She breaks her gaze away from the tapered V of his hips and meets his eyes again. “Why were you doing it, then?”

 He shrugs again. “Lost a bet to a friend. Tridents are kinda his thing. I might redo it again another time when I’m not pissed as a maggot.” He tugs his shirt back down and sits. “So. Where’s yours?”

 She sighs. “Lower back.”

 “Ah.” He nods, and God damn, did she just spy a tongue piercing? “Classic. What’s it of?”

 “A katniss flower.”

 He blinks. “I don’t get it.”

 She lets out a tired laugh. “My name’s Katniss. Seems a little conceited, don’t you think?”

 “I don’t know. Depends, I guess. Not like you’d be showing a ton of people anyway, what with it back there and all.” He grins again, and for a moment, he looks so much younger. “Can I see it?”

 “What? No!”

 He pouts. “Why not?”

 “Because,” she mutters at the ground. “It’s dumb.”

 “So why’d you get it in the first place?”

 She shoots him a wry smile. “Also hammered. My friend got one that night, too. Somehow, drunk me thought it’d be a great idea.”

 He laughs. “You make it sound like you’re the only one to do anything dumb when they’re drunk. You should probably loosen up a little. Relax, you know? Not like you’re the first person to make a bad decision before.” He smiles and wiggles his eyebrows at her. “Wanna make another one?”

 “You’re not going to let up, are you?”

 “Hey, I showed you mine.”

 She shakes her head and lets out a long, low sigh, ending on a chuckle. “I really don’t know why I’m doing this.” She leans forward, reaches back to untuck her tank top from her jeans. The chilly air hits the skin of her lower back as she inches it up to expose the ink she first thought was a mutant spider when she caught sight of it in the mirror the day after it happened.

 The guy’s hands ghost over her back, radiating a heat that makes her shudder with anticipation of his real touch. “Lean forward a little more, please?”

 She does as told, and when his fingers make contact, it takes everything in her not to melt at the gentle, ginger touch she did not expect from such an oddball presence.

 “It’s exquisite work,” he murmurs. His blunt nails tracing the design ignite a flood of goose-bumps along her spine. Heat courses through her, enough to fill her cheeks and every part of her. She clenches her thighs together and prays he doesn’t notice. “Gorgeous, really. Whoever did it did a really good job. You sure you wanna go through with getting it removed?”

 “Yeah. I mean, I never really wanted one anyway.”

 “It suits you. Sexy as hell, too, if you ask me.” She didn’t, but there’s a little thrill coursing through her regardless. “And a namesake tattoo isn’t a bad thing. I’d have a piece of pita bread on me if that wasn’t a totally batshit insane idea.” He removes his hand, and some stupid part of her brain misses it like crazy.

 She tugs her tank back down and sits up. Weird guy seems much closer now, or was he always this close?

 “Your name’s Pita?” Her voice sounds almost choked.

 He smiles again, and she can’t help but stare at his lips now that he’s this close. “Peeta, actually.”

 “I probably should have asked that before I let you put your hands on me.”

 “If you had any sort of hindsight you wouldn’t be here at all.” He reaches out and tucks a loose piece of hair behind her ear. Why the fuck is she letting him do that again? “Right now, I’m kinda glad you’re an idiot. I probably wouldn’t have met you otherwise.”

 She swallows and tilts her head closer, letting him curl his hand around the back of her neck. The scent of him and the sound of his voice is kinda hypnotic… “I kind of don’t hate it right now, either.”

 She kind of falls into him then, and she’s got no real good reason why. Because he’s hot? That’s as good a reason as any. All she knows, his hands are mangling her braid and lips are warm and soft on hers, gentle and commanding at the same time, like he knows exactly what he wants and how to get it. But there’s something that she wants, too. She wrests control away, and he lets her, like he’d been waiting for her to seize it the whole time. She licks the perimeter around his lips until he opens for her, and yeah, he does taste vaguely like whiskey and smoke that isn’t cigarette smoke, and it’s weird but it’s so flipping good and God, what is with this guy and —

 “Katniss Everdeen?”

 She rips herself away from Peeta and pushes him hard enough that he falls astride the chairs making up their row. He watches with a quirked brow — the one with the piercing — as she bolts up from her seat and steals her bag from the floor. A bespectacled man in a white coat stands in the doorway leading to the treatment rooms, flashing her a knowing smirk that she kinda wants to slap off. “Would you like to come through?”

 “I, uh… sure.”. She looks back at Peeta, who’s still watching her with the most ridiculously amused grin. She can’t help another lazy perusal up… and down. “It was… uh, nice to meet you, Peeta.”

 Peeta grins and waves, just a subtle flick of his fingers. “See ya later, Katniss.”

 Oh, God, yes I hope so...

[ravencromwell]

On Rage and Complexity interwoven with disability and queerness as filtered through Sarah Gailey's "maybe novel"

I've drifted into posting much of my more personal/metaish content on my dreamwidth In an effort to try and be better about cross-posting, thought I'd put a bit of meta up here first for a change.

We lament, often and at great length, about the kind of tales we'd like to see: with more diverse characters, yes, but also well-rounded diverse characters. As Liz Bourke concisely opined recently :

It’s troubling, sometimes, how much the issue of “good representation”—and the arguments around it—slides towards a pervasive sense that creators must depict people who are good and right and do right. It’s not necessarily an explicit dictate, but there’s an unspoken undercurrent, a sense that to portray ugliness, unlikeability, fury—to portray people who have responded to suffering with cruelty and bitterness and rage—is to be complicit in one’s own vilification. And to be vulnerable. Justify your existence is the sea we swim in, always against the current.

To be unmarked by compromise, to be without sharp edges that sometimes cut even when you don’t want them to—because the world is what it is, and sometimes what it is teaches you that the best defence against being hurt by cruelty is a really quick offense—is to either be very young or hardly human. But when we come to fictional portrayals, well… As you know, Bob, Bob gets to be seen as a difficult genius, where Alice is seen as a bitch or a Mary Sue.

