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prettylittlelyres · 2 months

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Violins and Violets - Book One

Salzburg, 1784

19-year-old Katharina Schmidt is under pressure to find a husband and settle down. She and her younger brother Hans are musical prodigies who grew up travelling Europe, but now that they're older, Katharina is told to settle down and be ladylike. Hans - now on a solo tour - sends letters encouraging her to keep composing, and she does so. However, as Katharina becomes friends with other young women in Salzburg, she wonders if she really wants the same things as they do: are marriage and children really for her?

Read more about my "Violins and Violets" series here!

Follow my NaNoWriMo progess here.

See my posts about "Violins and Violets - Book One" here.

Most recent draft: 100k, finished (almost complete) on 15th May 2024

#writeblr #blog #wip page #historical fiction #violins and violets #violins and violets book 1 #katharina schmidt #hans schmidt #sapphic characters #sapphic authors #sapphic writers #autistic characters #actuallyautistic

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tiffanyetaylor · 1 year

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Did you know about the "Sapphics with the T" store on Zazzle—with mugs, T-shirts, tote bags, notebooks, playing cards, and much more? LGBTQIA+ readers and writers united together to stand up against TERFS in our community (and yep, my name is on there!). All proceeds go to GATE - Global Actions for Trans Equality.

https://www.zazzle.com/store/sapphic_writer

#transgender #trans #pride #pride month #sapphic authors #lgbtq #lgbtqia #writing community #femme4butch #butch femme

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writervblavender · 1 year

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France, 1917: Heather Sparrow is a loyal wife of a solider, Corporal Hugh Sparrow. She joins her husband on the frontlines as a nurse. Much to Heather's misery, she hardly ever sees Hugh and she wonders if she made the right decision in leaving her children behind. While doing her duty, she meets Reese St. John, the young ambulance driver, who befriends her and attempts to cheer her through this impossibly dark time.

Part historic drama, part family epic with twists of mystery and romance; The 8 Bastards of Cedric St. John is an experimental writing project inspired in part the Modernist movement. The story will jump around in time and shift in perspective between the various characters to slowly unfold the whole story of Cedric's many children in 20th century England and beyond.

All names used in this project are not based on any real people living or dead. This is all my imagination- no one in this story was ever a real living person.

Genres: Historic Fiction, Drama, Family Epic, includes some LGBT romances

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madi-konrad · 1 month

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A DEMON'S NAME UPON YOUR LIPS

It is the curse of ADHD that, at least for me, I'm always running to the next project, and then the next, chasing the new shiny thing. And that has served me well in my creative endeavors, as much as it has stymied me. But I really do think that I caught something special in my first novel, A DEMON'S NAME UPON YOUR LIPS. And thanks to how my brain works, I rarely ever promote it! Which seems unfair for how much effort I put in, alongside my friends who patiently helped me edit it.

It's a sapphic romance between a (newly minted) Duke and the demon she summons. It's a fantasy which takes place in a secondary world loosely based on Victorian-era Europe, though without any of the queerphobic, or even sexist, hatred endemic to its real-world counterpart (or even to our modern day). It's fast paced, gay as fuck, and I poured my heart and soul into it.

I'd be honored if you picked it up; it's only $5.99. About the price of a Latte.

Grab it at the following places:

itch.io (PDF, ePub, and mobi all included!)

Kobo link (ePub version)

Apple Books, Smashwords, and a few others (ePub version)

Amazon (Kindle version)

Barnes and Noble (ePub

Synopsis below the cut:

Lucia is a succubus, a demon with the power to shape the emotions and passions of mortals. Summoned often into the world of Melodia, she takes pride in upholding her demonic contracts to the best of her abilities. She likes to think she does her job well … though a string of recent failures say otherwise.

Talia, the recently elevated Duke of Fallmire, summons Lucia for a simple reason: to pose as her wife and fulfill marital obligations to the satisfaction of Parliament. All to say, just a few weeks of walking around the estate and playing nice with the neighbors before a conveniently tragic death. Quick and easy.

But immediately, Lucia smells blood in the water. Behind closed doors, the Duke plots vengeance upon those who killed her father—and the demon wants in. Revenge, after all, is much more fun … and more lucrative, to boot.

