#sapphic story

[peachy-panic]

Family Line - Chapter 1

Remember a couple of days ago when I put out a poll asking if anyone would be interested in a whumpy wlw/sapphic story? Well, here is this thing.

Tagging a couple of people that expressed some interest - but let me know if you want to be on an actual tag list (assuming this story goes somewhere :)) @hold-him-down @thecyrulik

WARNINGS: BBU/BBU-Adjacent, predatory men, death in the family, fucked up family dynamics, rich people shit

Against her better judgment, Dallas Radley stepped into the elevator. Watching the metal doors slide shut grated on every survival instinct in her body, but taking twenty-seven flights of stairs was out of the question—not that she hadn’t briefly considered it—and the longer she drew this out, the more time she put between herself and a flight home. So she took a breath and did her best to ignore the hair-raising prickle on the back of her neck.

She just wanted to get this over with. More than that, she wanted to have never been involved in the first place. But of course, even in death, her brother succeeded in dragging her down with him. 

“This place is a shit hole.” 

She didn’t need to turn around to sense the sneer in her stepfather’s expression. Dallas flicked her eyes to the side, though, just enough to catch the line of him in her periphery. She rolled her neck, hard enough that a ripple of cracks were audible in the small space, but she didn’t grace him with a response. 

One hell of a shit hole, she thought. The luxury apartment building was a glittering circle jerk of sterile-sleek decor, a doorman in a suit worth more than Dallas’s entire wardrobe, and amenities that no one ever used. And she had only just seen the lobby. But of course, in his eyes, it was beneath her brother’s name, and therefore a disparaging mark on the whole family. 

Dallas had no doubt her mother would have agreed. The two of them were probably duking it out in hell about it that very moment. Really, Jared, they’re going to mention that godforsaken embarrassment of a place in the obituary. What will people think?

Never one for reading the room—or for giving a fuck what the room had to say—Charlie continued. “He could have taken over any one of our properties. I told him a hundred times.”

The problem with the penthouse being on the twenty-eighth floor was that this elevator ride took for-fucking-ever, and she was increasingly doubtful they would both make it out alive. 

“Have you considered,” she said as flatly as she could manage, “that his distance was intentional?”

His answering silence was somehow worse than his speaking. It was the kind of quiet you felt like the tip of a blade at the back of your neck. Still, she resisted the urge to turn around. 

“You haven’t changed a bit, have you?”

She was sure it was just in her head, the way his voice sounded closer. There had been no shuffle of dress shoes on the tiled floor, no warmth at her back, but she could feel it anyway. 

Don’t turn around. Don’t give him that. 

The elevator bell broke whatever seal that had vacuumed the air from her lungs. She pulled in a breath, forcing her legs into unrushed, even strides through the open door. The clinking of metal on her boots followed her down the short hallway, making it easier to ignore the soft pad of dress shoes trailing behind her. 

Jared’s apartment was hard to miss; it was the only entrance on the floor. Dallas reached into the pocket of her leather jacket, fingers closing around the key card the building manager had given her. Despite the rush to get this done, she couldn’t help but pause. She had never seen Jared’s home. She hadn’t spoken to her brother in years, and it was even longer since she’d seen him in person. She didn’t let thoughts of her family bother her anymore—at least that’s what she told herself—but there was a haunted feeling in seeing the place he lived for the first time once he was already dead. 

No point in stalling, though. Before Charlie could come to a stop behind her, Dallas swiped the key in front of the sensor and pushed inside. 

Jared’s apartment was, unsurprisingly, massive. Floor-to-ceiling windows made up three out of the four walls, with a spiral staircase near the center leading up to a lofted space. The only real blessing was the bare-bones approach to minimalist decor. The place looked barely lived in, like the museum of a home rather than someone’s actual apartment, but that would prove helpful in the unloading process. The less time she had to spend in the same room with Jared’s father, going through her dead brother’s shit, the better. 

Charlie wasn’t even supposed to be a part of this. The only reason Dallas bothered flying home in the first place was because she was almost certain that Charlie wouldn’t. He had been overseas on a business trip when the hospital called him, and had so graciously passed along Dallas’s contact information. (She still didn’t know how he got it in the first place, but she made a mental note to change her number the second she landed in Vancouver). Jared was dead before Dallas even got to the airport, and Charlie had surprised her by showing up at the funeral. 

Sure, in a perfect world, it wouldn’t be surprising for a father to show up to his only child’s funeral. But the world was a far stretch from perfect, and her family was even further. 

And now, despite not helping with any of the arrangements—the cremation, the ceremony cost or the planning—he insisted on helping manage Jared’s estate. Dallas shouldn’t have been surprised. 

“It shouldn’t take long,” Charlie commented with the air of someone who knew what the fuck they were talking about. “I can have Miguel arrange the transport of the large furniture pieces tomorrow morning. We’ll take it to the upstate property. It can go in the guest house.”

“What about the furniture that’s already there?” she asked, running her fingertips over a cashmere throw blanket on the back of the couch. 

Charlie shrugged. “We’ll throw it out. It’s a few years old, anyway.”

It really should have been none of her business. She shouldn’t waste her time engaging in conversation that wasn’t entirely necessary, but she couldn’t help herself. 

“There’s a donation center twenty minutes away. They do their own pickup.”

He wrinkled his nose in a way she really should have seen coming. “So a twenty-five thousand dollar sectional can go to a secondhand store? Seems a bit of a waste.”

She didn’t bother pointing out the hypocrisy. Instead, she rolled her eyes and made her way toward the spiral staircase to check out the bedroom. As she stepped off the last stair, her feet skidded to a halt beneath her, nearly knocking her back down. She grabbed onto the railing to balance herself. 

“Holy shit,” she yelped. Because there was a person curled up in the center of Jared’s king size bed. The woman had her back to the doorway, long, red hair strewn behind her like a flood of fire. Her form was still and silent, the only indication of life in the steady rise and fall of her ribs. 

“What is it?” Charlie trailed up behind her a few seconds later, more curious than concerned. He came to a stop by her side, taking in the discovery for himself. “Oh.”

Dallas blinked, calling on a distant memory. A piece of mail. A wedding invitation. A flash of bright red hair in a photo with her brother, looking up at her from the trash can before the lid dropped shut.

“Jessica?” she said.

“No,” Charlie said. “Jessica died. Three years ago. I’m glad to see that the therapy I paid for went to good use. He clearly found some… uncreative coping mechanisms.” With more force than necessary, he tapped the leg of the bed with his shoe, jolting the girl. “Alright, sweetheart. Time to get up. Free stay is over.”

The girl startled awake, the line of tension in her back pulling taut like a puppet in strings. She scrambled up and onto her knees, and when she turned to face them, a stunned silence fell over the room. Dallas’s eyes narrowed in on the thin, metal band around her neck.

This girl in her dead brother’s bed was a Companion.

His Companion.

“Jesus, Jared.” The breathy sound Charlie made could only be described as bemused, and it set Dallas’s blood on fire. “That makes more sense, I suppose.”

The girl didn’t say a word, but the panic emanated from her like heat from a furnace. Her eyes—a preternatural green behind copper lashes—were wide and terrified, rimmed in red and puffy from crying. She was wearing one of Jared’s oversized Cornell tees, which draped to the tops of her thighs. 

“It’s okay,” Dallas said without really knowing why. She supposed she just wanted to say something—anything—that might take some of the fear out of her expression. “You’re okay. We’re not going to hurt you.”

The girl’s eyes snapped to her when she spoke, but they retreated back to Charlie as she parted her lips, opening and closing them twice before pressing them tightly together.

“Hey,” Dallas said, pulling her focus back to her. It made her stomach turn to say the words, but this was far from the first time Dallas interacted with someone in the system. Unfortunately, she knew how this worked.  “It’s alright,” she said. “You can say whatever you want to say.”

She hesitated another couple of seconds before she softly cleared her throat. “You… Jared? You know Jared?” Her voice had a rough, raw edge to it, as if she hadn’t spoken in days. 

“He’s my brother.” Dallas caught herself, grinding her teeth. Was my brother, she corrected internally. 