And as insightful as that essay is, I'd argue that a central factor it overlooks, or doesn't articulate as well as I would like, is that the more intersections of marginalization your identity rests upon, the more that unspoken pressure kicks in. I certainly feel and see it, as both a queer and disabled person, and I have friends who feel that weight even more heavily--that internal voice policing their own writing even stronger when they're brown and/or queer and/or coming from decolonized places; even heavier if/when they and their compatriots are still untangling the effects of colonialism and modern neoimperalism. And so it becomes vitally imperative for all of us, using whatever privilege we have to work in concert to expand what characters can be portrayed in mainstream fiction. And oh, aint that an easy proclamation to make; doing the work, though, is far harder.

So y'all can imagine my overwelming delight when the Bourke essay and twitter convo that sparked it--linked to in essay and so very much worth a scan--dropped on the same week as my introduction to Sarah Gailey's maybe book Every bit of what I read of Gailey's makes my love of her work slowly, steadily increase, but to be perfectly honest, this's probably my favorite thing of hers so far. It's the thing that tugs sharpest at my heart, that I see so much of my own experience reflected in, and it's only two fuckin chapters in But even if Gailey never writes another word of this--for which a large chunk of me will mourn--, it'll still be one of the most special things I've encountered for being, in western lit terms, a masterclass in putting the characters we wanna see in the world. (I insert that caveat because I know well that folks like Viet Thanh Nguyen are doing astonishing, under-appreciated work in nonwestern litfic. But the genres I'm most familiar with, western scifi and fantasy, have a long way to go to catch up.)

There are, so far, four--maybe five? I can't quite tell--characters in this novel. Three of 'em have serious, life-changing disabilities, and one of them is delightfully, tragically queer. And they're all allowed to be wonderfully vicious and complicated. Just look at something like:

Cory Jefferson is a hunched-over curled-up boy with bones too long for his body and a jaw you could use to shovel the ashes out of a fireplace. His chest has the caved-in look that comes with growing tall before you can grow wide, and his hair is long enough to want cutting but not long enough to look like it’s long on purpose. His hoodie sleeves have holes in them, and the bottoms of his jeans are frayed from walking, and all his fingers are missing, cut off at the bottom knuckle a year ago on a night he can’t remember no matter how many Thursdays he spends looking back and forth between Piper and Ethan.

"I think we should go back," Piper says. She’s chewing on her thumb, and Cory is staring at her thumb while she chews on it, probably because that used to be his nervous tic. Piper used to nag him about it.

Piper Durham has a spine as straight as a plumb-line dropped down a well. Her dark hair falls past her shoulders, less straight than it used to be, and with a few strands of white that weren’t there before. She’s thin enough to look hollow, and pale enough to look scared. She wears large black sunglasses with scratched-up lenses. She wears them because they cover up the holes where her eyes used to be, back before the night a year ago that she can’t remember no matter how many Thursdays she spends chewing on her thumb.

"That’s a bad idea,” Cory snaps. “That’s the worst bad idea I’ve ever heard, and every time you bring it up you sound stupider."

"I don’t hear either of you coming up with something smarter,"Piper snaps back, and then she immediately closes her mouth. She’s biting her tongue, literally biting it, you can see her doing it, and then she flinches again and stops doing that, because biting her tongue is even worse than what she said.

Ethan’s hands rise from his lap. After a silent moment, Cory translates for him, so Piper can hear. "Ethan says it’s okay. He says not to worry about it. He says he’s used to people saying stuff like that."

"Sorry," Piper whispers.

Across from her, in his own folding chair, Ethan signs it’s okay again. Cory doesn’t translate this time, and the decision not to translate is a hateful one. He watches with narrowed eyes as Piper, who can’t see Ethan’s hands and will never see them again, returns to chewing on her thumb.

Ethan rests his square-fingered hands on his crossed legs and sits back in his chair, his every movement controlled. Some would call him poised. Some would call him that. He wears dark jeans, like always, and a button-down shirt, like always. His fingernails are short and clean, and his sandy-blonde hair is short and clean, and his shoes are polished and his clothes are pressed. He wears a clear plastic face mask to help heal the skin grafts on his face — his face, which was cut away from his skull in one tidy sheet. He does not speak because he has not had a tongue for a year, not since the night he lost his face, which is a night he can not remember no matter how many Thursdays he spends watching Cory and Piper hate each other.

These are people not made saintly by their experiences, who fuck up and apologize, and honestly still fuck up. But who're trying, in their deeply jaded fashion, to show solidarity after this horrific experience they've all been through. They have so many rough edges between them that it'd be impossible to navigate a room between them without cutting yourself to ribbons. Three disabled characters, never put on pedestals, allowed to be as complex as any able-bodied person. It's something still so astonishingly rare that it brought me to weeping this afternoon and meant more than I can say.

And to have these three disabled characters get language this evocative and gorgeous--to have Ethan dress so sharply! when to so many people disability translates to a disconnect from cultural touchstones like fashion. As someone who loves and wants to adopt men's fashion, that, too, meant so much. Every word of this is just so lush! I can't decide whether it's the description of Piper's spine or Cory's caved-in look that comes from growing tall before you can grow wide I love most as a descriptive passage, but to see disabled characters get this kind of attention is breathtaking.

And then there's this description of queerness, from our resident ghost:

The girls fascinated me in death the same way they had in life. For all my sixteen years alive, I was hypnotized by the way a girl can move through a room fast and subtle, like a secret moving through a church during service. The way girls laughed, the way they wrapped their hands around things they wanted to own, they way their eyes got sharp when they were angry. The way they smelled. Boys always seemed the same to me, all of them echoes of each other, all of them saying the same three sentences over and over again, all of them looking at each other with the same eyes. I could never tell the difference between them, not really. But girls. Girls.

