#free verse novels

[fictionadventurer]

Beauty and the Beast for the WIP game?

My only real attempt at writing poetry before this year happened during a stretch when I tried to write a Beauty and the Beast retelling in verse. I got about two-thirds of the way through before it fizzled out and languished forever unfinished.

When it comes to my recent novel-in-verse obsession, the simplest option would be to take another look at this work and try to finish it. There's a lot of terrible poetry in there, but there are some that are somewhat better than I remember. I can't claim to be a judge of what's good poetry, but some of these are readable, so I'll share some of them here.

The first set of semi-readable poems covers the first meetings between Beauty and the Beast. (These are all numbered, and I'm leaving the numbers in place to better differentiate between separate poems. I think the speaker in most of these is fairly clear from context, but just in case, I'll put the speaker's name in the title, too.)

VI. beauty and beast

he is every nightmare i’ve ever forgotten he is thunder and darkness and death he is fear with fangs he is beastly

she is every dream i’ve never dared for she is roses and sunlight and life she is hope with jewels she is beauty

*

VIII. beauty

the chair creaks when he sits

my knees quake when he speaks

the master laughs when i ask

when i will die

my ears doubt when i hear

my mind reels when i realize

the master wonders when i began

to think he’d kill me

IX. beast

the rules are these you are mistress of this castle the servants will obey your every whim the rooms and all within are yours including me

you will dine with me at dusk we will not speak if you want silence you will look at me and try not to scream

i will not harm a hair of your head i will not cause a moment’s worry you will do whatever you wish except leave

X. beauty

his mercy shatters my world makes it bigger and at the same time smaller

how can i live in a monster’s cage

my life will be long and lonely with him my friend and at the same time jailer

how can i look at a monster’s face

the castle teems with wonders that all belong to him and at the same time me

what do i do with a monster’s love

*

The next set of poems I feel like sharing starts with Beauty finding a portrait in the castle, and then leads into her sharing a dance with Beast that makes her kind of freak out over the fact that she might be falling in love.

XXII. beast

today you found a painting in a long-forgotten room covered in cobwebs and shrouded in dust

there was a reason it was lost

the portrait showed a man with a face like the dawn and eyes like the sea you thought he looked kind

he was young and a fool

you may keep it if you wish or lock it back in darkness it matters not to me i used to see him daily

i doubt i’ll see his face again

*

XXIV. beauty (and beast)

if rooms have souls the ballroom is wise a radiant beauty long past her prime

she treasures the days when she lived and was loved she keeps them and counts them like pearls on a string

(she is not the only one, my dear)

long past midnight in moonlight and hush this sleepwalking girl can glimpse former days

a flash of a gown and a whisper of waltz what glorious balls must this room have beheld

(they were marvelous indeed, my friend)

it seems a shame she grows old alone with nothing but darkness and dust held within

i would dance for her return the spark of life if only we had music and i had a partner

(i will gladly dance with you, my love)

XXV. beast

my dear beauty don’t you know i learned dancing long ago

one step closer take my hand with a waltz you’ll understand

let the music guide your feet in a dance that’s slow and sweet

hand in hand and heart to heart it’s not love but it’s a start

XXVI. beauty

he is hulking beastly

i am small delicate

i should be stumbling crushed

but

we marvelously miraculously dance

and it feels like flying

XXVII. beauty (to the portrait)

man on the wall i may be mad but i must give voice to the storm in my heart and you are the only one near

the master puzzles me i know his home as well as my own but i know so little about him

(is he beast or man or nightmare or dream or captor or friend)

i saw his face and thought him a beast

(but he grows roses and reads poems and has never killed or even raised his voice)

i heard his voice and thought him a monster

(but he spared my life gave me his home and all he owned offered his heart and never once has been anything but gentle)

i watched him dance and thought him a man

(with grace like an angel or a prince and i think that maybe he was not always so lonely and that his heart aches for things lost)

what am i to think do say be feel about him now

and why do these questions always come at midnight

*

The final poem is one that I had completely forgotten about, so I was shocked to find it lurking in the latter sections of the document and showing signs of using some decent imagery. By polishing up the last couple of lines, I've got something that's not half bad as a standalone poem.

This one occurs during an extended period when Beauty is still trying to process her feelings toward Beast and figure out if this is really love or if her feelings are being warped by isolation and close proximity.

XXX. beauty

if this is love it is a dark and grasping love a child stumbling in the night crying for a candle flame and cherishing the smallest spark of light

if this is love it is a bleak and desolate love a skeleton tree in a barren desert windbeaten and scrubbed to bone and bursting into bloom at the first drop of rain

if this is love it is a smoke and mirrors love a sleight of hand or trick of light that takes my broken heart and fools me into thinking he can make it whole

[vergeltvng]

「 Closed starter 」 for @heartofglass-mindofstone

"I killed Ezekiel for you. I am inside of you. I am you. Which is why when I tell you you want to do this, I am literally telling you that you fucking want to do this." Die fremde Stimme gehörte zu dem Motherfucker, der in seinem Kopf wohnte. Wie eine ätzende Migräne hämmerte sein Alter Ego ihm permanent von innen gegen die Schädeldecke. Joe Kessler. Diese Form hatte er in Billys Gedanken angenommen aber der war sich inzwischen darüber bewusst, dass er scheiß Halluzinationen hatte. Diese Szene, in der es ihm wie Schuppen von den Augen gefallen war, verfolgte ihn noch Wochen später. Um damals nicht in Mallorys Safehouse elendig zu verrecken, hatte er einen unsäglichen Deal gemacht - mit sich selbst; aber darüber befand er sich weitgehend in einem Status von Verleugnung. Er schob es auf den Dreckskerl Kessler, dann konnte er sich wenigstens noch im Spiegel anschauen ohne sich selbst an die Gurgel gehen zu wollen. "Billy?" Eine andere Stimme erklang in weiter Ferne, so weit weg. Becca? Nein, das war sie nicht. Und die Person sprach auch nicht aus großer Entfernung zu ihm, sondern saß direkt neben ihm. "Billy! Schau auf die scheiß Straße!" Er fuhr ruckartig zusammen als wäre er aus einem Alptraum erwacht, Ana griff ihm beherzt ins Lenkrad, um in letzter Sekunde einen Unfall zu verhindern als ein massiver Truck auf der Gegenfahrbahn auf sie zukam. Der irritierte Fahrer in dem LKW betätigte das ohrenbetäubende Horn seines schweren Gefährts als er genau auf ihrer Höhe war und haarscharf an ihnen vorbeirauschte. "Fuck you!", knurrte er ungehalten dem Truck hinterher. Seine Ohren schienen etwas feinsinniger geworden zu sein seit... oh, er wollte das verdammte Wort nicht in den Mund nehmen, eigentlich nichtmal dran denken. Dieses verfickte Horn, für ihn war es gefühlt drei Mal lauter als normal. "Hast du gesoffen oder was ist mit dir?!" Fuhr ihn jemand wütend von der Seite an, "Als du mir einen kleinen Roadtrip vorgeschlagen hast, ging ich davon aus, dass du mich AM STÜCK an der Westküste absetzt, Arschloch." Zügig hatte er seine Sinne wieder beisammen und fühlte sich absolut klar, von einer Sekunde auf die andere. Natürlich war sie zurecht sauer auf ihn aber wenn sie ihn schon so liebevoll Arschloch nannte vom Beifahrersitz aus, musste er seinem Namen gerecht werden, oder? "Das wird kein Seniorenausflug, Liebes. Ich bin völlig nüchtern und hab alles unter Kontrolle." Ihr nächster und gleichzeitig erster Halt auf ihrem kleinen Trip war Washington, D.C. Sie hatten da beide unabhängig voneinander zu tun. Der traurige Vorfall um Grace hatte selbstverständlich ein Nachspiel. Er traf dort einen Kontakt, um das Nötige zu bereden. Und Ana? Er wüsste gern mehr darüber was sie eigentlich genau trieb, im Auftrag dieses Kerls. Billy nannte ihn abschätzig so: Dieser Kerl. Der natürlich einen richtigen Namen hatte, Konstantin. Er hatte ihn einmal aus der Ferne gesehen und ihn vom ersten Moment an gefressen. Beim Gedanken daran ging er etwas härter in die Eisen als nötig, einfach weil ers kann und weil er so liebenswürdig, agreeable und wholesome war. "Dein Turn.", kommentierte er nur knapp und machte sich daran für die nächsten paar Stunden den Platz mit ihr zu tauschen. Come on, dass er sie ans Steuer seines Caddys ließ war definitiv eine Art Liebesbeweis von ungeahntem Ausmaß sogar, für seine verkorksten Verhältnisse.

[jepaullover]

I just finished reading this book. It’s fucking fantastic. The writing is fantastic and the characters are so lovable, you just can’t help rooting for them till the very end. It’s so heart wrenching and so loving and the main couple are just UGH I FUCKING LOVE THIS BOOK. Especially if you’re a queer Mexican-American just like me, you’ll connect to this book on such a deep level. Just a short description incase you’re interested:

Ander Lopez (they/them) is a waiter at their family’s taqueria and is in their gap year before they go to Chicago in August for art school. They’re a muralist and are trying to figure out what kind of artist they wanna be. Their family let’s them go so they can focus on their art and hire a new worker to fill in Ander’s spot: Santiago Garcia. The two fall in love, everything seems right until ICE agents come for Santi. As the book’s description puts it: “…Ander realizes how fragile that sense of home is. How love can only hold on so long when the whole world is against them. And when, eventually, the world starts to win.”

I could’ve just put the book’s full description but I wanted to write about it so bad. READ THIS BOOK. PLEASE. ITS SO GOOD.

@jonnyescribe I love your book so much I can’t wait to read your other work HNAHSKWNSIWVSHDBSHHSBSJSNSBSJ

[reikunrei]

i have less than 50 pages left to read in It and idk what to read next!!!

[savedpeople]

❄️

Send ❄ for my muse’s reaction to you throwing a snowball at them. | Not Accepting | @mercyprevaild

Negan doesn’t plan on stopping by Rick’s place today, but while at the store he gets the inexplicable urge to text him and ask if he needs anything. He’s juggling a job and two kids, maybe he can save him a trip, right? Next thing he knows, he’s heading towards the Grimes household to drop off a few bags of groceries.

This guy must be really fucking special if he’s got him going out of his way like this.

(He is, in fact, very special.)

Negan doesn’t stay for long, having his own things to tend to back home, and he’s soon waving goodbyes, but only makes it halfway to his car when something hits his back. Turning around to the sound of Judith giggling, seeing Rick standing beside his snowy front yard with his daughter in one arm and wiping his other hand on his jeans, it doesn’t take long to figure out what’s happened.

“Now what was that?” Negan starts, a grin forming as he wipes snow from the back of his coat. He points a playfully accusatory finger to Judith. "Was that you, little missy?" When she responds with a happy, 'No-- daddy!' Negan can't help but laugh; she sold your ass out, Rick! "Yeah, bet it was daddy, wasn't it. You and your dad trying to team up on poor Negan? I see how it is."

It's then that he notices Carl lingering behind the front door. There's the tiniest amused smile on the kid's face -- probably from seeing Rick hit him with the snowball -- but it vanishes the moment the two of them make eye contact. Negan motions to him.

"Whataya say, kid? You, me, against your dad and baby sister. Think we can take 'em?" Negan snickers when Carl predictably rolls his eyes and disappears back into the house, and he bends down to reach into the snow. "Yeah, thought so."

It's about now that he wishes he put his gloves on, bare hands packing the ice-cold snow into a ball. Walking towards Rick, he notices the look in the man's eyes, the way he shifts Judith slightly on his hip, like he thinks Negan's really going to do it.

Once within reach, Negan grins wide and presses the snowball into Rick's shoulder, letting it crumble and smear against his shirt. "Thought I was gonna throw it at you, didn't you?" Chuckling, he takes a look at the bits of snow still clinging to his fingers, then at Judith, and playfully wipes a little against her cheek. "Got you, too!" Her little shiver and the giggled 'Knee-gun!' that follows as she palms at the snow on her face is enough to melt his damn heart.

"... I would have," Negan then continues, attention back to Rick, leaning in close, "if you didn't have this little angel attached to you. Would've been all out war." A small wet hand then finds Negan's cheek, pressing and smearing mostly-melted snow against a stubbled jawline. There's a still moment of silence except for Judith's innocent giggling, before the both of them can no longer hold it in and laugh as well.

"-- All right, I guess I better head out." His smile still warm once he's collected himself, he plants a quick, soft peck to Rick's lips. "Text you later?" And he takes Judith's hand in his, gently moving it from his face so he can press a kiss to the top of her head.

"Got me good, little lady." He can still feel the wet chill on his cheek, yet to wipe it off. "You really are your daddy's little angel, aren't you? Starting to think you might be mine, too." His face and voice are all adoration as he holds onto her little hand, just a moment longer. "See you soon, okay?"

[dialectical--revolution]

Note: music is what I was listening to while I wrote this piece.

I was 15 when the bombs came when they fell like rain from the sky.

I didn’t even remember what I was doing that day.

Did it matter?

In the grand scope of things… Did it matter?

Anyways, there was no warning Sure, there were threats and calls to war for months But we couldn’t see it. We just couldn’t see beyond ourselves.

We were a country entrenched in another person’s war.

At least, that’s how it felt to me.

My auntie saw it differently.

She saw it as helping her family.

Some of her family lived out in the East in a land plagued by war Now just ash and dust

Home.

It meant differently to her. Her family, they were there struggling, fighting. They were her connection to this world.

Find your family and you’ll always find your way home that’s what she always told me.

I still didn’t know if I believed that or not.

I spent a long time in foster care grew angry and resentful then found my way home again.

Me and my little brother.

If it weren’t for the letters from family I would have just walked away from it all started over.

I mean my auntie isn’t related to me except by marriage to my uncle.

Doesn’t matter.

She’ll always be my family.

It was just hard to reconnect with it all. Everything… it all felt so far away.

I felt so alone for the longest time.

Those letters the letters I got from auntie they were like an anchor to the real world they helped me find my way home.

And when the war finally found it’s way to us I needed that anchor to stay whole inside.

I needed family.

I still couldn’t completely remember what exactly happened. All I know is that it wasn’t normal. It was beyond this world. Some might even call it “supernatural”.

I didn’t know how to describe it. There was a light and then I was different changed, somehow.

Turned into something beyond human.

Then everything changed. We were hunted because of our superhuman abilities. Forced to fight in a war Freedom was no more

We had to run. And we’ve been running ever since Our strife turned into something inhuman and we never looked back.

Image Description:

This image depicts a cartoon of a young woman with long, dark hair. She has stars on her face and is wearing a choker necklace. Her facial features are quite detailed, including her eyes which have thick eyelashes and eyebrows that arch upwards towards the center of her forehead. Her lips are slightly parted in an expression of surprise or awe. The background is black with white text written in blue and yellow at the bottom right corner of the image.

The woman appears to be looking off into the distance, as if she's lost in thought or daydreaming about something exciting or mysterious. She looks confident yet vulnerable at the same time, like she's ready to take on whatever life throws at her but also aware that it won't always be easy. Despite this complexity, there is still an air of innocence around her; perhaps she hasn't experienced enough hardship yet to fully understand what lies ahead for her future.

[feyascorner]

Hear me out! Hear me out!

From Astrion's pov

A Tav who hates physical contact.

But then one night when it's pouring rain Tav comes to Astarion's tent feeling scared and ask if they can stay and then one thing leads to another and suddenly the two of them are cuddled together and Astarion is like "I thought you didn't like being touched" and Tav is like "Normally I'm scared people will hurt me when they touch me. But you are different. I feel safe with you. I trust you."

a/n. I’m going to collapse they’re everything to me AHHH THIS IS SUCH A CUTE PROMPT

Astarion, by nature and by the two-hundred years he’s spent as a vampire spawn, is a touchy person. It’s instinctual. A habit he can no longer break. It’s not even sexual, half the time. It’s simply how he conveys the words that he struggles to say, even if his vocabulary is filled to the brim with flowery verses of love straight from a romance novel.

But he understands the aversion for touch. Because he’s spent so much of his life hating the touch of strangers against his skin, he understands when you recoil when one of your companions attempt to hug you, or someone tries to shake your hand. Even if yours doesn’t stem from the similar situations where he had to set out on a victim under Cazador’s orders, he understands what it’s like to simply dislike it.

He doesn’t touch you, even if his hand itches to brush the stray strands of hair out of your face. Even as he has to yank his arm away when he feels it nearing yours as you walk alongside one another. Even as all he wants to do is drag you to the nearest corner and beg that you just hold his hand.

So when you appear at the flap of his tent, barely shielding yourself from the thunderous weather outside, asking if you can stay, his jaw physically unhinges.

He coughs, gathering himself quickly—or as quickly as he can manage.

“Come here, darling. You’ll freeze away with that mortal body of yours.”

He doesn’t even know how it happens. Well, he does, but he doesn’t really believe it’s happening. Only fifteen minutes later, you’re snuggled in under his blankets, pressed tightly against his side. He stares up at the ceiling on his back with wide eyes, slowly turning to look at you.

“Is this…alright?” He asks, and you peek out from one eye, adjusting your head on his arm. He can smell your shampoo from so close—lavender? No, maybe another blasted flower he doesn’t know the name of…

“What is?”

“This,” he waves his free arm between the two of you. “Don’t get me wrong, darling, you know I’m never against a cuddle, but I thought you—well—“

You stare at him expectantly.

“I thought you disliked physical contact,” he says, softer. “Not just with me, obviously. In general you seem rather opposed to the idea.”

The thunder rings from outside and your brows crease deeper. The light from a lightning strike illuminates your faces briefly before it’s a dim darkness again, with nothing but your own eyes able to adjust just enough to make out one another’s features. He’s sure he sees more than you do, considering his familiarity with the dark, and uses it to notice the way your lips purse at the intrusive sounds coming from outside.

He also notices you leaning closer to him, but hesitant. Your movements are unsure.

If he had a heart, it would’ve been pounding now, surely.

So he curls his arm closer, pushing you into his chest in the process. You tense briefly, but melt into the feeling, and he lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Are you afraid?”

Your voice is but a whisper. “Not anymore.”

There’s a comfortable silence hanging in the air for what seems like hours, but he might consider them to be just a few minutes. The rain pounds relentlessly against the tent, but here, even through the thin fabric, he doesn’t even notice it anymore.

“You’re different from everyone else,” you mumble, and he looks down at his chest to see your eyes halfway shut, clearly about to doze off. “I know you won’t hurt me…there’s no reason for me to avoid touching you.”

He blinks, and you bury half your face into the fabric of his shirt.

“I want you to touch me.”

For the first time in decades, Astarion finds himself at a loss for words. He’s said worse things, sure, but coming from you?…

After filing through a dozen possible responses, he settled on one, opening his mouth to respond, but your breath is already heavier. You’ve already left to a dream world he cannot follow you into, and you’ve left him in a state that he would’ve considered humiliating with anyone else.

He stares at the ceiling again, listening to the soft rhythm of your breathing.

“You can’t just say that and then fall asleep you fool…”

[aethon-recs]

This Week (x2) in Tomarrymort (8 – 21 November 2024)

Hello! We have three multi-chaptered fics finishing this week, highlighted below. In addition, I made a rec list for Tomarrymort Necrophilia Fics 💀🤍 in support of the Tomarrymort Necro Fest hosted by @magical-menagerie-server, which kicks off in January.

Completed Fic:

Memories of a Killer by @chemfreak89 (M, 47k, complete) Age catches up with everyone. The infamous serial killer Voldemort now spends his time reading newspapers and making trips to the local library in search of a new crime novel. But one day he makes an interesting new acquaintance that shakes his quiet life and rekindles old flames and unknown desires. What quickens me is the violence in thee by @i-dream-of-libraries (M, 17k, complete) Harry is sold at auction to a man who is clearly in some kind of disguise - Lord Riddle isn't as charming as he looks, and the way he looks at Harry... A Regency AU inspired by the magnificent artwork of @stolenviolet. If I were you by @onehitpleb (E, 9k, complete) It is 1945 and Tom is eighteen, freshly graduated, and working a non-reputable job as a store clerk in Knockturn Alley. Somehow, he grows attached to the worst sort of person - an idiot.

In addition, a recap of the author notes from last week! (Please feel free to add some extra context to your fic update in the reblog, such as a little bit about the chapter(s) updated, and I’ll throw it in the update for next week!)

