#sapphic au

[eemamminy-art]

a fleeting illusion, albeit a pleasant one 💜

[becoming-the-bridgertons]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒐𝒇 𝑨𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒚 | 𝒊. 𝑰𝒇 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑪𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝑮𝒆𝒕 𝑯𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆, 𝑺𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝑩𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝑭𝒊𝒏𝒆

pairings. violet ledger x ellie bridgerton

summary. violet asks ellie a big question

word count. 1.3K

warnings. none

note. written in RP style by @shmaptainwrites and @lifesizehysteria

Violet sat on the couch with a small plop, tapping her fingers against her legs as she did so. There was something she wanted to talk about, something she wanted to ask, but her voice had become stuck in her throat. It had been for weeks. 

She wondered if having it trapped there was what made her so fidgety, unable to keep her hands still, her partially dyed blonde hair a frizzy mess from how many times she’d run her fingers through it. She desperately needed to get the words out, but they just weren’t coming, and so she sat there twiddling her thumbs wishing she could telepathically speak to Ellie. Perhaps that would be easier than saying it out loud. 

Ellie was lounging on the couch, her nose stuck in a book and nestled into the corner with her feet propped up on the edge of the coffee table when Violet plopped down next to her. At first she kept on reading, until she noticed how long Violet went without saying something, which was very unlike her, chatterbox that she was. Peeking over the top of the book, she noticed the way her wife’s hands twisted in her lap and the stiffness in her body that was a sure sign of nervousness.

Closing her book, on alert but not yet worried because nervousness was nothing new for her love and did not always indicate a crisis, she pushed Violet’s knee with her foot to get her attention, offering her an easy, affectionate smile.

“Dottie, everything alright?” she asked, knowing if nothing else, the nickname would get her to smile. 

“Hmm,” Violet looked over and chewed on her lip, not quite registering the affectionate nickname. “Oh, I’m fine.” No, she wasn’t.

She almost cursed at herself for being unable to be honest, even when probed, however gently it was. She knew Ellie would be able to tell, she always was, no matter the circumstance. Whether Violet was biting back her anxiety and putting on a very convincing performance that would show otherwise, or even a shift in her demeanour during their routine before bed, Ellie would point it out and drag the information out of her piece by piece. 

“I mean. I am fine,” she finally said. “But I just had…I had something I wanted to ask you.”

When Violet didn’t even smile, Ellie sat up, leaning forward so she was close to her, her mouth turning down into a frown at the corners. Her head tilted to one side as she searched Violet’s face until she answered. 

“What is it?” she asked gently but with a firmness that hopefully conveyed her steadfastness to listen, support, and solve any trouble her love could possibly have. At the same time, she reached to place her hand over Violet’s, squeezing gently to pause their fidgeting. 

Violet chewed on her lip and looked down at her lap where Ellie’s hand was wrapped over hers. She marvelled at how it brought her such calm. She wondered to herself how it was possible to love someone as much as she loved Ellie; that was why she wanted to ask her this. Ultimately, it boiled down to that simple, fundamental thing that pulled them together even when the universe pushed them apart. 

“I…I want a baby,” she whispered. “I know we’ve talked about it here and there, but I…I think I’m ready for that. I just wasn’t sure if you were, too.”

Shock instantly fell over Ellie’s face because, despite years of trying to train it otherwise, her face had not once kept a secret. Whatever she had been expecting, it hadn’t been that. 

“A baby?” she asked, immediately realizing how that sounded when she hadn’t meant it in any sort of judgmental way. She just hadn’t processed that her wife had gone from ‘just thinking about it in the future’ to wanting it right now. It was a lot to take in, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t open to the idea. 

Her face softened into curiosity, and she took both of Violet's hands into her own. “You’re sure you’re ready?” This time her voice matched her heart—inquisitive and genuine, inviting honesty. 

“El, I’ve been thinking about it for months,” she finally admitted. “I feel like it’s calling to me.”

Violet gingerly took Ellie’s hand and placed it on her stomach. 

“Could you imagine it?” Violet was almost beaming at the thought. “Our child, Ellie.”

But just as soon as her smile came it faded again at a thought that flashed through her mind. 

“You don’t think I’m too young, do you? Is that why you’re worried?” she asked, referring to Ellie’s initial reaction. 

Ellie sat with her hand on Violet’s stomach, pressing her palm lightly into it while her eyes went to Violet’s face. Her blue eyes were bright with optimism and excitement, her whole face lit up at the idea, and Ellie’s heart melted into a puddle. A smile burst across her face, and she brought her other hand up to cup Violet’s cheek.