It mattered to me while I was alive, but it didn’t make a difference in the way I lived my life, which was a regret I chewed on when I’d worn my other regrets into pulp. The town was small, and everyone knew everyone, and by the time I knew I wasn’t the only girl who watched girls the way I did, I’d been dead for too long to do anything about it. If I knew then what I know now, maybe I would have said something to Molly Two-tone, whose real name was Molly Tutonne and who had straight black hair that fell between her shoulderblades as black as roofing tar, who had bright green eyes and a laugh that you could hear from a block away. Molly Two-tone, who came to my house after I died and stood in the kitchen and whispered that if I was there and if I could hear her, she wanted me to know that she wished she’d kissed me when she had the chance.

There wasn’t a thing I could do to let her know I’d heard her. All I could do was watch her cry, and then watch her leave, closing the door quiet as she could when she went. She didn’t ever come back again.

God, that description guts me every damn time. There're so many of us for whom that metaphor applies: death can be substituted for disapproval or fear or a million other things that separate us from our queerness. I don't know if there's any way for our ghost to have a happy ending, or even something close to catharsis, but Gailey confronts the mess and complication of queerness in ways I've rarely seen.

And getting back to the original point of marginalized characters not being allowed to be cruel, look at this fucking gem on Piper:

Maybe I knew, when Piper walked in with Cory and Ethan. Maybe I knew she was Piper’s granddaughter. Or maybe I saw Piper and thought, for a breath-held instant, that Molly had come back to see me again. I lost track of time more and more often as the years went on, forgetting sometimes how far I was from my life. Forgetting that it had happened one hundred years before, and not just that instant.

When Piper eased the front door open and stepped inside, waving her hand in front of her face to ward off cobwebs, she looked just like Molly — that long black hair and those jewel-bright eyes, and a mouth with a smile hidden at the corners of it. But once the moment of hope melted away, I could see the differences between Piper and her grandmother, and there were plenty of them. And then two boys walked in behind her, and they shut the door.

Piper turned to face them, and she let that hidden smile loose, and it was a different kind of smile than I’d ever seen on Molly’s face — bright and sharp and cruel, ready to have that cruelty dialed up as far as it needed to go. When I saw that smile on Piper’s face, I knew.

I knew that she was nothing like Molly at all.

This's a character who is gonna shortly be disabled, and she's allowed all her sharp edges and I will never fucking be over it. This's a novel of sharp edges, not pulling a punch in deference to its subject matter, not doing a thing to make its readers comfortable or reassured. It's all the ferocity horror should be, with probably my favorite insight being:

When there is a house that no one will ever live in again, people bring their secrets to it. They hide things there — treasures and secrets and sins and violence and love. They turn it into a place to be cruel to each other, because they’re afraid, and fear slaps a dial onto cruelty and turns it up as high as it can go. They turn it into a place to want each other, because fear puts a dial onto want, too. They turn it into what it is, and without them, a house is just a house, no matter what happened there. It’s just empty.

a two-chapter masterclass in writing representation we wanna see.

I was a disabled child told to be kind, not to make folk nervous or bristle at their pity. To know my limitations and stay quiet, not rock the boat and I wouldn't be hurt or scorned more than was expected for my disability. They're lessons I'm spending much of my twenties unknotting, and this vicious, many-toothed novel has wrapped itself round my heart even in its infancy.

[flannelpunkcalum]

These are so good omg 10 from the best friend ones with cal maybe? Love your writing xx

“friends don’t do this kind of shit!” with cal?

hey i love you!!!! that’s so nice of you to say! and this is also the last of the best friends to lovers prompts so i’d just like to say it was fun and thanks to everyone who sent something in! sorry this took so long but i had my last midterm today!!!!!!

“Hey, Cal, you coming to Kappa Sig tonight?”

Calum ducked his head as Ashton clapped him on the shoulder. Practice had left his shoulders aching, and a few months ago he would have been ready to drink until he couldn’t feel anything but wavy. It was almost Halloween - t’was the season to drink hard cider until it came out of his nose. 

“Nah, not tonight, man.” He said instead. 

“Balls. Mikey? Are you goin’?”

“Yeah, boy.”

“Boiiiiiiiiii.” Luke chimed in. 

As they came off the field, Calum peeled himself away from the group a little. It was getting harder to explain why he wasn’t going out, why he wasn’t as much fun anymore. He knew they were gonna pin him for it eventually, but… he wasn’t up for that banter tonight. 

“Don’t have too much fun, boys.” He yelled into the changeroom as he headed out. Ashton whooped on at him as the door slid shut behind him. Somehow, Calum didn’t feel the least bit jealous. 

He tried to keep to himself while he showered and packed up. Other athletes were spilling out of the complex, and as Calum’s feet hit the sidewalk he nodded to a few of them. One of the kin students - Erica - caught up to him, bumping him with her elbow. 

“Hey,” She said, smiling at him with bright eyes. Cal just nodded; he was glad enough to see her. Kinesiology students practising sports medicine usually volunteered at practice, she’d mended his turf burn on a few occasions. “How’s your ego doing since you ate it out there? Little bruised?”

Calum found himself laughing. The rain had turned the turf into a slip ‘n slide that day, and his soccer cleats hadn’t been enough to keep him upright during wind sprints. “Compound fracture.” He joked.

Erica winced dramatically. She was cute, Calum knew it, but when she pouted at him like that it didn’t move anything within him. “Aw, baby.” She said, voice liquid.

“I’ll recover.”

“Well, if I can help, just let me know. My roommate is gonna be gone all weekend, so if you ever need some impromptu physio, I’m all yours.” She said casually. Like she wasn’t invested in his answer. People only really did that when they were, it seemed.

Erica was great. She was smart, and funny, and pretty. Ashton would be foaming at the mouth once he heard Cal turned her down. “I’m actually pretty busy this weekend, sorry, Er.” He shrugged. At least they were almost at the intersection. “Maybe another time, alright? See you at practice!” He said, turning for his bus stop.

