Unwilling to Be Yours

It’s Me Me Monday! A day to promote, strut, and celebrating your Me-ness!

Only poor Peter isn’t feeling much like celebrating in the next part of Unwilling to Be Yours. Neither is Christopher.

This is the second prelude I’m posting to Stealing Myself From Shadows in segments. It’s updated every Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday here.

 

He stared at me with flushed cheeks and bright eyes. He balled his trembling hands into fists.

“I apologize.” I took another step back. “I promised I wouldn’t flirt with you. It’s very hard for me to keep my hands off you.”

“This is why I say you expect too much,” Christopher whispered. A shudder ran through his slender frame. “I’m not sure if I can be anyone’s lover. I’m not even sure if I was in love with Damian, although he was the most important person in the world to me.”

I studied his trembling lips, the liquid confusion swimming in his violet blue irises.

Innocent, indeed.

I considered his words, weighed them in my mind.

Did Christopher claim to have no passion?

No, I knew this wasn’t true.

 

To be continued on Wednesday (QueerBlogWed)…

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Unwilling to Be Yours

Welcome to Rainbow Snippets!

Every Saturday, six sentences of LGBTQ+ fiction is posted and shared.

It can be your own. It can be someone else’s. It just needs to be LGBTQ+.

To read a wide variety of samples from LGBTQ+ stories, go to…

https://www.facebook.com/groups/RainbowSnippets/?ref=group_header

Mine picks up right where it left off on Wednesday with Peter grabbing and taking Christopher…in his arms. 🙂 Yes, it’s the next part of Unwilling to Be Yours, my second prelude to Stealing Myself From Shadows.

 

He didn’t fight, but he didn’t respond. I could tell by the way he trembled, just standing there.

Christopher was still unwilling. Unwilling to be mine, at least.

I released him. I stood back.

 

To be continued on Monday (Me Me Monday)…

Unwilling to Be Yours

It’s QueerBlogWed…a time to cherish and celebrate queerness.

Peter is going to do exactly this by continuing to be attentive to Christopher, although he’s learning there’s a lot more to the boy he fancies than meets the eye.

Here’s the next part of Unwilling to Be Yours…

 

“It’s all right.” He watched my face, his own crumpling into weary resignation. “No one understands my feelings about ‘Waiting for Rebirth’. Not even Damian did.”

“I want to!” I uttered the words with an unpremeditated fierceness. “I am trying to understand you!”

“How can you understand me, when I don’t even understand myself?” He shook his head. “Don’t expect too much of yourself, Peter. Don’t expect too much of me, either.”

It was the first time he’d spoken my name.

His eyes met mine.

Whatever he saw in them made his eyes widen and lower lip quiver.

Was he afraid of me?

“I don’t expect you to be anything, other than yourself.” I tried to sound as harmless as possible.

“You expect me to react, as if I was a person, who could fall into your arms, if you said the right words, or did the right things.” He shook his head. “You’re expecting too much of me.”

“You’d fall into Damian’s arms, if he beckoned you,” I growled.

Stupid mouth, I really should keep it shut, but it kept moving. “You love him, but I don’t understand why. He doesn’t deserve you.”

“Peter, you don’t know what I deserve.,” Christopher’s manner was very hesitant.

As if he was as afraid for me as he was of me.

“You know nothing about me. Don’t assume I’m innocent, or good.” Christopher shook his head. “I’m not.”

These words were said with utter assurance.

He believed every word he was saying.

His wide eyes told a different truth. They shone with innocence.

“I don’t believe you.” I took a step forward and seized his hand.

Once I had him, I pulled him into my arms.

Christopher made a little protesting sound.

I silenced his mouth with my own.

Unwilling to Be Yours

It’s Me Me Monday! A day to promote, celebrate, and strut your Me-ness.

Only Peter isn’t quite sure how to do this. He’s come to detest his rival for Christopher’s heart, only expressing this only makes Christopher unhappy.

What’s he to do?

Unwilling to Be Yours is the second prelude to Stealing Myself From Shadows, the first novel in my Tales of the Navel/The Shadow Forest series. It’s currently under revision.

 

“When you look at this painting, what do you see?” I tried not to shudder at the thought of the creepy white branches, which could be bones, or fingers.

This was what I saw, looming out of splashes of paint within the canvas.

Perhaps Christopher could change my mind.

Perhaps I should give him a chance to.

“The sunset and myself.” He spoke slowly, as if trying to find the exact words. “We become one in a dance of colors. Damian dances with color, transforming us into one.”

I got the strangest impression that more than one person was speaking with Christopher’s mouth. Christopher was more than one person, trapped with a single tiny, boyish frame.

I blinked, trying to make sense of this impossible notion.

Unwilling to Be Yours

Welcome to Rainbow Snippets!

