btranwrites

[btranwrites]

okay so someone on tumbler just informed me you can click on these two little cats

It gives you this notification on your activity which is adorable meow meow bitch

As a plus it gives these cute little notifications!

[btranwrites]

I want to write a book called “your character dies in the woods” that details all the pitfalls and dangers of being out on the road & in the wild for people without outdoors/wilderness experience bc I cannot keep reading narratives brush over life threatening conditions like nothing is happening.

I just read a book by one of my favorite authors whose plots are essentially airtight, but the MC was walking on a country road on a cold winter night and she was knocked down and fell into a drainage ditch covered in ice, broke through and got covered in icy mud and water.

Then she had a “miserable” 3 more miles to walk to the inn.

Babes she would not MAKE it to that inn.

#writing resources #writing reference

[btranwrites]

Sooo Cait Corrain (that white author I exposed for review bombing a bunch of debut authors of color) came back with an exclusive tell-all in the Daily Beast insisting she is not racist and was actually in a state of psychosis induced by her ADHD meds.

I didn't even want to bother addressing this at first, but autism, ADHD, and mental health medications are already stigmatized enough without Cait claiming they could cause you to go on a racist rampage against your peers for MONTHS against your will. (And why is Matthew Perry getting dragged into this??)

I also thought this was a good opportunity to address the problem of white people being more motivated by the fear of being called "racist" than the desire to mitigate the harm of racism itself. It leads to this knee-jerk unproductive defensiveness when called out. You can't simply declare yourself "Not Racist." Many racial biases are unconscious and combating them requires an active effort to recognize and resist them. It's not enough to Not Hate whole races of people and not be going around hurling slurs. You have to be aware of the unequal racial dynamics at work in all aspects of society and how your actions may or may not reinforce them.

As always, please check out the books most affected:

Voyage of the Damned by Frances White

So Let Them Burn by Kamilah Cole

The Poisons We Drink by Bethany Baptise

To Gaze Upon Wicked Gods by Molly X Chang

Mistress of Lies by KM Enright

The Empire Wars by Akana Phenix

[btranwrites]

A Writer's Introduction

Alright, I've been posting short stories and things for a few weeks, and now that Halloween is over, I thought it was time to do a proper introduction.

Who Am I?

My name is Liam. I am a 30 year old, British writer, who is currently unpublished. I'm cisgender, go by He/Him pronouns but have no object to They/Them, I'm straight (as far as I'm currently aware) and have mild Dyspraxia. I primarily write novels, but also short stories. I have various projects in the works, some of which I will be posting here.

What Am I Writing?

Currently, my potential projects include almost a dozen story universes, but to be straightforward, here are my main projects.

Stitches of the Mind: I am working on a Psychological Horror/Crime Drama series of which I have three books written. The first two books focus on a series of murders, with events leaving the characters uncertain if elements they faced were paranormal in nature. Book Three is a soft reboot with a new cast, but does connect back to the first two books.

Signs of Light and Shadow: I am working on a fantasy adventure series focused on two sisters and their adventures across a mystical land. Less high fantasy, and more classical fantasy. More Last Unicorn or Dark Souls than Tolkien. (I bloody hope that comparison makes sense.) I have one book written, but judging by its size I'm going to break it up into a trilogy.

Tales of Hero City: A collection of superhero parody short stories all set in the titular Hero City. They started out from a few writing prompts and kind of evolved from there. I hope to one day release these as a whole collection in a single book.

What Will I Be Posting?

Random Short Stories

Tales of Hero City

Snippets of Novels

I'll mainly be posting short stories and other minor writing pieces I have lying around, or I suddenly write. However, I will also begin posting a selection of stories from my Tales of Hero City collection. I may also start posting snippets from my novels, but we'll have to wait and see.

Followers and Interaction

I am currently open to asks, reblogs, and general interaction. Reblogs especially would be appreciated, spreading the word. I'll of course discuss my projects, but I'll try and steer clear of spoilers where possible.

So, that's me. Hope to see you out there in the writer sphere of the internet.

#writeblr #writeblr intro #other writers

[btranwrites]

I’m working on a concept for angels as a type of undead— human corpses animated by light.

They can’t see, having been blinded by the brightness of their transformation, and the illusion of wings comes from cuts down the length of their spine, allowing light to escape. Much like vampires, they maintain some semblance of their living personality, at least at first, and need to eat something special— in their case, the magic in the flesh of other undead creatures.

The setting I’m making them for sees them as a terrifying necessary evil in places where they’re plentiful, as they hunt worse threats, but they’re often misinterpreted as holy defenders in places where they’re scarce.

#this is coooolllll

[btranwrites]

Just learned about garden path sentences.

They’re basically a literary prank– the sentence starts out in such a way that you think you know where it’s going, but the way it ends completely changes the meaning while still being a complete and logical sentence. Usually it deals with double meanings, or with words that can be multiple parts of speech, like nouns and verbs or nouns and adjectives.

So we get gems like

The old man the boat. (The old people are manning the boat)

The complex houses married and single soldiers and their families. (The apartment complex is home to both married and single soldiers, plus their families)

The prime number few. (People who are excellent are few in number.)