He pressed his hands into his pockets as he waited. Erica Brown, huh? I mean, she was nice and all, but he kind of had his eye on someone. Maybe he could gently nudge her to one of his teammates. After all, she had given him those exercises that had unfucked his shoulder, he’d hate to see her unhappy.

Fumbling for his earbuds, he tried to forget about the encounter. It was just hard, you know? Whether he liked it or not, he was changing. All he could do was hope it was for the better. His grades were up, that was something, but he didn’t feel like he used to about frat parties and kin majors with bright eyes.

He turned up his music so he didn’t have to think about it.

The bus was quiet that night. It was usually welcome, not having to wait for a seat, but Calum was just in an edgy sort of mood. He could stand a little chaos. Maybe the frat party wouldn’t have been such a bad idea, after all.

But she was waiting for him.

Really, there was no contest.

His apartment was a messy little walkup a block from the bus stop, but tired as he was he could feel the bounce in his step returning. As he unlocked the door, he felt a little anticipation build.

The sound of the door and him toeing off his shoes announced his arrival. “Hi honey, welcome home.” He heard her drawl from the kitchen, and even though he knew she was joking he couldn’t help but smile. There was something really sweet about how she’d greet him like they were in I Love Lucy, like two kids playing house. Made him want to get domestic with her, dammit. It would be embarrassing if it didn’t feel so damn good. 

“Hi, honey,” He said, his own countersign, as he dropped his bag on the floor in the hall. She was at the kitchen table on her laptop, but she glanced over as he came up and gave her a quick one-armed hug. Well, he tried to keep it quick. 

“Quesadillas are on the stove for you.” She said, leaning her head into his shoulder before he released. “Actually, you should probably flip them.”

Calum made himself turn to the stove so he doesn’t linger. “Coach says I should be getting more lean protein.”

“So get coach to make you dinner. These have peppers in them, they’re healthy.”

“They’re definitely not.” Calum said, flipping them with his fingers. 

Behind him, he heard Y/N make a raspberry. God, she’s adorable. “How was sportsball?”

“Soccer was good. Would’ve been better if you were there to cheer me on.” He teased, turning around and leaning on the counter. He does this sometimes, flirts with Y/N to see if she notices. I mean, he knew she wouldn’t, but every time it gots his pulse up. Maybe now, maybe this time…

Y/N doesn’t look up. “As if I’d go out there and freeze my ass off for you.”

Apparently not. 

“Break my heart.” He hummed. “What’re we watching tonight, anyways?”

Y/N finally turned to him, instead of her laptop. “Okay, so it’s definitely gotta be spooky. I was kind of thinking some B-horror? Or, like, a trashy movie from the 80s.”

Calum nodded thoughtfully, as if he could ever disagree with her. “They just put the original Halloween on Netflix.”

“That sounds really good, actually. Maybe you’re not just a pretty face.” Y/N teased, already headed to his room, since he had a double bed. It was comfier than the couch, she insisted. “I made you dinner so you have to make the popcorn!” 

That evening, Calum tried to focus on Michael Myers. He really did. Jamie Lee Curtis was screaming her lungs out and he was really trying to respect that, but every time the score peaked he could see Y/N shift by his side and fuck, she was hypnotizing. Her toes curling in his sheets, pretending not to chew on one of her knuckles, trying to chat through the jump scares - she was the sweetest when she was pretending not to be afraid. 

“- and, like, it’s my 9 am lecture, I’ve been awake for all of twenty minutes, and this guy sits down next to me like ‘hi’ and just keeps trying to start a conversation - asks me what year I’m in, like, my major - I dunno if he was flirting or not but like -”

“He was flirting.” Calum interrupted, watching her reflection in the screen. 

“Yeah, I figured - oh, Jesus, God -” He felt her jump next to him - “- like, most people don’t talk to each other in biochem, it was deeply suspicious.” They watch Michael stab the boyfriend (Calum couldn’t remember his name) for a long moment. “Y’know, Paige thought we were dating for a while.”

Calum feels his heart pick up, and it’s not because of the slasher. “Well, this is technically Netflix and chill.” He said, slinging his arm around her shoulders so it seems like a joke. Unless she’s into it, of course. 

“Yeah, but like - you don’t think that’s funny?”

Calum shifted a little, stomach curling. Was it really that ridiculous to her that they could be together? He had to get out of here, get himself under control before he said something stupid. His hand tapped the spacebar, making Y/N jump beside him. “I guess. Gotta pee. Be right back.” 

He was just hoping to get to the bathroom so he could collect himself, maybe text Ashton about it, but Y/N grabbed his arm as he swung his legs off the bed. Sitting on the edge, he glances back at her. He could never fight his way out of her grip. “Are you okay?” She asked. “Cal.”

Calum didn’t have to say anything, and he knew that. But he couldn’t live like this forever. “I mean,” he shrugged, “it’s just, uh, it’s not super funny to me. That I couldn’t be with you.” 

He saw her face change as it hit her. “Jesus, you’re seriously just realizing now?” He said, before he could stop himself. 

That was mean. He could see Y/N’s eyes darting, she was just looking at his sheets, trying to process, and he had snapped at her. Before he could apologize - “Excuse me, lots of people watch movies with their friends.”

“No, friends don’t do this kind of shit, Y/N. They don’t - they don’t pass up on dates and house parties to cuddle in bed and watch movies with their friends. Look, I’m - this isn’t how I wanted to tell you-”

“Is that why you let me move in with you?”

“No. No.” Calum said, putting his hand over hers before she could pull away. “When we moved in, at first, I had a stupid little crush on you, I thought it was gonna go away once we started getting in each other’s way, and I was wrong. I wouldn’t have - Y/N, I would never try to trap you into anything.” Some of the wideness of her eyes faded as he said that. Good. He didn’t want - this shouldn’t scare her, or hurt her. He didn’t want it to be like this, fuck -  

She tugs her hand away anyways. “Okay. I - so, you want -”

“Anything.” He said. “Since it’s out there… I wanna be with you. I don’t want this - this connection we have to end. We could have a love like this, you know? It could be that easy.”