“You probably are. We both probably are. But when has that ever stopped us?” she laughed. 

She rubbed her hand across Violet’s stomach, still beaming as she said resolutely, “If you’re ready, I’m ready.” 

Violet grasped Ellie’s face gently in her hands, pulling her into a tender kiss. Each kiss with Ellie felt like a hope and a dream that was almost in her reach, and this one, which she had been holding close to her heart for months, was finally clasped between her fingers, and she wasn’t letting go. 

“I am just as ready for this as I was when I said I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you,” Violet whispered against Ellie’s lips. “You are my everything, my light, my love. Call me greedy, but I want more of this. Of us.”

Somehow, despite already feeling overwhelmed by it, another wave of love wrapped around Ellie, making her feel as if she were riding high, sailing atop the highest crest over the widest ocean. Violet had always made her feel that way. As long as she had Violet’s love, she could do anything, conquer any obstacle, achieve any dream, because she already had what she wanted most in life. Anything else was just extra. 

She kissed her again, a little deeper, holding her close so that when it ended she was able to rest her forehead against hers.

“A little Violet Ledger,” she mused, her voice full of a daydreamy kind of enchantment. “I can’t wait to get to hold another little piece of you.”

Violet felt overcome with emotion, her thumbs tracing along Ellie’s cheekbones as she took everything in. They were going to start a family. Their family. She sniffled a little, fighting back happy tears before kissing Ellie again, not knowing a better way to respond to her comment. 

“Maybe we should start making some phone calls then?” she suggested, her smile almost crystal clear in her voice. 

Ellie couldn’t help but laugh. The second Violet got an idea in her head, she was already scheming and organizing. Of course, this would be no different.

“I guess so. Nothing like jumping right in, huh?” She booped Violet’s scrunched nose, so endeared by this woman she loved before suggesting she start with a call to her OBGYN, figuring the person who delivered babies probably had the most knowledge on how to go about making one when you couldn’t just do it at home. 

Before Ellie could even breathe, Violet was up and out of her seat, making her way to the phone and looking through her black book to find the correct number before dialing it. She chewed on the inside of her cheek while still looking at Ellie with a wide smile. It truly felt like the beginning of everything.

[pollenallergie]

I feel like, deep down, Chrissy is a massive nerd, but only in secret and usually only about really niche stuff. For example, she could tell you all about ancient Mississippian burial practices, but Star Wars? Meh, that’s never really been her thing. Chrissy knows everything there is to possibly know about famous historical women like Julie d’Aubigny (read: famous historical sapphics), but she doesn’t know the difference between Marvel and DC superheroes. She can tell you exactly what dyes were rare and regarded as being “luxurious” and “extravagant” during the Qin dynasty. However, Chrissy hates playing video games because all the bright colors and flashing graphics make her dizzy. Honestly, the most cliché nerdy thing she’s into is LOTR. Chrissy’s a secret Tolkien fanatic (extra emphasis on secret), she spent her entire childhood dreaming about being an elven princess… and also marrying an elven princess…

[sugarbunbie]

Please have my Good Omens Human Lesbians AU fic

sure enough the lights go out

Summary:

Aziraphale disappears from Crowley's life after they have sex the night of their university graduation. They each move on with their respective lives, and meet again 20 years later when Crowley's quit her job as a lawyer and is now selling flowers in Soho. Will Crowley find out the truth about what happened 20 years ago? Or are some regrets meant to be carried forever?

Rated M, wc 10k

Expect: Angst with a Happy Ending, h/c, intense queer friendship to strangers to lovers

CW: archangels being assholes, smoking as a coping mechanism, heavy alcohol consumption, Crowley's poor self-esteem, dubious consent due to drug use, brief mention of suicidal ideation, fire, non-graphic extensive burns

[bye-bi-girl]

More than the "childhood/best friends to lovers" trope, I like it when two people start dating and are always accompanied by one of their friends. The friend of individual A starts falling for individual B. But they are always just happy to be there. But then A and B eventually have a fallout or A is just not that good to B. So the friend steps up and treats B a lot better. And they start dating. So much pining, so much hurt, so much yearning. But also, SO MUCH comfort, so much love, so much affection and so much soft sex after they both get together.

This is also very much a friends to lover trope for me but elevated😤

[hackedbyawriter]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn Characters: Finn (Star Wars), Poe Dameron Additional Tags: Sapphic Au, Showers, Scars, non-sexual nudity, okay maybe its a tiny bit sexual, Butch Poe Dameron, Butch (Finn Star Wars) Summary:

Tell me, when the party ends Will you still love who I am, I am?