A Simple Request by @shyinsunlight (E, 70k, WIP) “As for the new chapter of A Simple Request, Harry tries and (unsurprisingly) fails to keep his personal life private. Some are having the time of their life, some others, not so much. Lifts can take you up, but going down is more interesting.” Wish by @sri-verse (E, 3k, WIP) “Wish is set after Harry's fifth year where he gets the ownership of Bellatrix's vault along side the Black vault. Looking at a gold goblet, he remembers his childhood wish of buying a gold cauldron and brings back Helga Hufflepuff's cup with him to fulfill that desire, unaware that he has freed the horcrux living in it.” To the Hilt by @izharmilgram (E, 28k, WIP) “To The Hilt is a royal arranged marriage au featuring nontraditional a/b/o, political schemes, ancient greek and abrahamic religion references, feral harry potter, and lots of power play and worship. It's neither only tomarry or only harrymort, but tomarrymort—meaning the core relationship is Tom/Harry/Voldemort. This includes Tom/Voldemort.” we made universes out of bitten lips and broken hands by @boyneptunee (M, 50k, WIP) “The consequences of Harry's Time Travel seem inconsequential, at first. Until they stare right back at him with vicious eyes. There's trouble brewing in every direction, and the Future is not as certain and set in stone as one might think.” Time Stumbler by @wintumnly (T, 102k, WIP) “Harry is stuck in 1937 and spends the holidays with almost-eleven-year-old Tom Riddle. On the first day of Christmas, they both anxiously wait for Tom's Hogwarts letter together. Fluff, humor, and Tom Riddle is not good with feelings." 7 by @moontearpensfic (E, 44k, WIP) “Harry goes back in time to raise Tom AU: the boys discuss what might have happened to make Voldemort go to "sleep."” Anytime, Anywhere, Always by @moontearpensfic (E, 22k, WIP) “Harry corrupts Tom AU: Tom and Harry celebrate Christmas--and something more! Your Wish, My Command by @moontearpensfic (E, 8k, WIP) “Hinny adopts Tom AU: Tom finally gets Harry to crack. 🔥”

*

Tomarrymort One Shots and Completed Fic

Complete | Chapters 8 and 9 of Memories of a Killer by @chemfreak89

Complete | Chapter 6 of What quickens me is the violence in thee by @i-dream-of-libraries

Complete | Chapter 4 of If I were you by @onehitpleb

Complete | Chapter 19 of Sits the wind in that quarter by @mosiva

One Shot | To be Imagined by @cyandenial

One Shot | god's hands by @curioushabitforarivergod

One Shot | bad behaviour by @milkandmoon-ao3

One Shot | two ways of being: the noun & the verb by cycloalkane

One Shot | set my soul on fire by @wynnefic

One Shot | Beach Episode by @crowcrowcrowthing

One Shot | First Duel by @being-luminous

*

Tomarrymort Ongoing Fics

Chapter 12 of Ills of Murder by @shadow-of-the-eclipse

Chapters 7 through 11 of in the silence by @satflesk22

Chapter 4 of friend of the devil (a friend of mine) by @shyinsunlight

Chapter 15 of Embryo by @cannibalinc

Chapter 4 of As It Begins by @duplicitywrites @moontearpensfic

Chapters 7 and 8 of Stygian by @crowcrowcrowthing

Chapters 15 through 17 of Saint Harry by @alenablack @chaos-bear

Chapter 1 of the night is cold in the kingdom by @girl-with-goats

Chapters 5 and 6 of you speak of the devil (like he's not your friend) by @amuria

Chapters 131 through 134 of Liquida Tenebris (Remastered) by @dymis

Chapters 1 and 2 of Small Mistakes by Crisis_Brewing

Chapter 5 of Hit 'N Run by @dragonaireabsolvare

Chapter 11 of Days always end in sunsets by @d00medbythenarrative

Chapter 25 of Time Stumbler by @wintumnly

Chapters 8 and 9 of Venom or Valor by @lightningant

Chapter 21 of Outrunning the Villain in You by @zenyteehee

Chapters 6 through 8 of To the Hilt by @izharmilgram

Chapter 9 of Do It Over by @thefangirlibrarian

Chapter 2 of Infinite by @moontearpensfic

Chapter 2 of Prizefighter by @dragonaireabsolvare

Chapter 8 of Fetters of the Damned by @sc0rpiflow3r

Chapters 13 and 14 of Hole in the Wall by tomrddle

Chapters 23 and 24 of Learning to love by @l-archiduchesse

Chapter 13 of He Who Shall Not Be Changed by @moontimefilter

Chapter 17 of Last Son of Black by @treacleteacups

Chapter 6 of Dreams Beyond Blood by @hikarimeroperiddle

*

[hellfireloserclub]

For @kaspurrcat . Happy seasonal whatever it is you celebrate at this time of year ! Hope you enjoy your @steddieexchange fic !

Read it on ao3 here

Eddie didn't have a soulmate. He was almost certain of it.

He was almost twenty-two, most soulmates met or crossed paths way before they turned twenty-one.

If he had a soulmate, wouldn't they have shown up by now?

He was pretty sure your soulmate was supposed to show themselves in a near death situation? At this point he was pretty well versed in that department.

He had seen the light. The pearly gates had been calling. He had sacrificed himself for the greater good and all that bullshit, and if you were to believe Wayne, that was a one-way ticket to nirvana.

But the big guy upstairs had kicked him back to the mortal realm with little to no ceremony. He had followed the voices, like a good boy. You know the way they had preached each Sunday at church when he was knee high to a grasshopper. But instead of fluffy clouds and dudes playing harps, the voices had led him back to the blood red skies of the Upside Down.

Maybe he hadn't gotten a free pass after all.

Waking up in Steve Harrington's arms once was an anomaly, his stupidly honest big brown eyes pleading for Eddie to be alright. It wasn’t the worst experience in the world, at least someone other than Dustin had been there to put his insides back in the right place.

The second time Eddie came back from the dead under Steve Harrington's capable hands, it was just getting weird.

Harrington was like a cockroach; you couldn't kill him, but did he have to always be there when Eddie was on the brink of death?

The pair of them really needed to stop jumping head first into lovers lake, it never ended well for either of them. It was getting to where he was pretty sure his near-death experiences were more near Steve experiences these days.

Now if you were to believe the textbooks and the mushy romance novels… the love of Eddie's life should have been the one to bring him back from the brink.

Not Steve ‘king of the hair’ Harrington.

So in Eddie's defense, he was pretty sure that his soulmate just didn't exist.

She would have turned up by now right? Some universal bond tying him to the earthly realm.

He would have some sort of mark, something that tied them together, but he didn't.

All he had was scars.

Scars, nightmares, and a Knight in denim armor in the form of Steve Harrington. Someone he now got to count as one of his closest friends.

So when anyone asked him about it -why he still hasn't found his other half- he told them it didn't matter. Because it really didn't. The world was a big place, there was every chance your soulmate didn't even live in the same town, city, state… hell they might not even live on the same continent.

So it didn't matter. Eddie didn't have a soulmate. Eddie didn't care.

Only he did.

Ever since he came back from the dead the second time, (He really hoped he wouldn't have to make it a third time and that this time Vecna really stayed dead) Eddie had become obsessed with the concept of soulmates. Fascinated by the way the universe decided who was the other half of your soul and how that bond manifested. He had notebook after notebook on the subject. Read every book he could get his hands on copying paragraph after paragraph into his swooping scrawl.

He observed the people in his life like they were a nature documentary, then when his brain had processed the information he recorded it in his notes.

If he had been this thorough in high school, he might have graduated first time around.

He watched as Hopper and Joyce re-connected a soul bond that had formed back when they were teens.

Joyce would regale them whenever she got a drink in her hand, that something had pulled her to keep looking for Hopper when he disappeared. Not that same drive that had made everyone think she was crazy when Will disappeared, it was something else. It was the feeling of being tugged in a direction but not knowing where to go. A buzz in her mind that told her that Hop wasn't dead. It was the same feeling she had back when they Upside Down had come knocking the first time, but this time it was tenfold.

(Eddie wished he had someone who would always keep looking for him, it would be nice not to feel lost )

Lucas had instinctively known what Max had needed all the way through her time in the hospital, even when she was three floors above them and deep in a coma.

In her time of healing, he formed the echoes of her wounds and ever since any minor cut or blemish showed on the others skin when they hurt themselves.

Max learning to skate again had ended up with Lucas looking like he had fallen out of a tree. But he wore his bruises and scrapes with pride and they faded a lot faster than the ones that the car park had created outside of Maldives.

(The only wounds that showed on his skin these days were paper cuts from all his notebooks and the occasional burn to the tip of his finger. His mind wandered when he smoked and he must burn them down to the filter more often than he noticed. )

Nancy and Jonathan had manufactured soul marks, twin cuts on their palms that had been their own doing, a bond made rather than given, born through trauma and blood. Since they had reunited that bond had grown stronger.

It must have sucked to be Harrington, Eddie had been routing for him. As far as Eddie could see Steve was head over heels for Nancy, at least he had been back then.

But Jon and Nancy’s bond is forged in blood. The strongest of the soul bonds, made from sacrifice. Sure Steve had thrown himself in front of the jaws of death a million times, but not in the same way as Nancy and Jon had that first time.

(Eddie thought about it every time he looked at the scar on his arm from when he and Steve had cut themselves to lure the Demodogs away from the hospital and towards lovers lake. He still can’t believe his stupid plan worked. He had been in no fit state to be trying to run for his life again, but had been back on his feet enough to lure the drooling monsters away from Max’s door. But it had worked, and it had worked well. Right until something pulled him and Steve to the bottom of the lake again, but Eddie's plans rarely had an exit strategy, getting out was an afterthought.)

Eddie had wondered why the trauma that Robin and Steve went through hadn’t marked them. Normally five drinks deep and high as a kite he would ask them, the weird little third wheel that he was.

But whenever Eddie brought it up Steve would go quiet, and Robin would tell Eddie that when you only had one brain between you both, sharing a soul wouldn’t be the best idea.

Steve would get fidgety and rub absentmindedly at his neck, then mutter about soulmates being ridiculous, anyway. He rubbed that scar a lot, whenever he was nervous, whenever he was deep in thought.

Eddie wondered if it tingled and itched the way his own did, late at night when he was lying alone and pining for something he didn't seem to have.

Maybe notorious ladies’ man Harrington had the same problem as Eddie?

It wasn't unheard of to lose a soulmate, and Hawkins had a high body count.

Wayne had never met the other half of his soul, that little tug of fate had never come calling and Wayne was fine, Wayne was happy. At least that's what Eddie thought, it was sometimes hard to read his old man's expression and because he was a man of few words; it wasn't like they were ever going to go all deep and meaningful over it.

But just this once Eddie felt like he would like to be normal. He was getting kind of sick and tired of being the anomaly. He could deal with being the freak, but on his terms. When it came to this, to the matter of his very soul, it would be nice to be a little sheepee instead of the big bad wolf.

*************

Eddie flexed his arm in the breakroom mirror, his new ink had healed nicely.

Gareth had suggested a trip into the big city when he was back from college for Thanksgiving, and who was Eddie to deny one of his oldest friends anything?

It was an act of split second decision to swing into the tattoo parlor. Garath wanted, and Eddie was weak willed and easily led.

The guy had done a good job; he left with his bats touched up and looking a lot less like they had been chewed up by the demonic version of their best selves. The stick and poke version was long gone, replaced by the forking tails of the beasts that had given him the gnarly flesh wounds he was now trying to make a distant memory.

It was nice to look in the mirror and not instantly be reminded of skin grafts and trauma, to see bits of himself rising to the surface.

Yeah maybe the bats had been a bit on the nose, but he had read enough Batman comics to learn to embrace the thing that scared him.

It was helping to hold on to at least one bit of his own identity. He was not enjoying being part of the corporate grind, even if that corporate grind was lugging boxes around and stacking shelves in Family Video alongside Steve. Battle vest traded in for the forest green monstrosity that did nothing for his complexion.

The only thing it had going for it was the fact that he could wear whatever the hell he liked under the thing as long as he toned it down when head office showed up.

After all, he was friends with the boss.

Life was serene when Steve was the boss, especially when he was willing to rotate the staff around Hellfire, important Party business and Eddie’s inability to function on anything that looked or acted like a schedule.

Right now the man in question was watching him from the door, arms crossed in irritation as he tapped his foot in agitation.

“You look hot Munson, Sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in a work vest, now can we please, get a move on.” Steve bitched as he checked the time on his watch again.

“Buckley isn’t back for at least another hour and a half, what's the rush sweetheart?” Eddie said over his shoulder as he pulled his sweater back down over his hands and threw his vest in the staff's corner room where it would have to rot till his next shift.

“We have to pick up the tree from Hoppers before we go get her and I wanted to catch my parents before they fly out to my Gran’s for the holidays-”

“They leaving you here again?” Eddie asked sceptically, as he pulled on his jacket, not that he didn’t like the Harrington's; they had been nothing but nice to him. He just wished that once in a while they would put Steve before whatever flight of fancy his mother took, or the business trips his dad couldn’t be trusted to take alone.

“I told them I didn’t want to go, I haven’t seen Robin in over a month, and I have work. Pair that with the fact that I really can’t be bothered with my Gran lecturing me on how disappointed she is in me I took the get out of jail free card . This way I get to see your cheerful face throughout this festive season.” Steve said, patting Eddie on both cheeks.

Steve had a way of getting under Eddie's skin like nobody else, if anyone else tried to baby him like this he would bite them. Verbally or physically depending on who it was, although he did try to rein in his strangeness these days, at least in public, but not around Steve, he snapped after Steve's fingers as he pulled them away.

“Yeah, but now… I get to feel guilty about the fact you're rocking around that great big house of yours on your own on the big day, baby… pretty thing like you shouldn’t be alone on Christmas.” Eddie said as he followed Steve towards the door. Getting as close as he dares to really irritate the man. It was too early to close the store, they both knew that, but who was going to tell them off? Steve?

Trying to irritate him didn’t work, as soon as they were at the door Steve halted and Eddie plowed right into his back, causing the other man to laugh and reach out and steady him.

“Careful.” Steve said as he reached around him to flip the sign, pulled his packet of Malbrough out of his pocket and gently pushed Eddie out the door.

It was a well-practiced thing now, the first smoke at the end of the shift. If they were picking up Robin soon, it might be the last one Steve had for a while. Robin’s wrath at them smoking around her wasn’t worth the nicotine fix.

Eddie watched as the other man went through his routine, lighting two cigarettes in his own mouth then passing one to Eddie, he let Steve place it between his lips no questions asked.

Steve seemed to mill something over in his mind as he took his first deep huff of smoke.

“I’m not going to be alone, I’ll be at Henderson’s, just like you no doubt, because I’m sure as hell that Uncle Wayne refused to take the day off.”

“Stubborn as a mule, and just as predictable.” Eddie grumbled.

“Uncle Wayne or you?” Steve asked, blowing small smoke circles in the air. The sight momentarily hypnotized Eddie, unable to take his eyes away from the way Steve twisted his tongue to get the shapes right.

“You don’t have to call him Uncle, we've been through this.” Eddie groused as he ashed his own cigarette, before opening his side of the truck and climbing behind the driver's seat.

“Yeah I know, but he won’t let me call him Sir and he keeps telling me if I call him Mr. Munson, I’m not allowed in the apartment.” Steve lamented as they drove out of the car park and turned towards the forest. “I know for a fact that Mama Claudia would never leave you and Wayne out when she invited all the strays around for lunch, because she’s incapable of not looking after a lost cause.”

“Does this mean I have to get you a gift?” Eddie asked as they idled at a red light, the snow falling slowly outside adding an element of whimsy to the traitorous conditions. He took his last draw of his smoke and stubbed it out in his ashtray, eyes half on the road, half on his closest friend in the passenger seat. He looked good today, all ruddy cheeked and wind swept, even if his signature hair hid underneath a black wool hat that he had stolen from Eddie last time he was at the apartment.

“You mean you haven’t already?” Steve pouted from the passenger seat, angel and bastard all rolled into one being. “I thought I was a kept man?”

“Whores will have their trinkets.” Eddie lamented and Steve punched him in the arm.

“Strong words when you're the only one who’s had a date in months.” Steve grumbled waving his cigarette around in Eddie’s direction. It was almost burned to the filter, and Eddie wondered if Steve was determined to enjoy every bit before Robin got here, or if he had just forgotten he was smoking it like usual.

“Failed date’s Harrington. Failed dates. I’m an accused murderer, at least I have an excuse for striking out. What’s your excuse?” God the light was taking forever to change, Eddie rubbed his hand along the raised bumps of his steering wheel, the action burning friction to the tips of his fingers, the warmth welcomed against the bitterness of the snow.

“I’m just not interested? I dunno, I just…” Steve trailed off, rubbing absentmindedly at his right arm. “Maybe I’m just caught up on something I can’t have, keep sabotaging myself before I’ve even gotten them out the front door.”

“You got your eye on someone?” Eddie asked. Steve had mentioned no one recently, he hadn’t even really tried to hit on any of the women that clearly were flirting with him when they came into the store.

“Is it someone I know?”

“He is yeah.” Steve said quietly, so quiet Eddie was sure he wasn’t supposed to hear it.

Steve made a fuss of stubbing out his cigarette, raising his hand to his mouth where he had ignited the filter and it had caught his skin. It was quick and Eddie almost missed it but Steve looked over to him as Eddie inhaled quickly, a warmth spreading through him he couldn’t quite put a finger on, even if that was where it had started.

“He?” he asked carefully, aware that how he handled this was going to make or break this strange friendship that both he and Steve had cultivated. He didn’t want Steve to think he was about to punch him in the face.

“He.” Steve said again, rubbing at his arm with a little more persistence. “But you know, small town Indiana. So the chance of him liking me back? It’s like the chances of something coming from Mars…so what? A million to one? So like…” He waved his hand about weakly. This wasn’t the time to point out that Steve had definitely been spending too much time with him and Dustin.

“So is he like… You know.. Your soulmate?” Eddie asked, wishing the light would hurry and change color so he could make himself concentrate on the road.

“I had a feeling he was. But it was sort of confirmed the other week. But who knows, maybe I’m just clutching at straws. I don’t think he knows, or if he does, he's said nothing.” Steve said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Maybe he knows and just doesn't care, that’s always an option.”

That made something twist in Eddie’s stomach, he had been so sure that Steve, like himself, was destined not to find his soulmate. But knowing that he had found him, and they didn't want him back?

It was making Eddie’s insides knot with jealousy and rage and he didn’t like the taste of it on his tongue.

“Maybe he’s scared? Or maybe he’s just an idiot, or he just hasn’t released? I mean Maybe he’s not looking for a dude? Although I dunno, how anyone could spend five minutes with you and not love you Stevie. You just need to turn on that Harrington charm right?” Eddie asked as the lights finally changed color and he could drag his eyes away from the worried expression that was plastered on Steve’s face now.

“I've tried, he's oblivious.” Steve said weakly, he sounded so defeated it was making Eddie’s heart ache.

This was why Eddie had given up, he never wanted to sound that sad over something that was outside of his own control.

He chanced a glance in Steve’s direction; he was chewing on his finger now, red from the burn and now the irritation of Steve’s tongue and lips.

“It doesn’t bother you… that I’m…that I like…”

“That, you like dicks?” Eddie asked, almost unable to keep the nervous laughter out of his voice. He didn’t have a problem with it, it had just thrown him, he hadn’t expected it from ladies’ man Steve.

“Dunno never tried it. I was gonna say dudes, but you just gotta make it weird right?” Steve said with a depreciated laugh. Eddie couldn’t let that slide. Steve was a saint, he didn’t get to belittle himself, not on Eddie’s watch.

“King of the freaks, remember? It’s my job to be weird, it happens by default. Anyway, who am I to ever stop anyone from being the best version of themself? Plus, if you’re gay that means more women for me right?” Eddie said, focusing on trying to find the turnoff to Hoppers through the now dense falling snow.

“Not gay.” Steve said as he tapped him on the arm and pointed to the turn in the road that Eddie had almost missed.

“You just told me your soulmate is a dude and that you like dicks…. Sounds pretty gay to me Stevie.” Eddie reasoned as carefully turned onto the wood-lined drive to the Hoppers- Byers cabin.

“You know you can like both women and men right?” Steve asked quietly as he zipped his coat tighter at the sight of Hopper and Jane waiting for them with a pre-cut tree. “There’s a word for it, but we all know how bad I am with words. Robin will be able to tell you later, but yeah.. Whatever that is? That's me, so, I just…” Steve seemed to sink into himself more lost in the many folds of his oversized jacket.

Eddie said nothing as he parked up. Processing what Steve had just told him? Both? That creature that lived in him paced, trying to process this new knowledge. Eddie tried to soothe it, this wasn’t the time, he could look at that new information later when Steve wasn’t spilling his heart out to him in a snowstorm.

They were both about to get out when he reached over and grabbed Steve’s arm, warmth running through him when Steve didn’t pull away.