He saw her rub at her face, reading i’m too tired for this shit. He wants to be able to reach out and pull her close so she can relax in his arms, but he doesn’t move. It doesn’t mean anything if she doesn’t want it, too. “Cal, I- you gotta give me a minute with this.”

“Tell me you don’t feel anything for me and it’s forgotten.” He said, too quickly. He just wanted her happy.

“Even if I do, we’re roommates. What if we break up and it’s shitty? It’d be so hard to sort out and - like, I don’t know. I’m sorry, you know I’m bad at this, I just, I don’t know what to do.” 

Calum did. “I’ll give you a little space.” He said gently, standing up from the bed and pulling out his phone. “I’ll spend the night at Ash’s, you can - “

“Wait, you don’t have to. I’ll get out of your room if you want, you don’t have to leave.” She said, grabbing the laptop and sliding off the other side. “I’ll go.”

“Nah. I gotta get some air.” Calum sighed, quickly letting Ash know he was coming to his. It was still pregaming hours, they’d be at his place. “And after what I dropped on you, I should back off a little.”

Y/N’s eyes were wide, and she clung to her laptop like a life raft. “Okay.” She said, after a long moment. They were both hovering by the door, too nervous to move back into each other’s orbits. 

“Okay.” She said again, like she had made a choice. “Just - text me if you’re staying over or coming home, alright?” Calum knew he’d be staying over, but he nodded anyways. At least she wanted him to talk to her. 

Y/N took a deep breath; he could hear it going through her. Then, so fast he couldn’t have moved if he wanted to, she gave him a hug before darting into the hall. 

Calum could hear her footsteps all the way down the hall into her own room. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe, until he heard her door close.

Well. At least now she knew. 

Calum shrugged his jacket on in a fog and made sure to lock the door after him as he headed out. 

He hadn’t been kidding; he’d give her anything she asked. If that was just roommates, fine. If that meant she gave him a chance - that would be all he needed, he was sure. He knew her so well - that was why he was in love with her, after all. 

@therainydays4 @babylon-uncrowned @plainwhiteluke

[joonie-beanie]

Welcome To The Wild Side [9]

<-- [8] | [10] -->

Genre: Superpowers + College AU

Rated: T

Words: 2,312

A/N: This story is honestly fun to write so HERE IS AN UPDATE

After the party, you don’t see the guys for a while. There’s bickering in the group chat that makes you laugh, but for the most part is seems like everyone has their own things going on—and you get it. You balance a full course load and working a few days a week to make rent, so you can’t be too upset that your paths don’t cross.

But still, you kind of miss them.

You debate texting to see if anyone has time to just grab a coffee, but you fear that it’ll seem…weird? Sure, you’re pretty positive they like you, and you know damn well that you like them so therefore there shouldn’t be an issue, but…it’s still hard to ask.

Sighing to yourself, you push open the door in front of you, stepping into the bottom floor of the student union on campus. The food court—laid out in front of you—is fairly busy, but you’re used to it. The slightly longer than usual break between 11am and 2pm classes typically leads to a lunch rush on campus.

Charging ahead, you plan to jump straight into the line of your favorite pizza stall, but today something catches your eye. On a small stage located on the edge of the seating area—a stage which is typically vacant—there’s a guy…dancing. Like…really going for it—and he’s good.

Jaw going a little slack, you pause in your stride, turning and slowly venturing towards the stage. There’s a crowd of mostly females gathered around it, so you can’t get too close, but even from where you’re standing it doesn’t take you long to realize that the good-looking man on stage is—

“Hoseok?” you say, voice hitching in surprise. On stage, Hoseok obviously doesn’t hear the quiet declaration of his name over the music he’s dancing to—continuing his flawless movements to the beats of the song.

He’s wearing black sweats, a white t-shirt with an open button up on top, and a black snapback, yet you’re convinced that no other outfit would make him look as good as he does right now. It just…it fits.

Eyes glued on him as his performance continues, you feel a pang of disappointment when the song fades out, and Hoseok stands straight—smiling brightly and bowing to the crowd as they cheer for him.

“Sorry, that’s all I have for today! Don’t forget to come to the dance competition next Wednesday! 7pm, in West Hall!”

He moves to grab his phone and portable speaker from the floor, beaded sweat dripping off his nose as his bends down. You’re not sure how long he’d been dancing for before you’d arrived, but clearly it’d been more than just a few minutes.

Placing his belongings back into his bag, Hoseok hefts his backpack onto one shoulder and then grabs the hem of his white t-shirt, bending to meet the fabric of the shirt half way down his torso. He wipes his face to rid himself of his sweat, while at the same time flashing a small sliver of toned abdomen to all the females who are still loitering around the area.

If this was an anime, you’re sure the girls would have swooned and passed out, but instead they just watch with unabashed hunger in their eyes.

“Hey!” a few call out as soon as Hoseok hops off the stage, his personal space immediately surrendered as the females crowd around him. As they begin feeding him praises and asking him what he’s doing later on, Hoseok manages an awkward smile, his shoulders tensing as the crowd presses even closer.

You find yourself frowning. Can’t they see they’re just making him uncomfortable?

“Hoseok!” His name leaves your tongue before you realize what you’re doing—your hand lifting in the air to wave at him. Luckily, he hears your cry, his eyes peering over the heads of the gathered people and locking onto to you.

You smile, nodding your head to beckon him over, and a look of relief visibly passes through his gaze.

“Hey--,” he says, voice suddenly right in front of you along with every other inch of him. You blink, nearly losing your footing as you stumble back in surprise, but Hoseok reaches forward and grips your forearm, steadying you.

Teleportation! Right!

“Jesus, you scared me,” you sigh, bringing a hand to your heart, and Hoseok laughs.

