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#queer writing
rkmoon · 3 days
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Rereading some project heartless and I'm like: mmmm yes allosexual aros exist. exquisite
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master-xochimilli · 2 days
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Thinking about my sweet boy as I get ready to sleep as always, his pretty face, his cute smile, the way their hair falls on and around her face as it always does. The way her eyes have the same color as a shimmering river in the middle of the day in late June. How pretty and soft looking his lips seem, I wanna kiss him soo so badly. Run my fingers through their hair, across his face, caress his entire body. Fuck fuck fuck I am genuinely so in love with him !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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taxidermychrist · 2 years
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god favors the faggot and the perverted // background photo by george platt lynes
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longlostlesbian · 1 year
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accepting that love isn’t purely romantic is so difficult. but it’s true. love is everything and everywhere. its your friends. its the soft embrace of a warm spring breeze. it’s picking up a new hobby. it’s the sea spray during summer. it’s the small corner store you went to as a child. it’s everything. the world is built on love.
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yvesdot · 6 months
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SOMETHING'S NOT RIGHT IS OUT!
“A quietly fantastical wonderland of creatures, queerness, and possibility.” — Max Franciscovich @goose-books, author of Night Shift 
The debut collection returns in a special fifth anniversary edition, repackaged with three new short stories, a new cover, and additional bonus content! A vampire is forced into a compromising situation; a father fears his child's growing plant collection; the undead go to high school; a butcher contemplates whether or not she can be loved. In a captivating debut, yves. opens the door to our world, slightly askew—where the crows work for witches and telephone booths serve as secret channels for prophecy; where a diverse cast of monsters and humans alike are forced to contend with what the world believes is right.
Thank you to everyone who made my weird uncategorizable "Lemony Snicket meets Carmen Maria Machado" speculative fiction an instant bestseller! If you’ve ever felt like a monster, this book is for you.
PRESS: KZSC interview | Santa Cruz Sentinel interview
EXCERPTED SHORT STORIES
BUY NOW!
signed paperback | paperback & ebook (amazon) | ebook (itch.io)
& at all major retailers!
Thank you so much for reading this post about my book. I hope you will share it, and this image of my beautiful black cat, Andy, widely. To queer weird fiction and indie pub! To you, Dear Reader, with love.
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explosivehrt · 5 months
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I've taken the flesh built from Adam's rib and made it my own, and I put my fingers in his wound and worshipped him like he deserved, because we are not men as god has made us, but as we have made ourselves, and so we have made ourselves gods in our own image, and with my fingers in his flesh i said "Look at us, we are men." Our bodys are holy ground, we made them such and so we took turns worshipping what we created on our hands and knees, inventing devotion. We gave eachother the grace and divinity that such an act of creation earned, inventing faith. We have made ourselves holy all on our own.
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zoominlumen · 10 months
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Early reviews are in!
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FAULT is a queer sci-fi/horror retelling of Moby Dick and is out August 24th!
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sheavesandbounds · 10 days
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sometimes her family looks at me and their tongues curl around the name of a dead girl i stare them in the eyes with an unfamiliar smile until they swallow it down uncomfortably they do not know what i am all anyone knows is that she went away and i came back in her place i wear her skin i carry her flesh and bones and puppet them as if they were mine but they do not fit me and so her family wails and cries: how could i desecrate her memory? how could i even consider changing her body? how could i mutilate her? she is not the one being mutilated i have sliced and torn and ripped away parts of my soul to try and fit this body, yet it slowly rots around me i can feel it coming apart at the seams from the pressure of containing even fragments of me and still they call me her name, as if they cannot smell the stench of death
i understand that they loved her they miss her they mourn for her they think that i am doing this to hurt them her can they not see that dragging around this corpse under the guise of being her is more disrespectful to her memory than anything else? can they not see that i loved her too?
the girl is dead but the body remains i will reshape it to fit me and it will be my turn to live.
Inspired by this post and the tags
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“Are you happy, in this relationship?”
The protagonist’s entire body stilled. “Of course.”
“Really? Because I’m not.”
The two of them were in the most romantic setting the protagonist could think of – a little boat winding lazily down a gentle river, shaded by lush forest on both sides. It was bathed in the soft golds and pinks of early evening.
“I can be better,” the protagonist said.
But their soulmate only smiled. “That’s impossible, dear. You’re already perfect.”
The protagonist’s chest tightened as though boulders were piling atop it.
“You’re smart,” the soulmate went on. “You’re kind. You get my sense of humour. And you have this way of viewing everything . . . [Protagonist], it’s breathtaking to see the world from your eyes.”
“Then why are we having this conversation?”
“You’re my perfect puzzle piece. The matching shoe . . . all that dumb stuff they said about soulmates. But this . . .” They gestured to the romantic scenery. “I wasn’t meant for this.”
The protagonist stared at the slow churning water. “Are you breaking up with me?”
The soulmate gave an infuriating shrug. “I don’t know.”
“Well, alright then.” The protagonist laughed, tight and bitter. “Just tell me when you decide whether or not you’re going to ruin my life.”
“See, this is what I hate about having a soulmate. About being a soulmate. Why do I have to be this wonderful, amazing thing for someone else? The thing you need to live, apparently. Why can’t I just be a person?”
“I never asked you to stop being a person.”
“I’m not making myself clear.” The soulmate sighed. “Just, doesn’t it strike you as odd that they never presented this soulmate thing to us as a choice? Like, of course we were destined to find each other. Of course we’d want to be together forever.”
“Well yeah. That’s what a soulmate is.”