The cotton clothing is usually made of grows in Mississipi. (The cotton that clothing is made of)

The man who hunts ducks out on weekends. (As in he ducks out of his responsibilities)

We painted the wall with cracks. (The cracked wall is the one that was pained.)

#writing reference

[btranwrites]

Fanfiction Authors: HEADS UP

(Non-authors, please RB to signal boost to your author friends!)

An astute reader informed me this morning that one of my fics (Children of the Future Age) had been pirated and was being sold as a novel on Amazon:

(And they weren't even creative with their cover design. If you're going to pirate something that I spent a full year of my life writing, at least give me a pretty screenshot to brag about later. Seriously.)

I promptly filed a DMCA complaint to have it removed, but I checked out the company that put it up -- Plush Books -- and it looks like A LOT of their books are pirated fic. They are by no means the only ones doing this, either -- the fact that """publishers""" can download stories from AO3 in ebook format and then reupload them to Amazon in just a few clicks makes fic piracy a common problem. There are a whole host of reasons why letting this continue is bad -- including actual legal risk to fanfiction archives -- but basically:

IF YOU ARE A FANFIC AUTHOR WITH LONG AND/OR POPULAR WORKS, PLEASE CHECK AMAZON TO SEE IF YOUR STORIES HAVE BEEN PIRATED.

You can search for your fics by title, or by text from the description (which is often just copied wholesale from AO3 as well). If you find that someone has stolen your work and is selling it as their own, you can lodge a DMCA complaint (Amazon.com/USA site; other countries have different systems). If you haven't done this before, it's easy! Here's a tutorial:

HOW TO FILE A COPYRIGHT COMPLAINT FOR STOLEN WORK ON AMAZON.COM:

First, go to this form. You'll need to be signed into your Amazon account.

Select the radio buttons/dropdown options (shown below) to indicate that you are the legal Rights Owner, you have a copyright concern, and it is about a pirated product.

Enter the name of your story in the Name of Brand field.

In the Link to the Copyrighted Work box, enter a link to the story on AO3 or whatever site your work is posted on.

In the Additional Information box, explain that you are the author of the work and it is being sold without your permission. That's all you really need. If you want, you can include additional information that might be helpful in establishing the validity of your claim, but you don't have to go into great detail. You can simply write something like this:

I am the author of this work, which is being sold by [publisher] without my permission. I originally published this story in [date/year] on [name of site], and have provided a link to the original above. On request, I can provide documentation proving that I am the owner of the account that originally posted this story.

In the ASIN/ISBN-10 field, copy and paste the ID number from the pirated copy's URL. You'll find this ten-digit number in the Amazon URL after the word "product," as in the screenshot below. (If the URL extends beyond this number, you can ignore everything from the question mark on.) Once this number has been added, Amazon will pull the product information automatically and add it to the complaint form, so you can check the listing title and make sure it's correct.

Finally, add your contact information to the relevant fields, check the "I have read and accept the statements" box, and then click Submit. You should receive an email confirmation that Amazon has received the form.

Please share this information with your writer friends, keep an eye out for/report pirated works, and help us keep fanfiction free and legally protected!

NOTE: All of the above also applies to Amazon products featuring stolen artwork, etc., so fan artists should check too!

[btranwrites]

NO ONE knows how to use thou/thee/thy/thine and i need to see that change if ur going to keep making “talking like a medieval peasant” jokes. /lh

They play the same roles as I/me/my/mine. In modern english, we use “you” for both the subject and the direct object/object of preposition/etc, so it’s difficult to compare “thou” to “you”.

So the trick is this: if you are trying to turn something Olde, first turn every “you” into first-person and then replace it like so:

“I” →  “thou”

“Me” →  “thee”

“My” →  “thy”

“Mine” →  “thine”

Let’s suppose we had the sentences “You have a cow. He gave it to you. It is your cow. The cow is yours”.

We could first imagine it in the first person-

“I have a cow. He gave it to me. It is my cow. The cow is mine”.

And then replace it-

“Thou hast a cow. He gave it to thee. It is thy cow. The cow is thine.”

#writing reference #old english #this is so cool

[btranwrites]

Some critical rules for writing coherent genre fiction, courtesy of my writing teacher, who is very wise. I don't pretend to have mastered all of these, but their application can do wonders for a story, their lack can cripple it:

Employ the causal chain - every action must be connected to what comes before and after. Each action and beat needs to have impact. They don't all need to be shown but the author needs to know what they are. It is impossible to build suspense without this principle. Things can't happen "just because" or there's no reason for the audience to become engaged with your sequence of events or do things like make predictions. All subsequent rules follow from this principle.

When showing a new type of fictional magic or science, you must show it work before you can show it break. For example, if a character has the ability to summon objects into their hand, we need to see them do so successfully and see how it works, before we see it break at a critical moment during the climax. Otherwise, the audience can't be expected to follow why this situation is unusual because they don't know how it works during normal circumstances.