“Sorry, sorry! Just…thought it’d be the quickest way to get out of that crowd,” he says, voice morphing into a mumble as he glances over his shoulder at the hoard of girls that are still looking around, dazed.

It’s not too often a person standing right before your eyes suddenly disappears.

“C’mon,” Hoseok says, his fingers releasing your forearm and ghosting down to your hand. His slim digits slot between yours, holding on comfortably tight, and you find yourself staring at your entwined fingers, cheeks feeling a little warm.

However, you don’t get a chance to question Hoseok’s slightly intimate gesture because he’s quick to tug you along—heading deeper into the food court.

“Did you eat?” he asks, glancing back at you as you keep pace beside him. You shake your head.

“No, that’s what I was heading to do when I saw you dancing.”

“Good! We can eat together then!” he exclaims, smiling brightly, and you find yourself smiling as well.

Hoseok decides to get in line for the Mexican stall while you’re still pinning for a greasy pizza, so the two of you momentarily split off. When you finally get your food, Hoseok has already secured a table, waving you over when your searching eyes finally scan over where he’s seated.

“Do you dance here a lot?” you find yourself asking as you snack on your pizza. You come here to eat nearly every day and yet it’s rare to see anyone on the stage performing.

“No, not really,” Hoseok responds, taking a long swig from his water bottle. “I usually only dance here to promote the Universities dance competition or some other event that pertains to the performing arts department.”

“Are you a dance major?”

Hoseok smiles a little wistfully.

“Thought about it. Danced basically my entire life and I love doing it, but…didn’t think it was a feasible path, ya know?” You frown, listening as he continues. “So, I decided to go with Management. Seems like something I’d like to do. But I’m still minoring in dance. Can’t abandon the dream completely.”

“Well…for what it’s worth you’re really good,” you say, your hand sliding across the table to rest atop his. You can see the sadness that lingers in his eyes, but you understand how he feels. It’s hard to decide between a path that’s cleanly paved and one that you want to take but might be risky to travel.

“I’m sure you’d be able to make it work if you wanted to. On stage…when I saw you it’s like I was hypnotized,” you admit, smiling at him softly. “I was totally amazed…”

It catches Hoseok off guard—the true sincerity he can see on your face and hear in your voice, but it makes his heart flutter.

Flipping his hand where it’s resting beneath yours—his palm presses flat against your own as he lifts your hand from the table and then slowly brings it to his lips. He kisses your knuckles softly, a smile stretched across his face, and your cheeks begin to heat up.

Eyelids which had momentarily fluttered shut peel open—Hoseok’s brown eyes angling up to look at your face—and when he sees the pink flush of your skin and the surprise showing in your eyes, he freezes.

Oh god.

“Oh my—Y/N, I am so sorry,” he stammers in apology, releasing you from his grasp. You pull your hand back, holding it in front of your chest as you watch Hoseok’s own face turn red with embarrassment.

“I mean…no, it’s okay, Hobi, don’t be sorry,” you manage to respond, laughing a little. “But do you…act like this with everyone?” you question, watching as he blinks.

“You know—the hand holding, the…”

“Skinship?” he sums up, shaking his head at himself. Lifting his hat, he runs a hand though his slightly sweaty hair. “I…have a pretty bad habit of initiating skinship with the people I feel close to.”

You cock your head to the side.

“I’ve barely made my debut in your life.”

“Doesn’t mean I haven’t enjoyed the time we’ve spent together,” Hoseok counters, smiling at you as he moves to pick up another slice of his quesadilla. “I like to think that I read people pretty easily—I get a sense of what they’re like, and with you it just kind of…works. You’re the type of person I want to get closer with because I feel like we get along well. And not necessarily just you and I, but with the other guys it’s the same.”

“I…I think I get how you feel,” you admit shyly, and when Hoseok’s patient, accepting gaze remains on you, you continue. “Just…for the last few weeks I’ve felt kind of bad about you all saving me and then suddenly taking me into your friend group, but…I really like you guys,” you say, eyes cast down at your fingers as you speak. “I wanna see you and get to know you all more…”

There’s a beat of silence, and you wonder if perhaps Hoseok is judging you, but when you chance a look at his face you find him grinning fondly.

“That can definitely be arranged, Y/N.”

You smile softly, picking up another slice of pizza. Reassurance sits comfortably in your chest.

“Good.”

Continuing to eat your meals, the sound of chatter throughout the food court fills the silence between the two of you. However—

“You know,” you say after a minute, eyebrow cocking as you smirk at him. “Technically you’re now the third of the guys to kiss me.”

Hoseok chokes on his quesadilla. You laugh a little harder than you should.

“Should I text the group chat now?” you say, a mischievous look entering your eyes as you dig In your pocket for your phone. Downing a few gulps of water, Hoseok’s eyes widen as he watches you open the chat with a devious smile.

“No--!” he sputters, slamming his empty water bottle on the table before diving forward to try and stop you. You manage to type ‘hey guys hoseok just’ before said male makes contact with your phone. Both of your finger slide across the screen as you wrestle for control.

“Hoseok!” you laugh, falling back into your seat. “I’ll stop! I’ll stop—let go of my phone, oh my god haha.”

“Fine!” he relinquishes, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. He releases his grip on your phone, allowing you to finally look at the clusterfuck of literate words you and Hoseok had probably….mangaged………….to write……….

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh no,” you say, smile dropping as you stare at the message now in the group chat for all 8 chat members to see. How…out of all the buttons you could have pressed did you end up typing that and then pressing send?

“What? What is it?” Hoseok questions, a sliver of fear apparent in his voice. You don’t look at him.

“Check the group chat.”

Snatching his phone from his pocket, Hoseok stares at the single notification on screen, his heart thumping against his ribs as he drags the notification down to reveal the entire message.

“Oh dear god,” he says, sinking back into his seat, disbelieving yet slightly amused laughter bubbling up in his throat.

“I’m so dead.”

New Message from [The Only Girl]

[The Only Girl]: hey guys hoseok just f ucc dm e oh n god

[Jeon Seagull]: …….