Every Saturday, six sentences of LGBTQ+ fiction are posted and shared.

They can be your own. They can be someone else’s. They just need to be LGBTQ+.

To read a wide variety of LGBTQ+ snippets, go to

https://www.facebook.com/groups/RainbowSnippets/?ref=group_header

For mine, I’m having Peter picking up where he left off in the garden with Christopher in Unwilling to Be Yours.

Unwilling to Be Yours is the second prelude to Stealing Myself From Shadows, the first of my novels in the Tales of the Navel/The Shadow Forest, an ambient fantasy series inspired by Tarot card imagery.

Stealing Myself From Shadows is currently under revision (I just finished a nice chunk of said revision during NaNoWriMo).

This is a little longer than six sentences, but Peter starts venting about Damian, he can’t shut up…:)

 

‘Waiting for Rebirth’ was dangerous. It had already reached out and tried to grab Christopher.

This ugly, pretentious painting was like an extension of its overbearing artist; jealous and possessive.

‘Waiting for Rebirth’ forced its presence on everyone around it, insisting upon haunting its viewers.

Once again, the painting perfectly captured the artist, not the model.

That artist couldn’t resist smearing his ugliness all over the model and convincing him it was his soul.

More likely, Damian was simply reflecting his own upon Christopher.

If he even had a soul.

Bitchy, me? Definitely.

The Perfect Prick deserved the bitch. In spades.

Christopher did not.

 

 

Fairest Freebie Story: Take a Look at Yourself

It’s been two weeks since Fairest was reborn into the world as part of Once Upon a Rainbow, a collection of lgbtq+ fairytales.

It’s also Promo Friday, a day to promote and share what you’ve got with the world.

In honor of that, I’ve decided to revise and share this Fairest freebie stories. It’s from Garnet’s perspective, the youngest of the six surviving dwarves.

Quartz: I’m not as dead as you think…I’ll show you, scribbler. I’m going to crawl in your imagination and make you write me a story.

Yes, Quartz. Now would you let your little brother tell his story before he starts pulling his beard again?

Quartz looks sulky, but he quiets down…

 

Take a Look at Yourself

The glass had been cleaned, thanks to the princess’s eventual success in removing its grime.

Garnet stared at himself in the mirror, seeing his reflection for the first time in…how long had it been?

It couldn’t have been a hundred years!

“I didn’t realize I’d done so much damage to my beard.” He reached up to feel the rough patches on his chin, moving his hand with care over the tufts of hair left. “I never meant to tug so hard.”

“I’m sure you didn’t.” Opal stood a little distance from his brother, out of range of the mirror.

Coward.

“None of us look as well as we once did.” Opal lifted a finger poke at his own beard with a distracted vanity.

“Perhaps it’s time to look better.” Garnet lowered his hands. “We should take better care of ourselves, instead of waiting around for some lost princess to do it.”

“It’s not like we were waiting around for princesses!” Opal’s finger did a guilty twitch. “They came to us! Besides, when have we ever cared what we look like to outsiders?” He dropped his arm and glared at his brother. “All we ever had was each other!”

“Yes, until we had Blanche,” Garnet said. His hands longed to reach up, yank, and pull at the remaining hanks of his beard. “She changed everything for us.”

“We lost our brother, because of that princess. Letting Blanche in was a mistake,” Opal said, shuffling his feet, but not moving any closer to the mirror. “She was an outsider. Eventually, the outside reclaimed her, as we should have expected it to.”

He shrugged again. The gesture made his shoulders tremble.

“If that’s true, why did you do the exact same thing Quartz did?” Garnet demanded. “Why did you let another princess into our home?”

“Well, you saw our living conditions,” Opal mumbled. His eye roamed about the bedroom, avoiding his brother’s gaze. “We were drowning in dirt. Didn’t seem like we had the time to do something about it ourselves.”

“Is that all there was to it?” Garnet demanded. He balled his hands into fists, willing them to stay at the level of his hips. “Getting the house cleaned?”

“Maybe more than the house needed cleaning,” Opal admitted. His gray eyes wandered to the tip of his boots. “When I saw that witch at the door with another princess, I wondered if it was a sign.”

“A sign of what?” Garnet asked.

He really wanted to reach for his beard!

Garnet banged one of his fists against his hip to distract himself from the urge.

Pain spasmed through his hip.

“A sign that we needed to stop mourning our brother and…her.” Opal uttered the last with an awkward gruffness. “Maybe they were a sign that our lives have been on hold, ever since we lost Quartz. It’s like the six of us have been waiting for…something.”

“Or someone,” Garnet unclenched his hands.

Once more, he stared his own homely face.

What self-respecting dwarf tore his beard to shreds? How could he have let himself go like that?