“He…” The girl blinked, dazed. “He didn’t come home. He hasn’t… he didn’t…”

“You didn’t call the police?” Charlie snapped. “Or anyone?”

The girl shrank back from his tone. “I’m sorry,” she said. “He doesn’t allow—I… I don’t have a phone. I’m not allowed to leave without him.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Dallas said quickly, stepping between her and Charlie. She shot him a glare he didn’t seem to notice. “But there is something I need to tell you. About Jared.”

****

Dallas sat on the couch across from the red-haired stranger, the quiet heavy between them. The only sound was the faint carry of Charlie’s voice from the loft as he spoke with whatever fucking WRU representative he had on speed dial. 

He hadn’t seemed surprised, exactly, to discover an enslaved woman in Jared’s apartment, but he didn’t clearly hadn’t known about it in advance. In all likelihood, he was probably a little bit proud.  And Dallas… Well, it was hard to be disappointed in someone for whom your expectations were already below ground level, but some part of her had wanted to hope for more from her brother. They had grown up around Companion workers—in their home, in their parents’ company—and they knew how fucked up the system was. Even if he never admitted as much out loud. 

Dallas had been involved in the anti-contract system as a teenager. Never as much as she wanted; a protest here or there, a few letters to congressmen and reposts on social media. She had tried to get a little more into it in college. But since graduating, work kept her busy. And, as ashamed as she was to admit it, moving to Canada had been something of a mute switch for her. The system had been outlawed there for more than a decade, and it was easy to become complacent in a place like that. To pretend it wasn’t happening at all just because it was no longer happening in your own backyard. 

This… made her reevaluate that inaction. 

The girl was curled into herself, her arms wrapped around her legs in the corner of the sofa. Dallas had found a pair of joggers in Jared’s closet and shed her own leather jacket for her to wear. That particular pairing looked a little strange, but it was better than having her sit half-naked in the living room. In front of Charlie. 

“Are you hungry?” Dallas asked, unsure of how to fill the silence. It had been years since she was in the same room as a contracted Companion, but it filled her bloodstream with the same uneasy buzz as she remembered. 

She looked up at her, blinking her red, puffy eyes. The answer was apparent in her silence. 

“Have you eaten?” Dallas tried carefully. “Since Jared’s been away?”

Her pale fingers tightened in the fabric around her knees. “No, Miss Radley.”

“Dallas, please,” she corrected gently. “Or Dal. Let’s find you something to eat, yeah?”

The girl unfolded herself and trailed softly behind her to the kitchen. She swayed on her feet, leaning one hip subtly against the counter as Dallas scoured the pantry for something more than olive oil and seasoning. She could see her brother never quite got over his tendency to order out for every meal, but at least she was able to scrounge up some bread and peanut butter for a sandwich.

“Am I going to be taken back to the facility?” The question from behind her was so meek, Dallas almost didn’t hear it. 

She set the butterknife she had found slowly down on the counter, turning to face her. “I…” She swallowed. “I’m not sure what the plan is right now.”

At that moment, Charlie’s footfalls descended on the stairs. The girl’s posture went rigid. 

“Well,” he said, walking over to join them in the open kitchen. “This certainly makes things more interesting.” He spared a glance to the girl, then turned his attention back to Dallas as if she wasn’t in the room at all. “Apparently he has been contracting this girl on a rolling basis for the past two-and-a-half years. They’re only three months into the current six month term.”

The girl’s eyes had found a spot on the countertop and hadn’t deviated since Charlie entered the kitchen. Dallas eyed her dubiously, the sense of dread crawling higher in her throat. 

“What is their policy for this kind of circumstance?” Dallas asked.

“They have a couple of options. The first is a mortality clause, where fifty percent of the remaining contract fee can be recouped to the Keeper’s family upon early termination. The second is a transfer of title on her contract for the remaining duration. It only applies to legal or blood relatives and spouses, unless someone else is named in the initial contract. In Jared’s case, there was not.”

And there was the peak of the dread. 

Their options were to return this girl to the nearest WRU facility to be abused and assaulted and repurposed for a new sick fuck to take her home, or for one of them to claim her for themselves like a piece of expensive art in someone’s will. 

Charlie leveled his charming grin in Dallas’s direction. “I don’t suppose there’s any purpose in asking if your views on the system have changed since last we spoke?”

“Fat fucking chance,” she said. He laughed like she’d said something funny, then trailed his gaze back to the girl, who curled even further into herself. 

“What’s your designation, sweetheart?” 

Dallas tensed at the prospect of him speaking to her directly, but the girl answered smoothly and immediately. 

“Domestic, sir.”

“And how old are you?”

“Twenty-three.”

That may or may not have been bullshit. WRU was known for not being entirely truthful when it came to the matter of age—in either direction, depending on the type of Keeper they were trying to appeal to. 

“Have you been in the system a long time?”

There was the slightest pause before she answered this time. “Since I was nineteen,” she said quietly. Dallas’s fingers squeezed down around the handle of the butter knife.

“Hm.” Charlie pushed back from the counter, nodding decisively. “That could work out. Molly’s contract is up in a month, and I wasn’t planning to renew anyway.” He was no longer addressing her directly. “Some overlap could be good. She could show her the ropes. Okay. Yeah. I’ll have Miguel handle the paperwork.”

What happened next was never the plan. Was never even the realm of possibility until she suddenly felt her mouth moving without her permission and heard the words in her voice as if spoken by a stranger. 

“I’ll take over her contract.”

Both sets of eyes turned to her, one full of apprehension, the other full of delighted surprise. 

“Oh, will you, now?” Charlie lifted an eyebrow, and Dallas swallowed back the urge to fling the butter knife into his jugular.

Instead, she fixed her eyes on his, refusing to back down. “Are you going to fight me on it?”

He held her gaze for a few long seconds, and she was prepared for the likelihood that the answer was yes. It wouldn’t be a hard-won fight, and they both knew it. He was a wealthy, respected regular customer of WRU’s services, and she was an outspoken protestor who lived outside of the legal zone. 

But then he broke with a chuckle. “Of course not,” he said. “I’ll even help you with the logistics, if you want. It can be a bit of a headache the first time around.”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“If you insist.” He raised his hands, backing off. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

Let me know if you need any help jumping off a fucking cliff, asshole.

As Charlie walked toward the staircase again, Dallas turned to the woman who would soon become her legal—if temporary—property, desperate to explain herself. But before she could, Charlie called out to her from across the room. 

“Dal?” He smiled, his white teeth showing in a viscous smile. “Your mother would be proud.”

#bbu #like bbu adjacent? #Family Line: Dallas & Dylan #whump #whump writing #lady whump #wlw writing #wlw story #sapphic story

[dyingroses]

Siren tries to lure a sailor himbo but he’s so polite she lets him live

He’s so sweet and gentle and stupid that she worries how he will fair in this world of vile men, so they follow his ships and bring him hidden treasure

Eventually he becomes captain of his own ship

And to her surprise the rest of the crew are women, because he was the only one nice enough to hire females

And the women are super nice and grateful to the siren for enabling their freedom by bringing the himbo captain the treasure he needed to buy his own ship

and  . . .  i don’t know where i’m going with this, probably somewhere sapphic

#piratecore #birate #mermaids #mermaidcore #himbos #himbo #sapphic story #sapphic #sapphic stuff #WLW #lesbians in art #sapphic sailors #post #story ideas #story inspo #Things to Do

[keythekeythekey]

This manga had such weird pace, I dunno not my thing I guess.

#The Flower and The Star #Hana to Hoshi #GL #yuri #girls love #shoujo ai #sapphic story #keythekeythekey #manga #manga and anime #otaku #comic books #manga screencap #manga scan #manga screenshots #shoujo #manga recommendation

[llamagirl28]

So, I wrote a thing

It has nothing to do with either The Bastard of Camelot or Supernatural in New York, and it's not interactive fiction; it a thing of its own, a short story I wrote last year, called Shadows of the Strange Valley. It’s Weird West, it’s sapphic; it has a mystery, a monster and a protagonist who starts completely out of her depth but is determined to persevere.