[TaeTae]: …wut

[Jin]: WHAT

[RM]: what exactly did I just read

[ChimChim]: uh sounds like Hobi hyung fucked Y/N until her brain short circuited

[H O B I]: PARK JIMOTHY AJKHSDJKASD

[Agust D]: wow Namjoon I’m calling a locksmith we’re changing the locks before Hoseok gets home

[RM] changed [H O B I]’s nickname to [The Traitor]

[The Traitor]: nO THAT’S NOT WHAT FUcKING hAPernNED

[Jin]: where’s Y/N? Sounds like she’s with you.

[ChimChim]: she’s probably recovering before round two

[TaeTae]: after hobi hyung gave dick so fine she became incoherent? What kind of sadist are you, thinking about round two

[Jeon Seagull] removed [ChimChim] and [TaeTae] from the chat

[The Traitor]: she’s sitting across from me with her face in her hands, groaning and laughing

[Agust D]: wow didn’t take her long to regret it huh

[The Traitor]: wjkLKWJELaks WE DIDN’T FUCK O MY GOD

[The Traitor]: She’s FUCking LAUGHING AT ME

[The Traitor]: Y/N PLEASE CLEAR MY NAME

[The Only Girl] changed [The Traitor]’s nickname to [HOBI]

[The Only Girl]: sorry I was crying

[RM]: Damn Hoseok you had dick game that good and you never told me?

[Jin]: Joon you should probably shut up before Jungkook kicks you from the chat too

[RM]: …sorry

[HOBI]: Y/N PLEASE

[The Only Girl]: Sorry! Sorry! I was crying from laughter. Hoseok and I didn’t have sex lmao. He kissed my hand and I wanted to tease him about it by threatening to tell the group chat, but he wrestled me for my phone and…that message ended up getting sent.

[Agust D]: Ok but you’re saying he kissed you tho

[HOBI]: IT WAS HER HAND. YOU GUYS KNOW I GET STUPID WITH BOUNDRIES AND SKINSHIP SOMETIMES

[RM]: That’s true…

[The Only Girl]: Please forgive him I’ve already embarrassed him enough.

[Jin]: Fine you’re forgiven

[RM]: Jungkook?

[Jeon Seagull]: forgiven

[HOBI]: Thank god

[Agust D]: Someone add Taehyung and Jimin back in

[RM] added [ChimChim] and [TaeTae] to the chat

[TaeTae]: WHAT DID WE MISS

[Agust D]: :// Hoseok got that dick game

[The Only Girl]: JLSkd:ASLDASD YOONGI NO

[hydraelwrites]

Welcome back to our ongoing series about things to ask your Beta readers. Check out last week’s post, questions about characterization.

This week, we delve into the nuts and bolts of your book – the plot, the conflicts, and the structure. I’m focusing on this in order of what is most essential for a story. Good characters can carry a bad story better than anything else, and poorly handled characters will kill an otherwise good story like a knife to a heart. If you survive the character challenge, however, the next thing that will choke your story to death is if it falls apart in the analysis.

What’s interesting about these kinds of structural things is, if you do them well, the reader won’t notice them. Outside of the most hardcore bookworms, most people don’t praise a book for having good pacing, or a well-drawn conflict. Plot is really the only thing that most people will talk and care about. However, that doesn’t mean they don’t notice them. Think of the structural stuff like the CGI in a movie – if it’s well done, you’ll completely overlook it. If it’s poorly done, it will be painfully obvious. And if it’s amazingly done, it will draw attention for all the right reasons

Look at those claws. Look at them. (from Screenrant)

Let’s get to the questions you’ll want to ask.

What were any consistencies you noticed?

This is a broad question that covers a lot, and you’ll definitely want to plan some follow-up questions to make sure you hit all the angles it has to offer.

First of all is checking to make sure things besides characters were consistent throughout. Did the reader have a good sense of where things were and what was going on in them? Were there breaks in the internal consistency of your novel, or did it all hold together well? This will also cover plot holes, although you might want to read this post to decide when it’s actually important.

The next thing to check is if the things you meant to have consistent were, in fact, consistent. Did you have a symbol you wanted the reader to notice through repetition? This is where you check for that. Same goes for motifs or themes (which we’ll cover more later.) Were they noticeable enough?

Finally…this is also where you find out if you had repeated phrases or ‘ticks’ that were distracting or annoying. This one is easiest to explain with examples. When I was first starting off as a writer, I tended to have people quirk their eyebrows all the time. Surprised? Quirk an eyebrow. Curious? Quirk an eyebrow. Annoyed? Quirk an eyebrow. Flirty? Quirk that thing! Confused? How else do you express that besides quirking your damn eyebrow?

My characters walked around looking like this. Constantly.

It could get that bad. I once had, in a room with five characters having a conversation, every single one quirk their eyebrow at least once.

I fixed that particular tick years ago but developed a new one that my editor had to point out to me. In the first draft of Strange Cosmology, I had a habit of my characters only emoting through either their eyes or through smiling. Sometimes, occasionally, foreheads. I almost never utilized body posture, breathing patterns, or hand gestures. It’s something I’m working on currently, and it’s helping my characters feel even more human and organic.

What is the primary conflict of the book?

And after that complicated question, we’re moving onto a fairly straightforward one. Like the protagonist and antagonist question from last time, this one should be obvious to you. Odds are good you already know exactly what you have in mind for your primary conflict. However, that doesn’t mean the reader knows.

Let’s pick an example from a movie that just so happens to give me an excuse to use my favorite gif. What was the primary conflict on Spider-Man 3?

You didn’t think we were done with this, did you?

Was it Spider-Man vs Sandman? It can’t be that, because he spent the second act of the movie pretty much gone. Was it Spider-Man vs Venom? You’d think so, but Venom wasn’t actually a character until act three – and Venom becoming a character in act three meant that Spider-Man’s internal conflict with the symbiot definitely wasn’t the primary conflict, because it gets resolved before the climax. Also, Harry was an antagonist in that movie, although it made no damn sense and was just a mess even by Spider-Man 3’s standards.