But can Lucia predict how hard she’d fall for the Duke? (Not a chance). And can the Duke find it in her vengeful heart to love?

Spice Level: lightly described nudity, fade-to-black sex.

64,000 words.

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that-butch-archivist · 7 days

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"Fire" by Jennie Sullivan, 1988

source: Nothing But the Girl: The Blatant Lesbian Image, edited by Susie Bright and Jill Posener

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hannahlesbean · 4 months

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Fanart of that one fanfic where Lenore is a chaotic flirty rockstar and Annabel is an Oscar-winning actress

Keep your eyes on me by kazooaa

I´ve been busy with hw but at this point, I´m chronically invested in drawing fanart of my favorite ships, and also fanfics. I love their dynamic, even tho they go super fast (as lesbians do), they´re two wholesome cutiepies.

Btw thanks to all of u for supporting my posts <3

#lesbian #sapphic #yuri #digital art #fanart #nevermore webcomic #lenore nevermore #nevermore #nevermore webtoon #annabel lee x lenore #annabel lee nevermore #im so gay omg #please stop me form reading fanfics #I kinda want the author to watch this bu nah at the same time

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valyrie630 · 10 months

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WE. NEED. MORE. SAPPHIC. FANFIC. ON. AO3.

please, I’m going mad.

I need my lesbians

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lyzsaphrodite · 3 months

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༊*·˚ Home is Where the Heart is ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

Dior Goodjohn x fem!reader

synopsis: You and Dior are long distanced and she decides to surprise you by coming to visit you for your birthday.

warnings: fluff, fluff, and fluff

a/n: this is not my best writing ever i just wanted to get this out while i work on the Summer fic

You and Dior have been in a long-distance relationship for about a year and a half now. You met on the set of Percy Jackson and instantly clicked; she ended up asking you out two months into filming. After season one wrapped, she went back home to LA, and you returned to your hometown. You haven't seen each other in person since filming wrapped six months ago, because you're still in school. You guys text multiple times a day and FaceTime at least once a day, but it's still hard for both of you. Especially for you since your love language is physical touch, and you just like to have physical connections with people. Your birthday was coming up, so Dior thought it would be an amazing idea if she came and surprised you. She planned it all out with your family; she would fly in on your actual birthday and stay for a month.

Today was finally your birthday. You woke up to look at your phone and found a bunch of birthday wishes from friends, family, and even fans. But none from the person that mattered most to you. You didn't think she would ever forget your birthday. Maybe she just wasn't awake yet, even though it was currently noon, which means it was 9 in LA, and she's always up before 9. But you just decided not to worry about it. You still had the whole day. You were really bummed that she wouldn't be able to come for your birthday, but you understand that she's busy with her music and everything. You got out of bed, took a shower, and got ready for the day. You and your best friend decided to go shopping for your birthday. You visited all your favorite stores, getting all of your birthday freebies. By the time you and your best friend headed home, it was around 4 o’clock, and you've yet to get a message from Dior, which made you visibly disappointed. Your best friend kept seeing you checking your messages every few minutes and finally decided to say something.

“I’m sure she didn't forget; you know her, she's always busy with something.”

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure everyone but her has wished me a happy birthday though. Like even at the mall, those fans who came up to us to say happy birthday, I didn't even know them. And I thought she would be one of the first to say it.”

You finally arrived home and went straight upstairs to put your bags down and take off your shoes. You were home for around 30 minutes when you finally heard the doorbell ring.

“Y/N, someone's here for you,” your mom yelled. You had no clue who it could be; you weren't expecting anyone.

“Coming!” you yelled back to your mom. You hurried down the stairs to the front door, and standing there was Dior with her bags and a gift. She looks just as beautiful as she always does.

“Hey, baby,” she said, smiling.

You had absolutely no idea how to react; you were definitely not expecting this at all. You ran to her and jumped to hug her. As she held and hugged you, you started to tear up.

“I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too.”

“What are you doing here? I thought you weren't able to come.”

“I wanted to surprise you, sweet girl.”

“How long are you staying?”

“For a month.”

“Oh my gosh, no way!”

“Way!”

“OMG, and Mom, you knew about this?”

Your mom just smiled and nodded.