Here’s the blurb: As punishment for her misdeed, mage Tabitha Reyes is sent to solve a mystery in the strangest corner of the Mojave Desert, where everything she's been taught about magic is turned upside down. It's an unforgiving place, but Tabitha finds herself oddly allured by the Strange Valley - and Rebecca, the local doctor who knows more about magic than she should.

If you enjoy my writing or the premise piques your interest, please give it a read over on Medium!

Link: https://medium.com/@llamagirl/shadows-of-the-strange-valley-5a765003b161

#speculative fiction #short story #sapphic story #weird west #writing

[succubus-interactivefiction]

Oops, I did it again

or rather my crazy sleep schedule and a sheer number of cups of coffee meant I didn't get much sleep last night, especially after this idea popped into my head and refused to leave until I jotted it down. So here's yet another Witching Hour Story Idea, yes that's what I call these weird story plots that slip into my mind. Anywhoooo, below the cut...Gods Im tired

Hellfire

Ten years ago the world as you knew it ended. It has come to be known as The Scouring, wherein a twenty four hour period, as the dawn swept across the face of the world, people simply vanished leaving no trace behind. In a single day ninety percent of the world's population had disappeared. Those who had advanced warning tried to outrun the morning light, world leaders took to the skies chasing the night in the hope that as long as they outran the day they would survive, there are tales of some planes and their crews who are still chasing that thin line in the belief that they can stay safe.

For the rest of the world however, life quickly devolved into a mad scramble for survival as survivors turned on one another in an effort to secure whatever remained of the world, that first year saw an even greater decrease in the remaining population. However those survivors did not have the peace of simply vanishing, no they died in brutal, bloody fights for survival. You are one of those who survived that bloody time.

Five years ago the world seemed to have come to some sense of equilibrium as something resembling society was carved from the ruins by warlords and peacekeepers across the globe, but whatever fragile peace the world had settled into was again destroyed when the veil fell. Across the world random survivors suddenly found themselves mutating traits many religions attributed to other worldly beings, in essence, over night, demons and angels became manifest.

The world was again thrown into turmoil as cults and fanatics rose to worship those who have, what they believe, is divine blood. It is only in the last year that things have finally settled into a new state of semi balance.

But for you, one of the Cambion, the simple life you have managed to scrape out of the apocalypse will be torn apart because of a simple reunion with someone you have long thought dead. You will now have to decide the fate of hundreds of thousands of lives along the west coast of North America as you become the central focus of a continent spanning conflict that has the potential to, once again, throw the world into turmoil.

Features

Play as a Cis or Trans woman, with full customization over your physical appearance.

Customize your daemonic appearance with options that allow you to seem almost human, or simply embrace your daemonic essence and make yourself a walking war machine. Be warned however that not everyone responds well to such beings.

Play with literal hellfire as you wield unholy abilities on the field of battle, or use your minor reality warping abilities to ensure that cute dress fits your towering daemonic frame.

Manage your new fortress city of Portland after ripping it from the claws of a former employer to save an old flame and try to make life better for the humans living under your rule.

Befriend and/or romance your former girlfriend whom you thought died in The Scouring, a Nephilim fanatic who needs to learn to not judge a book by its cover, or both at the same time in a polyamorous triad.

Wage war against a fanatical cult led by a pair of Nephilim twins hell bent on recreating the world in their own image.

Romance Options

Misty May | Human | Your Former Girlfriend Age: 27 Height: 5’7” Build: Athletic Eye Color: Hazel Hair Color: Black Skin Tone: Coffee Notable Features: Multiple scars from struggling to survive the last ten years Character Traits: Quiet, Easily startled, Secretive Tropes: Trauma, First Love, Return From The Dead, Second Chances

Your first girlfriend, you assumed Misty had died during The Scouring while she was on the east coast visiting family. This is a belief you have held to in the ten years since the apocalypse. The two of you had been inseparable from the first moment she shoved a bully away from you in the first grade, that was Misty, always standing up for others and putting herself in harm's way if it meant someone else would be spared pain. You remember her near constant smile and quick wit with fondness and despite everything that has happened in the past ten years just the memory of her helps you go on.

Arial | Nephilim | The Stubborn Nephilim Age: 22 Height: 6’3” Build: Voluptuous Eye Color: Gold Hair Color: Silver Skin Tone: Olive Notable Features: Four large angelic wings, glowing eyes Character Traits: Stubborn, Dense, Loving Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Forbidden Love, Coming Out

One of the humans who became a Nephilim, Arial was seventeen when her change occurred to the shock of her parents and the small community they had joined. Of the hundred members of the town only one other person changed, a seven year old boy manifested Cambion traits and these two distinct changes sent shockwaves through the people and seemed to send most of them into some form of madness. While Arial was uplifted and worshiped the young boy was locked away, beaten, tortured, and to Arial’s horror one morning he was sacrificed in front of her as the townsfolk believed she was an avatar of God. Arial ran away the next day but was soon found by a cult led by two Nephilim twins. Taking her in they manipulated her, twisting her mind to their belief system and eventually sent her out on her own to hunt Cambion, she was captured and imprisoned almost immediately. This is where you find her, locked away in a cell in the Portland fortress city.

Others

Gabriella | Nephilim | Cult Leader

The insane leader of a militant cult spreading from Salt Lake City, Gabriella, along with her demented brother Michael, believe that it is their divine duty to rid the world of all Cambion as well as any Nephilim who will not bend the knee. Unlike her brother, Gabriella at first seems to have full control of her faculties, but her frequent lapses into inane and uncontrolled giggling seem to suggest otherwise.

Michael | Nephilim | Cult General

The de facto General of the cult's growing army, Michael spends more of his time engaging in incestuous relations with his sister than actually leading troops on the field of battle. Being just as insane as his sister, if not even more unstable, he believes that no one can defeat him in combat. His explosive outbursts when someone proves better than him at anything are well known among the cult.

Rubidor | Cambion | Your Aide-de-camp

Someone you could consider a friend, if you use the bare minimum of the meaning, Rubidor was your point of contact for jobs when passing through the area, that was before your unintended coup however. Now he is the only one you trust to see your orders are relayed to their respective recipients and even more importantly obeyed.

Lohi | Human | Rebel Leader

Lohi had spent four years building up his rebel group in the fortress city of Portland before you simply swept in and cut the head off the former ruler, taking his place as leader. All his plans have been disrupted because of this, but he is undeterred and is adamant that humanity will be free of the daemonic scourge that enslaves them.

Marky | Human | Insane Seeress

One of the few truly free humans living in Portland, Marky is nearly blind and each vision brings her closer to nevering being able to see light again. Despite this she remains relatively upbeat and is more than willing to lend her abilities to someone she considers worthy of her visions. Of course she did consider the former ruler of Portland worthy, so her definition may differ from most others.

Gram | Daemon | Your Multi-Great Grandmother

The only true daemon currently roaming the surface of the planet. Loves life in all its forms, but will burn it all to ash for her only grandchild. Bakes cupcakes in her spare time.

#interactive fiction #writing #happy succubus #oops i did it again #gotta love lack of sleep #hellfire #demon mc #sapphic story #lesbian #lesbian story #twine

[frays-monster-yuri]

Agony of Promises Kept

(Edited title to Depths of Promises Sworn)

By Irene Fray

By order of the Vylian Castellan, forever may she reign.

Prince Ayre - Fourteenth of Her Unholiness's Brood, has been dispatched to your territories in order to complete a binding ritual to the Lunarian Seed Seers Cerya Waning-Moon and Theriya Frost-Crescent within no less than ten moons. It has been communicated that the Prince shall be expected to remain as a token of good faith that your interests remain aligned with the Castellan's and worthy of our direct protection.

As communicated in prior correspondence, the Prince travels with Astraea Wyrmsbane. The Castellan deems this more than adequate to ensure a steady production of Moonwrought Implements for our needs.

The Third Sister and I eagerly await your arrival so that the covenant between our nations can be properly renewed.