When claiming a character is good at something, you must show them succeeding at it before you show them failing at it during a moment of pressure. Otherwise, we don't believe you when you establish your character's competence or badassery. For example, when saying your character is an excellent military commander, we need to see them win a fight using those skills and tactics. We can't open with a fight they lose, or else the character and author lose credibility. By all means, show the experienced hero/military leader/ruler/assassin/mage etc break down during a moment of intense pressure, fall down sobbing in terror at a truly insurmountable foe, or otherwise fail to meet the moment, but don't do this before we've seen them succeed at least once, or the moment loses impact.

During the build-up of tension, coincidences should hurt the hero and help the antagonist. This plays into the causal chain rule. Coincidences that help the hero feel cheap. Coincidences that help the villain raise the tension.

Every beat, whenever possible, should be connected to conscious action by central characters (hero, love interest, or villain). The more events are connected to purposeful action by key characters, the more satisfying the causal chain for the reader.

Avoid things that happen "just because" whenever possible. You can have one or two, sure, but the more often things happen "just because" the less interesting the story is, especially if those "just because" moments are core to the story. Fiction is not real life. Audiences are drawn to stories where purposeful actions dictate the success or failure of the characters.

[btranwrites]

As writers, we love to put our heroes through emotional hardships. Whether it’s being mistreated, having to make difficult choices, or grieving a personal loss, that sweet internal angst is useful for building drama and attachment. Unfortunately, writers don’t always consider whether it makes sense for their hero to go through the angst in question. And since sad moments tend to receive more scrutiny than happy ones, audiences can sniff out these contrivances pretty quick. Let’s take a look at how that manifests in the wild. 

[btranwrites]

I think it does, in the same way that tracing a drawing helps you understand better how a painting is constructed, copywork kinda let's you pick up how sentences are constructed. I think it's similar to how when you journal, the process of articulating your thoughts as you write things down help you think better than they're all in your head.

Fellow writers, does copywork help ?

I saw someone recommend doing it [& genderswapping to make it a tad bit more difficult - I think so your brain is putting in a bit more effort idk] to get better at writing. Is this actually useful ? Or no ? Or does it depend on the writer ?

I kinda like the idea, but idk if it'd actually be beneficial

Also if you don't know what copywork is, from my understanding it's like... Reading something & writing it word of word ? [If that's wrong let me know-]

[btranwrites]

hi ! i apparently always want to send you asks so here are 2 questions :

- last night i had a dream where ABM had been translated in my first language (french). now i’m wondering, have you said anything about translations ? are fan translations encouraged ?

- as a writer who writes about divinity do you have any advice for a writer-to-be who is trying to write about divinity ? it’s not about the same god(s)/religion but i think a lot of themes on godhood are similar no matter the culture (morality and cruelty of the divine, omniscience and omnipotence,…)

Hello!! :)

For your first question, because of legal/rights reasons, you are not allowed to translate ABM FOR PROFIT, unless you are a publisher intending to buy the rights for translations. As in, you can't sell the ABM you translated. I genuinely wish that you could, but it's a legal issue

That said, FREE fan translations are cool with me and should be alright legally. I 100% support !

Now, for the q about divinity:

The first thing is not to be embarrassed. I think writing about spiritual/philosophical themes in a sincere way involves a lot of, well, being serious and raw and saying things that you fear aren't profound at all. And I promise that, unless you overcome the fear to be vulnerable, then you're not going to write divinity well.

Religion, theology, spirituality is personal and it's serious, so let it be.

On that note, writing about divine stuff is really tough and really dependent on your own approach and feelings, but I can tell you what helps me:

Try to really conceptualize the omnipotent, the omniscient. There are things that don't make sense about it, don't force them to make sense.

Treat the "plot holes" in theories of god/gods as features, not flaws.

Nature, think about nature.

Before more modern times, life and time was seen pretty cyclically, instead of a line of progress/change. Circles are everywhere in religions and ancient society. Think about circles and returning to the beginning again and doing everything over again.

Morality is about whoever has the monopoly on violence, but kindness and pain are real.

Whats the purpose of worship??

Whats the purpose of living when divine/god life seems to be tragedy and nothing else

Cruelty is easy when you're powerful

Divinity is about being outside understanding. When you're divine, people say, "but that's not possible; You're not possible." I always thought being gay and/or trans is sort of divine in that way, something inexplicable.

Love is something inexplicable, like divinity; when u make it easy to understand, you've made it lose the divine part.

#writing references #really nice observations on divinity

[btranwrites]

Writeblr Introduction

Please reblog!

Hello Writeblr! I'm oliveScales, and I'm currently writing and illustrating my webcomic named "The Forgotten Legends of Chima", or TFLOC for short.

I'm a fan of mythology and folklore, and I'm trying to study a few of them for my worldbuilding. Worldbuildings with focus on culture are my favorite! I also really like stories with animals and anthropomorphic characters.

The Forgotten Legends of Chima is a fantasy science fiction story about the land of Chima, home to eight animal tribes. Here, you'll learn about their cultures, witness intriguing and complex relationships between them, and understand the importance of diversity.

TFLOC is an interpretation of Legends of Chima's storyline, which means that worldbuilding and characters are going to be developed alongside new content to add further depth into the story, such as unimportant/secondary characters becoming important and vital to the story.