“Thankyou for telling me, you didn’t have to-”

“-But I wanted to.” Steve said with a weak smile as he stepped out into the building storm.

*********

Robin and Steve had fallen straight into that silent communication that Eddie still didn't get but reluctantly admitted was kind of cute in a twisted way.

He preferred no words better than the hushed conversations the two of them were having in the back seat, keeping voices low so the sound of the truck kept their secrets.

After their earlier conversation, he and Steve hadn’t really circled back around to the earth shattering revelation that Steve’s soulmate was a guy.

It felt like with this new knowledge about Steve, Eddie’s world view was changing.

To be fair, his world view had changed a lot since 86, that ladies’ man Steve also liked guys was really pretty far down on the list of life shattering revelations.

Yet Eddie was confused why the thought of it was giving him palpitations. The idea was sitting heavily in his chest and in his head and it was just as well he had to keep his eyes on the road because he knew if he didn’t he was likely to dwell on his new factoid and spiral down a rabbit hole he wasn’t sure he would get out of soon.

Every so often Eddie would glance at the two people in the back seat, covertly of course, the wonder of the rear-view mirror.

Steve was showing Robin something, his body twisted so that Eddie couldn’t make out what it was. He couldn't make out what they were saying with a quirk of the eyebrow and a knowing glance, no matter how good he had gotten at reading the expressions of the two weirdos behind him.

Was Steve telling Robin the thing that had confirmed to Steve that the person he thought was his soulmate was actually his soulmate?

Eddie turned the music up to give the two of them more privacy.

Steve would share his revelation with him when he was ready. If he was ever ready to.

As he turned towards Loch Nora, Eddie felt the mood change in the car.

That ache was back, it sat heavy in his chest, a longing for something he couldn’t have.

He couldn't work out why it snuck up on him like this, more and more when he least expected it.

When he glanced in the mirror again Steve was watching him. Robin curled into his side as she talked animatedly.

It was easy to see why people thought the two of them were a couple, joined at the hip, mirrors of each other in almost every way, now that Steve liked guys, that just added to the reflection.

“I heard dingus told you his good news?” Robin asked, leaning forward and resting herself between the two front chairs. It would annoy Eddie that one of them hadn’t just rode up front with him. But he knew the two of them had to fuze together as soon as possible when reunited, and it really wouldn’t have been safe for both of them to squash themselves into the front seat, at least not with the snow coming down like it was now.

“The whole, doubling his chances of absolutely foul balling his relationships?” Eddie asked as they passed the now entering Hawkins sign. “Yeah, he mentioned it.”

“And?”

“And what? I don’t have an issue with it if that’s what you're asking?”

“So you are cool with him being Bisexual-”

“That’s it Bisexual! How the hell did I not remember that?” Steve complained from the back seat.

“Doesn’t bother me what or who he sticks his dick in, or you know… the other way around.” Eddie had to really concentrate not to swerve the car as Robin smacked him in the arm. HARD.

In the back seat Steve yelped, Eddie figured Robin must have kicked him or something, but he couldn’t see past Robin in his rear-view mirror.

“Why are you both so revolting? Like seriously, what did I do to be stuck with the pair of you?”

“You love us both Bucks, don’t be giving us that.” Eddie reprimanded.

“God, you are like a bonded pair now. How am I supposed to prosper in this kind of environment?” Robin grumbled, throwing herself back into the back seat with a huff. “Why has the universe cursed me with two absolute numbskulls as best friends?”

“Hey! Less of the numbskulls.” Steve complained. “My dumbness is all the concussions. I’m sure you have plenty of opportunities to prosper at all the wild parties you go to. Not my fault you left me to spread your wild oats or whatever it is you get up to in that fancy school of yours.”

“You would know what I get up to if you ever ventured further than Indianapolis.” Robin sniped back. “But you two seem to have made roots here. When was the last time the two of you went over three days without seeing each other?”

“We work together Robs, I don't think that's fair…” Steve started arguing, but Eddie had turned his attention back to the road, the snow was coming down harder now, it gave him time to think about Robin's question.

When was the last time the two of them had spent more than three days apart?

Maybe when Wayne and Eddie had gone on that fishing trip?

Sometimes Eddie spent more time with Steve than he did with Wayne, and they still lived together.

Often when Steve's parents were away, Eddie would crash at Steve’s house, wherever they landed was where they slept. He had shared a bed with Steve Harrington more times than any other living being.

Hu? Now he thought about it, maybe he really was permanently in Steve’s space. He really had fallen into the gap that Robin had left behind that easily. Her old job, her place at Steve's side, her place in Steve's bed.

Eddie had never been like that with any of his other friends as far as he could remember. Maybe when he was little and Wayne had let him sleep over at Jeff's, but they had slept top to tail.

But the first time Steve had grunted at him to ‘just stay put man,’ when he had moved to get up and move himself to the guest room, Eddie hadn’t fought it, he had just settled back in and let Steve get comfortable against his side again.

Steve needed it. Eddie knew he wasn't sleeping well again. And after that first time it had just been a thing that happened. He hadn't questioned it .

Maybe Robin had a point.

Steve had become such an integral part of Eddie’s routine and he hadn’t even noticed it happening.

That led to the question: who was the mysterious man who had imprinted on Steve and left his mark? Because Eddie would have to be aware of them right? If they were always together it wasn’t like a stranger had walked in and whisked him off his feet.

The mysterious man of Steve's dreams itched like an irritation that Eddie couldn't quite reach, and when he looked in the rearview again, it didn’t surprise him to see Steve staring back at him.

**************

“Season’s greetings and salutations.” Eddie said as he darted into the kitchen to get the dustpan and brush to pick up the pine leaves trailing from the front door to the corner next to the fire.

Mr. Harrington looked every bit his son when he shook his head and the small smile creeped upon his face, it was a testament to how often Eddie was in the house that the older man hadn’t even questioned his presence in his humble abode.

Not that you could call the Harrington home humble, it was every bit the show home that Steve’s mom had intended it to be. Mrs. Harrington would have a conniption if she ever visited Wayne’s place, the only interior design magazine that had ever entered the place was being used to prop up the corner of the wonky coffee table.

Ironically, it was the one that featured Mrs. Harrington on page three with her newest grand design.

Perks of being married to an editor, Eddie supposed. But hey, if it stopped him losing his cereal to the floor in the morning it had its uses.

“I thought you were both on the close tonight?” Mr. Harrington asked as Eddie grabbed the cleaning things.

“We were.” He started, and the rest came out in a rush as he rummaged through the cupboard for cleaning stuff, but Richard Harrington seemed to keep up. “But you're leaving tonight and Steve wanted to see you before you left and we had to pick up Robin from the bus station, ‘cause her parents aren't back until ten. There was no way I was letting Steve try to drive the Beemer in this. And then I was roped into getting the tree from Hoppers with him, because that couldn’t have waited till tomorrow, and him and Robin have left a trail of destruction in their wake,” Eddie waved the brush around to show his intentions and the reason for his rush of words, “So you know, I’m left to tidy up that mess… and that’s why, if anyone from head office calls, the snow took the power out.”

Richard Harrington had a pleasant laugh, sweet like honey, another thing he shared with his son. That Eddie had noticed that made the twisting in his chest churn again.

He really needed to look at that a bit more. It couldn't be good.

“I take it that if I walk into my lounge I'm going to be bombarded with Christmas cheer?” He asked, the grin getting bigger.

“Alas, just a naked tree, apparently your grandchildren need to be present to festoon its mighty branches with glitter and gold.” Eddie said sagely. “And that I believe is my punishment tomorrow as I think I’ve displeased his lordship.”

“Ah, just as well Lenore stocked the candy and soda up for the festivities.” Richard said sagely as he sipped his coffee. Eddie knew what was coming next, it was Richard Harrington’s current new obsession. “Have you thought about writing that book yet?”

“Ah, Mr. H, you know I can't spell for shit…”

“And I keep telling you that's what one of my editors is for. Tell me you will at least think about it again over Christmas?” Richard asked, and oh great. There was that pleading look Steve used to get Eddie to do a lot of the heavy lifting. It wasn't as effective when it was blue eyes doing the requesting, it was easier to say no to Richard.

“I'll think about it.” Eddie said as the sound of Mrs. Harrington descending the stairs caused Richard to jump to his feet.

“Good, I just want Steve's-” he cut himself off looking sheepish. It was another one of Steve's traits that he shared with his dad, no brain to mouth filter, Steve was always putting his foot in his mouth, especially around the kids.

Still, Eddie really wanted to know what was at the end of that sentence.

“Steve's what?” Eddie asked just as Lenore Harrington joined them in the kitchen trailing a suitcase behind her that her husband was quick to take off her hands so he could ignore Eddie's question.

“Oh hello Eddie dear, did I hear Steve and Robin?” Lenore asked with a quick hug as she passed en route to the lounge, she didn’t wait for an answer as she sashayed past with an elegance that Steve had not inherited.

“Lenore’s mother is a bit of a drama queen,” Richard said as he followed Eddie and his brush to the hallway. “She’s been on the phone several times already tonight asking us to try to convince Steve and his lovely young lady to come with us.” he explained as Eddie swept up the fallen pine leaves.

“By young lady, I take it she means Robin?” Eddie asked as Richard added the case to the pile by the door.

“Yes. She’s rather old-fashioned Steven’s grandmother, I don’t think she really understands the dynamic between the two of them. She nearly had a heart attack when I moved her precious socialite daughter to Hawkins of all places.” Richard said with a little chuckle to himself. “I keep trying to convince her to come visit, she never does, I would love to see her face when she meets you.”

Eddie didn’t know how to take that, unsure if it was meant as an insult or a complement. Mr. Harrington didn’t seem to notice though as he followed Eddie as he swept the entire trail of pine needles away.

“Dad, are you trying to get Eddie to sign to your label again?” Steve asked as he broke free of his mother’s hug. Evidently the conversation had carried from the kitchen, either that or Steve’s mother was whispering in his ear again.

“Just looking after my future interests Steven. Eddie has talent and he would be an excellent addition to the Harrington family, or do the two of you really intend on spending the prime of your life negotiating late fees for someone else's business?”

“I’m happy if you are Eds?” Steve said as he gave his dad a quick hug, “Some of us aren’t built for jet setting around the world. Well, I’m sure, given half the chance Eddie would be off like a shot as long as it involved his guitar-,”

“I’d always have room for you as my glamorous assistant Stevie, you know this.” Eddie said as he brushed around the base of the tree where the worst of the needles had fallen.

“See what I mean? You can’t separate them, you know, a bit like freezer burned burgers or that weird black mold in the back of the fridge.” Robin piped up from her perch on the end of the sofa. “The longer I’m away, the more tragic their bond becomes.” She lamented, popping a marshmallow in her mouth and chewing it, never once dropping her menacing smile.

Lenore laughed as she pulled on her big winter coat. “Last chance to change your mind, you and Eddie are welcome to join us?”

“See, even you are treating them like a unit. I feel like I’ve been replaced. Have I been replaced, Steve?” Robin huffed as Steve dropped on the sofa next to her, he shot her with a loaded look, and Eddie suddenly felt like whatever conversation the two of them had been having in the car needed to be continued, possibly louder and possibly involving a fair bit of bitching.

Eddie was not stupid enough to get caught in the crossfire of that.

“As much as I appreciate the offer of getting out of dodge for the festive season, Wayne likes to have me about, and I feel like Mr. Harrington needs a few days off trying to wrangle his next big book deal.” Eddie said, handing the dustpan and brush to Steve to finish what Eddie had started.

“Speaking of Wayne, I should get home, I want to see him before he goes on to shift, so I better hit the road.”

Eddie couldn’t read the expression on Steve’s face, but he could tell that Robin was biting her lip to hold back whatever was on her mind. No doubt he was going to get sounded out as soon as he turned up at Steve’s tomorrow. There was no point in fighting the inevitable.

Eddie grabbed his coat and followed Mr. and Mrs. Harrington out to the cars, helping with the bags like the good little boy scout he was.

“Eddie?” Mr. Harrington asked just as he turned to jump back in his truck. Eddie spun on the spot, no matter how much he got on with the Harrington’s he was still deep down aware of the class divide. Permanently torn between needing to fight the hierarchy and knowing that there wasn’t a threat.

“Yeah, Mr. H?” Eddie asked as he pulled his coat tighter around himself.

Richard stepped closer, making sure that his wife couldn’t see him from the car.

“Can you keep an eye on Steve over the next few days? Something’s been up with him these last few weeks and he won’t tell me or his mother what it is.” He asked, and it made Eddie feel a little worried that Steve’s dad was coming to him out of all of his friends to watch him.

“I mean, Robin is back, she will get whatever it is out of him-” Eddie started, not wanting to share the secret that Steve had shared with him, not if Steve hadn’t shared it with his parents yet.

“But you know him best. Just, I don’t know, maybe he will tell you what’s wrong?” Richard said, gripping him on the shoulder and giving it a tight fatherly squeeze.

For the second time that night, Eddie felt like the rug was being pulled out from under him. First Steve telling him about his soulmate and now Richard Harrington saying that Eddie knew Steve best? Robin was right there, and when Steve’s soulmate finally made himself known the two of them would probably descend in the ranks. Although Eddie very much doubted that he would ever outrank Robin in that department.

“Yeah, alright, I will talk to him.” Eddie agreed, the feeling of being watched itched at him. His scar on his neck aching slightly with the cold. “You best get going if this snow gets worse they might ground the flight.”

“True, very true.” Richard said, moving his hand away, waving towards the house as he stepped back to the car. “Merry Christmas Eddie. Think about that book again please.” He said as he got in the car.

When the engine started Eddie moved away to get in his own truck, but not before looking back to the house to see who had been on the receiving end of the wave.

Steve stood in the window, backlit by the harsh overhead light, but it was clear to see he was watching Eddie, his hand resting against his neck.

They held eye contact for a moment before Steve waved and pulled the curtains shut.

Whatever that was about, Eddie would not look at it too hard right now.

Right now he needed to get home to Wayne, then later he could unpack the cluster fuck that had been the last twelve hours.

*************

Ever since Eddie had been old enough to fend for himself over Christmas, Wayne had taken the crap shifts over the holidays. The money was better, often double or triple time, and the two of them weren’t exactly in a place to say no to that back in the day. Now Wayne did the shifts so that the people with little kids could have it off, because that was just the sort of self sacrificing fool that the guy was. After all, Eddie had to get it from someone.

So Wayne had left him in the early hours of Christmas Eve, and Eddie had all the intentions in the world of getting himself to bed and maybe getting some much needed sleep.

Unfortunately, Eddie’s mind had other ideas.

He had finally nodded off just after 6am, his books and notebooks scattered around him as he went through all his notes on soulmates trying to itch that scratch in his brain that was triggered earlier by Steve in the car.

He couldn’t work out how Steve could have met his soulmate, not if he was close enough to them to have confirmed his suspicions in the last few weeks. He was pretty sure that was the strangeness that Mr. Harrington had noticed, and now Eddie was trying to work out if he had seen Steve acting weird around anyone they knew.

Eddie had run through every interaction that they'd had with people since thanksgiving. Maybe it was the new delivery driver? He was cute, if you were into the blond hair and blue eye’s thing. He had muscular arm’s and with all the lifting he did day in day out, and he looked like he was probably a jock in high school. Maybe that was Steve’s type?

What was Steve’s type, anyway? Now that Eddie was looking at it, he wasn’t even sure Steve had a type he jumped around between the Molly Ringwalds and the Sigourney Weaver of this world, but did that apply to guys too?

Was it Jeff? It was a possibility he supposed; they had hung out a bit recently, but Eddie was pretty sure that Jeff was head over ass for the girl that worked at the drive in.

Maybe it was the guy that worked the ticket booth at the drive in? The punk guy that got Eddie's heckles up every time he lent his slutty little waist up against the Beemer.

That would just be a crying shame, Steve lowering himself to the crushing on a punk.

He might have to rethink the whole friendship if Steve ended up being soulmates with someone whose musical taste revolved around only three chords.

The kicker though came when Eddie realized how much the whole thing was upsetting him. And the more he looked at it, the more he was realizing that he wasn't sure where the jealousy was coming from.

His knee jerk reaction had been that he was jealous that Steve had found his soulmate. But now?

Now he was questioning if it wasn't something more, if he wasn't jealous of the fact that Steve had feelings for another man and that man wasn't Eddie himself.

It was making Eddie question everything he knew about himself.

Because he couldn’t say he hadn't looked at other guys. He couldn't stand up and honestly say he hadn't seen photos of Ozzy and felt something more than an admiration for the man.

Did he have a crush on Ozzy Osborne? That would explain a few of the more questionable dreams.

So that opened up another question.

Did he have a crush on Steve?

It was certainly a possibility.

The two of them were constantly in each other's orbit, and they flirted like it was a second language that they were more than fluent in. Only now Eddie wasn’t sure that he hadn’t meant all the things he had been dishing out to Steve on the daily for the last few years.

If would explain the gut churning and the ache he was currently feeling at the thought of Steve having found his soulmate.

What had Robin called it? Bisexual.

Steve liked women and men, apparently that was a thing.

Was that a thing that could apply to Eddie?

He definitely liked women, that was a given, if he was to believe Steve he was getting the most action out of the two of them.

Although Eddie had hit a dry spell that was embarrassing even for a self confessed nerd like himself.

It had been at least nine months since he had to find excuses to sneak out of anyone's bed rather than face the awkward next day conversations.

He had been striking out lately, turning down dates when Steve asked him to hang out, Eddie was running over his last few dates in his head, had he been sabotaging them because they weren't Steve?

The more he looked at it the more likely it seemed.

Eddie knew he was spiraling. Knew if he could just sound out the busy thoughts in his head to someone, he might make them make sense. But the person he would normally run to was the source of his confusion and that left him nowhere to turn.

This definitely wasn't the thing that he and Wayne were finally having that big heart to heart over.

“Yeah Wayne, I think I'm in love with Steve.” even in his head it made him want to cringe and hide away.

Love ?

Oh fuck right off, it wasn't love.

It couldn't be love if he only just realized it was a viable option right ?

Only it wasn't, was it?

Steve had a soulmate. Eddie didn't.

It would be a match made to fail even if there was the smallest chance that Steve liked him back.

Maybe he should just keep his distance?

The idea of not seeing Steve made him ache in a way that he recognized now, it made him feel sick but now he understood what it meant.

And that made it a million times worse.

He had a joint and tried to make his brain stop for just a moment, and it must have worked.

The next thing he knew someone's car was grumbling to life outside in the street and sunlight was streaming through the window.

***********

His new resolution to stay away from Steve hadn't lasted long.

The snow had fallen again during his existential crisis last night and the world seemed merry and bright. Or as bright as it could be when all Eddie wanted for Christmas was an interdimensional rift to open under his feet and the demobats to go three for three on his earthly demise.

Steve had given them both the day off, perks of being the boss, and Eddie had expected to be one of the first to show up at the Harrington home to set about operation Christmas. Yet when he crunched up the driveway his own footprints got lost in the imprints left by the hoard that had evidently already descended. The kids having their own wheels these days was making him feel old .

He let himself in, Steve had left it unlocked to save him the hassle of having to keep getting up every person who pounded on the door.

Not that it would have mattered if the door was still locked. Eddie had a key.

That was another thing to add to his list of confusing things that had happened between him and Steve.

Steve had given him a key in the middle of the night when the nightmares got too bad. He could get in without waking the whole Harrington clan. If Steve rang him in a broken down state Eddie would drive over and let himself in, climb the stairs and hold Steve until he calmed.

Eddie didn't mind, more often than not he was in the same messed up state.

Trembling in the quiet of his and Wayne's new apartment, that would never feel like a home in the way the trailer had.

Steve's parents knew, they didn't seem phased by it.

Not in the way Eddie was sure they should when a guy who was once a wanted murderer wanders down from their son's bedroom first thing in the morning, sleep rumpled and looking for coffee.

It was all a little overfamiliar, and Eddie wasn’t sure how he was supposed to deal with someone else taking that place in Steve's life. Was this how Robin felt when she left for college? Because if it was Eddie understood the tears and the mini breakdown now. It was completely justified.

The absolute chaos he had expected greeted him as he crossed the threshold.

The kids had commandeered the job of dressing the tree. Max was yelling, bossing the boys about as was her God given right, and Will was trying and failing to get the others to decorate the back of the tree as well as the front.

It hung limply towards them threatening a topple under the weight of the many brightly colored baubles and static fairy lights, a pale comparison to the fluffy tree that Eddie and the four armed Steve-Robin beast had blundered through the door the night before.

Max looked just about ready to smack Lucas and Mike with her cane, just to get Will and her point across.

Jane sat on the sofa, a bastion of calm as her and Erica slid popcorn onto string making garlands, eating just as much as they threaded on the needle.