Faithfully yours until the thrones of old are bled dry and our vile moon is satiated,

Prince Morganth - Second of Her Unholiness's Brood.

I. Um. Was not sure how to write a description for my fantasy lesbian arranged marriage story between a largely disposable and traumatized main cast who are prisoners of their stations within evil families.

But an in-universe message that treats the main cast as fucking bargaining chips in their own story makes me feel a kind of way.

Lil clarifications. Ayre does not have a gender but I built an entire oppressive world where gender is forced upon them.

They are surrounded by girls and monster girls because I am a lesbian.

Every Prince, Seed Prince, and worse masculine title I come up with is for Ayre is meant to hurt.

That said.

Ayre and Cerya spend four whole chapters gently and slowly figuring out whether they are willing to show any intimacy and interest in each other at all.

And then a trans moon elf girl barges into the story with a steel chair to bash Ayre and the readers over where this story is going from here. But all that setup is so Ayre can receive one fucking hug and... genuinely want better for themselves.

This is going to have an absurd amount of smut that goes into varying amounts of detail. Some of it with monsters. Some of it bloody. A lot of it with trans girls in the central polycule.

I am literally just waiting on commissioned art of Cerya and Theriya to slap on the cover before sharing it. I average a 2,000 word chapter a day w/ writing that just constantly delights me.

#agony of promises kept #writing #my writing #trans #trans story #lesbian story #sapphic story #transfem #transfem writer #so much trauma #arranged marriage #polyamory #fantasy #queer fantasy #depths of promises sworn

[orkazh-arts]

✨ Meet Kathalandra “Kass” and Thaerys, the two protagonists of my new sapphic fantasy romcom story 😌💅✨

It is well-known among the Courts of several kingdoms that Princess Kathalandra and Princess Thaerys are not the best of friends. Some might even say that, being complete opposites in both personality and manners, they can’t stand each other. But when - following her betrothal to Princess Thaerys’ older brother - Kathalandra comes to live with her future in-laws and Thaerys is put in charge of showing her around the castle and kingdom, both of them start to realize that there is more to the other than meets the eye… ✨

#original art #wlw #sapphic story #sapphic #medieval setting #medieval romcom #fantasy #fantasy romcom #queer romcom #my art #princesses #reluctant future in-laws to lovers #yes Red is betrothed to Green's brother at first #kathaerys #SFR #sfr-tag

[zwritestuff]

In the Dark.

Neva is a clanless bastard witch that was sold to the Kusat, an ancient vampyr clan, to solve a debt when she was a baby. After a series of strange events, Neva decides to research her past behind the Kusati's back. The search for her identity takes a dangerous turn when she discovers the Kusati have a skeleton or two hidden in the closet.

read chapter 1 on ao3.

#hi!!! i finally decided to post the branjie vampyr au re-write!!! #come check it out pls <3 #my fiction #my writing #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #sapphic #sapphic story #sapphic vampire #vampires #vampirism #fantasy #magic #ao3 writer

[daxwritesstories]

Starry Anomaly: Part 3 - Dancing With A Wolf

Summary: Starry spends the majority of her life feeling lonely until one day a mysterious girl named Anna appears in her town. The two quickly become close but Starry soon realizes that there’s more to Anna than meets the eye.

Four part story. Each part is inspired by a different song.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 4

Word Count: ~4.8K

Lyrics from "Dancing With A Wolf" by All Time Low

Fool me once, it’s shame on you

A week passed and Anna started to become more well known around town. A few of the older townsfolk were afraid of her, saying that her ambiguous origin could spell bad news. They were scared that more strangers would soon come to the island, perhaps to look for her.

Those who were not afraid of her wanted to know more about the mysterious masked child who had taken up residence on our island. They wanted to see her face. Many people would ask her to take her mask off but Anna would politely refuse. 

When people asked her where she was from, Anna would say, “Far away.” When they asked her if she had a family, she would say, “I have my friends.” When they asked her anything else, she wouldn’t answer.

Who’s gonna listen when you run out of lies?

Anna came back to my house every single night during that week. She would spend a lot of time looking out at the ocean and I would silently read my books. We continued our reading lessons. Anna remained a fast learner. I was impressed with how quickly she was memorizing all the words. I hoped that one day she would be able to read an entire book to me. 

As the week progressed, Anna began talking to me more and I was so happy. I realized that the reason she didn’t talk much was because she was trying to hide her limited ability to speak Esalezian. She was fluent enough to understand basic conversation, but just barely. I understood why she didn’t want other people to know. I didn’t mind of course, I could still understand her perfectly.

When our conversations became longer, Anna would talk about me a lot. She would talk about my eyes a lot, apparently she was fond of them.

“You have tiny galaxies in your eyes,” she would say. Even though I had heard that compliment a million times before, it sounded different when Anna said it. She said it like she truly believed that there were baby universes hidden away in my eyes. 

Anna told me multiple times that I should wear darker clothes to match my eyes. I told her that I didn’t have any. All of my clothes were either pink, white, or pastel colors. I always thought dark colors were dull and that they would make me look frightening. I knew a few older kids who wore only dark clothes and I thought they were scary.

I was willing to try it though. I asked Anna where she got her dress from and she told me that she made it herself. Then she offered to make me one. I accepted, thinking it would be a lovely gift. A homemade gift is better than anything you can buy for someone. My mom always told me that when you make something, you put a tiny piece of your heart into it.

We asked my mom if Anna could borrow her sewing machine and she happily helped us bring it to my room. She said that sewing was a good skill for girls like us to learn.

By the end of the week, Anna was already finished making my new dress (out of fabric lovingly donated to us by my mom). Anna insisted that I try it on immediately and when I twirled in it for her she squealed with delight. She told me that I had never looked more beautiful. 

Feeling confident from her praise, I suggested we go walk around town so I could show it off. Anna agreed enthusiastically so we left the house to go to the night market.

Anna proudly held my hand as we walked around, like she wanted everyone to see how I looked in my new dress. Aside from a couple of the merchants mentioning that I wasn’t wearing my usual clothes, not many people noticed. I was perfectly okay with that though, I was just happy that Anna thought I was pretty.

So don’t you call my name

“Starry?” 

I turned away from the booth we were looking at to see Ramona standing behind me.

“Hi, Ramona,” I greeted. Anna turned around too, but she didn’t say anything.

“Where have you been all week? I haven’t heard from you,” Ramona said.

“Sorry, I’ve been in my room a lot this week. Oh, and I’ve been at the beach almost every day,” I explained.

Ramona paused before speaking again. Her eyes flicked between me and the ground below her, a solemn look clouded her expression. She then looked at Anna.

“Hello, Anna.”

Anna responded with a polite wave.

“I stopped by your house a couple times,” Ramona said to me. “Your mom kept saying you were busy.”

My mom would try not to interrupt me while I had company over, but she usually mentioned it as soon as I was no longer busy. That was the thing though, I had been busy all week and my mom could probably see that. 

“I have been busy…” I admitted. “But I’ll ask my mom to just interrupt me if that happens again.”

Ramona nodded. I found it strange that she wasn’t smiling as much as she usually did when we talked. Perhaps she was angry with me for not making an effort to see her. That made me feel bad. I must have seemed like a terrible friend.

“Hey, do you want to walk around the market with us for a bit?” I offered, thinking I could start making it up to her right away.

“No, I have to get back home. I’m working on an important project,” Ramona explained. “Thanks though.” 

She finally gave me a smile and I felt relieved. I never meant to upset her. I made a mental note to call her the next morning.

After we’d seen everything at the night market, Anna asked if we could go to the beach. Ignoring my fear of the water at night, I agreed to go. Anna had quickly taught me to love the beach, showing me that the ocean was nothing to be afraid of.

Opting to stay close to the streetlamps, we sat down against the stone wall of the boardwalk. 

“No one comes to the beach,” Anna observed. Her tone sounded sad and disappointed.

“A lot of the people who live here are afraid of the water,” I explained. “And it’s usually too cold to swim this time of year anyway.”

“Why are they afraid?” Anna asked.

I hesitated before answering, considering whether or not I should tell the truth. I didn’t want to scare her, but Anna seemed to have no fear at all. She could probably handle it.