Synopsis

In a world where civilizations clash for Chi in order to survive, Laval, prince of the Lion Tribe, strives to overcome every war and all injustice without ever gripping a sword. It all started when Laval witnessed evil and inequality with his own eyes. Since then, he has promised himself to protect anyone, no matter who they are, from suffering and that he will restore peace in the land of Chima. These are the Forgotten Legends of Chima.

Episodes

Episode 1

Episode 2

Sneak Peeks

TFLOC Full Sneak Peek

TFLOC Episode 2 Sneak Peek

TFLOC Sneak Peek (part 1)

TFLOC Sneak Peek (part 2)

TFLOC Sneak Peek (part 3)

TFLOC Sneak Peek (part 4)

TFLOC Sneak Peek (part 5)

TFLOC Sneak Peek (part 6)

TFLOC Sneak Peek (part 7)

TFLOC Sneak Peek (part 8)

TFLOC Sneak Peek (part 9)

TFLOC Sneak Peek (part 10)

TFLOC Sneak Peek (part 11)

TFLOC Sneak Peek (part 12)

TFLOC Sneak Peek (part 13)

TFLOC Sneak Peek (part 14)

TFLOC Sneak Peek (part 15)

TFLOC Sneak Peek (part 16)

TFLOC Sneak Peek (part 17)

TFLOC Sneak Peek (part 18)

TFLOC Sneak Peek 2 (part 1)

TFLOC Sneak Peek (part 19)

TFLOC Sneak Peek (part 20)

TFLOC Sneak Peek 2 (part 2)

Snippets

TFLOC Snippet 1

TFLOC Snippet 2

TFLOC Snippet 3

TFLOC Snippet 4

TFLOC Snippet 5

TFLOC Snippet 6

TFLOC Snippet 7

TFLOC Snippet 8

TFLOC Snippet 9

Laval and Lagravis

Worriz and Gorzan

Sir Fangar

Found Family (Tormak and Li'ella)

Heads Up Seven Up 1

Asks

Are there any proverbs [in Chima]?

When and why did you start writing?

Laval's purpose

Laval and Cragger

Storytelling Saturday

Character Ask (Laval)

WBW Chi Market

STS Halloween Party

Cragger character ask

Muse Monday Ask (Laval)

WBW ghost stories

Carrds

The Forgotten Legends of Chima Carrd

oliveScales' Carrd

#writeblr #other writers

[btranwrites]

Thinking about androids with disabilities. Weak servos, faulty wiring, damaged vocal processors, cognitive corruption, anything and everything that humans struggle with having a robotic equivalent. And just because they’re mechanical doesn’t mean it’s an easy fix, these are parts that cost thousands of dollars and need a specialized technician if they can be replaced at all. Disability does not disappear even if we can leave our flesh behind.

#ooooooh #*scribbles down ideas*

[btranwrites]

As per my last post, if yall arent aware — Cait Corrain, the author of the upcoming Crown of Starlight made a bunch of fake accounts on Goodreads to review-bomb other debut authors, almost entirely BIPOC, with 1 star while 5-starring her own book. She also added traditionally published debut authors to a list derogatorily labeling them as "self-published" hacks. She went after random books that are Greek mythology retellings, like her own is, and again targeted BIPOC authors. She even targeted my good friend RM Virtues, who is an indie author who writes queer Black Greek myth reimaginings.

Many of those she attacked were people who considered her a colleague and friend. She's tried to spin a lie about how she's being framed by someone from her Reylo fandom days, but Reylos have disproven that already.

Cait allegedly liked to brag about how her publisher treated her like royalty, and she had a massive Illumicrate deal. Her book was also getting favorable advanced reviews and had a beautiful cover, so she had nothing to be jealous of. She's potentially destroyed her career due to racism alone. Do not buy her book and do not support her.

Here is a thread if you want specifics and here is the 31-page doc of evidence.

[btranwrites]

PACING IS ABOUT LOAD BEARING WALLS.

*staples violently to my own forehead*

[btranwrites]

Trench Complications

a Liam An short

Whew! Been cooking this one for a while, but it's out! Liam throws a drag night in hope of searching for the perpetrator behind the kidnappings. And he got more than he asked for.

I'm pretty proud of this one! Liam is no longer just a badass getting his way all the time, and there's more to him than just an aloof executive. And I finally get to make it Lovecraftian! If you do check it out, let me know what you think!

I.

Liam dropped onto the steel chair with a heave. The glitter on his exposed chest and shirt was itchy and, to be honest, disgustingly grimy from the sweat; stage lights were as hot as they were blinding.

The music went on, blaring life onto the brick factory walls that sided the Trench. The crowd calmed down, their attention shifting from him back to Miss Sparks as the drag queen left him on the chair and returned to the front of the stage, continuing her job enchanting the patrons of the bar, swaying their gazes with her every exaggerated yet fluid movement. His job as representative of the night's sponsor—and a glorified, glistening human stage prop—was now to simply sit back, spread out, and look hot and bothered.

And for his job as a member of the Hall of Heroes, to appear just intoxicated enough to look vulnerable.