Apart from the ruckus, it made quite the sweet Christmas scene, even with the chaos unfolding.

The kids all had matching sweaters on, no doubt courtesy of Dustin’s mom. Eddie's hunch was confirmed when Robin walked up to him and dumped a neatly wrapped package in his arms.

“Claudia is trying to make this into a thing, and she scares me sooooooo….” Robin said, looking at the two bags of presents that Eddie had brought with him. He wished he had hung fire and left Steve and Robin's gifts in the car. Because Steve was right, he had bought him something pretty and now he was sure it was a stupid idea .

“You gotta be kidding me”

Steve's voice piped up from behind them, and now Eddie had the inkling, he knew exactly what that skip in his heart meant.

“Dustin, stop. You're going to pull the damn thing down, you already stripped the bottom two branches, and Eddie spent ages picking the needles up last night.”

Steve rushed past them both, carefully depositing the tray of hot chocolates on the coffee table as he passed. Erica and Jane wasted no time in grabbing the ones with the most marshmallows whilst the rest of the party were occupied.

Steve Reached out and secured the tree while the others removed some of the heavy ornaments that were causing it to buckle and bow.

“The children never listen.” Robin said sagely as she relieved Eddie of his bag and nudged the present in his hand, indicating he should probably open it.

Eddie was too distracted though, he couldn't stop looking at Steve. It was the first time he had seen him since he had come to terms with the recent development in his life and he was mentally kicking himself for not realizing what any of the obvious feelings he had for Steve had been before.

Eddie caught Steve’s eye, and something in Eddie's stomach swooped like he was about to plummet over the edge of a presapiss. Oh, he was done for.

He was definitely going to die old and alone, watching Steve happily live his life with another man.

If he had worked this out sooner would it have made any difference?

Probably not, Steve was his friend, he had zero romantic interest in Eddie.

Eddie just had to go making everything weird.

Evidently he had been staring too long, Robin dug him in the side again, glancing between Eddie and Steve and the strange staring contest that had started across the lounge.

‘Pathetic’ Robin muttered to herself, then aloud she said “Come on Munson, you're the only one not dressed in a Christmas monstrosity. Strip dude.”

“It's a good job I know you.” Eddie said, ripping the paper from the present and pulling out his own matching festive cheer. “I don't know if I like these bad habits you're learning at that fancy School of yours.”

“They teach me how to get oversized man-boys to do what I tell them.” She said, poking him in the side again with extra vigor.

She was vicious, for someone who's only recreational Sport was soccer, her upper body strength shouldn't be so good.

He quickly pulled his jacket off and yanked the black sweater he had been wearing over his head leaving him in just his faded and worn undershirt he hadn't intended for anyone else to bear witness too. From the sofa Max let off a loud wolf whistle, Eddie flipped her the bird, but he couldn't help glancing to see what Steve's reaction was. From beneath his flop of hair Steve's eyes were fixed on Eddie, and under his gaze Eddie felt himself starting to heat up.

“You've been defiling yourself with the devil's sacrament again?” Robin asked, grabbing his wrist. It shook him from whatever fleeting vision of possible interest he thought he had seen in Steve's eyes as Robin twisted his arm. She held on as she looked closer at his new tattoo. “Either Jeff is getting better with his little pricks, or you put on your big boy pants and went to a professional.”

“Ha ha hilarious.” Eddie said, trying to shake his arm free. “Me and Gareth went to Indi when he was back for Thanksgiving.”

“It's a bit morbid isn't it? Doubling down on the bats?”

“Robin, leave him alone. Come here and help me with this will you?” Steve shouted from across the room. But Robin was more interested in making fun of Eddie, after all she hadn’t seen him since she went away at the beginning of fall, she must be champing at the bit to bring him down a peg or two.

“You can just tell me it looks metal as hell if you like Bucks, you won’t lose any brownie points over it.” Eddie said, tugging his arm back.

“Never said it wasn’t cool, Munson. I just said it was morbid, I mean didn’t they technically kill you?”

“And technically Stevie boy brought me back to life, should I have tattooed a picture of the boy wonder on my arm? I could have gotten him in that nice little sailor outfit the two of you used to wear-” Robin punched him, hard in the shoulder. Her penchant for physical violence making itself known.

“Rob’s for fuck’ sake!” Steve piped up from behind them, as the tree crashed to the ground. The baubles scattering far and wide.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Robin said, rushing to help Steve get the Christmas tree back on its stand straight.

“What was all that about?” Dustin asked as he started scooping the ornaments from the rug, throwing them into the box they had come from.

“Nothing, tree was just too awkward to hold on my own and Robin abandoned me to beat up Eddie, instead of helping.” Steve grumbled, shooting Robin death glares.

Robin wasn’t showing any sort of remorse, holding the tree and watching as Eddie finally pulled on his Christmas sweater.

“None of you are fit to decorate this fine specimen, everyone knows you put the enormous balls near the bottom and you always decorate the ample behind.” Eddie said walking over and hooking a fat red bauble out of the fallen mess, he got close to Steve as he deliberately pressed close to get to the back of the tree, nudging Steve’s ass as he passed. God how had he not noticed just how loaded his flirting really had been getting.

“So, are you talking about personal experience then?” Steve asked, as Eddie hooked his ornament in place.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, big boy.” Eddie teased, surprised to see the tips of Steve’s ears flushing red. Was that a recent occurrence? Has that happened before? Eddie really hadn’t been looking, but now he was and it was something he was determined to investigate further.

Around them the kids had peeled off and were now diving into the hot chocolate that Steve had left on the table. He knew that their interest in actual manual labor would only last as long as it took for candy and chocolate to get involved.

Robin grabbed the discarded box of ornaments and divided her haul as the three of them worked quietly, Eddie acutely aware of every time his and Steve’s hands brushed his as they dressed the branches or maneuvered around the other.

Now Eddie was looking for it, it was surprising how often he and Steve casually touched. A hand to the bottom of his back, Steve leaning up tight against him the long line of his chest curving into Eddie’s back as he stretched to put the smaller ornaments towards the top of the tree.

Eddie was almost certain that Steve was lingering in his space more than normal, he could feel Robin watching them. It felt like he was under a microscope far worse than any time the kids had tried to trip him up and get the juicy details of his next campaign.

Every time he caught her looking he would be met with the smug ‘ I know something you don’t know’ look that she had learned from Erica and honed under Steve’s careful guidance.

“Have I got something on my face?” He asked as he hooked a small robin on the branch in front of her. “It’s rude to gawk you know, I might start getting the wrong sort of ideas about you Bucks,”

“I would rather gut myself and use the entrails to summon a demogorgon than look at you in any way that wasn’t just platonic you weirdo.” She straightened up the ornament, glancing over to where Steve had just stuck his head in one of the old Family Video shipping boxes to hunt out the remnants of last year's tinsel. “Which is more than I can say for you and Mr. Bubble butt.” She stage whispered as she lent into his space.

Eddie shot a glance over at the table where the kids had gathered, too busy fighting over the toppings for the Christmas cookies that Will had just gotten out of the oven, to pay much attention to what was happening over by the tree.

“Just because Steve… is … you know… doesn’t mean that he’s going to fawn about like a damsel in distress around any guy with a pulse.” Eddie chided under his breath.

“Never said he was. He might be a dingus, but he’s a dingus with standards. I wasn’t talking about him. I was on about you, what’s gotten into you tonight, you're normally a lot more covert when you’re scoping out the Harrington goods.” Robin goaded, “You can’t seriously think you're being subtle about it.”

Eddie tried to defend himself but he couldn’t exactly deny that he had just seconds before been staring at Steve’s ass in his stupid skin tight Levi, he opened his mouth to protest but nothing came out. He couldn't lie to Robin, she was too clever for subterfuge.

“It is a bubble butt, “ he settled on in lieu of finding a way to address her observations.

“That you can’t stay away from apparently. You don't have to say anything, but you know, if you need to talk about it, I don’t really share a brain with him you know?” Robin said quietly with a shrug.

“Thanks Robin,” he said earnestly.

“You looking for Narnia at the bottom of that box Steve?” Robin yelled suddenly, breaking whatever heartfelt moment the two of them were having.

“I can think of better ways to come out of the closet Robs’, ones that don't involve candy that tastes like perfume.” Steve said as he emerged from his quest, hands full of tinsel and fairy wire .He beckoned Dustin and Erica over to add it to the tree. No matter how much Steve liked to pretend he didn’t have favourites, Eddie knew better. They ignored him completely of course, too involved in debating who deserved the cookie that had come out of the oven looking comedically phallic shaped.

“Come on, let's deck this baby and then see if they have left us any cock cookies to decorate.” Eddie said, reaching out to grab a handful of shredded silver.

“Right after we dick the halls?” Steve asked as he tried to hide a bald patch with some of the silver and red tinsel.

“Well, you have to, right before you jingle balls, especially if you want a white christmas…” Eddie reasoned, taking extra joy in the way that Robin gagged before throwing a plastic baby Jesus at him.

Eddie watched as Steve and Robin started lobbying clumps of glitter at each other laughing and giggling like little kids, although they managed to avoid hitting the tree in their play fight thankfully, Eddie wasn't convinced he had it in him to decorate the thing again.

It made his heart happy to see Robin and Steve like this, screwing about and looking the fool with his best friend.

Could Eddie deal with it if this was all he got to have?

Maybe he was confusing friendship for love, after all Steve had made the same mistake when it came to Robin. Finding answers on a bathroom floor was all well and good but Eddie didn't think that would work the same between him and Steve.

Maybe he would be lucky. Maybe he would get to hold on to this. To feel like he was part of something good, even when Steve’s other half joined them. Eddie was sure more than ever that nobody could be On the receiving end of one of Steve's longing looks and not cave in at the first flutters eyelid , still he dreaded the day a forth wheel joined them.

He didn't have much time to wallow in his own self pitty, soon he had a face full of tinsel and he was drawn into the fray.

*******

It was getting dark when they finally got all the decorations in place, the kids had decided that now the complicated bit of untangling the mess off lights and cleaning up the deluge of pine needles was tackled by the ‘older kids’ (Eddie refused to let anyone call him an adult) they would all join in, fighting over who got to put the star on the top of the tree.

“Technically, it should be Steve, I mean it is his house.” Max reasoned, glaring at Dustin who was currently in possession of the shiny metal adornment. The man in question glared at her before handing it over to Steve.

“How generous.” Steve snarked, as he turned to the tree and reached up to tuck the star in its rightful place.

“Hey Steve?” Dustin asked.

“Okay, okay …I’ll let you turn the lights on,” Steve said exasperated.

“No, I mean yes I want to turn the lights on. But this isn’t about that. When did you get a tattoo?” Dustin asked, reaching out and grabbing Steve’s right arm, pushing the sleeve of his sweater up to look at the skin underneath.

You could hear a pin drop, Eddie didn’t think he had ever known the kids be this quiet ever, all eyes drawn to where Dustin was holding Steve’s arm out for inspection.

Silently someone turned on the fairy lights, giving everyone a clear view of the six highly stylized bats on the inside of his right arm.

That was when all hell broke loose.

“Right. Everyone just be quiet.” Robin yelled over the commotion. “Everyone out … not you Eddie.” she added, pushing him towards Steve.

“But presents…” someone complained, probably Dustin, Eddie didn't have it in him to look away from the damning evidence illuminated in reds and greens.

“The purple bag is all the kids’ presents from me,” Eddie said, not looking up. He knew all eyes were on him and Steve and for the first time ever he really didn't want to be the center of attention.

“Yeah, that one with a snowman on has mine in, dish them out between you.” Steve waved his hand in the general direction of the pile of gift bags on the sideboard.

Eddie traced the movement, yup that was definitely his tattoo etched on Steve's skin.

Fuck.

Eddie didn’t know what was happening around him other than Robin was ushering the kids out of the door as fast as humanly possible. He could hear Dustin huffing at being made to leave, but he also heard Robin threatening to expose his deepest darkest secrets if he didn't get a move on.

Any other time that would have piqued Eddie's curiosity, but right now he couldn't make sense of anything enough to form any coherent thought.

“Call me if you need me.” Robin yelled as she slammed the door behind her.

“Alright-” “Okay” Both of them shouted after her. To be fair, she could have been speaking to either of them, but Eddie had a feeling she meant both.

The house was calm now. The crackling sound of the old and lightly scratched Christmas record accompanying the popping of the logs on the fire.

It had been a long time since a silence between him and Steve had felt awkward, but Eddie wasn’t sure how to fill this one. It stretched, and he ached to fill it but his mind was racing, trying to patch together everything that had happened to him since spring break of ‘86. It was as if the tiny bit of string that had been holding the box of his realisation closed had just frayed and the box had split at the seams. Leaving him to wade through the deluge of information in a new light.

“So,” Eddie started eventually, when the quiet became too much.

“So,” Steve echoed back.

“Robin’s kind of right. It is a little morbid.” Eddie nodded at Steve’s arm, chancing a step forward to get a better look. It wasn’t ink under his skin, it was dark red, almost black, but fading at the edges.

It was fading at least, Eddie felt guilt building up, Steve had enough scars, he didn’t need more, no matter how temporary this blip on his skin was.

“Yeah, well, I was expecting it to have disappeared by now, but apparently you have a habit of sticking around.” Steve huffed.

It had been almost four weeks, and the bats on Steve’s arms looked like they were fresh. He looked like he wanted to say more, but bit his lip trying to hold back the words. He stepped back, pulling his sweater back down over his hands.

“Trust Dustin to be observant for the first time in his life.” He said, but his voice sounded distant, like he was on the verge of tears.

“If you want to leave, I wouldn’t blame you.” Steve said as he turned his attention to the tree, fiddling with one of the paper stars that hung on the nearest branch.

“Like I said yesterday, The chances of anything coming from Mars are a million to one.”

Eddie really wished that Steve would look at him. He might have hidden away the newest scar under the sleeves of his sweater, but Eddie could see the silver markings tracing round his neck as they flecked red and green in the shimmer of the Christmas lights.

He instinctively brought his hand up to his own neck, tracing his own scar, the way it twisted up into the the back of his hairline and up behind his ear. Steve’s was similar but just how similar?

They had both grown their hair out to hide the worst of it so it was well hidden but…

Curiosity got the better of him, reaching out he gently brushed the hair from behind Steve’s left ear, tracing the end of the scar his fingers swooped up behind and into Steve's hairline. An almost perfect copy of Eddie's second most dangerous wound.

Under his touch Steve froze, but his fingertips betrayed Steve’s heart. The pulse thrummed through his skin at a rapid rate, making Eddie’s heart want to chase and match the rhythm.

“You do know that quoting nerd shit at me is going to have the opposite of a negative effect on me right?” He asked, hoping that for once Steve would just see through his words.

“Stevie? Yesterday you said…” Eddie trailed off, yesterday Steve had said a lot of things.

Eddie had become overly very familiar with them all in the last twenty four hours.

But the shining factoids that were barreling around his mind at a billion miles a second, causing galaxy’s to implode and die as fast as they were born, were this:

Steve liked men.

Steve had found his soulmate.

Steve had feelings for his soulmate that he thought were not returned.

Eddie liked men.

Eddie may well have found his soulmate, right under his nose and in plain sight.

Eddie definitely had feelings for Steve, it was very much returned.

“I hadn’t… I didn’t…” Eddie was lost for words, a rare occurrence, normally he had way too many words and nothing to do with them. But finding the right ones here, so as not to screw this up, felt like he was pushing a boulder uphill and the landslide of destruction was fighting him every step of the way.

“Steve… in the car… you said he was oblivious. I… I… was oblivious.”

“Yeah well, surprise.” Steve said weakly, almost on the edge of tears. “I’m your soulmate, sorry it's not some metal chick with huge tits that loves all your nerd shit.” He tried to pull away from where Eddie held him, but a simple tug at the base of Steve’s hair stopped him in his tracks.

“You are perfectly nerdy, and you have fantastic boobies Harrington, You also happen to be several chapters ahead in this book we call life. You gotta let me catch up, I only found out I was allowed to like guys and girls yesterday. The old grey matter isn’t what it used to be. I’m processing a lot.”

Steve turned to look at him, pressing his cheek into Eddie’s open hand, Eddie’s fingers still tracing the twisting scar tissue. The move felt familiar, even if Eddie was sure they had never done this before, a calm settling through him like thick toffee in his veins.

“And do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Like guys as well?” Steve sounded so hopeful that Eddie was sure he wasn’t going to get shot down from a great height. Steve had Eddie’s marks all over him and Eddie had just been to stupid to see what was staring him in the face all this time.

Eddie wanted to see Steve smile again, catch that starlight from the tree sparkling in his eyes rather than in his tears.

“I like you Steve. And I like you a lot. But you're not just any guy are you? You’re you, and apparently the universe thinks I’m good enough to make you happy.”

“And you do Eds, nobody else has ever made me laugh so hard I want to puke. Or at least nobody ever made me laugh so much I split my stitches. Nobody else has stupidly dived head first into danger with a hero complexion just to put me first.” He shot Eddie a loaded look as if to say ‘ am I wrong?’ and Eddie couldn’t argue the facts. “Someone's gotta keep saving your life. If fate says it’s me, who am I to argue?” Steve said with a wet sniffle, yet the smile was starting to creep back on his face. Eddie carefully wiped away the tears that had dropped to Steve’s cheeks with the sleeve of his Christmas sweater.

“Fate could have clued me in a little bit sooner,” Eddie said, chancing a step closer to Steve, pushing Steve’s sleeve up and run his fingers over the bats, curling behind them he traced his fingers over the raised scar they both shared from luring away the demodog from Max’s hospital room. A shared sacrifice, a decision made together. Was that the point this had taken hold?

Just how long had the two of them been entwined like this?

As if reading Eddie’s mind Steve took his free hand and lifted it to Eddie’s neck pressing gently at the left of his adams apple.

“It was such a tiny nic, I don’t think you even noticed it, but the bottle was pretty sharp when you pressed it to my neck. I felt it then, the first spark of something, an adrenaline rush pulsing under my skin like electricity. Dad had tried to explain it to me before, but I wrote it off as a load of bullshit. But there you were, living proof that the shit dad pedals for a living was actually true. But you were so scared and so stressed that I don’t think you even registered the scar showing on your skin, let alone the elevated heart rate and the scar had faded by the time we jumped in the lake.”

“The boat house? That’s where the bond happened?”

“Yeah, and I thought you were such an asshole, it had to be some cosmic joke. A twisted mistake, that Eddie Munson was my soulmate. But then you dived into the lake after me, and you kept just knowing what I was thinking when we were in the Upside Down. It was like you knew exactly what I was going to say and do even when I wasn't sure myself. Then I couldn’t believe you would run into danger to keep Dustin safe. To keep me and the others safe, when you hardly knew us.” Steve said, inching his way more into Eddie’s space. “Only my stupid ass soulmate would go being a hero when he had been told in no uncertain terms not to do that. ‘Cause that’s exactly what I would have done too”

Realization dawned on Eddie like the sun coming out from behind the darkest of rain clouds. It had been Steve’s voice he had followed back from the brink of death.

“It was you, you called me back.”

“Yeah, well Dustin worships you dude. I couldn’t just let you go and die on me.”

“Oh, so you only saved me so you didn’t have to be a single father, I understand.”

“No you dipshit, I saved you cause you slipping away was the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life. And I’ve had several concussions and had part of my stomach sewn back together in a field hospital.”

“You say the most romantic things baby.” Eddie said with a grin, “Intestines are sexy.”

“You are so weird.” Steve said with a smile, his thumb stroking the length of Eddie’s matching scar.

“You’re the weird one that keeps saving me with your creepy soulmate powers, don’t go blaming-” Steve cut him off, shoving his hand over Eddie’s mouth and rolling his eyes with a sniff, the last of the tears now gone. It took everything in Eddie’s power not to lick his palm.

“And I would save you a million times more, because for some insane reason I’m extremely glad the fates decided you’re my other half, even if you are a feral racoon of a man.”

“Mmnsnatmuccun”

“What?” Steve asked, removing his hand.

“I said, I’m not a raccoon.” Eddie answered, letting himself be brave and pulling Steve towards him by his waist.

“I’ve seen you eat from the trash dude, definitely raccoon behaviour.” Steve said with a smirk. Letting himself be pulled in.

“It was one peanut butter cup, and the bin was brand new.” Eddie said in his defence, “Anyway I think that says more about you than it does me, I mean you’re the one who wants to kiss someone who ate something out of the trash.”

“Well you did say I was weird,” Steve reasoned as he lent in closer, “But you're right. I really want to kiss you Eddie, I have done for a long time.”