“It’s mostly superstition, but even my parents still believe it. The elders say that a long time ago, when they were kids, exactly one child would drown every year. According to them, it would always happen late in the night when everyone on the island was sleeping. They thought that the sea lured the children out of their homes and down to the beach, where the waves would steal them away.”

“Is that why you’re not allowed on the beach at night?” Anna asked.

“Yeah, my parents are still afraid it might happen again,” I answered. My voice wavered a bit, though I wasn’t sure why.

Anna reached over and held my hand. 

“How could the ocean lure someone?” she wondered, thinking out loud.

“There’s a lot of theories. Sirens, ghost ships, even the moon,” I said.

Anna looked at me. Her mask was half glowing orange from the streetlamps behind us and half brilliant white from the moon in front of us.

“Do you believe them?” she asked.

“Not really,” I answered. Even though I didn’t believe the tall tales that the older townsfolk told, I was still fearful of drowning. 

Seeing my mom avoid the ocean at all costs made me think that drowning must have been a terrible fate. I obviously didn’t know what drowning would feel like and every time I asked my parents about it, my mom would start having trouble breathing and her hands would tremble. Then my dad would change the subject.

When it was time for me to learn how to swim, something every child who lives by the water should do, my dad had to teach me alone. My mom tried to watch me for my first lesson but she screamed and started crying when I jumped in the water.

The water was something that scared even my mom so I figured it had to be dangerous.

“My friends will be here soon,” Anna said, looking back out at the ocean.

“When?” I asked.

“Soon… At night.” Anna glanced around the area. “I think the beach would be the perfect place.”

“For what?”

Anna didn’t answer me, but giggled in excitement instead. She stood up and looked down at me. “Will you come meet them when they are here?”

I nodded and Anna jumped up and down, exclaiming something in a language I had never heard before. She held her hand out to me so I took it and let her pull me into a standing position. She twirled me around and hugged me when my back rested against her.

~~~

The next morning Anna was awake before I was. I opened my eyes to see her standing on the balcony, her favorite spot in my room. The morning breeze rustled the curtains and the bottom of Anna’s dress. She seemed unfazed though.

I got out of bed and greeted her before getting dressed. I decided to put on the same dress I was wearing the previous night, still overjoyed that Anna handmade it just for me.

When I sat down in front of my mirror to brush my hair, Anna came back into the room and stood behind me.

“You should cut your hair,” she said.

“Huh? Why?” I looked at her through the mirror and somehow I could tell she was making eye contact with me.

“You’re always pulling tangles out of it and it goes in your face when it’s windy.”

I stopped brushing and thought about it. What she said was true, the wind always blew my hair into my face, which could get annoying sometimes. Getting rid of the tangles everyday was painful too.

But I loved my hair. I always thought it made me look pretty. It would have been hard for me to just cut all of it off. What if I looked like a boy without it?

I turned around to look at Anna directly. She had short hair and she was beautiful. Everyone could tell she was a girl, even with her face completely covered.

“I will cut it for you, if you like,” Anna offered.

Still hesitant, I told her I’d think about it. That seemed to satisfy her and she changed the subject.

~~~

We went to the square that day. Nothing was planned to happen there but Anna wanted to go dance anyway. She said she needed to teach me how to dance for when her friends arrived. I asked again what her friends were going to do once they got there and she finally gave me some form of an answer.

“We will celebrate!” she announced.

Luckily, there were usually one or two gypsies with instruments in the square when no events were planned. Anna asked the mandolin player to strum us something to dance to. Since we were both just kids, he smiled and played for us free of charge.

Anna instructed me to follow her lead, just like last time. She took my hand and began a dance that was similar to the last time we danced except it was much faster. So fast that we were off tempo with the music. Anna either didn’t notice or didn’t care because she never adjusted our speed. 

Again, her dance included many, many spins. I got dizzy but I clung onto Anna’s hands, knowing that she wouldn’t let me fall.

There was a part of her dance where we had to let go of each other though. As I took a moment to get my footing, I watched as Anna continued to spin. She had one leg out behind her and the opposite arm was beautifully stretched out above her head. Her spine bent just slightly, creating a smooth, curving line from her fingertips to her toes. I was in awe. She looked like a spinning dancer figure from one of Ramona’s music boxes.

I tried to mimic Anna’s movements, guessing that I was supposed to do as she did. It was difficult. Anna made the dance look completely effortless but when I tried to do the same moves it took a lot of strength and balance. I nearly fell over a few times.

When Anna finally moved close to me again, she took my hands and pulled me close. We stepped from side to side, which was more reminiscent of the dancing I was used to. Our dance slowed down as well, now going in time with the music. It was lovely and relaxing. I enjoyed that part the most. 

Soon, Anna let go of my hands and bowed to me, ending the dance. 

“How did I do?” I asked.

My question elicited a giggle from Anna and she nodded in response. I assumed that meant I did well. 

~~~

For the next few days, Anna and I practiced dancing in the square. The gypsies seemed to enjoy our performances, as they never refused to play for us. 

Anna had a strange way of teaching. She almost never gave me vocal instructions, wanting me to learn by copying her instead. I knew that Anna disliked speaking in front of other people so I didn’t mind it for the most part. It did get frustrating a couple times but Anna would notice me having trouble and rush to my side to guide me with her hands. 

When we would go back to my room at the end of the day, Anna would give me advice on what I could improve on. Since we were in the privacy of my home she felt that she could speak freely.

Anna was adamant about the fact that I needed to be good at dancing for when her friends arrived. When I asked her why, she told me that she wanted her friends to be impressed by me. I thought that was a strange thing to want, but in a certain way it made me feel special.

One night, Anna and I were lying down with our heads on my balcony, looking up at the stars. The curtains on my balcony doors were blowing in the wind but they never blew high enough to abstract our view. This was something I had done many times before either by myself or with Ramona. For some reason, doing it alongside Anna made it feel like a brand new experience.

We were showing each other our favorite stars and constellations when a terrible thought crept into my mind. The thought that things could not be like this forever. The past couple weeks had felt like I was living inside some beautiful dream. Just me and Anna spending every day and every night together. I had never felt so light and carefree before. Anna made me forget what it felt like to be lonely and I knew that I couldn’t bear to be reminded again. I worried that the dream would end soon.

“Anna?”

“Hm?”

“Are we in love?” 

Anna turned her head to look at me, her mask darkening as it moved away from the moonlight. She shrugged and brushed my hair out of my face. 

“Will you stay with me?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” Anna responded.

“You must have a home somewhere in this world. Are you going to go back to it?”

“My home is with my friends,” Anna said.

“Will your friends stay here when they come? Will you leave me when they come?” I felt tears welling up in my eyes as I spoke. The thought of Anna leaving me alone again was crushing.

Anna just stared at me through the mask. Despite its happy expression, it looked sad to me. I felt that sadness in my own expression as a tear rolled down my cheek. Anna gently wiped it away and ran her thumb along my cheekbone. 

“We will be together,” she said. “I know we will.”

Please take me at my word, I’m desperate

~~~

The day came when Anna’s friends were supposed to arrive. She left my house early to do some “preparations”. She never elaborated on what she meant by that but I didn’t question her either. She promised she would be back before nightfall to come get me. Then we would go meet her friends together for their celebration.

For the first time in two weeks, I was alone. It was scary.

I thought about going to see Ramona but she never stopped by again since I saw her at the night market. I even asked my mom to let me know the next time she was at the door. My mom never came to get me though. When I asked if Ramona had been by the house, she told me that there was no sign of her. So I assumed that Ramona was still mad at me. I’ve never done well with people being angry with me and I couldn’t bring myself to face Ramona.

Instead, I decided to reread one of my favorite books. It contained a couple different stories about nomads, wanderers who explored the world, seeing everything that there was to see. The stories chronicled their adventures in different parts of the world. Places that I couldn’t believe existed. It was wonderful to read about, I must have read that book at least twenty times.

