#writober

I don't know, I wrote this piece for Writober and I thought I might as well translate it into English. I'd like to include it in The Lies that Bloom from a Seed of Truth, but it has to be narrated in first pov present.

Somehow, this daily routine works.

I get up early to make breakfast while you take the dog out for his morning walk. You pass by the newsstand on the corner, and pick up the newspaper you see me reading every day, and sometimes you take some biscuits from the bakery on the street down, as if you'd noticed that when I came home the night before, I was more tired than usual, and maybe the breakfast I make won't be that great.

You and Bond come back, and I ask you how the walk went and if you slept well. You smile kindly and tell me that everything is fine.

And I'd love to believe you.

I'll go wake up Anya while you make the coffee the way Loid Forger likes it, with a bit of milk, even though this constant pressure I feel is squeezing my stomach and burning my throat with words I can't afford to utter.

I walk past the room where you sleep, which you only leave to come to mine when it's necessary to keep up appearances. And I wonder… what is normality?

Is it the dance we have been performing for months, in the same spaces, in the same existence? Tiptoeing around each other, without invading the other's space?

Without asking you where you slip away at night, without telling you where I go on my business trips?

Yet it is a graceful dance, like the one we saw at the theatre the first time the three of us went out as a family. And the temptation to reach out and take your hand, to dance together, instead of twirling around each other, is strong.

You smile in that sweet way of yours at this little girl who is not your daughter, whom, from all you know, I brought with me from another marriage, as you pour her tea, and I feel the knot in my stomach loosen a little. Because I know that, in this dance that seems normality, she will always be safe if you are there to guide her.

The bile that has been rising in my mouth for months now subsides, even if only for a moment.

"Loid," you call me, and I feel myself sinking back into my worries, appearances, my job, your safety, my secrets, your secrets, my inability to be a father and…

"I've made you some herbal tea instead of coffee," you smile at me, leaning towards me with the porcelain teapot. "You're always holding your stomach lately. Your voice is hoarse, and you hide a grimace when you drink coffee…"

You look away, blushing, and your eyes shine like rubies.

"I thought, well… it might do you good to drink something different."

Something different.

To break this dance that we've become so good at performing.

I look at the biscuits you bought. They are dry, light, and Anya certainly won't like them.

I look at you, incredulous.

"Are those for me?"

You broke the dance. You reached out your hand to me. But you keep moving in time, and for the first time, I think we can keep dancing even if we invade each other's space a little.

Context: Billy is given prompts to use while reflecting on his life by his JL mandaded therapist. These are fragments of his written reflection

You can find the fragments of the other days here

______________________________________________________________

Oh boy, every time I tell someone about the wizard I get one of three reactions. Ether they are very skeptical and think that I am crazy, are very curious and want to know everything there is to know about the man or, and this one is reserved for when people get the full story, call me a stupid child having a death wish. Which is usually my own family or friends.

Look, I didn’t just follow a weird looking man into the subway where he handed me superpowers like it were drugs. I may have been ten, but I was not naive. If I wasn’t spirited away into a place with seemingly no exit I wouldn’t even have dared to speak to someone like the wizard!

I’ll be honest when I say I was kind of creeped out when I first met him. Who wouldn’t be when the first introduction you get is the person sitting on a stone throne in a dark cave with creepy looking statues lining the wall. Also that man was probably your kidnapper, since there is nobody else in a 100 mile radius.

I didn’t really understand the things he said before he granted me my powers. He spoke of demons and gods, heroes from ancient times. He looked for someone worthy and that was all I got from it at the time. He praised me for trying to stay good even if the world tried it’s best to pull me off that path, I remember that really gotten my attention. It was the first compliment I had gotten in years.

Then came the time he wanted me to say his name and I made an embarrassment of myself by forgetting it…

To my defense! At the time I still thought that the man wanted to do something to me, so most of my thoughts went to escape routes, not exactly all the confusing things he had said to me.

But after that, well, the rest is history. The last thing I saw before that fateful moment was a bolt of light cutting through the open ceiling above.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Sometimes I wonder what the afterlife is for him. Because on one hand, he is dead. His spirit now rest together with his siblings. He might even be sipping wine in whatever heaven he decided to go to with them as I write.

But on the other hand, I can still summon his spirit for a short period of time, and it is pretty instantaneous. Yet, I never see him unprepared to give me advice. He is never annoyed that I ripped him from his well deserved pension, and if he is he does a damm good job hiding it.

