12 Days Of Writer Self Love Day 3: Repulsed

12 days of writer self love day 3: repulsed

I know, I know it’s late and out of order, but I’m kind of okay with that. At least it’s here. I really like this piece. I think I almost imagined myself in this situation if I hadn’t found out about my orientation when I did, or if my attraction turned out slightly different

It was an alien and unexpected feeling when it happened the first time. Bendis thought it was attraction, but when the other boy went to kiss him, his initial reaction was to pull away. The other boy, the baker’s son, Francesco, mirrored his action, his eyebrows knitting together in concern.

“Are you okay?” Francesco asked, rubbing the back of Ben’s hand with his thumb.

Ben’s hand went tense under the contact, then relaxed somewhat stiffly. He nodded, swallowed once, then leaned in. “Fine. I’m fine,” they reassured, voice shaking. Francesco pretended not to notice. “Now what were we doing?”

As they kissed, Ben tried not to squirm at the contact and the sheer amount of fluids being exchanged. That night, he lay in a resting patch of his garden and shoveled dirt onto himself as he fell asleep watching the stars.

The next time it happened, they again tried to stifle their reaction. The bard was charismatic and patient, and frankly very good-looking. They’d laughed and joked together for hours, Ben lamenting his lost potential at a similar career path. Ben had even taken a day away from the apothecary to spend time with them.

“It was a pleasure getting to know you, Du Kahoari,” they said, as they raised Ben’s hand to their mouth and pressed a kiss on it.

Ben retracted his hand as calmly as possible, resisting the urge to wipe it on his skirt. Similarly, they hid the tremor in their voice. “Likewise. I wish you happy travels.”

The bard bowed, and as soon as Ben was out of their line of sight, he ran back to the apothecary to wash his hand.

The time after that it wasn’t even happening. It had been a months-long relationship with Sonya the blacksmith’s daughter, so it was bound to come up in conversation. She sat them down on the haybales behind her mother’s shop, taking their hands in her own.

“So, we’ve been together for a while,” she said, pausing to wait for Ben to nod. “So I think it’s time to talk about…”

Ben’s eyes glazed over. His hands went clammy and he pulled back. They tucked their knees against their chest. His breaths came in small bursts. “Say… say that again?”

“...? That’s what I feel like we should talk about,” Sonya said, cautiously now. She shuffled around to face him, careful not to brush their skin.

Swallowing hard, Ben opened his mouth, shut it. His adams apple bobbed again. “I don’t think I’m ready to talk about that,” he managed.

“Okay, that’s okay,” Sonya said, words rushed. “We can take as long as we need.”

Under his breath, Ben asked, “Is this what you want from a relationship?”

Sonya was caught off-guard and stopped moving towards Ben. “I- I think so?”

“Then I don’t think I can be with you,” choked Ben.

“Oh, um,” she stalled. “Are you sure?”

Ben hid his face in his knees. “No,” he said. “I’m not. And if you ask me again, I’ll do it. I’ll say yes. Because it’s what you’re supposed to do, right?”

“Can I touch you?” Ben’s head snapped up at Sonya’s words. He nodded. She placed her hand on their back and rubbed circles into it. “There’s no ‘supposed to’ in any relationship. Relationships are whatever you make of them And if two people want different things, they can compromise. Sometimes that means they keep going as they are. Sometimes that means doing things differently. No one knows what they’re doing all the time. But if you think we don’t work, then we don’t work. That’s okay. I’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. Okay?”

Ben nodded into his knees.

“Do you need space?”

They nodded again.

“Alright,” Sonya said, groaning as she stretched out of the haystack, pulling a few pieces of straw from where they stuck into her skirt. “I’ll be in my mother’s shop if you need me. And for what it’s worth, these last few months were amazing. I hope they were for you too.”

Shoulders curling inwards, Ben couldn’t bring themself to reply. All his partners, fleeting or long-lasting, affectionate and timid, had been so wonderful. There was no reason for him to feel like this. But he did, and it ate him up inside. They rolled over and screamed into the straw, trying to free himself of the fundamentally wrong feeling inside him.

fireflies lighting up a rural Pennsylvania field at dusk

12 days of loving my writing day 7: god

I ADORE this piece. It was incredible doing such a detailed exploration of the lore in A Quest of Cards and Calamity. World building normally isn’t my favourite thing to do, but this brought me so much joy. I love the whimsical, impersonal narration style. I can see this being told around a campfire to the children by a village elder some decades after the goddesses are banished

There are realms beyond the plane we know. They are filled with awesome creations beyond our comprehension that would break our very way of existence. Places such as these began differently than our home, with flashes instead of bangs, beginning existence with a whisper instead of a roar. They grew differently; some lasted a breath, others into forever, evolving into crabs or bears or unfathomable creatures, becoming as fragile as a bird’s bone or as powerful as a tsunami.