After finishing the book, I tried to get myself looking presentable for the celebration. I tried on several dresses that Anna had made for me. They were all similar, made out of the same dark fabric just in different silhouettes. I thought hard about which one Anna would like best. Eventually I decided on the one that looked most like the one she wore. 

Still feeling desperate to please Anna, I sat down in front of my mirror and picked up my brush. Anna didn’t like the tangles in my hair so I was determined to get every last one of them out before she returned. 

As I brushed, I thought about the conversation we had the other night. Despite Anna’s reassurance, I was still so scared of losing her. I thought that if I looked the way she wanted me to, maybe then she would stay with me.

I yelped in pain when my hairbrush came to a sudden halt halfway down my hair, pulling at my scalp. Carefully, I eased the brush back up a bit and removed it from my hair. My heart sank when I realized that it only made even more knots. I looked worse than before I started.

I started to cry, my tears salty like the ocean. I didn’t know what to do. I’d never get the knots out of my hair, it was impossible. 

Please stay. For what it’s worth, I’m desperate

Desperately looking around my room for ideas, my gaze landed on a pair of scissors left next to the sewing machine. I thought about what Anna said to me. Perhaps she was right.

I got up and retrieved the scissors before sitting back down in front of the mirror. I gathered my tangled hair up in my hand and held the blades up to it. With a deep breath, I squeezed the handles together and my hair came loose, limp in my hand. 

Putting down the clump of now useless hair, I stared at myself in the mirror. I actually didn’t look bad. I was always so afraid that cutting my hair would make me ugly. To my surprise, I looked…pretty. Pretty like Anna. The cut itself was messy and needed to be touched up, but it was close to how Anna’s hair looked. 

Concentrating, I cut off more on the side bit by bit. I used Anna’s hair for reference, trying to emulate the pixie style she had. 

When Anna returned to my room that night, she gasped in shock and happiness when she saw me.

“You look so pretty!” she exclaimed before wrapping her arms around me.

“Thank you,” I replied, hugging back. 

Anna held me in her embrace for a long moment. She was holding onto me more tightly than usual, like I might slip away at any moment. I wondered if she felt the same way I did.

When Anna let go of me, her gaze wandered around my face. I think she was still taking in the way I looked with my new hair. She then looked at the window behind me. She said that it was time and held out her hand to me.

I placed my hand in Anna’s and she led me out of my room. My parents were already sleeping, so we silently left the house without anyone noticing.

Anna held my hand the entire way to the beach. She kept talking about how excited she was for me to meet her friends. 

I wished I shared in her excitement, but instead I was nervous and afraid. I was worried that her friends wouldn’t like me. I had no idea how Anna would react if they didn’t. Would she defend me? Or would she be swayed by their opinions? It was impossible to tell. Even though I knew Anna pretty well by then, she was still difficult to read most of the time.

I could only hope that it wouldn’t be our last night together.