If a beta-reader had been asked that question, they could have pointed out that the movie was a disaster in this regard. The movie should have picked one of those to be the primary conflict, then relegated the others to secondary or tertiary conflicts. This question will help you make sure you didn’t create a Spider-Man 3.

No one wants to create a Spider-Man 3. 

What would you call the climax of the book?

You might start picking up another trend here. These questions are a bit like what you might have answered in English class, and that’s not accidental.  Your reader should be able to break it down like a classroom assignment because anything they can’t answer is something you need to revisit.

This is especially true of the climax.

If your climax isn’t easy to spot, it doesn’t have the impact it needs. Perhaps it’s because you don’t have a clear primary conflict, or perhaps the climax doesn’t hit the way it should. Maybe you need to make the resolution clearer or ensure it has a solid impact. Or perhaps the problem isn’t in the climax itself.

If the reader points to the wrong thing as the climax, or can’t identify it, ask probing questions to find where you went wrong. Is it in the climax itself? Did you not build up to it properly?

That latter one is a common problem even among famous and talented authors. For example, I love Brandon Sanderson’s books. However, they sometimes have…problems in the climax. My personal favorite example is for Elantris. I’ve talked about this before, but Brandon Sanderson spent the entire book building up an interesting political conflict and an intriguing mystery. Then, right at the climax we are introduced to…well, I don’t want to spoil, so imagine that season 8 of Game of Thrones had ended with a sudden attack by Xenomorphs, and the climactic battle had been Drogon vs. the Xenomorphs. That’s how out of the blue it felt.

Although admittedly, that would have been rad as hell. 

Also, I got through that entire segment without making a joke about climaxes. I just wanted to get proper recognition for that.

What were the themes of the book?

It’s a bit of writing wisdom that revision is where you develop the themes. That’s very true, but when you’re writing a book themes tend to begin to emerge organically, especially in the early drafts. Unless you’re actively avoiding putting in themes, you’re going to have some part of your story develop them – and even if you were, they probably still arose.

For an example I’ve cited before, J.R.R. Tolkien famously said that he “disliked allegory in all its forms.” Yet so many people have pointed out that there is a clear theme of naturalism vs industrialization, especially in The Two Towers. 

Literal trees tearing apart a dam to flood a city that has stripped away all forest in the area? Yeah, no allegory here at all. 

This is where you check your themes. If you put some in deliberately, it’s good to know that they can be identified. You’ll still want to strengthen them in the revision process, but if you were writing a dystopia where the evil government controls its citizens through hypnotic cat videos, and you’re trying to make a point about how much time we spend online, it’d be good to know that you’d laid the groundwork properly.

On the other hands, if you weren’t trying to introduce any particular theme, it’s good to know what themes you were letting into your novel accidentally. Maybe those are the themes you want to develop in revisions to expand and give more depth too. Maybe, on the other hand, you’re accidentally including a theme you didn’t mean. For example…well, the Star Wars prequels are a fertile ground for bad writing decisions.

Stuff it, Binks. 

I don’t think George Lucas is racist. I don’t think he meant to code Jar Jar Binks as an offensive minstrel character straight out of the 1920’s, Watto as a flying greedy Jewish caricature, and the Trade Federation as a hodge-podge of Asian stereotypes. I’m sure that was not his intention.

And yet, this is where he would have found out that he’d actually done that, and thus created the accidental theme that other races are stupid or dangerous.

Which segues nicely into the last question you should ask your Beta Readers…

Was there anything that really bothered or offended you?

Never, ever skip this question. It’s vital to know if there’s something offensive in your books. For me personally, you know who I want to read every single one of my early drafts? A woman. Why? Because I’m a male, and I’ve read enough twitter threads about male authors writing women and how often it goes wrong. I don’t want to be that guy. If I’ve got male gaze going on, I want to know about it, and this question is where I could find out.

You never, ever want to be the kind of writer this person is mocking. 

Now, I’m not saying that something bothering someone or offending them means you should delete it or change it. These days, it’s very difficult to avoid offending someone. If you really want to see how hard it is, go to the review section of any major book and look for the one star reviews.

You’ll start seeing some that are offended in some way or another. Some people get offended because a book has too much swearing. Some get offended because it has any kind of sex scene. You’ll see people who take horrific offense to anything that depicts – even in a negative light – violence against children or animals. There will be people offended by too much violence. And if your book does none of those things, there will be people who are offended you’re ‘playing it safe.’

However.

Once you know where your book is offensive, if anywhere, you can make a decision about if you are going to leave it in or take it out. No matter what you find here, the important thing is to discuss it and be aware of it – you need to know what is offensive so you don’t do it accidentally. It should always be a conscious choice.

And once you know about it, you have to decide if you’re going to keep it. I’ve talked about this before, but in more vague terms. Let’s get blunt this time – In Weird Theology, my editor and I fought about two things. One was how much Enki swore, and one was about Crystal and Ryan having sex. Both parts bothered her. We really went back and forth about those two bits. By the time we were done, I realized she was absolutely right about removing Enki’s verbal tick of dropping the word ‘fuck’ at least once a sentence, but I stood by and stand by the fade-to-black sex scene – although I did agree that it needed the rewrites it got to work better.

The point is, you are the author. You have decisions to make. Ultimately, it is your work.

Just don’t let this one become something that happens by accident.

Come back in the future, where we will go over the last critical questions you ask your beta readers – how immersive your story is.

Any you’d like to add in this category? Tired of me using the Spider-Man 3 gif? For the first one, let me know in the comments below! For the second, all I have to say to that is…

And while you’re here, grab your free book. Dancing Spider-Man demands it. 

Things to Ask Your Beta Readers Part 2 – Analysis Welcome back to our ongoing series about things to ask your Beta readers. Check out last week’s post, …