It is from one of these realms that our gods came from. Though they impart few secrets to our people, some priests have been given wisdom that they shared across the land. Four sisters were united under shared distaste for mundanity. They combined their great and awful power of battle, family, growth, and light, and traveled to our realm, a new playground to explore their abilities in an isolated setting.

In the beginning of their domination, the quartet was benevolent and generous. They lent their seemingly boundless magics to the people, growing crops, lighting nights, securing victories, and strengthening communities. A golden age began. Dedication and reverence was widespread, leading to an abundance of people that obtained the goddesses’ blessings, wielding powers lesser than theirs, but power nonetheless. Great acts were performed in their names for people across our plane, creating prosperity that has never been seen before or since. Impossible vines grew into their kingdom in the sky, where patrons visited and paid homage to the goddess’ greatness and were returned to the world below bearing gifts of gold and light bringing music. Enlightened thinkers battled against the pull of nothing that the overabundance of knowledge creates, and their victories brought back revolutionary theories improving the world before them.

As time wore on, the interest of the goddesses waned. They were not so generous with their boons, instead letting people fester in their ineptitude. When praised, sometimes they paid attention, granting year after year of bountiful harvests. But they were careless in their gifts, sometimes flooding the banks of rivers and drowning crops that the river otherwise provided for. Sometimes they forgot to send in the sun, letting part of the world fall into darkness for months on end until the people learned to live without it and stopped asking for help. While they never intended to hurt the people wholly sway to their every whim, their disinterest cost many lives and caused swaths of people to lose faith. Gifts were inherited among the people, and those carrying old blessings were heralded as heroes as they saved the ordinary from the wrathful apathy of the four goddesses.

As the people lost their faith, the goddesses grew bitter. They were empowered by belief and devotion. Heroes and all the other people grew in strength, numbers, and will. They boasted of their gifts, claiming independence from the goddesses. They paid for the arrogance dearly. A simple ungifted weaver who battled simple nature to create complex tapestries bragged about her skill and thus was transformed into a horrifying beast as payment. Light was woven into delightful displays, bringing awe to so many in ways beyond the goddess' previously shown skill that she was forgotten about. Cruelly, she stole the light she gifted back, leaving the people to fester in the darkness until a mighty hero stole it back. Heroes committed untellable feats and were whispered about in reverence across the land until their names became synonymous with legend.

They demanded more and more from those under their jurisdiction, demanding unmeetable standards that tore apart the continent. Tribute was wrenched from followers' hands and sacrificed to serve no purpose; communities were torn apart to feed an entrapped beast cursed to an existence torn between two forms. The world split between anger, indifference, and reverence. The goddesses expected absolutes in success and potential, and perpetual acknowledgement and inclusion. All were tortured with the inconstant moods of the goddesses, buffeted about by their rage.

Mighty champions arose to beat back their abuse. It took years of near endless travel, great leaps in strength and skill, and profound luck to reach their end goal. Finally, miraculously, they defeated the goddesses in an earth scarring battle. They banished the goddesses to another realm and never hurt the heroes’ home again.

But still there is a battle: are the hardships worth the destruction wrought by the goddesses, or should they stay away and out of our homes affairs forevermore?

a rival most vial snippet I’m enjoying as I proofread:

“What’s all this about a commission breakthrough?” Sherry asked Eli. But Eli had his eyes on Ambrose—robes shed, ink cleared off his face, a tiny bounce in his step. The bounce was hardly visible, except for when he passed the glowing crystals lining the walkway. But after Eli noticed it, he couldn’t not stare at him. At his perked ears, then his tapered waist, his long legs…

Eli determined that Ambrose should have scientific breakthroughs more often.

oh, eli.

ok bud this one seems accurate

REBLOG if you have amazing, talented WRITER friends.

Because I certainly do, and I love every single one of them and their work.