“You’re never just . . . absolutely furious that no one ever told us there were other ways to be happy? That we didn’t have to do this?”
“You’re still not making sense. What could be better than a soulmate?”
“I don’t know. Dinner parties. Family road trips. A bunch of friends sitting around a campfire, getting high together ’til the sun comes up.”
“Those are all things the two of us can do together.”
“But they’re also things we can do with everyone else. Fuck, [Protagonist]. Give me one reason why I have to value one person over literally everybody else in my life. Why do people always insist that I need a soulmate?” Their eyes glistened, and their voice was hitched. Almost pleading. “Sometimes I feel like I’m getting fucking brainwashed.”
“Right. Because loving your own soulmate is brainwashing.”
The soulmate leveled a stare at them. “Do you even love me?”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re good at hiding it. And you never take it out on me. Which, in my own way, I love you for. But I’ll see the dark circles under your eyes. And the moments when you go really quiet. And the mornings where we wake up together, and I can tell that it actually hurts you to talk to me.”
“[Soulmate] . . .”
“Tell me right now that you’re happy, and I’ll believe you.” Their eyes bore into the protagonist. “I’ll never question you on it again.”
The protagonist paused. They had what they wanted, right?
The soulmate seemed to imagine an alternative life for themself full of people and community. But in the protagonist’s darkest hours of the night, they imagined . . .
The mud soft beneath their boots, the invigorating rain splashing their face. The smell of rich, dark soil. The sound of wind in the treeline. Of twittering, of rustling, of life. The budding spring branches, reaching like children’s hands up into the infinite sky.
The protagonist, alone. Just them and the wide-open world. It wasn’t lonely, never lonely. It was a freedom, the likes of which they’d never actually known.
But still.
The protagonist peered steadily at the person they’d always been fated for.
I can’t be the fuckup who couldn’t make it work even with my own soulmate. 
“I’m happy,” the protagonist lied.  
----
Loosely inspired by this post by @aromantic-spinda
A-spec stories taglist:
@feline17ff , @piept , @doublericenobeans , @vioqueenofmushrooms , @pigeonwhumps , @thelazywitchphotographer 
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rkmoon · 8 days
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Horror is so gay and I think thats beautiful
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master-xochimilli · 16 days
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I love using sweet names for him, I think I say love a thousand times or more a week, like my love? Sweetheart? Darling? Baby boy? Sweetie? Mi amor? Mi niño bonito, mi vida, mi corazón, mi solecito lindo, mi cielo? My pookie wookie sweetie honey sunshine sparkle lovey dovery wawawa lalalala love????!
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ratracewriting · 18 days
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hiiii hellllooo hiiiii
So this is my writing/reading account! My name is Sal, pronouns are they/she, I am by all formal definitions a young adult. I like reading a whole lotta genres; weird fiction, fantasy, horror, sci-fantasy, speculative fiction, and more. Some of my favorite works are as follows; The Locked Tomb, Slaughterhouse-Five, Murderbot Diaries, Our Wives Under the Sea, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, and Disco Elysium. I'm not actually sure what I like to write. I'm trying to figure that out, and just in general be serious about my writing. When I'm not reading, writing, or working I like to play and run TTRPGS, lift weights, and make bad drawings. If you're interested in talking about books, writing, craft, looking for a beta-reader, or just a buddy, hmu!
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taxidermychrist · 2 years
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“god is not watching / do what you must!”
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longlostlesbian · 1 year
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no matter what anyone says. im still trans. i could stay in the closet forever and i’d still be trans. you could misgender me on my headstone and i’d still be trans.
even if the world “eradicates” trans people, i’d still be trans. if there wasn’t a word for transgender i would still be trans. if transgender people were erased from history we would still be trans, because we existed and we were trans.
i am and will always be transgender. no matter what people say about us. we have always been here and we still always stay here, even if you dont like it.
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helioscenic · 1 year
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WRITEBLR INTRODUCTION ||
Hello! My name is August, I'm 23, nonbinary and gay as hell. I work retail irl (someone save me pls) and write in my spare time, I'm hoping this blog will help keep me accountable with my writing as I tend to procrastinate.
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MY WRITING ||
I write queer fantasy with a focus on exploring themes of monstrosity, family and identity. (If you notice an abundance of snarky, dark haired protagonists then shhh, no you don't)
This is not my main, I'll probably tag any asks I send with this url just so you know it's me because my main is a retired blog from an old and embarrassing fandom lmao.
I would love to participate in ask and tag games, feel free to tag me if you're stuck for blogs! Also feel free to tag me in any fantasy wips taglists because I guaranteed will love it.
Anyway, thanks for checking in on my blog! I hope you find something you like 😊
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(wips under the cut)
MY WIPS ||
(working titles subject to change)
EYE OF LEVIATHAN WIP / NOT THE CHOSEN ONE WIP
High Fantasy, Exploration of the 'Chosen One' Trope
What if the 'chosen one' failed to rise at the crucial moment? What if the 'chosen one' for one country could be the ruin of another? What happens to the 'chosen one' after the story ends?
REVELRY & RUIN
TWICE CURSED WIP / GOTHIC WIP
Fantasy Folklore, Urban Fantasy
In Faerie, a gathering of Seelie is called a revelry. But do you know what a gathering of the Unseelie Court is called? A ruin
Mid Fantasy, Folkloric
A romance between a girl who is not a damsel and a girl who is not a monster
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TAGLISTS ||
NTCO WIP; @serpentarii
AFP WIP; @strangerays
COTCK; @cream-and-tea
GENERAL; @wildswrites
Let me know if you want me to add you to the taglists for my wips!
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