But I just can’t imagine him sitting around all day doing nothing just for the slight chance I might summon him for help. Does time maybe work different in the afterlife? Like, when I light the flame does my one second feel like 1 minute? A hour? A day? Can he be in an ancient equivalent of a rave, drinking and partying with the other spirits, until he gets a call from me and he quickly goes home to get ready before meeting me?

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I was very surprised when the Wizard suggested to give a portion of my power to Freddy when I came to him for advice on how to safe Freddy’s life. The wizard had made it very clear that he needed a certain type of person to be his champion, and knowing that I was chosen instead of Freddy that mend that Freddy had not met all his requirements. He told me that he had chosen me as the champion, but as champion I can share my power to whomever I desire if some conditions were met, luckily Freddy did meet all those requirements.

While he doesn’t want to admit it, I know he looked proudly upon me when I did the ritual. From what I have read about him, he was known as a stoic, strong judge like figure. Kind and fair in judgement, yes, but always standoffish. But in the corner of my eye I could see his eyes soften and a small smile appearing on his face.

Hot Drink / Cold Drink &

Peculiarity / Demonization

Vampire AU and queer awakening for these gentlemen in today's issue. Double Strike topics for two days.

"Do you know what Peculiarity and Demonization have in common?" Smajor said calmly, sitting down at the table with Avid and placing cups of hot tea between them. Avid's shoulders involuntarily shuddered, looking first at the clay cup with the steaming drink, and then up at the vampire sitting across from him.

"Not sure?" Avid answered honestly, reaching out for the cup and warming his cold fingertips on the heated clay. "Is there such a thing?"

"Oh, Avid. My beloved, innocent child of summer," Smajor looked contentedly at the flush that had appeared on Avid's cheeks. He was pleased that he had evoked such a reaction from the vampire hunter. "Six hundred years ago, the world was different. But we, as people call us now, queers? Queers have always existed. Perhaps we weren't mentioned, but that doesn't mean we didn't exist. And instead of recognizing that we were simply special, people preferred to demonize us."

Scott cleared his throat, running his fingertips along the rim of his cup, smiling warmly, his gaze fixed on one spot, recalling something good.

"Unfortunately, even among ordinary mortals, there's a disease called 'homophobia,' which is unique to humanoids, or rather, more socially human individuals. I don't know if scientists have figured out why only this species has this disease. I'll have to ask Legundo." He laughed a little louder, and Avid looked up at him like a scared puppy who'd done something wrong. "And the strangest thing is, this disease exists even among queer people. Internalized homophobia and the fear of admitting who you really are."

Scott rises from the table and reaches across, nudging Avid's chin with his fingertips and smirking slightly in response.

"Don't let stupid humans, vampires, whoever they are, and especially not your inner self, get this disease," Smajor whispers. His voice is like maple leaves being driven away by autumn. His voice is just as cozy, cool, and enticing. Scott looks into those dark eyes of the vampire hunter and sees the hope and the extinguished desires he's hiding there. Scott laughs softly, tracing Avid's lips with the pad of his thumb. "You're special, Avid. And don't let anyone, you hear me, don't let anyone convince you otherwise. Otherwise, they'll meet me on their way and regret ever touching my vampire hunter..."

Avid only manages to swallow loudly. He wants to say something, and Scott moves closer, wanting to kiss the hunter's cheekbone, but his plan is thwarted by the overturned cups of iced tea that stood between them. The hunter and the vampire glance back at the cold tea, surprised at how long their conversation lasted, then at each other. And then they both laugh at the absurdity and stupidity of the situation.

Emmy & MF

My darling @emcreatez and I will be sharing snippets, rants, meta posts, memes and more about our original WIPs for the whole month!

We picked some spooky/dark prompts, and we can’t wait to give you a little taste of what we’re working on!

She will post about her fantasy story Wretched & Divine. You have probably already heard about that, but, if you haven’t, follow her and search the tag because you’re missing on compelling characters, top tier world building, and an awesome plot!

On my end, I will post about my second to next publication (because funnily enough my next publication happens to be the same story I already shared for OCtober some years ago and finally became reality). It’s a superhero queer story with a hero and a villain falling in love.

Every Monday we’ll have a so called “themed day”, and we’ll share memes, parallels, visuals, and other media references that make us think about our stories. Every two weeks, twice a week, we’ll have the meta posts that will let us rant about characters’ lore and write nice lil essays for you to enjoy.