“Then we better make sure we aren't about to be invaded by little green men from Mars, ‘cause I really want to kiss you-” This time Steve cut him off with his lips. Eddie definitely liked it a lot better than the palm of his hand.

It was a sweet thing, tentative in a way Eddie hadn’t been expecting, but it felt different to every other kiss he’d had to date, the gentle thrum of belonging radiating from the soft press of Steve’s lips to his own.

Steve’s hands twist up into his hair, grounding him and deepening the kiss, pulling and pushing against each other until Eddie could taste the chocolate on Steve’s tongue and feel his body pressed hard against him.

It was all too much and not even a tiny bit enough.

All too soon Steve broke the kiss, his soft breath ghosting Eddie’s lips as he started to pull away.

“Nope, get back here.” Eddie muttered pitifully, pulling Steve back towards him. “Just so we're on the same page.If you look up the words oblivious, scared and idiot they all have my name next to them in the dictionary. Right under the entry that Robin has edited to deem me pathetic.”

“How would you know? You don’t know how to use a dictionary, that's why dad keeps telling you he will get you an editor.” Steve said with a chuckle, moving to pull Eddie closer.

“Don’t you start sweetheart.” Eddie softly scalded. “I can say no to your dad. But you start batting eyelashes at me and I’m done for.”

“He’s just looking out for you… for us.” Steve said bashfully. “He’s practically married us off already if you hadn’t guessed.”

Suddenly Mr. Harrington’s fumbling words made more sense, the insistence that he wanted to help Eddie in his writing career, the way he hadn’t battered an eyelid that first time Eddie had sauntered downstairs scars out in search of caffeine.

“How long has your dad known?” Eddie asked wearily, aware that he may well be the last person to have picked up on the glaringly obvious.

Steve itched at the scar on his neck, and now that Eddie knew they were connected, he could feel the ghost of it on his skin. Just how many nights had Steve been lying awake thinking of him, because the tingling was like a hug as it washed through him.

“Since you were in a coma the first time? ” Steve said sheepishly, “I swear other than Robin I didn’t mention it to anyone else… If you didn’t want me I didn’t want to become a pity case. Have you seen Dustin aim for sympathy? It’s like watching a muppet show real emotion, it makes me uncomfortable.”

“Of course you told Robin, I wouldn’t expect anything else, at least that explains why you got all weird whenever I brought up your soulmate” Eddie wasn’t sure how to process the fact that Mr. Harrington had known about this since 86 and had managed to keep his mouth shut about the whole thing since then.

“But Still. How did your dad know?”

Steve looked at Eddie dumbfounded, “Eddie, did you ever look to see who wrote the books you have been hoarding in your dragon cave? The ones about soulmates that you think nobody but you knows about?”

Eddie had not in fact looked, not even once, but now he was questioning if that was a major oversight on his behalf.

“Dad has been doing research and writing about Soulmates for the best part of twenty years now,” Steve said, pulling him in from the waist this time, taking the lead. “I was confused, because up until that point, I hadn’t really thought that my soulmate could be a man, let alone someone I thought was the very definition of straight. Turns out fate, just like my parents, doesn't really give a shit if I love another dude, just as long as it makes me happy.” Steve laughed. “And just so you know, him and Uncle Wayne have been plotting behind your back, I think I get you for like … two pigs and a packet of magic beans.”

“Wayne knows?”

“He has his suspicions.” Steve admitted. And yeah maybe Wayne did suspect something, his old man knew him better than he knew himself.

But now Eddie knew what he wanted, understood all the strange feelings in the pit of his stomach and the way his heart raced now was all down to the man who was holding him like he was something precious.

“Wayne knows to barter better than that, I’m worth at least three chickens, a pig and a cow, the only beanstalk I’ll be climbing at any point is you,” Eddie said with a flirty wink.

“Speedrunning the whole bisexual thing are we?” Steve gulped.

“I'm Stevesexual, If that isn’t a thing?” He asked, "I'm making it a thing.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works, baby.” Steve said , and that baby tugged at the part of his brain marked horny and flicked a few switches for good measure.

“Is it not in one of your dad’s books?”

“If it was, you would have found it by now.” Steve said as he lent in and stole another kiss. Eddie’s heart sped up, this was what he had been missing, this was the thing he had been searching for not knowing that he had already found it.

“Another disclaimer,” Eddie said when they broke apart. “I was in love with you before I found out you were my soulmate, so don't think this is all just because it's something I think the universe wants from me.”

“When have you ever done anything someone expected Eds,” Steve said with a dopey grin, “I can't even get you to follow a rota, let alone someone invisible forces master plan. Why did you think I was so scared you weren't going to like me back?”

“Well that's just crazy thinking, this time the universe didn't have to help, I think I'd have fallen for you no matter what Stevie,”

Steve’s hands started to wander, and somewhere in Eddie’s peripheral, he heard the record skip to the end of the last song, its gentle hiss accompanied by the soft but hungry sounds Steve was making in the back of his throat as he kissed him deeply.

“You got anywhere you need to be?” Steve asked as he came up for breath, “Or…”

Eddie smirked and tugged them towards the stairs.

“What about the presents?” Steve questioned as they passed the hallway table.

“It's not christmas day until tomorrow. You’re trinkets will wait until morning sweet prince,” Eddie said, ushering for Steve to ascend the steps after him.

“I thought whores would have their trinkets?” Steve asked.

“You can be both.” Eddie said, matching Steve's teasing tone. “Now if you wouldn't mind, I would like to assess just how many of our scars actually match.” He said with a loaded wink, acting a lot more confident than he actually felt. He was a showman after all.

“Merry Christmas to me?” Steve asked and he was honest to god blushing now, how had Eddie missed this for so long it was adorable.

“Merry Christmas to us both, baby, and here's to many more.” He said with a kiss as he pulled Steve into his room.

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

The Ultimate (short) Guide to Crafting Captivating Book Titles: A Writer's Journey into Naming Novels

Embracing the Power of a Book Title

Greetings, fellow writers and wordsmiths! As we embark on the magical journey of storytelling, there exists a crucial milestone—bestowing our creations with a name, a title that encapsulates the essence of our narrative. The quest for the perfect title can be as thrilling as drafting the story itself. In this guide, we will unravel the art and significance of titling a novel, exploring strategies, tips, and the creative process behind crafting an engaging and magnetic book title.

Understanding the Importance of a Book Title

The Gateway to Reader Connection

A book title is the beacon that beckons readers to explore the universe you've crafted. It's the first impression, a snapshot that encapsulates the soul of your narrative. A compelling title can captivate an audience, generating curiosity and inviting them to step into the world you've woven within your pages.

Reflecting the Essence of Your Story

A well-crafted title encapsulates the core theme, mood, or central conflict of your novel. It should resonate with the narrative, teasing elements without revealing too much, leaving a trail of intrigue that entices readers to delve deeper.

The Art of Title Creation

Embrace the Journey: Start with a Working Title

Begin with a placeholder, a working title that captures the essence of your story in its rawest form. Let it evolve and grow as your narrative does. This title might serve as a guiding light until you uncover the perfect one.

Exploring the Heart of Your Story

Consider the central themes, characters, or pivotal moments within your book. Delve into the emotional core of your narrative and unearth words or phrases that resonate with its essence.

Utilizing Literary Devices and Techniques

Explore metaphors, alliteration, symbolism, or even poetic verses. Experiment with wordplay, juxtapositions, and contrasts. These literary devices can infuse depth and intrigue into your title.

Testing and Refining Your Title

The Power of Feedback

Share your title ideas with trusted friends, writing groups, or beta readers. Gather feedback on their impressions and the emotions evoked by the titles. Use this input to refine and narrow down your choices.

Alignment with Your Target Audience

Consider your intended readership. Does your title resonate with the genre and expectations of your audience? Ensure it's not only enticing but also aligns with the preferences of your potential readers.

Finalizing the Perfect Title

Distillation of Essence: Keep it Succinct and Evocative

Aim for brevity and impact. A concise yet evocative title can linger in the minds of readers. Often, the most powerful titles are those that say much with few words.

Research and Avoiding Clichés

Investigate existing titles in your genre to ensure your title stands out. Steer clear of clichés and overused phrases, aiming for originality and uniqueness.

Embrace the Artistry of Title Crafting

Crafting the ideal book title is an art in itself. It's the literary cloak that shrouds your creation, inviting readers into the tapestry of your imagination. Embrace the journey of titling your novel with the same passion and creativity you pour into your storytelling. Let the title be a herald, whispering the promise of a remarkable journey that awaits within the pages of your book.

As you venture forth, remember, the perfect title awaits—a key to unlock the hearts and minds of your future readers.

Happy writing and titling!

This comprehensive guide aims to take writers through the journey of creating an impactful and engaging book title, emphasizing the importance of a title and offering practical strategies to craft one that truly resonates with a novel's essence. If you need further insights, examples, or specific advice on any aspect of titling a novel, feel free to delve deeper into each section. Happy titling!

[fix-it-darlin]

D.A.M.N. Crew Headcanons

Freelancer

Doodles on the back of their hands

Never really specialized in anything as a kid and had way too many hobbies. They view this as a negative thing, but the rest of the crew is delighted to hear about their many interests.

Chicken scratch handwriting that only they can read most times.

Attempted to learn shorthand to remedy this but couldn't stick to it long enough to make much of an impact on their note taking style.

Didn't like their hair for a while and so they were always wearing some kind of hat. They still wear a hat a lot, but they've started to get more comfortable with it, especially as Gavin teaches them how to style it better.

Never had a close friend group before the D.A.M.N. crew and usually spent time in groups that seemed to just tolerate them while they were in school.

Used to read voraciously, but hasn't read a full book in about a year. They can manage articles and short stories, but a full book is asking a lot.

Talks to themself a lot and has nearly filled their phone's storage with all the voice notes they make.

Gavin

Gave himself dimples

Wears lots of rings, but one from Freelancer is worn on a chain rather than his hands

Favorite movie is the Princess Bride. The D.A.M.N. crew gets together for a movie night every few weeks and this is always his first suggestion.

Learned how to knit just so he could make Freelancer a hat for their birthday. It was a messy first attempt, but Freelancer loves it all the same.

Great gift giver

Damien made him join a book club with him after figuring out that he hasn't read a book in his life. Gavin gripes about this, but he's actually delighted to have someone to read with and keep him accountable there. He's tried to bring Freelancer into it too, but recognizes that they're too busy for books at the moment.

Damien

Has a very particular taste in energy drinks and doesn't like tea very much.

Black nail polish

His mom pushed him to be good at art as a kid, and he was, could render incredibly realistic studies of nature, but he hated it. He doesn't draw much in present time, but Huxley discovered one of his old sketchbooks at one point and was seriously impressed. Damien wanted to throw out the sketchbook, but Huxley's kept it for now.

When he does draw, it's these shitty little cartoons (I'm talking stick figures and shaky lines) he uses to make Huxley laugh, and only when he's particularly inspired.

Loves to take runs at the crack of dawn just so he can catch the sunrise and the early morning dew.

Has never seen snow in person

Huxley

Loves graphic novels (read all the Bone books as a kid)

Definitely has a rock collection, knows how to skip stones

Goes to poetry open mic nights with Lasko as a way to improve his diction but also train himself to formulate his words better. Some hilarious haikus and free verse have come out of this. Huxley's favorite is the one he performed about a raccoon trying to get tickets to a concert

Is incredibly gentle with his touch as though he's afraid that he'll hurt people with his hugs.

Has dressed up as a bulbasaur for Halloween before

Passed notes with Damien during a lecture that they shared. It drove Damien nuts, but Huxley wasn't sure how else to talk to him at the time. He and Damien still leave each other sticky notes on the mirror and Huxley treasures each of them.

Lasko

Has glasses and they slip down his nose all the time

You know the trope that when people take their glasses off, all of a sudden they're super hot? Yeah, Lasko is the exact opposite way because his lenses are pretty a high prescription and make his eyes look much bigger than they actually are. Take those off and he's immediately squinting and those eyes don't look so big anymore which makes him look uncanny. He's pretty self-conscious about that.

Listens to Mitski

Can quote the entirety of The Hobbit word for word and has very strong opinions about the movies. (He saw them against his will once and has never gotten over it)

Pretty deep morning voice surprisingly enough

Started doing yoga with Dear as a way to keep loose and relax although it's debatable how much relaxing is actually going on towards the end of their sessions and how much of it is just excuses to tease and flirt with each other.

Dear

Top two buttons of their shirt are always unbuttoned, they've got quite the collection.

Loves Lasko's squint that he gets when his glasses slip too far down his nose.

Was on the swim team when they were in school and were pretty good at it (this is an understatement, they set a couple of records for their school)

Nails are always very neatly trimmed and they usually have a clear coat or white nail polish on them

Loopy, neat handwriting

Has always been called a good listener. Little does anyone know that they talk Lasko's ear off just as much as he does their's. They know an insane amount about different species of coral and sea cucumbers and have a collection of books, photos, and articles about them that they've built up over the years.

Very good at figuring out people's strengths and makes a point of complimenting them on it. They are proud to say that they've flustered Huxley with their compliments because it took them the longest time to figure out what would really hit for him.

Has a tattoo on their back

Is part of Damien's book club and always has some of the most detailed notes on the books they read. It's become a bit of a competition between the two of them to see who has the best notes. It's all in good fun though.

[gffa]

I would love your Legends recs!!! I've tried getting into Legends before but the books I'd randomly pick up would just seem off somehow & I couldn't really get into them (which might be my fault for buying whatever star wars thing I saw because it had clones on the cover)

But that was before I knew the difference between Canon and Legends and what not so I think I might be less confused by all the continuity stuff now (hopefully) & I would love to give them another go. I've been recommended the Kenobi book before, have you read it? Which ones are your favorites?

Hi! I'm not as well-versed in the Legends books, as I've prioritized the Disney continuity ones, because I only have so much time to also get through all the documentaries and reference books and watching the shows and reading the comics and reading fic and having fun in fandom, etc. And with decreasing amounts of free time, it just hasn't been a priority! That said, generally I like Karen Miller's books, which do fall into the attachment = love thing sometimes, but other than that her id aligns with my id like 90% of the way, because her Obi-Wan & Anakin (&Ahsoka) writing is fantastically fun. The Kenobi book is solidly fun from what I remember of it (I think I got halfway through and thought it was fine!), anything by Matthew Stover is worth picking up (the ROTS novelization and Shatterpoint as a Mace novel), and James Luceno's books are generally a solid start. (Dark Lord is probably the one to start with or else Labyrinth of Evil.) The other film novelizations are a mixed bag (and often leave that feeling of something being kind of "off"), the Jedi Apprentice/Jedi Quest books are worth reading just to understand where a lot of plot elements came from, but they're very much aimed at a young audience, so the drama and artistic license is dialed up to eleven (because kids want to read about other kids having exciting adventures, not adults taking care of things before they happen XD), etc. AVOID Karen Traviss' books, like set aside the anti-Jedi stuff (which is still pretty awful), I've seen soooo many people tear those books apart for just how badly written they are because she can't get out of her own bias. If anyone else has some prequels-era Legends books to recommend, please feel free!

[henry-fox-biggest-stan]

Some more obscure and / or underrated lesbian literature : An incomplete list made by a lesbian in hopes of making other sapphics happy

(I haven’t read all of them)

Sorted by years (this rapidly became a history lesson of lesbian literature sorry I’m a nerd)

Ancient times

(A good article about lesbians in ancient greece / rome)

Queen Zhuang Jiang 庄姜 (???- BC 690) / We know about Sappho and Enheduanna, but what about her? She wrote poems some of which were, uh, pretty gay. I learnt about her here. It is said than her poems are in The Book of Songs (which is a collection of ancient Chinese poetry). I couldn’t find a lot about her but I found enough to believe than (hopefully) she was a real person and the internet isn't lying to me.

Dialogues of the courtesans - Lucian of Samosata (somewhere in the second century BC) / Basically Dialogues of the courtesans is a collection of dialogues between well, courtesans (prostitutes). Either between themselves or between clients. One of the dialogues is called “The Lesbians”. Link to read (somehow finding a pdf of Dialogues of the courtesans is pretty hard but reading it chapter by chapter online it’s not??)

The Babyloniaka - Iamblichus (somewhere in the second century AC) / Lost novel, so all you need to know is here

Of course we can’t forget this Pompeii poem

1200s

Bieiris de Romans (somewhere in the first half of the 1200s) / Bieiris was a French poet, and we only have one of her poems with us because the others have been lost. We don’t know much (anything) about her, except that she was a woman, French, and who wrote about a woman called Maria. Some say that this mysterious Maria referred to the Virgin Mary, others than Maria was her gf, and others than she was writing in the perspective of a man (because obviously a woman writing about other women in a not so platonic way is unthinkable). Anyway, feel free to get your own conclusions, here’s the poem (translated)

1500s

The Sword and the Pen: Women, Politics, and Poetry in Sixteenth-Century Siena - Konrad Eisenbichler / So while this is a modern book, it is the only one I’ve been able to find than includes Laudomia Forteguerri’s poems (1515-1555). Some historians considered her to be the earliest Italian lesbian writer. “Although only six of her sonnets have survived, all are testaments to the love she bore for other women, and five are specifically dedicated to Margaret of Austria.”

The Maitland Quarto / Manuscript (1586) / So, this is a collection of 95 scot poems, and poem 49 is pretty sapphic. It’s technically anonymous, but it has been attributed to Marie Maitland (who transcripted the manuscript and is thought to have added her own poems there). The last lines mean “'There is more constancy in our sex / Than ever among men has been”, I haven’t been able to translate the rest of it. The poem.

1600s

The Flower's Shadow Behind the Curtain - Ko Lien Hua Ying (somewhere in the 1600s) / It is said this book was written towards the end of the Ming dynasty (1368 to 1644). It’s a erotic book, and chapter 22 includes an erotic story between two 16 year old girls. I found it in Sex in China: Studies in Sexology in Chinese Culture by Fang Fu Ruan (believe it or not, I don’t just randomly know all this books, I did research)

Aphra Behn (1640-1689) / English writer, one of the first female writers to live through her writing. She was also a spy. She wrote a lot about women. “Homoeroticism is standard in Behn's verse, either in descriptions such as these of male to male relationships or in depictions of her own attractions to women. Behn was married and widowed early, and as a mature woman her primary publicly acknowledged relationship was with a gay male, John Hoyle, himself the subject of much scandal.” (here). She wrote a lesbian love poem (in the link before, it also makes an analysis of it). The poem: To The Fair Clarinda

Poems, Protest, and a Dream: Selected Writings - Juana Inés De la Cruz (1648-1695) / So the thing about Juana is than every single spanish-speaking lesbian knows her (and loves her), but hardly anyone who doesn’t speak spanish has ever heard of her, which is a shame, because she’s an absolute icon. She was a Mexican nun who was also incredibly gay. You know how Sappho is called the tenth muse? Juana is also called the (mexican) tenth muse. She’s also called the phoenix of America, which is incredibly badass. She learnt how to read at 3 years old, at 8, she asked her mother to send her to college dressed as a man (her mother refused). She learnt and studied by her own, because she wanted to learn. She studied by cutting her hair (if she got something wrong or forgot something, she cut a strand of her hair as a punishment) because she said that “a head adorned with hair is worthless if it’s a head naked of ideas”. When she was sixteen (important to note than she already spoke Latin fluently at 12, having mastered it in just a few lessons) the archbishop Payo Enríquez de Rivera heard of her, and decided to ask her to be the company lady of his wife (his wife and her eventually would have a relationship) and decided to test her intelligence. He got 40 (!!!) university profesor of all subjects, and they all asked her questions related to maths, literature, philosophy, etc. She answered all of them right. At around 21, she decided to become a nun (not out of faith, but because it was either becoming a nun and being able to continue her education, or marrying a man and stop studying. To her, the choice was clear). Also it is said she owned around 4000 books in her personal library. So yeah, an educated, extremely intelligent gal, who wrote lesbian love poems to her gf, and who was definitely not afraid to stand up for herself.

1700s

The Game of Flats - Nicholas Rowe? (1715) / Poem, “game of flats” was an 18th century slang for lesbian sex. Link to read <- that website includes lots of 18th century queer history and poems like this one

The Sappho-an - Anonymous (1735 or 1749) / When I first heard of this I couldn’t believe it. It sounds like an AO3 fanfic, or some modern erotic book (one of those than have a real person in the cover), or maybe a forgotten 1970s lesbian book. It’s none of that. It’s an anonymous poem written in the 1700s. The plot? The goddesses of Olympus are sexually unsatisfied because the gods keep on going after mortals (except Ares, he’s just too busy with war) instead of paying attention to them. The gods keep going after woman and male mortals, so Hera just says yknow what if they can sleep with men then we can sleep with each other. Sappho also appears. Link to read.