Who’s gonna save you when you’re out of time?

~~~

Fool me twice and let the wolves come crashing through

What awaited us on the beach that night was something I would never have expected. I’m not sure what I thought Anna’s friends would be like, but it certainly wasn’t that. 

We walked a long way until we arrived at an area that was far from the lights of the town. A section of the beach was lit up by the fiery flicker of torches that were stuck in the sand. There were silhouettes of people -tall people- moving around in the light of the flames. 

As we walked toward the group, a strange type of music filled my ears. It sounded like bamboo sticks being hit together in a sporadic rhythm that switched back and forth between tempos. I had never heard something like that before. All the music I’d heard in my life had consisted of string and wind instruments. Hearing just percussion was jarring.

I nervously glanced at Anna. She responded by squeezing my hand, silently telling me that it was going to be okay.

When we got close enough for the people to notice us, they all stopped dancing and the few people playing music put down their instruments.

Next thing I knew, I was face-to-face with a wolf. A person wearing a realistic wolf mask, that is. He was wearing dark clothing that appeared to be made out of several different rags sewn together. He was also a lot taller than me and Anna, definitely an older kid. Actually, all of Anna’s friends looked to be quite a few years older than us.

“Hello, Anna,” the boy said. His voice was muffled by the mask, but I could still tell that he couldn’t speak Esalezian well. Not as well as Anna could, at least.

“Hello, Fang” Anna replied cheerfully. She gestured towards me. “This is Starry.”

Fang looked at me, tilting his head from side to side and darting his eyes around. I felt like I was being examined by an actual wolf, deciding whether or not to kill and eat me. I tried not to let my fear show though.

“Good night, Starry,” Fang eventually said.

Assuming that he meant to say “good evening”, I forced a smile and nodded. 

Fang then stretched one of his arms out to the side and twisted his body back, presenting the rest of Anna’s friends to us. They were all staring at me with curiosity. I noticed right away that they were all wearing masks. Some of the masks mimicked animal faces, others looked like humans, and some depicted strange, otherworldly creatures. The masks were made of various different materials, wood, clay, and straw. Some, like Fang’s, even looked like they were made from real animal carcasses. Those ones unnerved me the most.

“Dance?” Fang asked.

Anna nodded and took my hand again. Fang turned around to head back into the crowd and we followed behind him. He started tapping a couple sticks he had in hands together and the other people with instruments joined him. This time, the song seemed to stay at a steady tempo. I was thankful for that, since it would be easier to dance to.

Everyone started to dance. Anna guided me through one of the dances we had practiced in the square. When I looked around, I saw that all of Anna’s friends were dancing the same way that she did. They all spun and dipped each other low. It was dizzying to spin so much in a sea of twirling bodies.

I managed to keep up for a while and I actually started to have fun. That was until the music started to gradually speed up. At first I just had to adjust my movements and follow Anna’s lead, which was fine. Unfortunately, Anna was soon pulled away from my grasp by one of her friends. I did my best to continue the dance but was thrown off when I was grabbed.

Startled, I looked up to see a girl in a hawk mask was holding my wrist. She spun me around a couple times and then passed me to another person. 

The next person was a boy wearing a human-like mask. I was dipped toward the sand and then suddenly flipped backwards over his arm. The world flipped upside down around me, completely out of my control, until my feet finally landed on the cool sand. 

Disoriented, I didn’t even realize that the boy had passed me to another person. When I did finally realize, I had no time to look at their mask before they lifted me into the air. At the same time that I was raised above the crowd, Anna was lifted up as well and I saw her posing as if she had no fear. I, on the other hand, was terrified at how high off the ground I was, afraid that I would be dropped.

Then, the person holding me up twirled us around before quickly setting me down again. When I felt my legs stabilize on the ground and realized that I was fine, I breathed a sigh of relief and looked around for Anna. I was becoming tired from the erratic dance but the music was only speeding up more. I needed to take a break but I didn’t want to go anywhere without Anna.

I tried to weave my way through the crowd of dancing bodies. A few of the older kids took my hand along the way and spun me around. It became hard to tell which direction I was facing. I might have been going in circles for all I knew.

Eventually though, I spotted Anna in the crowd. Her bright white mask stood out from the rest of the brown, gray, and black masks that her friends were wearing. 

I moved to approach her but then stopped in my tracks when Fang scooped her up and spun her around. Anna laughed and stretched her arms up towards the sky. She looked so graceful amongst the chaos that surrounded us. Then Fang dipped her down so fast that I thought she might get whiplash. He flipped her backwards over his arm, just like another boy did to me before. Anna kept her legs completely straight as she was overturned, posing them in an almost perfect L-shape. When she landed, Fang turned her in towards his body, wrapping his arms around her.

What happened next made my heart sink into my stomach. Anna lifted her mask and then lifted Fang’s as well. Standing on her toes, she gently kissed him. 

I felt all the energy drain from my body at once and my legs threatened to give out beneath me. I couldn’t hear the music anymore and I suddenly felt cold. The heat from the torches seemed to vanish completely. A shiver ran up my spine. 

No one will want you when you’re on your knees

Dizzy and exhausted, I fell to my knees. My hands instinctively shot out front of me and my palms scraped against the cool sand as they braced my fall.

When I looked up again, I saw Anna staring at me. She was completely still and her head was tilted to the side in confusion. I stared back at her just as confused as she was. 

It felt like we were frozen together in that moment. I could hear nothing except my own heartbeat, I could see nothing but Anna, and I could feel nothing except complete, utter loneliness.

#starry anomaly #creative writing #song inspired #original story #seaside #betrayal #sirencore #lgbt writing #sapphic story #11th hour character intro lol #one more part after this #then we're going back to trash

[nixeys]

Tells me we’re not done..

this story is a work in progress and will be updated on a schedule!

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Original Work

Rating: Teen

Warnings:No Archive Warnings

Apply Relationships: Original character/original character, original female character/original female character

Additional Tags: original characters, enemies to lovers, sexuality crisis, college, lesbian character, no lesbian dies, late 1800’s-early 1900’s, period-typical attitudes, period-typical homophobia

Summary:

Moving away from your family is always going to be difficult, especially in a time like this. A young women and her brother set out to a city in hopes of finding their purpose. But with leaving a small town brings new ideas to the studying historian.

Words: 2003 and counting 

#Sapphic story #oc #orginal character #orginal story #ao3 link #creative writing #work in progress #slow burn

[jrhartauthor]

Taylor would do just about anything to spend Valentine's Day alone.

Without her ex. Without the drama. Without the absolute explosive nightmare that last Valentine's Day happened to be. Kind-of literally.

Except as she sits there enjoying the nice evening, a phone call comes in... and it turns out that her ex hasn't exactly remembered to remove her from her emergency contacts list.

Oops.

Get The Ex Emergency for FREE, plus four other amazing short stories by other authors, all centered around the theme of wanting to stay alone for Valentine's Day and getting totally interrupted, right here.

#the ex emergency #free short story #sapphic story #nonbinary rep #free reads

[enchanted-lightning-aes]

💜,⭐️, and/or 💬 for the ask game?

hi there, lee! thanks for teh ask! ^-^

💜- top 3 favorite lines

hmm, this is difficult cause i've written and re-written a lot this year, ahh. still, i can try to choose.

"Oh, crap, really? Damn, I didn't even knew she got back in town so soon. By the way, how is she?" - loasti, chapter 3

Whoa! That was. . . that was so cool! Like he won a lottery. Except his Ruffle chips might have been squashed in the process. Yikes. - Trippy Dimensional Energy, my favorite stand-alone fic this year

"She's going to cut your paycheck if you don't get it back!" - Surrounded by Buffoons, an original short

⭐️- how do you get your inspiration?

tbh, like lightning (pun intended, sksksk), it strikes me whenever. for example, seeing wasted character potential. . . fills me with some spite and love for the character. resulting in a fix-it that sorts things out.

or seeing a supporting character in an original story with potential... well, that resulted in loasti, so yeh.

💬- describe one of your completed works in three words.

the only original work with a completed draft is tdrc, so: exquisite. soft. aspiring.

and as for fanfic, recipe for disaster: chaotic. belligerent. charming.

send me an ask from this game?

[also btw, would emoji you’d like for your special tag? figured you earned one by now :3]

#enchant answers #sapphic story #lee 🌸

[frays-monster-yuri]

Technically it happened at midnight today.

But today Deluded Hearts hit 10,000 words. This story is reeeeal and I love it.

Within the first 5 chapters:

MC shares a honey filled evening atop a hill of flowers with a tall Bee Girl who refers to MC as "Her Queen." within their FIRST conversation.

MC saves a pair of sheep girls from a slime. She does so by sacrificing the fluffy robe she was wearing while isekai'd to monster land long enough to free them from a trap (she set earlier not knowing sheep girls liked the spot)

She then teaches a slime girl how to hold a humanoid shape. This involves submerging her hand and eventually the rest of her body in the slime girl.

They become friends after this and will fight alongside Bee girl against some Angler Fish girls in the next chapter.

I have even outlined the next 7-9 chapters or so that should encompass the first novella chronicling the Bee vs Angler war and the MC figuring out her place in the Monster Girl world.

#monster girls #wlw story #sapphic story #isekai story #the name isn't garbage I swear I hate them as much as you might #Deluded Hearts #monster girl story #queer writing #writing #queer fiction

[rainscribbles]

Running Horses

Original Work | Alludes to forbidden romance between two women | No Warnings 

Words: 1800 | Constructive criticism is welcome

A/N: This is my first published work ever! I'm really proud of it and the idea came late at night after I had finished watching 'Little Women' so I hope you enjoy!

Link for Bionic Reading 

The train rattled and shook softly as it chugged along the train line. The groan and grunt of the wheels had become music to my ears. Every so often, the cart would jolt along the rough track, frightening the old, wealthy women sitting nearby. It was comical to watch as each time they almost flew, with how high they jumped. 

The journey was not uncomfortable for me, years of train rides across country had weathered my body. Every odd movement and jolt of the train cart went virtually unnoticed by me as I scribbled in my journal. 

It was a relatively cheap and small notebook. The cover was black, and leather bound with a tie that kept it firmly closed. I had recently bought it in the last town I stopped at. My last journal I had finished that week and my hands were itching for something to do. 

My mother used to refer to my habits as ‘scribbling’. My handwriting is an unpleasant scrawl, but still relatively legible. Sketches of the world outside donned the margins of my work. Birds, horses, and interesting plants I spotted on my journey. It was never dull or void of life outside. Flowers bloomed and created bright, captivating scenery. You just had to stop long enough to admire it.