The regular prompt days will be for sharing quotes and snippets directly from the story and, in Em’s case, sometimes even related art. I can’t make art tho, so you’ll have to make do with my words 😁

Fandom: Harry Potter

Ship: Drarry

Prompt: I don’t need a reason

“What do you want, Potter?” Draco asks, ignoring the cup. Even if he really could use some caffeine right about now.

Potter rolls his eyes. “I don’t know why I have to want something to come over here. And how many times have I told you to call me Harry? We are friends now, it’s weird that you call me that.”

“Just because you declared us to be friends,” Draco says, crossing his arms across his chest, “doesn’t automatically mean we are. Believe it or not, you don’t actually get to have anything you want just because you’re The Boy Who Just Won’t Die.”

“You are the most dramatic person I’ve ever met,” Potter says, taking a seat on the couch next to Draco’s chair.

Oh good. Apparently, he’s staying. Draco sighs and finally accepts he isn’t getting any more work done and unceremoniously shoves his things back into his bag.

“I’m not dramatic, just honest,” Draco says, lifting his chin, just a bit.

“Draco,” Potter starts, “please tell me I do that to start listing the many, many times your reactions have been over the top. If I remember correctly, there was a time you were up in a tree…”

“Yes, I remember, thank you very much,” Draco interrupts. “And if we are going to start going down that path maybe I should mention you stalking me for several years.”

Potter flushes at that. “It wasn’t several years. But ok, I get your point. All I meant is that I don’t know why the idea of being friends with me is so hard. We eat lunch together—“

“Because half of our friends are dating so we end up next to each other by default.”

Potter ignores the interruption. “We are partners in both potions and charms—“

“Because my other options were Finnegan, who would likely blow me up, or Pansy, who is still mad that I didn’t want to sleep with her anymore. Despite the reason being that I’m gay, but sure, let’s all be pissed off at Draco.”

“And,” Potter raises his voice over Draco’s very fair comments, which annoys him. Then he continues in a much more civilised tone and Draco flowers at him. “And, we end up hanging out most nights once we are all back in the common room. So, please explain how that doesn’t make us friends?”

Draco wracks his brain but can’t find a suitable explanation for the last one. He holds his glare for a few more moments but then sighs, slumping back in his chair.

“Fine,” he says. “We’re friends. Is that what you wanted to hear, Potter?”

“Harry,” the man replies. “And yes, it is. But only if you mean it.”

Read the rest here on AO3!

Where you go I wish to follow

These weary hands and feet of mine

Gravity is too heavy and I yearn to break free

And fly of the cage buried into my very being -

Hot pokers burn the flesh from my bone -

Maybe then I could be known -

Growing wings from the ashes

of who I could have been

Nevermore bidden to this human form

Fly away a creature of the night

I could care less if no one understands

It is heavy to feel, the ink drip from my hands -

Mixed in fear and longing nigh -

Nothing makes sense anymore

However it is a beautiful curse- a gift I treasure

I have no one to share it with - I dare not to -

For fear of what they could see

The truth of me in shambles

For I long to gnash my teeth

Drench my teeth in blood

Become something I could only dream

Creature of nightmare suffering beautifully

I make you believe the reflection of me

A beautiful, twisted lie -

What else could you see?

******

sleeptober following the prompt list by @whitejawz

Prompt: Free!

******

Нитробер (инктобер от Нитроем)

Вау, отозвалось

Я прошла через год ежедневного написания текстов, но тематические челленджи все равно кажутся мне чем-то особенно сложным. Вдохновляющим, но сложным

Для этого нужно высвободить нечто, что будет существовать не только в вакууме своей реальности, но произрастет из темы, пришедшей извне. Как материя сталкивается с материей, столкнутся эти энергии

Когда я отвечаю на вопросы или занимаюсь толкованием чужих снов, происходит нечто схожее, однако баланс выглядит иначе - присутствие другого позволяет держать на нем акцент, а свое можно показывать косвенно. Даже если это вопрос обо мне, чужое внимание уравнивает энергии: есть вопрошающий и отвечающий, и пост бы не был написан без них обоих

А когда берешь только тему, случается странное: мое-мое-мое, а растет из иного. Даже семя, идея, мое, но его поместили в древо случайности, под кору одной из ветвей (эдакая копулировка), и теперь ему нужно прижиться, вырасти и расцвести