FinnPoe Week Day 2: Sapphic AU

[leannlyre]

*downloads the full game* *turns voices off* *voices male characters in a way to portray them noncanonically as lesbians*

[skyler10fic]

Carol Danvers and Daisy Johnson have been best friends for years. But they each hold secrets that could ruin everything. One night, while snowed in, the truth is revealed.

An early Christmas gift for @isolus-girl, my best shipmate and cheerleader. Happy holidays, friend!

[bye-bi-girl]

Reminds me! I had written a oneshot. There's plant moms in there. If anyone wants to read.

Plant moms plant moms plant moms

The one prompt I managed to get done for caivi week xD

[bbybluemochi]

new OC🎸!

my friend @onzze and I are combining our mutual obsession with 80s classic rock bands with our love for lesbians, so we're creating a fictional band full of them!!!

[blackcur-rants]

Sylvia Jacqueline Carton dove her face into her bowl of noodles, greedily devouring every last inch of her meal with the intensity of a jackal going down on a piece of meat. Her face was absolutely getting messed up and dirty and would probably end up smelling stronger and more pungent than a figgy pudding at Christmas time, but Sylvia didn’t care. It tasted good and that was all that mattered.

And once the meal was finally finished, Sylvia groaned with satisfaction, for that was the most filling meal she had ever had in her entire life. Sylvia had not been poor growing up, in fact quite the opposite. Though being a poor orphan of mixed Irish and Chinese descent growing up in the middle of the rolling fields and tranquil village squares of rural Shropshire had had its difficulties for sure, Sylvia’s aunt Christina had always made sure she was fed and well-cared for as she occupied her strange life of living halfway being the scruffy, dirty village tomcat and the magnificent and noble honours student of the local school. Aunt Christina (the older twin sister of Sylvia’s father Peter Gerald Carton, a rather stout and peculiar but kind-hearted man who had raised Sylvia on his own for the most part after his Hong Kong-born wife Melissa Elaine Sima had died of bowel cancer when Sylvia was four years and three months old before dying himself in a freakish car accident when Sylvia was eight years and seven months old and leaving his sole child in his own sister’s care) had been the bartender at the local pub in their hometown of Upton Magna, and thus had been a master of cooking fabulous and wonderful feasts for her little niece even before she became the girl’s official guardian. As a result of growing up with all of this good food and drink in her life as a grieving and rather lonely but highly intelligent child, Sylvia had always turned to eating and drinking a nice meal or two whenever she was stressed out by something or other, which was honestly rather frequent in the profession where she worked.

“Wow” a friendly and well-meaning voice called out as Sylvia was finishing the last of her broth, “You really were super, super hungry in the aftermath of that case, weren’t you?”

Sylvia stopped for a while before accidentally spitting out all of her remaining broth all over poor Charles Jonathan Stryver’s face. Stryver was somewhat bemused at this turn of events and did nothing much other than just calmly and carefully pick up a towel and wipe the hot soup broth off of his face.

“Yeah, I was” Sylvia responded after not much time, “I don’t know. There was just…something about that woman that just��captured my imagination or something else in me in a way no one else ever has”.

“She does kind of look like you, to be quite honest” Stryver said at last as he finished wiping the last of the soup broth off of his face.

“Yes, I am aware of that” Sylvia said again, “but thank you for stating the obvious, Professor”.

It was true though. Catherine Elizabeth Darnay had gotten stuck inside of Sylvia Jacqueline Carton’s head and just refused to get out of there. There was just something about the way she laughed at some bad, cheesy joke or another, the way she had smiled when Sylvia had gotten her off the hook for whatever stupid, bullcrap charges had been hurled at her for her time as a Red Cross nurse serving in Iraq, as if caring for human life and well-being had made her somehow complicit in the atrocities of Saddam or Osama. There was not much that Sylvia knew about Catherine, only that she had been born in Algeria, the daughter of a French businessman and his Algerian wife, with both of her father and her maternal grandfather having some connection or another to the infamously awful Evremonde Industrial Manufacturing, one of the cruellest and most disgusting military industrial war crime-profiting criminal leagues in the whole entire world. Fortunately though, it seemed to Sylvia at least that Catherine was a good and kind and noble woman who had long since rejected the wicked ways of her vile family and had chosen to be good and kind and just to all of God’s children.

(It’s so funny how I’m for the most part an atheist and yet I still think of Cat Darnay as almost a woman of God Themselves. Must be Aunt Christina’s upbringing again or maybe iit was just being brought up in proximity to a church and having a vicar’s daughter for a first crush).