“Yep, and so did your best friend.”

“OMG!! I cannot believe this; I thought you forgot my birthday!”

“I could never forget your birthday, mamas.”

You and Dior share a passionate kiss, the weight of her surprise visit lifting a heavy burden off your shoulders. In that moment, all the worries and doubts melted away, replaced by the warmth of her presence. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The month that followed was a whirlwind of joy and reconnection. Every day felt like a treasure, filled with laughter, adventures, and stolen moments of affection. Whether it was exploring your hometown together, cooking meals side by side, or simply cuddling on the couch watching movies, every second was cherished. On the day of her departure, you stood at the airport, hand in hand, hearts heavy with the weight of impending separation.

"I wish we lived closer," you managed to say, your voice breaking slightly as you fought back tears, the airport's din muffling your words.

Dior's eyes softened, mirroring the sorrow in your own as she squeezed your hand gently. "I know, darling. It's hard saying goodbye every time," she murmured, her voice tinged with empathy.

You leaned into her embrace, seeking solace in the warmth of her presence amidst the impersonal hustle of the airport. "I hate it when you leave," you stated simply, your voice carrying a mix of longing and frustration, the airport's commotion providing a stark backdrop to your heartfelt confession.

Dior's arms wrapped around you, holding you close as if trying to shield you from the pain of separation. "I feel it too, love. It never gets any easier," she whispered, her breath warm against your ear.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you buried your face in her shoulder, the weight of longing settling heavily in your chest. "I just wish we could be together more often," you confessed, your voice barely audible above the noise of the crowd.

Dior's fingers brushed through your hair soothingly, her touch a silent reassurance. "Me too, sweetheart. But no matter the distance, you'll always have my heart," she vowed, her words a promise of enduring love.

And as you stood together in the midst of the bustling airport terminal, surrounded by the chaos of departure, you found solace in the simple act of being together, knowing that no matter where life may take you, your love would always be a constant, guiding light in the darkness.

this is unusually short because I didn't know how to end it

taglist: @asvterias

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noahhawthorneauthor · 4 months

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"Every indifference to prejudice is suicide because, if I don’t fight all bigotry, bigotry itself will be strengthened and, sooner or later, it will return on me." -Bayard Rustin

*Edit to add that Adiba Jaigirdar is Bangladeshi/Irish, not Black. Apologies !

#noahs book recs #black authors #black history month #black history every day #queer books #indie books #fantasy books #contemporary books #gay books #sapphic books #lgbtqia books

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prettylittlelyres · 3 months

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February Excerpts - 13th February

Violins and Violets - Book One

Chapter Twenty-Five

It hurt to pull my hands free of hers, and it hurt my chest to pull it away from hers. "Don't make me this person," I whispered. "What person?" She reached for my hand, but I pulled it free again. "The person who waits for someone to leave their beau. Or their belle, in Herr Schneider's case." I made for the door. "I don't want to be the other woman. I won't do it for a man, and I won't do it for you."

I’m sharing excerpts of my first two “Violins and Violets” every day in February, at 8am and 8pm GMT. Stay tuned, dear friends!

#writeblr #blog #february excerpts #excerpts #violins and violets #violins and violets series #katharina schmidt #historical fiction #ockiss24 #barbara kirkmann #sapphic characters #historical romance #sapphic romance #sapphic writers #sapphic authors #ockiss24 almost #violins and violets book 1

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apolline-lucy · 4 months

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POV: you’re on a date in a coffee shop in seoul with your favourite fictional queer character. she’s a liar, but one thing that’s true is that she’s obsessed with you.

THE ANATOMY OF DYING

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storytimewriting · 2 months

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to love through femininity is a softer kind of love

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maribellablack · 9 months

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The Countess and Susanna in "The Marriage Of Figaro" by Mozart, sapphic version

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that-butch-archivist · 17 days

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"Ruth Ellis, Golden Threads Celebration 1995," from the documentary Golden Threads

source: The Wild Good: Lesbian Photographs & Writings on Love, edited by Beatrix Gates

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deathofmars · 5 months

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Author!abby x fem!reader hcs!♡

First post!! (collab w @astralnymphh)