(the rest of the story under the cut; also available on my website)

The crowd was better than Liam expected. The Trench was a bar squeezed between factories and warehouses a stroll away from Marion Square, a sliver of life tucked away in the depths of urban normativity, one that would have been immeasurably suffocating if not for defiant extravagance. This piece of queer history had been struggling for a while, but tonight the taps were flowing, the program was full, the tickets sold well, and the audience was more colourful than the dreadfully monochromatic pie charts of Enstern's demographic reach Lee showed him earlier.

A shapely calf wrapped in sequin thigh highs stomped onto the steel chair right in front of his crotch, jolting Liam right back to the stage. Miss Sparks was behind him, pressing one velvet-gloved hand against his bare chest, scraping it with glitter as she dragged her hand up with the song's rising crescendo and the crowd getting on their feet. It reached his neck, to his chin, and Miss Sparks tilted his face to the side and delivered the last of the song's chorus to his face and a screaming audience.

The song snuffed out from the blaring speakers, and in thunderous applause the velvet glove, with surprising strength, snatched Liam up to his feet and to the front of the stage.

"Is it not lovely to have executive meat on stage with us tonight," Miss Sparks cooed to the mic and the crowd laughed.

"The honour is ours!" Liam bowed, forward enough and stumbled enough to look just sober, and back up. "It is an honour to sponsor and enable such a community treasure," he winked at Miss Sparks, who swatted playfully at his cheek. "Enjoy the rest of the night, folks, and remember, Enstern Westside opens later this year, just a short stroll away from Marion Square!"

Liam exited the stage as the speakers roared back to life with music and Miss Sparks resumed the program.

The night was well advertised, and well attended. This should be diverse enough a crowd to be a diverse enough hunting ground. And if all that stagecraft went right, Liam had set himself up as the shiniest target.

The bait had been cast, and the Shard Reaper waited.

II.

It didn't take long for Liam to find where Lee was. The man was among the few business suits in the bar, leaning against a post behind a balustrade one floor above, scowling at his phone. In a bar. He was on his phone in a bar, oblivious to the fact that Liam was getting swarmed on the dance floor by two very excited and nearly just as intoxicated girls insisting an uncomfortable and awkward guy take pictures with him.

Well, this was for nothing. Whoever, or whatever, was targeting intoxicated people in Westside, if they were here, would have had more than enough time to see, and notice, Liam. He needed a break anyway. Acting also very excited and just as intoxicated, he kissed the awkward guy on the cheek. The girls squealed, snapping more pictures with their phones, then scream-mouthed a 'thank you' that did not reach his ears over the deafening music. Liam nodded and scream-mouthed back, and excused himself.

The upper deck was not as full. It was darker, and technically more quiet, but in dim lights the Glasslit Void came through more clearly to him. The murmurs of loneliness and desperation from bar patrons scratched his insides, thrumming in rhythm with the music as it grated all over him like coarse sand smelling like old sweat. But to be fair, everyone superhero or not had squeezed through a train station during peak hours before.

Some dude Liam was sure he could take down in less than five seconds stalked over to where Lee was standing, who was still scowling at his phone. He shot one thought of a full bladder at the man, who scampered off to the bathroom in the opposite direction as Liam stalked over behind Lee and sneaked a peek at his phone.

Not messages, but an article. Event sponsor lets loose on stage. Photos of Liam practically shirtless, drunken and messy. Hey, he looked good.

A representative of the company, Elizabeth Anderson, issued a statement in response to the indecency. "We are proud to have sponsored a community event that we hope can help revitalise an important and beloved community venue, and for a valued member of our team to contribute to the celebration of the queer community."

The comments were already arguing. Glacial was not widespread knowledge, so to the public, Liam was just some business major–looking rep dude from Enstern who did something slightly risqué. And happened to be good looking. As normal, factions formed. Outright slurs. Conservatives and moderates 'concerned' about respectability. But what was important was that according to the target for the night, the lefties, Liam 'slayed.'

"No working after hours, director," Liam whispered.

"Oh my god!" Lee jumped, spinning around. "Liam! Liam, there are articles— wait, you know?"

Liam slipped in next to Lee, elbows on the balustrade. It must have been almost two hours after Liam's appearance, but Miss Sparks was still flowing through the stage with grace and poise, now hosting some sort of trivia game.

"It's predictable," Liam said. "Check the engagement rate."

"I did," Lee was still scowling at his phone, now flicking at the screen at speed. "It's the highest we've ever got, and not just from Westside, but— hold on. Predictable? You… planned this?"

"Enstern is now hipper than ever," Liam grinned.

Lee blinked at him; he could almost hear the gears spinning. Liam continued. "We host a queer event. We, well, I, did something scandalous enough to nudge the respectable status quo, but not too much to topple the balance. As expected, drama accounts and outlets ate up anything they could blow out of proportion for traffic. Enstern issued a statement that demonstrated a slight progressive stance, and we ride the same old online arguments to more street cred in Westside."

Applause from the stage below sounded muffled; a trivia round just finished.

"And the articles? Don't they… don't they affect you?"