Of course, it was not to be. Catherine was already deeply, deeply in love with another person, a local nurse from Bloomsbury named Lucine Manette, who was said to be as beautiful and intelligent as they were also gentle and kind and loving. It was said in almost all of London’s finest queer circles that they were the hottest and most eligible panromantic bisexual in all of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. And yet they had never married at all, for they were most prominently invested in taking care of their father Alexandre, a journalist who had attempted to blow the whistle on American war crimes in the first Gulf War and had been imprisoned on Riker’s Island for eighteen years until Lucine had successfully smuggled him out of New York to London in 2011. Sylvia sweated a little and rubbed her left hand through the jet black buzzcut that was her recently cut hair at the thought of both Catherine and Lucine, whose beautiful performances of the feminine gender made Sylvia feel even more than usual like she was the butchest butch who ever butched. Of course, Sylvia was not the super-butch lesbian that either she or her compatriots sometimes imagined her as being. Of course, she had very much been the village tomboy when she was little, always more comfortable running around in tattered jeans and light white t-shirts with a freckled smile on her face as she sat by herself with a book under the old ash trees that made up the forests around her home village of Upton Magna than trying to be a pretty little girl laughing and giggling with the other village children. However, she had never held more “girly” things in all that much contempt. In fact, she had loved the brave and headstrong young women she saw in her childhood princess movies and classic novels even as most of them had worn dresses rather than pants and ended up with hot boys rather than with other beautiful girls. In fact, for most of her childhood, Sylvia had dreamed of moving to the city to find a beautiful, strong woman to take her up into her arms and spirit her away into a new life of wonder and love…only to come to London and find that all of the eligible and beautiful queer women had been taken and she herself was left all alone. And that, sadly, was when her heart had started to turn as cold and bitter as a winter snowstorm, and when she had begun to harden herself to the idea of love and companionship and had resigned herself to the fate of being alone and fairly miserable with only her mentor Professor Charles Jonathan Stryver and her books and Hakkasan food to keep her company through her darkest times.

However, no sooner than Sylvia Jacqueline Carton started on the depths of these musings when she saw none other than Catherine Darnay and Lucine Sophia Manette coming into the Hakkasan and sitting down together on a date. Sylvia was rather reluctant to be seen by them for fear of embarrassing herself in front of both these supremely lovely and most excellent individuals. So instead of even trying to sit in the same vague vicinity as both of these beloveds, Sylvia Jacqueline Carton bolted straight up from the table and ran to the bathroom to gather her thoughts as she stared into the mirror. Once there, Sylvia Carton plopped herself down onto the toilet and tried desperately not to scream loudly at the top of her lungs as she held her head tightly between her hands. Part of her just wanted to quiet down and head silently home through a way that nobody else could see until she could flop down upon her bed and let the tidal wave of emotions ride all over her until she could fall asleep at last…and meanwhile, another part of her just wanted to strip off all of her clothes then and there and scream naked into a mirror until she passed out at last and had to be carried home by Stryver…until she then remembered that the London autumns were, to put it very bluntly, not the warmest and most pleasant experiences in the world, and she decided that being able to get home calmly and quickly was a much, much better thing than being carried home in her birthday suit by her old professor. And so it was that, once the pounding in her ears had died down into a barely audible crawl and once her heart had ceased pounding and settled down into a quiet yet still constantly eternal vibration that kept the human body alive for as long as it could, the lawyer known as Sylvia Jacqueline Carton finally exited the bathrooms of this humble London Hakkasan and reentered into the world of normal conversation.

However, when Sylvia Carton reentered into said world of normal conversation, the conversation that was wholly surrounding her was anything but normal, to put it very, very bluntly. For there was on the restaurant TV screen at the moment a special presentation from the BBC about how national hero John Arthur Barsad had been caught trying to play hanky panky with Jeremiah Isaac Cruncher, a local bank teller for Tellson’s Bank. And one must know, dearest reader, that when your narrator refers to “hanky panky”, they are in fact referring to a massive blow job that Mister Cruncher administered to Mister Barsad and which Mister Barsad had decided to record on video and had accidentally posted to his Facebook account and which was now going viral across the nation.