The countryside moved slowly along outside. Fields of green dotted with herds of farm animals appeared now and then, with the odd cow or horse chasing after the train until they were brought to a halt at the edge of their enclosures. They look free. It was a feeling I deemed unobtainable. They ran as if the edge of their enclosures were leagues away when, really; it was only a matter of metres. It was hope. Now that was a familiar feeling. Hope for a future outside of confinement. Hope for greener pastures.

The old saying goes: The grass is always greener on the other side. In many cases, I hesitate to agree. Sometimes the illusion of greener grass is just that – an illusion. Here, however, I am inclined to agree that the grass is indeed greener. 

The world I exist in now lacks in many things. Among them, resources for women to live their life to the fullest. Education on topics that could be useful in life—such as math, English or science—were rarely provided to women. If such an education was provided, it was only to the highest bidder. Or it is instruction on how to be the perfect wife.

Women are no more than objects of love and innocence. We can be the future of society. Yet, we are simply hidden behind the curtain. No matter how big or loud we make ourselves, we cannot be seen or heard. As a result, I often wonder about the possibilities of the future. What it would be like for my daughter and her daughter, and so on? I imagine that the opportunities would be limitless. She could become an engineer or a mathematician. She could shape the world and be sent down in history. She could truly be anything. But these are thoughts I would never dare say aloud. A woman’s place, at least now, is in the home. Silent and serving.

My racing thoughts were calmed as the train pulled into the newly opened Bewdley station—Platform 2. From my seat, I could see the stationmaster—Thomas Appleton—racing down the station blowing his whistle at all pitches and ensuring the train was clear for its slow departure. I was so entranced by his little dance that I did not notice when the door to my compartment slid open, and a lady took a seat across from me.

As the train began moving slowly from the station I turned back to my compartment, meaning to continue my scribbling.

When I turned my gaze back towards my immediate surroundings, I jumped like those old ladies. The lady was looking directly at me. She held a level, unmoving gaze. A veil obscured her eyes from my view, and in this moment, I longed to see them more than anything. They say the eyes are a window to the soul and I wished to gaze upon hers. Instead, I hastily shut my journal closed in a fleeting feeling of embarrassment.

I dared not move another muscle as she sized me up, surveying my appearance. My outfit had been hurriedly put together that morning. A rather cheap mauve dress made from bombazine that I had bought from an old woman sometime last week. I wore no jewellery – having pawned it off some time ago to afford a train ticket. Instead, I decorated the lapel of my dress with a beautiful violet.

Finally, her head tilted to the side, a slight and quick purse of the lips signalled an incoming question.

“The book,” she began, then seemed to think better of it and switched to gazing out the window. I took a chance to admire her vulnerability. She donned a black silk dress trimmed with crape. Her hands were adorned with three simple black rings spread out across both hands and a string of black pearls hung from her neck. Her auburn hair sat against her nape in a simple yet elegant bun, and stray pieces of hair framed her angular face as it was lit up by the setting sun. Most importantly, a small, purple violet was pinned to her lapel. Almost the same as my own. As she sat her foot lightly tapped against the cart floor, never off beat despite the rough movements of the train.

Oh, how I longed for a simple conversation with another like-minded human being. Another woman. This lady across from me seemed just the person I could converse with. How I knew that at the time I have no clue. Yet, I was so sure of myself. Even if she only seemed interested in taunting me with simple questions.

In that moment I cast aside all hopes of dignity. I was determined to get a conversation out of her. I refused to be a fleeting thought in her mind that mattered little in the grand scheme of things. This mysterious, elegant, and harsh lady would know me, of that, I was sure.

“The book?” I finally answered. My hands went to rest on the small journal in my lap. A method of storing my inner desires away behind more than a simple veil, an extension of my mind that possessed as much security as Buckingham Palace.

She tore her gaze away from the window, where a horse had begun to keep pace with the train with a gentle fluidity. Always graceful. Always gentle. Always elegant. Those eyes met mine again and, despite being hidden behind a veil, I felt my hair stand on end and a shiver run down my spine. Such power she held and all in a single gaze.

“What do you write in it?” she continued.

I was stunned into silence and elected instead to look at the ground, studying her, looking for a single flaw to pick out. There were none I could find. Despite the train's movement, her legs remained firmly tucked to the side, her feet crossed at the ankles. She was the perfect embodiment of grace and elegance, like a feather floating through the air. Unlike myself who had foregone a position of grace long ago in favour of not moving. Any appearance that I was put together had vanished the moment this lady entered my compartment. I was both disgusted and entranced by her. 

“Well?” she asked again. This time her voice had more of an edge to it. I wasn’t as enamoured by it this time around. Her voice now urged me to answer her. “Anything, I suppose,” I hurried out. "When this is all over, I may write about you," I said. 

My eyes widened in shock. Here I had just been, priding myself on concealing my thoughts, and this woman had ripped that pride to shreds in minutes. I moved to collect my journal and bid her farewell, ready to brave the jostling train rather than sit in embarrassed silence.

Just as I opened my mouth, I heard an unusual sound. Well, it wasn’t so unusual as no one had heard it before. More like it was never heard outside the home. And certainly not from ladies dressed in our attire. 

A chuckle. A small chuckle had slipped past her lips. Despite my panic I had what I assumed to be a rare opportunity to see her hand shoot up to silence it. Why was that rare? It was an uncontrolled movement. Something that was not done with any calculation at all. I knew for a fact that was not something this lady did often. In my brief panic, I found myself laughing along with her.

“This behaviour is not becoming of a lady,” a voice in my head spoke. And yet, here was the embodiment of a lady! Chuckling along at my lack of grace and sophistication. Here was someone to prove you wrong! 

When we calmed, a small smile remained present on her face, and I found myself smiling along with her. She turned to the window again and gazed out. Sometime during my panic, a horse had begun keeping pace alongside the train car. It ran steadily. The wind in its mane and hooves pounding against the earth. That familiar feeling of envy returned, and I hastily looked away. 

I planned on reopening my journal to begin scribbling again until I noticed the lady. With a smile on her face, she was the embodiment of not only grace, but youth. The sun light shone on her face at just the right angle, creating the illusion that she was a child again. Her hair glistened in the light, and even her outfit seemed to shine brighter. It was as if the sun was in front of me and I was but a planet orbiting around her. I knew I would do anything for this woman to speak again. 

Finally, she turned back to me. Her eyes glistened in the light, full of hope and beauty. Something that was rare today. I felt like I was on the edge of my seat. “When you do, be sure to give me auburn hair.” 

With that, her smile faded, and she unlocked her ankles, rising gently from her seat. Her dress bore no wrinkles despite how long she had sat. She stole one more glance at me, and I at her. Desperate to commit her face to memory. Our eyes met, and a sad smile graced her face before she turned and exited the compartment.

With her, the light left, and the compartment sat in the shade once again. I noticed the jostle of the train cart again, losing my footing slightly before rectifying my posture. Now, the train seemed to creak as it moved along the tracks.

When I returned my gaze back to the window, the fields were barren. The horse had stopped running long ago.

#Sapphic #Lesbian #wlw #Sapphic story #1860s England #original fiction #original work #original content #writers on tumblr #female writers #writerscorner #allusion to queer romance #writeblr #writing #writeblr community #standalone #my writing #lesbian pride #bisexual #bisexual pride #pansexual #pansexual pride #bionic reading available #rainscribbles

[mimimar]

the woman who holds the moon

prints available here. my cover for this month's issue of baffling magazine.

#i can finally share this piece! #this cover was based on a short story called “moon bearer” by celia daniels that features on this issue of the magazine #the character designs are mine #also there's a sale on inprnt again so my prints are cheaper than usual! #illustration #artists on tumblr #illo #lesbian #wlw #sapphic #lesbian art #wlw art #sapphic art #queer art #baffling magazine #blue #moon #night sky #queer fantasy

[caitwrites]

The Necromancer - Prologue

The usually warm space next to me was surprisingly cold. Tiredly, I swept an arm over the bedspread. Nothing. I sat upright, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and swung my legs over the side of the bed before standing up. I looked back towards the bed, where Charlie was still sleeping, taking up the spot I had been laying in just a few minutes ago.

I glanced quickly around the room, checking the floor where Kinsley sometimes ended up after she'd rolled off the bed in her sleep, only to find nothing. Walking towards the door of the room, I pushed it open before walking through and pulling it behind me until I heard the faint click that told me it was closed.

Walking through the narrow hallway, I checked the bathroom for any light under the door before making my way further past the other bedrooms and into the open space of the living room. I surveyed the room, my eyes falling on a small figure sitting in front of the crescent-shaped window. "Kinsley," I whispered.

She didn't turn around; she probably hadn't heard me. I walked towards her and tapped her on the shoulder lightly; she jumped a little. "It's just me," I whispered.

She turned to face me. "What are you doing up?"

I smiled. "I could ask you the same thing. Couldn't sleep?"

She looked back out the window. "Yeah."

I lowered myself onto the floor so I was sitting next to her and pulled my legs into my chest, wrapping my arms around them. "What's on your mind?"

She shook her head, her brown waves that tumbled down her shoulders shaking with it. For a 6-year-old, she had some of the prettiest hair I'd ever seen, and I would be lying if I said I wasn't a little jealous of it.

"Nothing really," she said.

"Okay," I said. "Well, just know you can tell me anything."

It was silent for a minute. "Do you think we'll ever get adopted?"

"Of course we will," I said, not missing a beat. "I mean, who wouldn't want to adopt you and Charlie? You guys are two of the cutest kids ever, if I do say so myself."

She looked at me then. "We're not going anywhere without you."

I smiled. "Of course not, I'm not going anywhere without you guys either. What would I do without my two annoying little sisters?" I ruffled her hair playfully and she laughed, attempting to brush it down with her hands.

"You promise?" She asked, once she had brushed her hair back into place as much as she could.

I held out my pinky. "Pinky promise."

She held out two of her pinky fingers. "Double pinky promise."

I laughed and held out my other pinky. "Okay, double pinky promise."

We interlocked our pinkies together, then let go.

"How about we get back to bed?" I said, unfolding my legs and starting to stand up.

"Okay," Kinsley said, standing up herself.

I held out my hand to her and she took it as we began to walk down the hallway back to our bedroom. I pushed open the door quietly and closed it again once we were inside. Charlie had moved back to her original spot on the side of the bed, so I lay down in the middle and Kinsley curled up next to me. I brushed the hair back from her forehead. "I love you," I whispered.

She rested her head against my chest. "I love you too," she whispered back.

I closed my eyes. My last thought before sleep came over me again was how lucky I was, despite everything that had happened.

#young adult story #young adult fiction #sapphic #sapphic story #young adult #fiction #story #fantasy #writing