"Not the first time I was on 'the news,'" Liam winked. "And if you haven't noticed, they don't even remember who I am. These get stale quick on the news cycle, and we have the connections in the outlets to ensure that to be the case. How else do you think Liz got our statement in?"

And that the Man in the Mirror was a formidable force, with fingers in a lot of pies, and knew lots of buttons to press, and how. But Lee didn't need to know that.

Lee shook his head eventually, a smirk ghosting the corners of his lips. "It's an honour to witness Ms. Chauhan's right hand at work."

Liam bowed, one hand on his chest. "As I said before, and I meant it, it is dealt with. So loosen up! Why are you scowling at your phone in a bar? I counted more than three guys approaching you, did you know?"

That same random dude stumbled out of the men's restroom from behind Lee, darting eyes reorienting. Liam shot another thought at the man that tasted like burning bile and crawling stomachache. The man ran back into the bathroom.

"I uh…" Lee stammered, oblivious to what just happened behind his back. "Well. This is… not really my thing."

"What isn't?" Liam leaned against the balustrade, smiling. "Bars, or men?"

The director opened his mouth, but then stopped himself, eyes searching his. Liam kept his gaze, and waited, holding the silence with a gentle smile, one that hopefully was also encouraging.

"Bars," Lee said finally, a quiet syllable almost lost to the beating of the speakers below. But here in the darkness, illuminated only by faint and reflected light, Liam was all but submerged in the Glasslit Void, and empowered by his demesne's presence, he felt clear as day the tension washing away from Lee like dust to the wind. On a face that had been scowling at his phone all night bloomed a reserved grin, and Liam felt himself, too, easing up.

"What about it?" Liam asked, wishing they could be somewhere quieter. "Too loud?"

"Yeah. Well, not exactly." Lee glanced at the stage below, shaking his head. "Things like this. Being this… celebratory. It's new. To me."

The dust in the wind grew coarse, scraping, hot. Burning. Like running to the bus stop, exhausted, the stop was empty. Only exhumes and uncaring sun.

Late.

Another round of the trivia game finished to polite applause, sounding far and muffled. The nostalgic panic surprised him, but it shouldn't. It was old and past.

Was it?

"It's scary, isn't it?" Liam said. "Like you're too old to be scared. Like you're supposed to have outgrown fear and have things figured out. Like there's a deadline."

A surprised chortle came from his left. "Ha! It's humiliating, actually. But what are you even talking about?" Liam turned to see Lee smiling. His teeth were so white, even in the dim lights. He was gesturing at Liam's chest, shirt still half-buttoned. "Was that not just a performance?"

He flicked at the glitter, but there was no use; there was no saving this shirt. "Oh there was consent manufacturing and media manipulation on that stage, yes," Liam said, eyeing mischief at Lee. "But no, I am very much gay. That much is real. I didn't figure that out until after college, and that was also late, in a way. But hey," he gestured at his glittered chest. " 'A queen is never late. Everyone else is simply early.' "

Lee laughed, a satisfying sound. Liam pressed on. "If bars aren't your thing, Mr. Malik, what is?"

Lee scowled again, though the lines looked gentler. "Hm."

"You're not allowed to say working."

Lee rolled his eyes. "Nothing as fun as this, though."

"If someone spends a lot of time doing something without coercion, it's fun for them."

"Did the Board know they have a philosopher in their midst?"

Liam chuckled. "I wouldn't dare claim such prestige, just fascinated by the human psyche. But no, Lee. What's fun for you?"

Lee looked thoughtful. "Hm. Cooking."

Liam raised a brow. "A novice, or am I in the presence of a chef?"

"Well," Lee broke eye contact, searching for his feet in the dark. "I've cooked since high school, so quite a long time."

Liam pushed himself off the balustrade, clasping his hands. "I need professional judgment of my favourite restaurant. Ever been to the Ornament?"

"Oh! Wow. No. Obviously I've heard of it, but—"

"Perfect! Will Thursday night work?"

"I don't think that…" Lee snapped his mouth shut, eyes widened in dawning realisation. "Uh. That." He cleared his throat, straightening his back. "Yes, it does, and I would love to."

"That's what I like to hear," Liam winked at him. "Now I have more talking to do, and please," he graced a finger at the back of Lee's hand, the one death gripping his phone like it insulted his family, "don't scowl at your phone too hard."

III.

One big objective for the night was to draw out the perpetrator, or perpetrators, behind the kidnappings. The bait had been cast, and for now there was nothing for Liam to do except to wait. And stay visible.

There wasn't a clear pattern of targeting on the victims the Hall of Heroes could identify, except that they were intoxicated, so Liam hoped to get their attention with a diverse audience. Enstern's needs coincided with the plan; Elizabeth identified key influential figures in Westside, to which Liam contributed from his own list built as Man in the Mirror. Invitations were sent out, and though not all of them were here, a lot was.