Fanny Hill, Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure - John Cleland (1742) / Ok fine, this one is not sapphic but the main character (female) does have sex with a woman at one point. This is basically an erotic novel. Very dirty (specially for the time period) and very banned in lots of places. The main character is Fanny, a prostitute. It includes lots of straight sex, some gay (mlm) sex, and two pages where Fanny describes in detail having sex with Phoebe, bisexual prostitute. Not sapphic, but thought it was worth mentioning.

1810s

Christabel - Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1816) / So, have you heard of Carmilla (1872)? If you’re reading this post, you probably have, if you haven’t, it’s a classic (vampire) book than is said to have inspired Bram Stoker to write Dracula. It’s also incredibly gay. Well, some say it was Christabel than was the inspiration for Carmilla. Of course we don’t know this for sure, but the similarities definitely are there. Review from a reader: “what if we were the protagonist and villain of a never-completed sensual gothic poem (and we were both girls) / alternately: when you meet a wickedhot girl only she's SPOOKY but that's SEXY and turns out your dad and her dad were also gay back in the day before having a sexy gay falling-out and she's like 'babe let's get naked and hold each other close' and you're like '—wait fuck I mean uhhhh I PRETEND I DO NOT SEE IT!'” I haven’t read this one, however for what it seems Christabel is not explicitly a vampire. Since the poem is unfinished we don’t know the end, and we just think she’s a vampire because so many things used in here were also reused for vampires characterization (like not being able to enter a house unless invited)

1830s

Mademoiselle de Maupin - Théophile Gautier (1835) / “A woman uses her incredible beauty to captivate both d'Albert, a young poet, and disguised as a man, his mistress, Rosette. In this shocking tale of sexual deception, Gautier draws readers into the bedrooms and boudoirs of a French château in a compelling exploration of desire and sexual intrigue, and gives voice to a longing which is larger in scope, namely, the wish for completeness in oneself.”

1870s

Mademoiselle Giraud, My Wife - Adolphe Belot (1870) / “The sensational Mademoiselle Giraud, My Wife tells of the suffering of a naive young man whose new bride will not agree to consummate the marriage. Eventually he learns from an acquaintance, to his amazement, that their wives are lovers.” In reviews it says than this is a homophobic novel (who’s surprised) but “Christopher Rivers argues in his introduction that the protagonist's homophobic attitude toward lesbianism is ironically linked to his intimate homosocial bonds with men”

1880s

Jill - Amy Dillwyn (1884) / “Jill is the story of an unconventional heroine—a gentlewoman who disguises herself as a maid and runs away to London in search of adventure after her mother dies and her father is pursued by a Victorian gold-digger. Once in London she uses her position as lady's maid to become close to her mistress. Her life above and below stairs is portrayed with irreverent wit in this fast-paced story, but at the centre of the novel is Jill's unfolding love for the woman she works for. On the surface a feminist manifesto, Jill is a poignant story of same-sex desire and unrequited love. A new introduction tells the autobiographical story on which the novel is based —the author's own passionate attachment to a woman she called her wife, but who she couldn't have.”

Mephistophela - Catulle Mendès (1889) / “Telling the story of Baronne Sophor d'Hermelinge, a woman as thoroughly martyrized by her creator as any other heroine in the history of fiction, in spite of the enormous competition for that title established by countless writers, male and female, it is one of the archetypal novels of the Decadent Movement, and one of the most striking, precisely because is it such a discomfiting piece of writing, the deliberately controversial nature of which has been further enhanced as its surrounding social context has changed over time. Highly influential, especially on the works of such writers as Jean Lorrain and Renée Vivien, Mephistophela, in placing lesbian amour in the foreground of the story, deals forthrightly and intensively with a literary theme that had previously only been treated with delicacy and indecision, mostly in poetry. It is essentially a horror story about demonic possession, about contrived and cruel damnation, devoid even of a Faustian pact, which merely employs obsessive lesbian desire as an instrument of damnation.” Goodreads review: “As a story it is quite straightforward. Girl has same-sex desires and the novel follows her various affairs up to about the age of thirty. […] More controversially, Stableford (and the books blurb) suggests that it is a novel of demonic possession. Now Brian has probably forgotten more than I will ever learn about the period but a few of the episodes show distinct Charcotian traits (an early childhood 'illness', two doctors in conversation etc) and a (really great) fantasy/visionary episode in the book seems to show, to me, the influence of Michelets book on witchcraft. If anything, the book seems even more subversive that Stableford suggests, as Sophie seems largely 'out and proud' and the author often says that she is 'is as she is' suggesting to me that it is 'natural' rather than demonic. I wonder whether the publisher asked Mendes to add some suggestion of the demonic to 'tone down' the idea that people were actually like 'that'.”

1890s

Avant la nuit / Before the dark - Marcel Proust (1893) / Short story (seriously, less than 10 pages). I read it the other day before bed and it’s pretty good. Talks about Françoise, a woman, revealing her homosexuality to her friend Leslie.

A Sunless Heart - Edith Johnstone (1894) / “Its first third focuses on Gasparine O'Neill, who shares an intense connection with her sickly twin brother, Gaspar. Living in poverty, the two struggle to live decently until Gaspar dies. Here gritty naturalism gives way to fantasy, as Gasparine is rescued from despair by the brilliant Lotus Grace, a much-admired teacher at the local Ladies' College. Sexually exploited from the age of twelve by her sister's fiancé, Lotus cannot love anyone, not even her illegitimate child. Gasparine devotes herself to Lotus, but Lotus finds her final brief happiness with a woman student, Mona Lefcadio, a passionate Trinidadian heiress. Exploring issues of race, sexuality, and class in compelling prose, A Sunless Heart is a startling re-discovery from the late- Victorian era. The appendices to this Broadview edition provide contemporary documents that illuminate the tension between romantic friendship and lesbian consciousness in the novel and address other debates in which the novel the nature of Creole identity, the education of women, and the dangers of childhood sexual exploitation.”

The Songs of Bilitis - Pierre Louÿs (1894) / Poetry. However, believe it or not, these were not written by a woman but by a man. Why add it then, well, the story is quite original. The author (Pierre Louÿs) published this verses as written in Ancient Greece by a “disciple of sappho” named Bilitis. He created this whole character, she was a woman, she was a poet, she was a sappho disciple, her work has been lost until now, and she was a huge lesbian. Of course, this is not true, but still, it’s an interesting read. “Between their open celebration of lesbian love and the eventual revelation of their true authorship—the verses actually were written by French novelist and poet Pierre Louÿs—they became a succès de scandale. Although debunked as a work of antiquity, The Songs of Bilitis remains a classic of erotic literature.”

1900s

A Woman's Affair - Liane de Pougy (1901) / "Despite her beauty and her riches, Annhine de Lys, one of the most notorious courtesans of 1890s Paris, is bored and restless. Into her life bursts Flossie, a young American woman, and everything changes. The love she offers Annhine is dangerous, perverse and hard to resist. Ignoring the warnings of her best friend, Annhine encourages the affair."

I Await the Devil's Coming - Mary MacLane (1902) / “Mary MacLane's I Await the Devil's Coming is a shocking, brave and intelectually challenging diary of a 19-year-old girl living in Butte, Montana in 1902. Written in potent, raw prose that propelled the author to celebrity upon publication, the book has become almost completely forgotten. In the early 20th century, MacLane's name was synonymous with sexuality; she is widely hailed as being one of the earliest American feminist authors, and critics at the time praised her work for its daringly open and confesional style. In its first month of publication, the book sold 100,000 copies--a remarkable number for a debut author, and one that illustrates MacLane's broad appeal.” She’s pretty sapphic and claims her (female) lit teacher is her true love. Also an excerpt from a Goodreads review: “She awaits the Devil to come and marry her and bring happiness if only for three days, meanwhile rehearsing suicide. She prays to the Devil to deliver her from “unripe bananas; from bathless people; from a waist-line that slopes up in the front" but offers sensuous instructions on how to eat an olive, and enjoys porterhouse steaks and fudge she makes with brown sugar. It's quite a ride. Many recent reviewers pigeonhole her as an ahead-of-her-time Goth or emo, simply transcribing an eternal and universal teen angst.”

Q.E.D. - Gertrude Stein (1903) - Autobiographical short story about a love triangle between three women; Adele (Stein), Mabel, manipulative and wealthy, and Helen, who seduces Adele.

A Woman Appeared To Me - Renée Vivien (1904) / I have no idea how to explain this book other than it's all I ever wanted and it has an absolutely breathtaking prose. Think of The Picture of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde’s writing style and descriptions, the character's philosophy, and the queer toxic relationships in the book. Now make it lesbian and even more explicitly queer. Also I'm pretty sure the main characters want to fuck Sappho. On the second chapter the main characters + some side characters (all women + one guy) are having a discussion (a symposium of sorts) about how much they love sappho and how believing she married a man is stupid and how they don’t hate men, just really dislike them, and the guy says: "Mademoiselle, you are trying to hide from the irresistible seduction of the male. You will certainly finish your love-life in the arms of a man." And our main character being an icon finished the chapter answering him this: "That would be a crime against nature, sir. I have too much respect for our friend to believe her capable of an abnormal passion!". It’s so good. I have seen mixed opinions on this one, but I’m just gonna say: the girls than get it, get it. Everything by Renée Vivien is so good, but this is her only full novel I think (she also wrote poems and short stories). If you have to read only one book out of all the books in this post, let it be this one.

Zezé - Ángeles Vicente (1909) / Not translated (I think) but it’s the first lesbian novel written in Spanish which is pretty cool (even cooler than it was written by a woman who, in 1909 (or around it) divorced her husband and lived through her writing). The plot is basically, the narrator (the author) is on a ship and shares the cabin where she’s staying with another woman, Zezé, a cuplé singer, who tells her about her life (her childhood in a religious school, where she discovered her sexuality with had a relationship with another (female) student, her life in Madrid as an adult and living life as a woman, etc)

1910s

Despised & Rejected - Rose Allatini (1918) / A gay man and a lesbian are friends during WWI, which they are against (an anti-war novel). I think the book is in the perspective of the gay man, but his friend is also a main character.

The Scorpion - Anna Elisabet Weirauch (1919) / A review by a reader: “This book felt more like historical fiction than a novel actually written in 1919-1932, considering the explicitly lesbian relationships and coming of age and coming out style narrative. The story follows the life of Metta, a lesbian who grew up with a controlling family in Berlin. The narrative follows her from her first crush on her manipulative governess, to her first love the older and intelectual Olga, and her foray into the gay scene in Munich and beyond. The story isn't without suffering and it isn't just a love story despite how much you might want it to be. Definite trigger warnings for suicide (not Metta), poor mental health, homophobia and general cringe comments due to the time of writing. But the point of the book is for Metta to find a way to be, a way to live her life comfortably and happily, essentially to find herself.”

1920s

The Bacheloress - Victor Marqueritte (1922) / “Monique is an emancipated French woman who leaves home to escape a marriage of convenience to a man whom her parents have forced on her. She then succumbs to all sorts of carnal temptations including a lesbian love affair with a singer. The scandal provoked by Victor Margueritte's La Garçonne, here translated as The Bacheloress, led to its author having his legion d'honneur revoked, which only propelled this novel about a brazenly independent "new woman" to best-seller status. What was shocking then was not so much the reckless behavior of its heroine, who is depicted as the victim of psychological torment, but the portrait of the corrupt post-WWI society in which she lives. Authentic as Monique is, the types of love she encounters, set against the hostile and contemptuous portrayal of her peers, only amplifies her struggle.”

Yellow Rose - Nobuko Yoshiva (1923) / This is the only book than has been translated by this author, she was a lesbian who wrote Class-S romance (a Japanese book genre of the time, which focused on lesbian / homoerotic relationships between women [so-called romantic friendships], than usually take place in an all-girls boarding school). This specific story talks about a teacher-student relationship. She has other books, one called Yaneura no nishojo (two virgins in the attic) (1919) which isn’t translated, but sounds good, the story “is thought to be semi-autobiographical, and describes a female-female love experience with her dormmate. In the last scene, the two girls decide to live together as a couple. This work, in attacking male-oriented society, and showing two women as a couple after they have finished secondary education presents a strong feminist attitude, and also reveals Yoshiya's own lesbian sexual orientation”.

Freundinnen: ein Roman unter Frauen / Girlfriends: a Novel among Women - Maximiliane Ackers (1923) / Only in German, not translated. Review from an English reader: “This novel—which went through several editions in the 20s before being banned by the Nazis—is uncompromisingly, heartbreakingly queer. The novel tells the story of the love between two actresses in Wiemar Germany, Ruth and Erika. Both women struggle to support themselves on the stage, to live independently, and to come to terms with their love for each other and how they might live and express themselves and their desire.”

Surplus - Sylvia Stevenson (1924) / Review from a reader: “This book should be included in lists of seminal lesbian fiction. Published in 1924, Surplus is the story of Sally Wraith's young adult adventures after the end of WWI, during which period she served as an ambulance driver. The novel is not explicit and dos not detail a physical relationship between Sally and her romantic friend Averil but Sally refers to Averil as her "dream girl" with whom she wants to spend the rest of her life. This novel was published before Radclyffe Hall's Well of Loneliness , which is often hailed for its early negative portrayal of homophobia. But I find it compelling that Sally's love for Averil is not treated as deviant. It's just tragic for any babydyke to fall in love with a straight girl!”

The Captive - Eduard Bourdet (1926) / Theatre, “Irène is a lesbian tortured by her love for Madame d'Aiguines, but pretending engagement to Jacques (man). Though Irène attempts to leave Madame d'Aiguines and marry Jacques, she returns to the relationship, saying that it is "a prison to which I must return captive, despite myself". Madame d'Aiguines is not seen in the play, but leaves behind nosegays of violets for Irène, as a symbol of her love.” Read here

Women Lovers, or The Third Woman - Natalie Clifford Barney (1926) / “This long-lost novel recounts a passionate triangle of love and loss among three of the most daring women of belle époque Paris. In this barely disguised roman à clef, the legendary American heiress, writer, and arts patron Natalie Clifford Barney, the dashing Italian baroness Mimi Franchetti, and the beautiful French courtesan Liane de Pougy share erotic liaisons that break all taboos and end in devastation as one unexpectedly becomes the "third woman."

HERmione - H.D (1927) / “This autobiographical novel, an interior self-portrait of the poet H. D. (1886-1961) is what can best be described as a find, “a posthumous treasure”. In writing HERmione, H.D. returned to a year in her life that was peculiarly blighted. She was in her early twenties—a disappointment to her father, an odd duckling to her mother, an importunate, overgrown, unincarnated entity that had no place... Waves to fight against, to fight against alone... “I am Hermione Gart, a failure” —she cried in her dementia, “I am Her, Her, Her.” She had failed at Bryn Mawr, she felt hemmed in by her family, she did not yet know what she was going to do with her life. The return from Europe of the wild-haired George Lowndes (Ezra Pound) expanded her horizons but threatened her sense of self. An intense new friendship with Fayne Rabb (Frances Josepha Gregg), an odd girl who was, if not lesbian, then certainly of bisexual bent, brought an atmosphere that made her hold on everyday reality more tenuous. This stormy course led to mental breakdown, then to a turning point and a new beginning as her own true self, as Her"

Lucia Sánchez Saornil (1895 - 1970) / Spanish poet, putting her here because she’s part of generation ‘27. Read her Wikipedia page because she’s literally iconic (I can’t put the link here for some reason). I love her so much. She was an anarchist and very revolutionary. She wrote under a pen name to be able to explicitly write about women and lived with her partner (América Barroso) until she died. I haven’t been able to find an English translation of her writing, but I do have found a French one, so better than nothing

Dusty Answer - Rosamond Lehmann (1927) / Coming of age story of Judith Earle, sensitive, lonely, who grew up as an only child, but with 4 neighbors (all cousins) to make her company (and eventually harbor romantic feelings for). Then she moves to college, where she meets Jennifer and enters a relationship with her. Although the relationship is not explicitly romantic.

Ladies Almanack - Djuna Barnes (1928) / “Written as a medieval calendar, Ladies Almanack is a clever parody of the crazy sapphic circle of Natalie Barney and her Académie des Femmes. Sharp, biting, witty and transgressive, it is also a modern and pioneer in his vision of lesbianism and the issues surrounding relationships between women. The emotional endogamy, transvestism, motherhood, marriage or differences between sex and gender are already presented in the book with a charge of irony and acidity that is rare in the treatment of the topic. And it is also a breath of fresh air, an essential reference to know the world of lesbian women in all its breadth and diversity.”

1930s

The Angel and the Perverts - Lucie Delarue-Mardrus (around 1930) / "Set in the lesbian and gay circles of Paris in the 1920s, The Angel and the Perverts tells the story of a hermaphrodite born to upper class parents in Normandy and ignorant of his/her physical difference. As an adult, s/he lives a double life as Marion/Mario, passing undetected as a lesbian in the literary salons of the times, and as a gay man in the cocaine dens made famous by Colette." Technically not lesbian, but it’s “set in the lesbian cercles of Paris”

Broderie Anglaise - Violet Trefusis (1935) / Technically not a lesbian novel, but by a sapphic author. Do you know about Virginia Woolf and Vita Sackville-West? Of course you do, everyone does. However, do you know than Violet Trefusis used to be Vita’s lover? They dated as teens and again as adults. There’s this whole gay toxic romantic circle between Violet, Vita, and Virginia. Violet wrote this book where she’s basically adding Vita, Virginia, and herself into the characters and dissing them. The plot centers on an encounter between Alexa, a celebrated English writer (Virginia), and her rival, Anne (Violet), and their discussion about their mutual lover, Lord Shorne (Vita).

Summer Will Show - Sylvia Townsend Warner (1936) / Sophia Willoughby's husband has a mistress who he cheats on her with. So she grabs him and packs him up to Paris with his mistress. She'll raise their children and he can have his mistress all day long if he wants, what she wants is to not see him. Sadly, her children die, and she goes to Paris, where she'll find her husband's mistress, and the two of them start an affair with eachother.

Diana: A Strange Autobiography - Diana Frederics (1939) / “«This is the unusual and compelling story of Diana, a tantalizingly beautiful woman who sought love in the strange by-paths of Lesbos. Fearless and outspoken, it dares to reveal that hidden world where perfumed caresses and half-whispered endearments constitute the forbidden fruits in a Garden of Eden where men are never accepted». This is how A Strange Autobiography was described when it was published in paperback in 1952. The original 1939 hardcover edition carried with it a Publisher's This is the autobiography of a woman who tried to be normal. In the book, Diana is presented as the unexceptional daughter of an unexceptional plutocratic family. During adolescence, she finds herself drawn with mysterious intensity to a girl friend. The narrative follows Diana's progress through college; a trial marriage that proves she is incapable of heterosexuality; intelectual and sexual education in Europe; and a series of lesbian relationships culminating in a final tormented triangular struggle with two other women for the individual salvation to be found in a happy couple.”

1940s

Hidden Path - Elena Fortún (somewhere around the 1940s) / Maria Luisa grows up on 1910s/1920s Spain. She is a peculiar girl, one who despises wearing dresses and wants to dress as a sailor, who could spend all day reading, who loves painting, and who swears she will never marry. Oh, and she's also a lesbian. Based on the author's life Maria Luisa is kind of the author's alter ego, and it follows her from childhood to adulthood while dealing with a world not created with people like her in mind. (Not published until 2016)

El Pensionado de Santa Casilda / The Boarding School of Saint Casilda - Elena Fortún (somewhere around the 1940s) / This book is not translated, but if you know spanish I recommend to pick it up. A group of 14/15 year old girls who go to the same spanish all-girls boarding school, and they are all in love with each other. It follows them into adulthood and how they navigate their lives being women and lesbians in the past (Not published until 2022). Messy lesbians at its finest. Like, seriously. Lesbians still in love with their ex and not over their first love, dating their friends and their ex friend, and the ex of their friend, and having sugar mommies, etc etc

1960s

Winter Love - Han Suyin (1962) / “As a college student in London during the bitterly cold winter of 1944, Red falls in love with her married classmate Mara. Their affair unleashes a physical passion, a jealousy, and a sense of self-doubt that sweep all her previous experiences aside and will leave her changed forever. Set against the rubble of the bombed city, in a time of gray austerity and deprivation, Winter Love recalls a life at its most vivid.”