Author!abby gets inspiration from flowers and essential oils.♡

Author!abby lights scented candles to help her focus while she writes.♡

Author!abby Is 100% a dog person, whenever she sees a dog she wants to pet it, she loves dogs so much she puts them in every story she writes.♡

Author!abby's favorite books are city of thieves by David benioff, the devilman manga's, the count of monte cristo, and the odyssey.♡

Author!abby met you at her college library, she built up the confidence to ask you out on a date after class 2 weeks later.♡

You and Author!abby's first date is at the library where you first met, she got your favorite coffee and flowers, light roast and peonies.♡

Author!abby's favorite music artists are type o negative, mitski, isabel larosa, zheani, eyedress, laufey, alec benjamin, conan gray, coco & clair clair, pinkpantheress, steve lacy, jazmin bean, melanie martinez and elita.♡

Author!abby's favorite songs are: gimme that by type o negative, my love mine all mine by mitski, eyes don't lie, and I'm yours by isabel larosa, i'm an angel why am i on my knees by zheani, jealous, and romantic lover eyedress, from the start by laufey, if we have each other by alec benjamin, disaster by conan gray, pop star, and cherub by coco & clair clair.♡

On you and Author!abby's second date you decided to go over to her place, she pulled out some of her childhood photos, you did as well, you and Abby made fun of each others childhood photos.♡

Oh Author!abby definitely would have a tumblr just to reblog and quote her favorite book lines and/or promotes her shit on there. has like a little fandom. posts snippets of her upcoming books on there.♡

Author!abby definitely hooks a ballpoint pen behind her ear whenever she is reviewing her work. like yeah, she'll type official works out on computer BUT sometimes she gets scattered n just scribbles her heart out. plucks the pen from behind her ear and taps the edge on her lip in contemplation, or concentration.♡

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hecates-corner · 5 months

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Even though there’s not a single myth on it, I’d like to think Aphrodite couldn’t give a shit about her sexuality.

She gets bored one day, and particularly curious, and heads down to earth. As she wanders around the markets in her mortal disguise, her attention is caught by a kind woman buying apples. Aphrodite wanders over, curious. She’s so beautiful, not so much that she challenges the goddess’ beauty, obviously, but she’s got these delicate features mixed with a sharp nose that stand out to Aphrodite. She likes how she looks.

The woman notices her, smiles politely, but seems captivated by Aphrodite’s beauty, even in her mortal state. She greets her, and Aphrodite likes that. Her voice.

She reaches for an apple, so Aphrodite picks it up and studies it, as if it’s at all interesting to her. She twirls it in the light, then looks up, and extends it to the woman, offering it.

As the woman takes it carefully, she twines her fingers in Aphrodite’s, for just a moment. It couldn’t have been an accident.

So Aphrodite, smiling softly, asks for her name.

The woman gives it.

Days later, Aphrodite is lounging on Olympus, twirling a strand of her hair and thinking about that woman she’d met. She was like no other, beautiful and prim and yet so powerfully attractive. Aphrodite bids her lover farewell on Olympus, Ares is gone to fight another war. A small one, but a war nonetheless.

She is bored. And roused. She wishes to go and have some sort of good time, but does not know what precisely to do. With Ares gone, and the others truly uninteresting, she huffs in annoyance. Then a thought occurs, perhaps she should simply go and find that woman again. Or attend some festival, who knows?

So Aphrodite takes the form of a dove, and soars through the air, searching. Her eyes land on a stream, sensing there is someone there she wishes to meet.

When she lands, she transforms into the same maiden she had been days ago. She tousles her skirts, and slinks out from behind the tree she used as coverage, and spies a woman with her back turned.

The woman is tying back her hair, perhaps readying herself to wash her face, or take a swim. It is awfully balmy that day, so either is plausible. She turns, and is surprised by the sight of Aphrodite, in disguise.

She blinks, but smiles a moment later. “I knew I had not seen the last of you.”

Aphrodite raises a brow. “You were so sure?”

“I would believe so, goddess. For you must know I was not finished seeking your company.”

Aphrodite is surprised. No one speaks to her in such a way, or calls her on her bluff so quickly.

“You are hasty to supplicate me, dear.” She says, just so.

“No, I am not hasty.” The woman replies. “I am bold.”