Miss Sparks had wrapped up the show, and the Trench was now more or less a normal bar, except much more crowded than it usually was. Liam, being representative for the sponsor, and staying visible as bait, had been circling around embedding himself in conversations. If nothing else came out of tonight, at least he could expand his reach as Man in the Mirror. A few Pantomime accounts, and some Gamma, with combined followings numbering hundreds of thousands of people. Conventionally attractive people. Political mouthpieces. Journalists. A knitter who made furry plushes of the superheroes, whose following exploded a while back when some Hall A-lister shared her own plush with a heart emoji on Pantomime.

And… Wesley?

Liam did a double take, distracted from the conversation with the knitter on whether it was problematic for the Eye of Magnus to have a fursona of an owl. He could recognise that face with that mop of shiny black hair anywhere, that permanently scowling face. Or so he remembered; Wesley was smiling and laughing. That man did not smile, not when they were together. The leather jacket and tight denim were bolder than what he remembered of the man's style choices, but that was absolutely Wesley. The man would never set foot in Westside because it was 'infested with bad people.' Why was he here? And smiling at Liam?

Liam introduced the knitter to a cosplayer, and excused himself, slowly squeezing through the crowd over to where Wesley was.

"Hey," Liam said when they were within earshot. "Didn't expect to see you here. Enjoying the night?"

Wesley was bobbing his head to the music, still smiling, still looking entirely free of antagonism towards Liam. "Yeah man," Wesley said, nodding at somewhere off the side. "Cool place, thought I should check it out, didn't know you'd be here either. Nice seeing you again! Lots of girls here!"

What? And what? "Girls? What do you mean?"

Wesley smirked at someone to the side. He turned to look; at the other end of the dance floor, a lady in a tight, form-fitting black dress smiled back at Wesley. "Yeah," Wesley said, grinning unabashedly. "Was talking to Adrianna over there. Think I'm scoring her tonight."

Okay, maybe the man was on a journey of self-discovery and turned out to be bisexual. But the two of them left things on quite terrible terms. For him to just act like nothing happened was bizarre, at the very least. Wesley was uptight, would not smile, would not even walk with Liam in public, but now just casually bobbing to music in a club and boldly flirting with women? Did he not remember?

"Good catch!" Liam said. "How you doing, man? We haven't talked in forever."

Wesley laughed. "Mate, you're so clingy! We were just at graduation! You're a grown man now, make more friends!"

Ice lanced through his heart, but Liam kept bobbing to the music. Bad terms or not, Wesley wouldn't just straight up deny everything like this. If he did, he would have avoided eye contact with Liam in the first place.

And graduation was a decade ago.

Liam said, "Ah, time flies, you know? Do you even remember when we last talked?"

"I dunno," Wesley scrunched his brows together. "Maybe like, two months ago?"

They first kissed at graduation. And they last spoke seven years ago.

Something was very, very wrong.

"Yeah, forever ago," Liam said. He nodded at the drink in Wesley's hand. "Want another?"

"Sure! I'm just getting started!"

IV.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Wesley tried to wiggle out of Liam's grip, but he was not letting go. "What the hell, man!"

Liam kicked the backdoor to the Trench closed behind him. It was past midnight, and people were either home or inside. He spun Wesley in front of him, all but digging his fingers into the man's shoulders. "Tell me how we ended."

"Liam, stop!" Wesley yelled. Liam let loose of his fingers and pulled back. "Fuck. I'm sorry," Liam said as Wesley rubbed his shoulders. "But this is important. It is really important. Wesley, how did we end?"

"'We'? End?" Wesley said, his mouth looked like it bit something that insulted his palette. Liam did not expect that from Wesley, despite the little they had. Wesley said, "Man, didn't know you can be this dramatic. We graduated, and we got jobs. It's just been like two months, what are you even on about?"

"Wesley, no." Liam said, slow and deliberate. "We did not graduate two months ago. We graduated ten years ago."

The man laughed, though with reservation. "Man, very funny. Are you on drugs or something?"

"And I didn't know you were bisexual."

"Yo what the fuck?" Wesley dropped his hands from his shoulders. "I am not! What are you even on about?"

"You were talking about scoring that girl?"

"Because I am into girls, obviously?"

Liam grabbed him by the shoulders again, his ears deafened by the drum of pumping blood. "Wesley. What were we?"

Wesley pushed him. Liam stumbled back, surprised; Wesley was strong. Very strong. And his face was turning ugly. "I do not like what you are implying, Liam. We are friends."

"We were!" Liam yelled. "But we were also more than that! Are you fucking with me, Wesley? We dated! We… we were in love. It did not end well, but it did happen! Did you go back to your parents? God, what did they do to—"

A punch cracked his face, and Liam flew off the ground and landed on his back. He was still reeling when a heavy weight landed on him, and a strong, very strong and hard palm slamming his chest back onto the asphalt with a crunch.

On top of him was Wesley, but his face was in fragments. Halogen streetlight outlined his black hair, but Liam couldn't see his features. Maybe he was dizzy from the impact, maybe there was wind he couldn't feel, but Wesley's hair was flowing like it was alive. His face was broken, a mess of mirror shards daggering one another, overlapping into a staggered portrait that resembled its subject, just not quite.

And the eyes. No light reflected from them, pits darker than a starless night, wet and living black sinking into a pair of open, hungry mouths. This was no simple darkness of the night, no comfortable presence of the Glasslit Void. This was something else.