The Chinese Garden - Rosemary Manning (1962) / “A "very intelligent, sensitive, and compelling" novel of adolescent rebellion and sexual awakening at a girls' boarding school (Anthony Burgess). Set in a repressive British girls' boarding school in the late 1920s—where not only sexuality but femininity is squashed—the novel is the coming-of-age story of sixteen-year-old Rachel, a sensitive, bright, and innocent student. Rachel finds refuge from the Spartan conditions, strict regime, fierce discipline, and formidable headmistress at Bampfield in a secret garden. She also finds friendship there, with a rebellious girl named Margaret. As Margaret has her mind expanded by a scandalous tome entitled The Well of Loneliness, she engages in a bold, forbidden act—the ultimate transgression at Bampfield—and Rachel is drawn into the turmoil. Confronted with the persecution of her friend and troubled by a growing awareness of her own sensuality, Rachel faces an imposible choice that drives her to desperate measures.”

The Microcosm - Maureen Duffy (1966) / “At the House of Shades, Matt, a bar-room philosopher, tries to make sense of the disparate lives which cross here -- of Judy who saves herself and her finery for a Saturday night lover, of Steve the gym teacher who dreads a chance encounter with a pupil in this twilight environment, and of Matt herself, who needs these vicarious exchanges despite the security of her relationship with Rae and her sense that this lesbian sanctuary is a prison too, enforcing the guilt and estrangement of the city streets beyond. Elsewhere there are women such as Marie, trapped within an unwanted marriage and unable to admit her sexuality, and Cathy, for whom the discovery that she is not 'the only one in the world' is an affirmation of her existence. With its innovative structure and style, perfectly mirroring the voices and experiences of women forced by society to live on the margins, The Microcosm remains as powerful today as when originally published in 1966.”

1970s

Beginning with O - Olga Broumas (1977) / A poetry collection by a lesbian, greek writer.

The Same Sea as Every Summer - Esther Tusquets (1978) / A stream-of-consciousness type book, by an author who has been compared to Virginia Woolf. “Poetic and erotic, El mismo mar de todos los veranos ( The Same Sea As Every Summer ) was originally published in Spain in 1978, three years after the death of Franco and in the same year that government censorship was abolished. But even in a new era that fostered more liberal attitudes toward divorce, homosexuality, and women's rights, this novel by Esther Tusquets was controversial. Its feminine view of sexuality (in particular, its depiction of a lesbian relationship) was unprecedented in Spanish fiction. The disillusioned narrator of The Same Sea As Every Summer is a middle-aged woman whose unhappy life prompts a journey into she past to rediscover a more authentic self. However, events force her to realize that love or trust will inevitably be repaid by betrayal. This pattern assumes various forms in a story that moves forward as well as backward, playing out in Barcelona among the haute bourgeoisie. Richly textured with allusion, The Same Sea As Every Summer is also a commentary on post-Civil War Spanish society by an author who grew up during the repressive Franco regime.”

Así es: Mi vida 3 - Victorina Durán (somewhere in the late 1970s) / So, not translated but has great historical value. Basically, this is the third book out of Victorina’s memories that she wrote in the 70s. Victorina (1899 - 1993) was so cool. She was an icon. She was a sceneographer, a painter, a costume designer, writer (aside from her memories, she has some theatre plays), etc. She actually wanted to be an actress. She was part of the Círculo Sáfico de Madrid (the sapphic club of Madrid, a club made out of her and her friends, who were sapphic) among others. She never hid her sexuality. She was friends with almost all the importante well known people in 1920s / 1930s Spain. This book is the third one out of her memories, and it’s focused explicitly on her relationships (all with women). She said she wanted to focus on them and give them a book of their own, so this is of great historical value, giving insights into the queer spaces, lesbian scene, wlw relationships and being gay at that time. I need to read it so bad if someone has a pdf please tell me I’ll send them my fanfic wips

1980s

On Strike against God - Joanna Russ (1980) / “A lost feminist masterwork by feminist and speculative fiction icon, Joanna Russ, about a young lesbian's coming-to-consciousness during the social upheaval of the 1970s. When Esther, a recently divorced professor, has her first lesbian love affair, the fallout brings her everyday miseries into focus and precipitates a personal crisis. She flees her small, upstate New York college town, grapples with gender confusion and the ghosts of therapists past, and fumbles her way through comedic sexual self-discovery, oscillating all the while between visionary confidence and debilitating self-doubt. Confronted with the homophobia of straight feminists and the misogyny of gay men, Esther is left to forge a language for her feminism and her burgeoning lesbian desire. On Strike Against God is quintessentially experimental but accesible, alternately wry and earnest, poignantly didactic, playful, and emotionally charged.” From a review: “For anyone like me who's unfamiliar with the quote which inspired the title: A judge was sentencing a picketer from the early twentieth century shirtwaist-makers strike (the first large scale strike by women), and he told her, "You are striking against God and Nature, whose law is that man shall earn his bread by the sweat of his brow. You are on strike against God!"

Faultline - Sheila Ortiz Taylor (1982) / “An outrageous, zesty, funny Lesbian novel; the adventures of a Lesbian mother with six children, three hundred rabbits, and very relaxed attitude."

The Swashbuckler - Lee Lynch (1985) / "Frenchy Tonneau leaves her closeted home in the Bronx for the bars of New York City, the freedom of Provincetown, and the liberation of Greenwich Village in the 1960s and 1970s. Her hangouts, her women, her small yet universal world tell the stories of the times - and the stories of lesbians today. A timeless journey and a riveting read, The Swashbuckler is heart-wrenching, heartwarming, and unforgettable." Butch main character, lesbian life in the 60s/70s, lesbian-feminism, butchfemme, etc.

Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Café - Fannie Flagg (1987) / listen, LISTEN, I know this book is not obscure, absolutely not given it even has a movie adaptation, but people do not give this book the love it deserves. I'm constantly thinking about Idgie and Ruth, they are one of my favorite fictional couples ever, and also my favorite lesbian fictional couple. They are such interesting characters with such an interesting dynamic and I just love them so so much. A femmebutch couple in 1920s Alabama, who go through many hardships but still find eachother, still end together, and even have a restaurant, live together, and raise a kid. And not only them, but the book is made out of 4 main characters (or 3 depends on if you see Ninny as a main character or not), Idgie, Ruth, and Ninny and Evelyn. Evelyn, an 80s depressed housewife in her 40s finds solace and a true friend in Ninny, a 90 year old woman staying at a nursing home (not ‘cause she needs it, but to keep a friend company). Ninny tells her the story of Idgie (her, kind of, sister) and Ruth, her best friend and lover. Evelyn finds feminism and hope through the memories, getting inspired by Idgie and Ruth's story and becoming happier in her life. It has several points of views and it jumps between years (first 1980s, then 1920s, then 1940s, then 1980s again, etc) and it also talks a lot about racism in 1920s Alabama, and i'll just stop because I love this book so much and i could go on forever. Oh, and also they murder a man and feed him to a police officer.

Lovers' choice - Becky Birtha (1987) / A collection of eleven short stories about lesbian women.

1990s

Out Of Time - Paula Martinac (1990) / Susan finds an old photograph album with pictures from the 1920s, all pictures being of a group of women (four in total). She's told it's not for sale, but she steals it anyway. After some digging, she finds out than two of the girls from the photos were lovers! And not only is Susan trying to navigate the details of her life and of her relationship with her own girlfriend, but she obsesses over the women in the picture, and eventually, the spirits of the girls start to haunt her.

The Gilda Stories - Jewele Gomez (1991) / Gilda escaped from slavery in the 1850s, until she's taken by a vampire who (consensually) turns her into a vampire too. Gilda moves through the decades finding community and connections and helping people, and slowly builds a place for herself in time. (Fine, not actually obscure since I’ve seen it all around the internet, but it just sounds so good)

Annabel and I - Chris Anne Wolfe (1996) / Plot summed up by a reader: “Half-orphaned Jenny-Wren spends her summers at her uncle Jake's fishing lodge on Lake Chautauqua. One summer day when she's twelve years old while boating with her uncle, she finds a girl on the end of a dock reaching futilely for her escaped model boat. Jenny swims over and rescues the boat, meeting the orphaned Annabel, spending her summers at her grandmother's summer estate. This begins a friendship that endures and grows for years as the two girls spent each summer together, only to be separated at the end of summer. As the two grow older, they realize a magic is at work that keeps bringing them together, despite the near century between them. As the summers come and go, the two young women discover their love for each other, and the realization that their love is imposible. Can their love persist beyond those fleeting summers and flourish, in the face of time?”. Review from a reader: “The foreword says this book is for all wlw, and that, "Because there are as many different ways to love a woman as there are women who love women; it's the loving, not the label, that really matters." That really captured the core of what this book does, it treasures the love we create with our bare hands for and with another woman.” A time travel romance (Jenny is from the 1980s, Annabel from 1890s)

Ain't Gonna Be the Same Fool Twice - April Sinclair (1996) / Bisexual mc. “Jean "Stevie" Stevenson, the indomitable heroine of "Coffee Will Make You Black," is back—somewhat older and wiser, with some experience and a college degree -- diving headfirst into the hot tub, free love, yoga, and vegetarian lifestyle of 1970s San Francisco. In this liberating new world of raised consciousness, mind-expanding, and disco-dancing, a soul sister with passion and daring has room to experiment with life and love to find out who she "really" is.”

Beyond the Pale - Elana Dykewomon (1997) / “The story of two Jewish women living through times of darkness and inhumanity in the early 20th century, capturing their undaunted love and courage in luminous and moving prose. The richly textured novel details Gutke Gurvich's odyssey from her apprenticeship as a midwife in a Russian shtetl to her work in the suffrage movement in New York. Interwoven with her tale is that Chava Meyer, who was attended by Gurvich at her birth and grew up to survive the pogrom that took the lives of her parents. Throughout the book, historical background plays a large part: Jewish faith and traditions, the practice of midwifery, the horrific conditions in prerevolutionary Russia and New York sweatshops, and the determined work of labor unionists and suffragists." While it is a romance, it's also more than that, it's about the life of Jewish women in the 20th century.

Crystal Diary - Frankie Hucklenbroich (1997) / “Frankie Hucklenbroich's razor-edged, compelling, often wryly humorous story hustles us from the blood-and-beer-drenched corners of her St. Louis meat-packing district '50s youth, through the sex-soaked Hollywood alleys of her '60s baby butch years, into the druggy metropolis of '70s San Francisco. Moving relentlessly from one woman to another until faces and bodies blur, scamming her existence, learning what the street has to how to make a buck, how to make it with a woman, how to court the dangers of crystal meth, how to survive.”

Hers 3 - Terry Wolverton (1999) / Short stories

2000s

Valencia - Michelle Tea (2000) / "Valencia is the fast-paced account of one girl's search for love and high times in the drama-filled dyke world of San Francisco's Mission District. Through a string of narrative moments, Tea records a year lived in a world of girls: there's knife-wielding Marta, who introduces Michelle to a new world of radical sex; Willa, Michelle's tormented poet-girlfriend; Iris, the beautiful boy-dyke who ran away from the South in a dust cloud of drama; and Iris's ex, Magdalena Squalor, to whom Michelle turns when Iris breaks her heart."

Naked in the Promised Land: A Memoir - Lillian Faderman (2003) / “Born in 1940, Lillian Faderman is the only child of an uneducated and unmarried Jewish woman who left Latvia to seek a better life in America. Lillian grew up in poverty, but fantasised about becoming an actress. When her dreams led to the dangerous, seductive world of the sex trade and sham-marriages in Hollywood of the fifties, she realised she was attracted to women, and that show-biz is as cruel as they say. Desperately seeking to make her life meaningful, she studied at Berkeley; paying her way by working as a pin-up model and burlesque dancer, hiding her lesbian affairs from the outside world. At last she became a brilliant student and the woman who becomes a loving partner, a devoted mother, an acclaimed writer and ground-breaking pioneer of gay and lesbian scholarship. Told with wrenching immediacy and great power, Naked in the Promised Land is the story of an exceptional woman and her remarkable, unorthodox life.”

Her Naked Skin - Rebecca Lenkiewicz (2008) / Theatre. “Militancy in the Suffragette Movement is at its height. Thousands of women of all classes serve time in Holloway Prison in their fight to gain the vote. Amongst them is Lady Celia Cain who feels trapped by both the policies of the day and the shackles of a frustrating marriage. Inside, she meets a young seamstress, Eve Douglas, and her life spirals into an erotic but dangerous chaos. London 1913. A crucial moment when, with emancipation almost in sight, women refuse to let the establishment stand in their way.”

The Rain Before it Falls - Jonathan Coe (2008) / “A story of three generations of women whose destinies reach from the English countryside in World War Il to London, Toronto, and southern France at the turn of the new century. Evacuated to Shropshire during the Blitz, eight-year-old Rosamond forged a bond with her cousin Beatrix that augured the most treasured and devastating moments of her life. She recorded these memories sixty years later, just before her death, on cassettes she bequeathed to a woman she hadn't seen in decades. When her beloved niece, Gill, plays the tapes in hopes of locating this unwitting heir, she instead hears a family saga swathed in promise and the story of how Beatrix, starved of her mother's affection, conceived a fraught bloodline that culminated in heart-stopping tragedy—its chief victim being her own granddaughter. And as Rosamond explores the ties that bound these generations together and shaped her experience all along, Gill grows increasingly haunted by how profoundly her own recollections--not to mention the love she feels for her grown daughters, listening alongside her-- are linked to generations of women she never knew. A stirring, masterful portrait of motherhood and family secrets, "The Rain Before It Falls" is also a meditation on the tapestries we weave out of the past, whether transcendent or horrific.”

2010s

When We Were Outlaws - Jeanne Cordova (2011) / "A sweeping memoir, a raw and intimate chronicle of a young activist torn between conflicting personal longings and political goals. When We Were Outlaws offers a rare view of the life of a radical lesbian during the early cultural struggle for gay rights, Women's Liberation, and the New Left of the 1970s. Brash and ambitious, activist Jeanne Cordova is living with one woman and falling in love with another, but her passionate beliefs tell her that her first duty is "to the revolution".—to change the world and end discrimination against gays and lesbians."

Call Me Esteban - Leila Kalamuié (2015) / “With unapologetic vividness, Lejla Kalamujic depicts pre- and post-war Sarajevo by charting a daughter coping with losing her mother, but discovering herself. From imagined conversations with Franz Kafka to cozy apartments, psychiatric wards, and cemeteries, Call Me Esteban is a piercing meditation on a woman grasping at memories in the name of claiming her identity.”

Lancelot: Her Story - Carol Anne Douglas (2015) / Arthurian legend retelling! "A young girl sees a man rape and murder her mother. She grabs a stick and puts out his eye. Her father raises her as a boy so she will be safe from men's attacks. She practices and practices until she becomes a great fighter - Lancelot. She wants to protect women—and she does. Lancelot hears about King Arthur, a just king across the sea, and journeys to earn a place at Camelot. She vows to serve him. but fears that Arthur and his men will discover that she is a woman and send her away. Lancelot is shocked to realize that she is falling in love with the king's wife, Guinevere. Guinevere is a strong woman who would have preferred to be queen in her own right, not through marriage. Saxons attack Arthur's kingdom, and Lancelot finds out that fighting a war is far different from saving women in single combat. The savagery of war devastates her, she is living a lie, but she is also deeply in love…”

Jigsaw Youth - Tiffany Scandal (2015) / “Lose your best friend because you finally Came Out. Spend days driving aimlessly because there's nothing to do. Serve your rapist breakfast because you need your job. Fall asleep to gunshots and sirens because that's the only sense of home you've ever known. Hold hands with ghosts. Your life is in pieces, but you can't be broken. Wipe off the blood. Tired of being told who to be, what to wear, how to act and who to fuck. Break the rules and learn fast how to never get caught. All you need is nothing, but you're happy with your car, guitar and camera. Throwing around polaroids of tits like they're money, you swap stories about adventures and realize that we're all running away from something.”

Creatures of Will & Temper - Molly Tanzer (2017) / Recommended as a sapphic picture of dorian gray retelling, it tells the story of Dorina (hedonistic, art lover, and woman-kisser), her older sister Evadne (fencer and responsable), Lady Henrietta (suit-wearing, cigar-smoking lesbian who is a horrible influence), and Basil, Dorina and Evadne's uncle, and who's character has not changed much. They also summon demons.

The Adventures of China Iron - Gabriela Cabezón Cámara (2017) / “1872. The pampas of Argentina. China is a young woman eking out an existence in a remote gaucho encampment. After her no-good husband is conscripted into the army, China bolts for freedom, setting off on a wagon journey through the pampas in the company of her new-found friend Liz, a settler from Scotland. While Liz provides China with a sentimental education and schools her in the nefarious ways of the British Empire, their eyes are opened to the wonders of Argentina's richly diverse flora and fauna, cultures and languages, as well as to the ruthless violence involved in nation-building. This subversive retelling of Argentina's foundational gaucho epic Martín Fierro is a celebration of the colour and movement of the living world, the open road, love and sex, and the dream of lasting freedom. With humour and sophistication, Gabriela Cabezón Cámara has created a joyful, hallucinatory novel that is also an incisive critique of national myths.”

2020s

Thirst - Marina Yuszczuk (2020) / “Across two different time periods, two women confront fear, loneliness, mortality, and a haunting yearning that will not let them rest. It is the twilight of Europe's bloody bacchanals, of murder and feasting without end. In the nineteenth century, a vampire arrives from Europe to the coast of Buenos Aires and, for the second time in her life, watches as villages transform into a cosmopolitan city, one that will soon be ravaged by yellow fever. She must adapt, intermingle with humans, and be discreet. In present-day Buenos Aires, a woman finds herself at an impasse as she grapples with her mother's terminal illness and her own relationship with motherhood. When she first encounters the vampire in a cemetery, something ignites within the two women-and they cross a threshold from which there's no turning back. With echoes of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein and written in the vein of feminist Gothic writers like Shirley Jackson, Daphne du Maurier, and Carmen Maria Machado, Thirst plays with the boundaries of genre while exploring the limits of female agency, the consuming power of desire, and the fragile vitality of even the most immortal of creatures.” Lesbian vampires!

The Lives We Left Behind - Olivia Bratherton-Wilson (2021) / I read this one so long ago and I don’t remember everything with detail, just than I really liked it. “1943. Seventeen-year-old Dorotea Miller is given the responsibility of managing the family farm when her father and brother are conscripted, leaving her with only her distant mother and the unfamiliar Land Girls for company. Angeline Carter and her four younger brothers are evacuated to the Welsh countryside to escape the bombings; the Miller farm is nothing like they've seen before and certainly more than Angeline bargained for when she meets the surly, unwelcoming farmer's daughter. Despite their rocky start, misunderstandings and tragedies, Dorothea and Angeline realise that their friendship may run deeper than either of them had prepared for.” There is also a sequel! That one I haven’t read tho.

Agatha of Little Neon - Claire Luchette (2021) / "Agatha has lived every day of the last nine years with her sisters (the other nuns) : they work together, laugh together, pray together. Their world is contained within the little house they share. The four of them are devoted to Mother Roberta and to their quiet, purposeful life. But when the parish goes broke, the sisters are forced to move. They land in Woonsocket, a formermill town now dotted with wind turbines. […] Agatha is forced to venture out into the world alone, to teach math at a local all-girls high school, where for the first time in years she will have to reckon with what she sees and feels all on her own. Who will she be if she isn't with her sisters? These women, the church, have been her home--or has she just been hiding? […] It is a novel about female friendship and devotion, the roles made available to us, and how we become ourselves." Lesbian nuns

Burning Butch - R/B Mertz (2022) / A butch lesbian memoir of their life growing up catholic and surviving in the world, while dealing with faith and what it shape it takes to them.

London on My Mind - Clara Alves (2022) / So, the English translation just came out! Funny thing is, I started this in 2022 even tho I don’t know Portuguese (translating paragraph by paragraph with google translate) and it was pretty good. I haven’t finished it (translating a whole book with google translate is definitely work) but I’m so ready to read it now that it’s translated. Dayana (seventeen, black, plus size, and Brazilian) is forced to move to London with her father (who abandoned her mother and her) and his new family after her mother died. She’s having a pretty horrible time, until, on a walk, finds a redhead girl… escaping Buckingham Palace?? So of course, she helps her escape. Who exactly is this girl? Why was she escaping?? The answer, her name is Diana and she’s sort of (super) the princess of Wales. Huh.

Helen House - Kayla Kumari Upadhyaya (2022) / “Right before meeting her girlfriend Amber's parents for the first time, the unnamed narrator of Helen House learns that she and her partner share a similar both of their sisters are dead. As the narrator wonders what else Amber has been hiding, she struggles with her own secret--using sex as a coping mechanism--as well as confusion and guilt over whether she really cares about Amber, or if she's only using her for sex. When they arrive at the parents' rural upstate home, a quaint but awkward first meeting unravels into a nightmare in which the narrator finds herself stranded in a family's decades-long mourning ritual. At turns terrifying and erotic, Helen House is a queer ghost story about trauma and grief.”