“Do you truly think that Rose can bring our Blanche back from whatever she’s become?” he asked.

“No,” Opal said with a decisive shake of his head. “You can’t go back, whether you’re human or dwarf. You can only go forward.”

“I knew it,” Garnet growled.

His hand reached for his chin.

He stopped his fingers, willing them to stroke, rather than pull at the tuft it clutched at. “We can’t trust that witch queen or her promises. She might very well be fooling us into hoping that her princess can save our princess.”

“She might,” Opal agreed. An odd gleam came into his eye. “One thing I’ve noticed about Oriana. She seldom lies. She uses the truth to lure you into a trap.”

Opal took a deep breath, before he took a step forward.

His reflection was now caught in the mirror’s reflection, even though Garnet stood between him and its critical gaze.

Opal laid his thick hands upon his brother’s shoulders.

“If anyone has reason to mistrust every word that comes out of that queen’s mouth, it’s you,” Opal murmured. “You were closer to Quartz than any of us. You used to get yourself out of bed every morning with a curse on your lips. You mumbled nonstop that you wished she’d start sprouting boils, or for that her magic would backfire, turning her into a newt.”

“Aye, I did and I do!” All Garnet had to do was think of that woman and whatever food rested in his stomach turned sour. “I know better than to trust Queen Oriana, no matter how hopeful her words.”

“Yet, you’ve decided to believe in those words.” Opal’s fingers dug into his brother’s shoulders. “Why?”

“It’s not her words I believe in,” Garnet said, shaking his head. “It’s that girl.”

For a moment, blue eyes as clear and direct as the summer sky seemed to looked back at him from the glass.

They weren’t the queen’s. The queen’s gaze had never been so bold. There was a strength in them, which both the witch queen and their darling lacked.

“There’s something about that Rose, an energy, a direction which we brothers lost,” Garnet murmured. “I wonder if that energy might not be the key to saving our lost Blanche.”

“Aye.” Tension seemed to run out Opal.

A smile crept over his bushy lips. “I can see she had the same effect on you that she had on me.”

“I’m going to grow it back,” Garnet vowed. “If the curse falls upon Princess Rose, I’m not going to run whatever happens. I’m going to go to that castle with a fine chinspread of whiskers to face whatever she awakens as.”

“Aye.” Opal released Garnet’s shoulders and stepped back, but he was still smiling. “Whatever happens, let’s all go to the castle. Looking our best.”

Garnet’s own mouth trembled in an unfamilar smile.

Perhaps it was his fancy, but he thought there might be a few new whiskers in his beard already.

 

Curious about what events these characters are speaking of? Look for Fairest and Once Upon a Rainbow at…

Nine Star Press: https://ninestarpress.com/product/once-upon-a-rainbow-volume-one/

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Once-Upon-Rainbow-Mickie-Ashling-ebook/dp/B0774WM688/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1509900824&sr=8-1&keywords=once+upon+a+rainbow%2C+by+k.s.+trenten

Barnes & Noble:https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/once-upon-a-rainbow-volume-one-mickie-b-ashling/1127395428?ean=2940155023067

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/once-upon-a-rainbow

 

 

Unwilling to Be Yours

It’s QueerBlogWed…a time to express and celebrate queerness in our blogs.

For me, it’s one of the three days of the week I share another piece of a prelude to Stealing Myself From Shadows.

Right now, that ongoing story is Unwilling to Be Yours…

Peter finds himself facing Christopher in the garden, right when he was about to chuck ‘Waiting for Rebirth’…

 

I expected to be yelled at. I at least expected a glare for removing his precious ‘Waiting for Rebirth’.

A smile spread across Christopher’s face, like a sunbeam shooting through the cloud.

All right, I wasn’t expecting that reaction.

“I know why.” He gazed at me as if I’d become the most beautiful creature in the world. “This is where Damian painted it. This is where it belongs.”

“I see!” I said, although I didn’t see at all.

I looked around at the roses, the open air. “Um, you wouldn’t happen to know where I should put it?”

“In the gazebo,” Christopher said. He stood to the side and gestured to a seat. “Just leave it here.”

Not the best idea, leaving a picture leaning against a seat in a gazebo. It would get damaged here. On the other hand, did I really care if ‘Waiting for Rebirth’ was damaged?

Christopher studied the painting. His entire face had softened. There was a tenderness in his rose purple eyes, which I’d never seen before.

I definitely didn’t care. If ‘Waiting for Rebirth’ was damaged, I would let out a silent cheer. Why was I hesitating?

Because it had been too easy taking it to the garden.

I wasn’t sure if Christopher was right. I wasn’t sure if this thing belonged here.

It wanted to be here. I sensed this, just as I sensed which item in the Navel a customer truly desired.

This made me uneasy.