Aphrodite smiles.

“If I were a goddess, perhaps,” she begins. “Would you have me?”

The woman chuckles. “I think I am much too consumed by my thoughts of you to care whether or not you are a goddess.” She glances Aphrodite up, and down. “I would have you only if you sought me.”

And the line of the stream between them is much too large, suddenly. Aphrodite reaches for the pins of her dress.

“Come.” She says, a light smile playing at her lips. “Let us swim. It is much too hot to be standing here exchanging polite words.”

When all is said and done, and Aphrodite lays back against the bank of the river, her sweat and exertion mixing with the cleansing drops of water slipping from her locks of hair, she holds the woman close to her. Skin upon skin, tender and simple, for a moment. Pleasant. Just to be here, just to be. Just.

She cards her fingers through the woman’s hair. “I am sure you wonder which goddess I am.”

The woman hums, her throat making a sweet buzz against Aphrodite’s breast. “Perhaps. Only so I may call your name again.” She runs a finger down the goddess’ arm, from shoulder to wrist, then lingering there. “But I have my wits about me.”

Aphrodite smiles. “Oh? And who might you seek me as?”

The woman takes Aphrodite’s hand, now. “I shall love you no matter who you may be, Aphrodite.”

It is not the last time they meet, nor the last time they lay together. They dabble in fields, laugh over wine, and speak to one another late in the night. As it would occur, the woman is a poet, a good one at that, and writes hymns for Aphrodite in her lustrous love for the goddess.

The woman holds such court in Aphrodite’s heart for so many years, that Aphrodite soon fears, actually fears, her death. She laments the fact that the woman is mortal, and will die. The woman does not.

“I have lived a lifetime dappled with you. I do not weep for it, such a blessing.”

But Aphrodite still feels the knowledge gnaw at her. She knows she cannot make a god of the woman, but she may be able to place her judgement in the realm of the dead.

Decades pass, still enjoying one another. The woman ages, and she does not. But they still find each other in the darkness, in the light.

One day, decades and decades later, the woman dies. A peaceful death, a life prolonged by the proximity and life of a goddess. It would have surprised her to know she did not die of a tragedy, like all other lovers of gods. Perhaps that is why she is left out in history.

Aphrodite weeps for her, as she did Adonis, and select other lovers that were as golden to her as her own divinity. She carves a tomb, in memorial, that over time crumbles and breaks. She carves her name into it, but in centuries, it will be lost.

Her battle is not over. She composed herself, and urges her way to a field, near a crack to Erebos.

It is springtime. She may call for her.

“Persephone.”

At the invocation of her name, Persephone comes to the call.

“Aphrodite.” She greets, a mix of warmth and ice.

Aphrodite pauses, the request tingling on her lips. “You may not care, but we have had our moments, dear Persephone.”

They could not be called friends, no. But they could not be denied of the ways of the flesh they had once- twice, perhaps, shared.

She continues at the silence. “I come to request a placement for a soul.”

Persephone raises a brow. “I see.”

“She is virtuous, and a good woman, besides. I believe you should place her in Elysium.”

Persephone narrows her eyes. “Give me her name. I may see what I can do.”

Aphrodite gives it. Persephone returns a blank look. Then it shifts to an amusement.

“She has found her eternal rest, I confess.”

Aphrodite frowns. “I know. That is the reason for my request.”

“You misunderstand.” Persephone laughs. “She had drank from the river Lethe twice over. She has lived three virtuous lives, with this one her third.”

Aphrodite’s eyes widen.

“She resides on the Isle of the Blessed?”

Persephone nods, smiling still. Aphrodite does not know why.

But her heart leaps. There is that, she thinks. She has lived three virtuous lives.

Then a thought crosses her mind. “What made her virtuous, in this one?”

Persephone smiles. “She will write a history, in years to come. Perhaps all because of one lover she had in particular.”

#as I wrote this I realized this could be inferred #as a story of Sappho #but Sappho was real so that’s up to you #greek mythology #greek myth #mythology #author #aphrodite #sapphic #modern mythology #non-canonical myth #lesbian lovers #I am gay and I needed a lesbian myth #aphrodisiac #aphrodite x female lover #aphrodite x mortal woman #aphrodite and her lover

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