Promises in Pompeii - Violet Morley (2022) / Set in Ancient Rome, it tells the story of two girls, Octavia and Helvia, childhood friends, and their journey through life as women and through their feelings. In the author ig, she said it includes: adventure/survival, against the odds, brothels, butch/femme, coming of age, disguised as a man, first love, friends to lovers, opposites attract, etc. I’m currently reading it, and I really like it so far.

Nettleblack - Nat Reeve (2022) / “Subversive and playful, Nettleblack is a neo-Victorian queer farce that follows a runaway heir/ess and an organisation of crime-fighting misfits as they struggle with the misdeeds besieging a rural English town. The year is 1893. Having run away from her family home to escape an arranged marriage, Welsh heiress Henrietta “Henry” Nettleblack finds herself ambushed, robbed, and then saved by the mysterious Dallyangle Division - part detective agency, part neighbourhood watch. Desperate to hide from her older sisters, Henry disguises herself and enlists. But the Division soon finds itself under siege from a spate of crimes and must fight for its very survival. Assailed by strange feelings for her new colleague - the tomboyish, moody Septimus - Henry quickly sees that she's lost in a small rural town with surprisingly big problems. And to make things worse, sinister forces threaten to expose her as the missing Nettleblack sister. As the net starts to close around Henry, the new people in her life seem to offer her a way out, and a way forward. Is the world she's lost in also a place she can find herself? Told through journal entries and letters, Nettleblack is a picaresque ride through the perils and joys of finding your place in the world, challenging myths about queerness - particularly transness - as a modern phenomenon, while exploring the practicalities of articulating queer perspectives when you're struggling for words.”

Sunburn - Chloe Michelle (2023) / In Ireland, the early 1990s, Lucy feels out of place in her small town. She falls in love with her best friend and she has to find a way to find herself, make a meaning out of her feelings, and hide the truth from her conservative small town and religious peers.

Lucky Red - Claudia Cravens (2023) / "A vibrant and cinematic debut set in the American West about a scrappy orphan who finds friendship, romance, and her true calling as a revenge-seeking gunslinger." Lesbian cowboys

Neon Roses - Rachel Dawson (2023) / “Eluned Hughes is stuck. It's 1984 in a valley in south Wales: the miners' strike is ravaging her community; her sister's swanned off with a Thatcherite policeman; and her boyfriend Lloyd keeps bringing up marriage. And if they play '99 Red Balloons' on the radio one more time, she might just lose her mind. Then the fundraising group Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners comes down from London, and she meets June, a snaggle-toothed blonde in a too-big leather jacket. Suddenly, Eluned isn't stuck any more - she's in freefall. June's an artist and an activist, living in a squat in Camden. With June, Eluned can imagine a completely different - and exciting - life for herself. But as her family struggles with the strike, and her relationship with her sister deteriorates, should she really leave it all behind? From the Valleys to the nightclubs of Cardiff, London and Manchester, NEON ROSES is a heartwarming, funny and a little bit filthy queer coming-of-age story with a cracking '80s soundtrack.”

Tale of Three Ships - Darcia G. Laucerica (2023) / “In a world under the thumb of an empire, pirates sail away searching for a breath of freedom. But even the ocean is tainted by the powerful nation that has spread lies about women being bad luck at sea. Glenlivet has never cared about the fear-mongering. Her ship welcomes those who are rejected and need a home. For all the sailor' s superstitions and "codes" of piracy the captain mocks every day, not leaving the docks when it's dark is a personal boundary she swears by ever since acquiring The Outsider about eight years ago. She just might have to break her own rules to protect her crew, escape the claws of a king who wants her dead, and murder the man who raised her.” I’ve heard so many good things about this. Lesbian main character, with mlm and trans side characters. Author in social media said it includes: Chosen pirate family, sirens, indigenous and latine inspired characters, anti-colonialism, and people fighting injustice and abuse.

How to Breathe Ash - Alex Nonymous (2023) / “Eleanor Perrault doesn't know if there's a right way to handle being suddenly orphaned at sixteen, but it's definitely not the way that she's been coping with it. It's been two months since her parents died and despite her autism normally causing her to be even more emotionally volatile than most of her peers, she still hasn't even managed to cry over them yet. On top of trying to learn how to grieve properly, Eleanor's juggling starting a new semester in a new town with an aunt who seems eternally disappointed in her and a cousin who's randomly decided to start hating her. And a crush on the incredibly pretty president of her new school's QSA. How to Breathe Ash is a contemporary YA Cinderella retelling following Eleanor through elaborate dances, anonymous chat rooms, and learning the right way to not be alright.” Autistic mc! While I haven’t read anything from this author (yet) they have lots of wlw/nblw/nblnb books with autistic main characters.

War and Solace: A Tale from Norvegr - Edale Lane (2023) / “A battle-hardened shieldmaiden. A pacifist healer. Can the two find love amid the chaos of war? From Edale Lane, the award-winning, best-selling author of Sigrid & Elyn, comes a new Tale from Norgevr! Tyrdis is a stalwart warrior raised to value honor, courage, and military prowess. When a traumatic injury renders the powerful protector helpless, she depends on the lovely, tender-hearted Adelle to restore her from the brink of death. Is it merely gratitude or true love that draws Tyrdis to the healer? Defying cultural norms, Adelle despises violence and those who propagate it, but when her shieldmaiden patient saves the life of her beloved little girl, she must reexamine her values. Could Tyrdis be more than a stiff, efficient killer with an amazing body? In a kingdom steeped in conflict with their neighbors and internal strife, shocking secrets are revealed, and both women strive to ensure justice prevails. Can they overcome their differences to safeguard their friends, end the war, and fall in love, or will fate prove to be a cruel sovereign?” Historical fiction set during 643. The author also has another two sapphic books set in the same time period.

Maddalena and the Dark - Julia Fine (2023) / “A novel set in 18th-century Venice at a prestigious music school, about two girls drawn together by a dangerous wager Venice, 1717. Fifteen-year-old Luisa has only wanted one thing: to be the best at violin. As a student at the Ospedale della Pietà, she hopes to join the highest ranks of its illustrious girls' orchestra and become a protégé of the great Antonio Vivaldi. Luisa is good at violin, but she is not the best. She has peers, but she does not have friends. Until Maddalena. After a scandal threatens her noble family's reputation, Maddalena is sent to the Pietà to preserve her marriage prospects. When she meets Luisa, Maddalena feels the stirrings of a friendship unlike anything she has known. But Maddalena has a secret: she has hatched a dangerous plot to rescue her future her own way. When she invites Luisa into her plans, promising to make her dreams come true, Luisa doesn't hesitate. But every wager has its price, and as the girls are drawn into the decadent world outside the Pietà's walls, they must decide what it is they truly want—and what they will do to pay for it. Lush and heady, swirling with music and magic, Maddalena and the Dark is a Venetian fairytale about the friendship between two girls and the boundless desire that will set them free, if it doesn't consume them first.”

Greasepaint - Hannah Levene (2024) / “Set against a backdrop of 1950s New York, this experimental novel follows an ensemble cast of all-singing, all-dancing butch dykes and Yiddish anarchists through eternal Friday nights, around the table, and at the bar. In one of many bars, Frankie Gold sings while Sammy Silver plays piano after a day job at the anarchist newspaper. The Butch Piano Players Union meets in the corner next to the jukebox. Laur smokes on the back steps, sweaty thigh to thigh with Vic. Frankie's childhood sweetheart, Lily, turns up at yet another bar to see a second Sammy play every Friday night. And before all that, there's always dinner at Marg's. Fabulated out of oral histories, anthologies, as well as the fiction of the butch-femme bar scene and Yiddish anarchist tradition, Greasepaint is a rollicking whirlwind of music and politics- the currents of community embodied and held inside the bar.”

Perfume & Pain - Anna Dorn (2024) / “A controversial Los Angeles author attempts to revive her career and finally find true love in this hilarious nod to 1950s lesbian pulp fiction. Having recently moved both herself and her formidable perfume bottle collection into a tiny bungalow in Los Angeles, mid-list author Astrid Dahl finds herself back in the Zoom writer's group she cofounded, Sapphic Scribes, after an incident that leaves her and her career lightly canceled. But she temporarily forgets all that by throwing herself into a few sexy distractions—like Ivy, a grad student who smells like metallic orchids and is researching 1950s lesbian pulp, or her new neighbor, Penelope, who smells like patchouli. When Astrid receives an unexpected call from her agent with the news that actress and influencer Kat Gold wants to adapt her previous novel for TV, Astrid finally has a chance to resurrect her waning career. But the pressure causes Astrid's worst vice to rear its head—the Patricia Highsmith, a blend of Adderall, alcohol, and cigarettes-and results in blackouts and a disturbing series of events. Unapologetically feminine yet ribald, steamy yet hilarious, Anna Dorn has crafted an exquisite homage to the lesbian pulp of yore, reclaiming it for our internet—and celebrity-obsessed world”

How It Works Out - Myriam Lacroix (2024) / “Surreal, darkly comic and achingly tender, Myriam Lacroix's debut sees a queer love story play out in many alternate realities. What if you had the chance to rewrite the course of your relationship, again and again, in the hopes that it would work out? After Myriam and Allison fall in love at a show in run-down punk house, their relationship starts to unfold through a series of hypotheticals. What if they became mothers by finding a baby in an alley? What if the only cure for Myriam's depression was Allison's flesh? What if they were B-list celebrities, famous for writing a book about building healthy lesbian relationships? How much darker-or sexier-would their dynamic be if one were a power-hungry CEO, and the other her lowly employee? From the fantasies of early romance to the slow encroaching of violence that unravels the fantasy, each reality builds to complete a brilliant, painfully funny portrait of love's many promises and perils. Equal parts sexy and profane, unsentimental, and gut-wrenching, How It Works Out is a formally inventive, arresting, uncanny exploration of queerness, love, and our drive for connection, in any and all possible worlds.”

All the Painted Stars - Emma Denny (@a-kind-of-merry-war) (2024) / “Oxfordshire 1362. When Lily Barden discovers her best friend Johanna's hand in marriage is being awarded as the main prize at a tournament, she is determined to stop it. Disguised as a knight, she infiltrates the contest, preparing to fight for Jo's hand. But her conduct ruffles feathers, and when a dangerous incident escalates out of Lily's control, Jo must help her escape. Finding safety with a local brewster, Lily and Jo soon settle into their new freedom, and amongst blackberry bushes and lakeside walks an unexpected relationship blossoms. But when Jo's past caches up with her and Lily's reckless behaviour threatens their newfound happiness, both women realise that choices must always come at a cost. The question they need to ask is if the cost is worth the price of love…” The cover of the edition coming out in November is SO pretty and lately I’ve been looking for medieval sapphic books like crazy.

Gentlest of Wild Things - Sarah Underwood (2024 - out august 15th) / So this book is by the same author as Lies We Sing to the Sea, and I’m in no rush to read that book (a so-called odyssey retelling even tho the author has admitted to never actually reading the odyssey??) but this one looks compelling. “On the island of Zakynthos, nothing is more powerful than Desire-love itself, bottled and sold to the highest bidder by Leandros, a power-hungry descendent of the god Eros. Eirene and her beloved twin sister, Phoebe, have always managed to escape Desire's thrall. Until Leandros' wife dies mysteriously and he sets his sights on Phoebe. Determined to keep her sister safe, Eirene strikes a bargain with Leandros: if she can complete the four elaborate tasks he sets her, he will find another bride. But it soon becomes clear that the tasks are part of something bigger; something related to Desire and Lamia, the strange, neglected daughter Leandros keeps locked away. Lamia knows her father hides her for her own protection, though as she and Eirene grow closer, she finds herself longing for the outside world. But the price of freedom is high, and with something deadly-something hungry- stalking the night, that price must be paid in blood…” The author said that “Gentlest of Wild Things is a sapphic vampiric twist on the story of Eros and Psyche”

The End Crowns All - Bea Fitzgerald (2024 - out on July 18th) / “Princess. Priestess. The most beautiful girl in Troy. Casandra is used to being adored - and when her patron god, Apollo, offers her the power of prophecy, she sees an opportunity to rise even higher. But when she fails to uphold her end of the agreement, she discovers just how very far she has to fall. No one believes her visions. And they all seem to be of one girl - and the war she's going to bring to Troy's shores. Helen fled Sparta in pursuit of love, but it's soon clear Troy is a court like any other, with all its politics and backstabbing. And one princess seems particularly intent on driving her from the city before disaster can strike... But when war finally comes, it's more than the army at their walls they must contend with. Casandra and Helen might hold the key to reweaving fate itself - especially with the prophetic strands drawing them ever closer together. But how do you change your future when the gods themselves are dictating your demise?” Sapphic retelling of the iliad where Helen and Kassandra end up together

If asked, I’ll also do one with gay books

(No 1950s lesbians because I don’t like pulp fiction :( )

[familyabolisher]

hi!! i hope you’re having a lovely day :-) i really enjoy reading your blog and how you pick apart Things & was wondering if you have any tips and guides for reading and analyzing poetry? ive always struggled w forming coherent thoughts abt poems and would love to know how you approach it. thank you sm for your time ✨

so the big thing that made poetry "click" for me was realising that i was trying to read it the way i might try to read a novel -- identify a discourse taking place, look for points in the text that supplement my argument, construct a position on what the piece is "about" based on these points -- all very undergrad essay-core and frankly a v boring way to think about novels as well, but like, completely mind-numbing when it came to poetry. i think a better approach is to interface with the poem at the level of language and technical construction. i find that it helps a lot to know the technical terms for particular phenomena in the language of poetry, but even without that shorthand knowledge, you'll get a lot out of poetry when you start looking at the choices being made at the level of individual words or even syllables. so instead of asking "what is this poem about?", we can start to ask, for instance:

what is the tone of this poem? is it sparing or loquacious? emotional or detached? asking questions or answering them? what's the vantage point - is this a detached omniscient third-person narrator making observations, or are we as the reader being guided towards a particular perspective on the part of the speaker?

what is the mouthfeel of this poem? can you find any 'shapes' -- any assonance, any internal rhyming, alliteration, anything that causes you to pay attention to particular words, phrasing, etc. why is your attention being called to those moments?

what is the rhythm of the poem? is it free verse -- if so, can you find any points in the piece where more or less attention to rhythm is being paid? why does the line break on this particular word? are the sentences short or long? how is the poet interfacing with their chosen meter? what does this meter lend to the poem? if you're reading multiple works by the same author, compare their use of meter -- do they use the same meter regularly or switch it up, and why were those switches made?

if you can annotate a poem, do so. note down anything which seems linguistically interesting, even if you don't know the "correct" technical word for it -- any clusters of words with similarities whose placement might be interesting (eg. what words are rhymed!), any noteworthy rhythmic discrepancies, placement of line breaks, anything that sticks out. i like to think of reading poetry as a playful exercise -- you're playing around with the words, seeing how they work, enjoying the rhythm and texture of the piece as it comes to you, and trying to construct "a reading" only after the fact.

i think there are times when the reading-for-a-discourse approach can be v helpful and illuminating, but it's best to stumble on those opportunities organically rather than focusing all your energy on trying to answer the "what is this trying to say?" question. if a particular discursive component of a poem sparks your interest (like eg. you read the rime of the ancient mariner and notice how the poem interfaces with contemporaneous abolitionist discourses as well as colonialist ideas about polynesia, just as an example), you've obviously got a compelling hook from which you can anchor a reading, but going in expecting such a reading to jump off the page will often just result in frustration.

this doesn't mean that we don't take the discourse of a poem seriously, or that we don't understand the "rules" of poetry to be postdiscursive phenomena highly contingent on social context. if anything, understanding poetry at a mechanical level opens up significant doors for answering these types of questions -- we can understand, for example, the reactionary nature of the academic revolt against free verse and the desire to return to metered poetry better once we understand the function of form and structure in fascist aesthetics. similarly, spending this kind of time with a poem makes it a lot easier to get a handle on what it might be "about," and what sort of choices are being made to render that "about"ness coherent.

also -- and this is true of anything, including poetry -- if a poet isn't working for you, try reading somebody else. a lot of poets that people will say are good and interesting are neither of those things. poetry has the advantage of being (usually!) a quick read compared to novels, so it's far easier to shop around, read widely, realise what you like and dislike, and engage accordingly.

one of my favourite pieces of literary criticism and examples of the value of this sort of reading practice comes from nabokov's epilogue to lolita, in which he both defends the novel in question against accusations of salacity and speaks very disparagingly of efforts to read a thesis statement into it. he writes:

Every serious writer, I dare say, is aware of this or that published book of his as of a constant comforting presence. Its pilot light is steadily burning somewhere in the basement and a mere touch applied to one’s private thermostat instantly results in a quiet little explosion of familiar warmth. This presence, this glow of the book in an ever accessible remoteness is a most companionable feeling, and the better the book has conformed to its prefigured contour and color the ampler and smoother it glows. But even so, there are certain points, byroads, favorite hollows that one evokes more eagerly and enjoys moretenderly than the rest of one’s book. I have not reread Lolita since I went through the proofs in the spring of 1955 but I find it to be a delightful presence now that it quietly hangs about the house like a summer day which one knows to be bright behind the haze. And when I thus think of Lolita, I seem always to pick out for special delectation such images as Mr. Taxovich, or that class list of Ramsdale School, or Charlotte saying “waterproof,” or Lolita in slow motion advancing toward Humbert’s gifts, or the pictures decorating the stylized garret of Gaston Godin, or the Kasbeam barber (who cost me a month of work), or Lolita playing tennis, or the hospital at Elphinstone, or pale, pregnant, beloved, irretrievable Dolly Schiller dying in Gray Star (the capital town of the book), or the tinkling sounds of the valley town coming up the mountain trail (on which I caught the first known female of Lycaeides sublivens Nabokov). These are the nerves of the novel. These are the secret points, the subliminal co-ordinates by means of which the book is plotted—although I realize very clearly that these and other scenes will be skimmed over or not noticed, or never even reached, by those who begin reading the book under the impression that it is something on the lines of Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure or Les Amours de Milord Grosvit. That my novel does contain various allusions to the physiological urges of a pervert is quite true. But after all we are not children, not illiterate juvenile delinquents, not English public school boys who after a night of homosexual romps have to endure the paradox of reading the Ancients in expurgated versions.

It is childish to study a work of fiction in order to gain information about a country or about a social class or about the author. And yet one of my very few intimate friends, after reading Lolita, was sincerely worried that I (I!) should be living “among such depressing people” —when the only discomfort I really experienced was to live in my workshop among discarded limbs and unfinished torsos.

[tk-duveraun]

Sy gets transmigrated into an unofficial star wars novel that was mostly porn, but holy shit the aliens were actually aliens? Not just human reskins? And the planets had complex animal ecosystems?

And, of course, it had LBH. The protagonist born from a Jedi-Sith pairing, raised in the weird Jedi knock off acestism and then tormented by his horrible master sqq

Here's the thing though

Here's the thing

Shen Yuan is well-versed in cultivation settings. And he quickly figures out that if you use cultivation training in a knock off cultivation setting, you get way better results than these loser Jedi are with only caring about one half of the balance

So after he is free of the ooc lock, he proceeds to also teach LBH how to use *all* of the energy of the cosmos and act in balance with nature to better defy the heavens.

He drops LBH in the hell of the tomb of the Abyssal Lord knowing his little white sheep will be fine and has had enough Buddhist lessons to maybe not be so angry he performs knock off lingchi on his old master.

Everything's going great!

Except he's not actually a star wars guy... And he was not expecting revanites to start worshipping him like Jesus

Binghe, get out of hell soon and save your poor master!

[dialectical--revolution]

The flash of light it was so bright as if God himself had torched the earth in a rain of holy fire.

I had to close my eyes so I wouldn’t go blind A light enveloped me and I felt myself being judged.

Then the heat came and I felt like I was in hell.

I thought I’m dead I’m going to die This is how I’m going to die

But I didn’t. I survived. I don’t know how… But I survived.

The radiation should have killed me it was a direct blast I should have been ash and dust but I wasn’t. It was a miracle.

Or was it?

Why? Why did I survive? Why was I spared when so many have died?

I was alive even though my body felt like it was on fire.

Every muscle, every organ, my entire body cried out in agony.

There were bodies all around me all ash and dust but not me… and I didn’t know why

I was a survivor of a disaster that changed my life broke my soul and formed me anew

Nuclear radiation filled my cells broke me down and mutated me.

I was no longer Lena the cheerleader and ballet dancer…

I was changed forever.

I looked at my hand Lesions formed and then immediately started to heal

A symbol of hope in a dying world.

Because even in the darkest of times life could go on. We’re human beings… We just struggled on… in even the harshest of circumstances.

We were human.

But I wasn’t anymore. I was something else entirely. However, my human spirit still prevailed against all odds, into the night.