Liam tried to push back, to will the darkness against Wesley, but it was as alien as it seemed, unresponsive to his call. He felt like being in a straitjacket, tight and suffocating, and staring powerless into those alien voids Liam felt like he had been sent back decades in time. Small and weak. Useless. Terrified.

A fist hammered Liam's head one side to the other. He wanted to throw up.

"I am a devout child of God," Wesley grumbled. That was his voice, but was it? Liam was struggling to hear with his ringing ear. "I am a good, God-fearing heterosexual." Another fist stabbed into his chest, and his lungs felt like it was collapsing. "Never in my life have I touched another man. How dare you as a friend imply that I have?!"

By now Wesley was screaming at him. He couldn't tell anymore, but there was a wide, yawning stretch of open jaws in front of his face, and Liam was shamefully helpless.

"Get off of him!"

The impossible weight on him shifted, struggled, and then suddenly lifted. Liam sprung up onto his feet, only to see Lee tackle Wesley onto the ground.

Liam swore he heard cracked glass.

One second, Lee slammed Wesley on the ground. The next, Wesley was somehow already standing a dozen paces away from them, panting like an animal. His face was still marred, though not in fragments of glass shards, but with burning rage, a shaking finger pointing at him. "We were FRIENDS, Liam! How dare you accuse me of something that abhorrent??"

"What the fuck do you think I am?" He yelled back.

Wesley's mouth dropped. He looked shocked, his mouth crumpling into pure, simple disgust. All those years ago, it was the exact face Wesley used to cry into Liam's chest afraid of, the face that he would cop from others if he ever got 'caught'. Now he wore the fear he ran from as his own, like not one drop of those tears ever fell.

The victims forgot.

"Fucking fag," Wesley spat on the ground, and stomped off.

"Hey! Hey!" Lee called out. "You stop right there! What did you just say? Hey!"

"Lee, it's alright." Liam said, his mind in overdrive. The victims forgot. Wesley didn't even seem to notice the Trench was a queer bar.

"It's not! Hey!" Lee started running after Wesley. Oh wow. Liam grabbed his elbows. "Hey hey hey, no don't do that. He's left. It's alright."

"Liam! It is not!" Lee said, voice raised. "Oh my god, your face, Liam," he put a hand on Liam's cheek. It stung. "Ow."

"We need to get you to the hospital asap. And call the cops. This is a hate crime. Let me just—" Lee fumbled for his pockets.

"Lee, Lee. Lee." Liam grabbed his face into his hands, and Lee stilled.

In the cold night, they stood close. Liam could feel the warmth radiating from the strong and brave man who just charged into a vicious beating and saved his life, like ambrosia seeping into mummified veins. It was tempting, it was demanding, it was so easy to just take Lee right there. Liam wanted to. He wanted to, so much.

But what he wanted more… was for them to last, if just a bit longer. He was not ready for the dance to end.

"Tonight has been a success for Enstern," Liam said, breaking the silent spell. "Our narrative works. If I end up in another controversy, it will be too much for our connections to contain. Lee, this will not make the news. Do you understand?"

Lee opened his mouth, but Liam slid a thumb over, sealing them back in place. His hand trembled with desire, to spread the warm wetness, to invade, to mark and claim. But it stayed put, and he continued. "Wesley is someone I used to care for. I don't know why he behaved the way he did, and I will find out why. But it is something personal, and I ask that you will respect that."

Lee opened his mouth again, and Liam kept his finger firm, but he smiled. "I promise I will report this hate crime to the authorities, but it will be on my terms. And I will take tomorrow off to take care of these bruises. Even do an X-Ray for any head injuries."

Lee tried to open his mouth, yet again. Liam kept his thumb in place, and started grinning; though he had to stop when he felt shifting, grating bone shards. "Have I addressed all your concerns, director?"

He did not move his finger. Lee nodded. In his hands, as he asked.

Liam leaned in, past the maddening lips, to his ears. "And," he whispered. "Thank you for my life, saviour. It is a feat most impressive. For Thursday, I insist dinner on me. It's only courtesy."

The faint sweat from Lee's hair was a rare, intimate fragrance, one that drove him dizzy with need. But Liam withdrew. Hands in his pockets, two steps back, he gazed directly into Lee's eyes, smiling wide and without reservation, even when it hurt.

Lee blinked once, twice. He opened his mouth once, twice. And said finally, "it's a thrill to witness the right hand at work."

His heart skipped, but Liam bowed. "And Glacial does not take no for an answer, Mr. Malik. I'll see you Thursday. Please, have a good night, and thank you again." He winked, and walked away.

This would be a long dance. And he would make it last.

V.

Liam pressed the ice pack harder into his cheek and let the pain consume him. The case files from Jamie spread all over his countertop.

The victims didn't just forget the attack. Now he knew they also forgot a piece of themselves.

The last file of the stack, the last victim taken three weeks ago at Marion Square, read Wesley Flament.

#writeblr #my writing #short story #original writing #queer sff #queer horror #gay fiction #urban fantasy #lovecraftian #liam an #cw: slurs