(And possibly the world, if we’re being quite honest)

[becoming-the-bridgertons]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒐𝒇 𝑨𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒚 | 𝒊𝒊. 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝑵𝒐𝒘 𝑾𝒆 (𝑰𝒎𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒚) 𝑾𝒂𝒊𝒕

pairings. violet ledger x ellie bridgerton

summary. violet and ellie have a small picnic and muse about the future

word count. 3K

warnings. none

note. written in RP style by @lifesizehysteria and @shmaptainwrites

A week had passed since their insemination, and despite her attempts to seem confident about it, anxiety was eating Ellie up. They both wanted this so much, of course, but Violet’s heart was so set on it, and Ellie always wanted to give Violet everything she wanted. So, it killed her to have to just sit and wait and hope, unable to do anything to ensure things went their way. When she had paced the floor of their house enough times to feel like she was wearing a path in the wood, she realized she needed to get out of the house, so she had found Violet and asked if she wanted to go for a drive, which was how they ended up by a riverbank with a picnic made of convenience store snacks, tucked away from the early autumn wind with a blanket wrapped around their shoulders.

Ellie nestled her head down onto Violet’s shoulder as a quiet fell between them.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked softly, mostly because her own mind wouldn’t stop running in circles and the sound of Violet’s voice always helped her find the calm she was seeking.

“Immediately, how good these crisps are. I don’t think I’ve had this flavour before,” Violet said, grabbing the bag and taking a closer look at it. 

She knew that wasn’t really the answer Ellie was looking for, but she thought it might make her smile. She’d noticed how nervous she was acting. Even when they’d lie in bed together at night she’d toss and turn, and Violet could feel her staring when Ellie probably thought she was already fast asleep. 

In truth, she suspected what was on Ellie’s mind was also what was on her mind. A slight nervousness, almost like butterflies flying in her stomach as she wondered whether all of this would work out or whether there would be more hurdles to jump. 

She would be lying if she said she wasn’t aching for a positive result, but she desperately tried to keep in mind that they had the resources to continue trying, to explore other avenues, and for that she was truly grateful. 

“Before the crisps, though, I was thinking about you,” she said quietly while glancing down at her wife. “You’re worried. I can feel it, my love.”

Ellie sighed so heavily she felt like her entire body deflated. She wasn’t quite sure if it was from disappointment that she had been so obvious in her worries and anxieties that Violet had picked up on it so easily, or relief at not trying to hide it anymore. Not that she’d been doing a good job of it, obviously.

“You’re right,” she admitted. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to know. I’m sure you’re nervous enough, and I didn’t want to cause you any more stress.” She turned her head so her nose was pressed against the side of Violet’s neck and closed her eyes, just taking in the smell of her, the warmth that was so familiar it was like coming home every time she felt it.

“You didn’t want me to know?” Violet’s voice was almost sad. “Ellie, you can tell me anything. Even if you think it will stress me out, it doesn’t matter because we can work through it together.” 

She took her hand that was wrapped around Ellie and placed it on her head, smoothing down her beautiful curls before tilting her face up towards her. 

“Whatever happens I have you. That is what matters most to me,” Violet whispered. “And I’m willing to try hard to make this happen and I know you are too, I hope that can ease things for you as it does for me.”

Ellie pressed a soft kiss to Violet’s lips before pulling back and smiling tenderly at her. How she got so lucky to be loved by someone as good and kind as Violet, she would never know. But she did know she planned to never take her for granted. Violet was a once in a lifetime kind of blessing.

“Stress can make it harder to get pregnant, so I don’t want you worrying about me right now. I’m fine. Just anxious, that’s all.” She pulled Violet in against her side a little more firmly, determinedly letting all the worry leave her face so the only things left were love and hope. Hope that they would find out next week that it had worked and that Violet was already carrying their baby. “You’re going to be so bloody cute when you’re pregnant.”

Violet laughed a little at her assertion, her fingers still threaded between Ellie’s curls, scratching lightly at her scalp. 

“Really? What makes you so sure you won’t be sick of me by the end of it? Complaining about sore feet, and back, and well, everything,” she chuckled. “Or midnight cravings? Did you by chance consider the fact that I could very well be an insufferable pregnant woman?” she continued to tease.

As much as Violet loved Ellie, every little compliment made her blush too hard, and she was quick to turn it around into a joke. She’d always had a bit of a self-deprecating sense of humour and she gathered over the years Ellie had gotten more used to it, but still each time she pushed back, insisting the verity of her compliment.

Ellie narrowed her eyes at Violet, though the smile never left her face. Deflecting compliments was a usual tactic for her self-conscious wife, but she had learned not to push too hard, accepting Violet wherever she was at any given time, and this time leaning into the humor.

“Not a single thing you just mentioned would change how cute you’ll be. With your belly all round and your skin glowing and your boobs getting bigger,” she said with a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows. She giggled as she turned enough to get her arm that wasn’t wrapped around Violet’s shoulder over to her stomach, tucking her hand under the hem of her shirt and gliding it across the little rolls that formed from being curled up. “I’m an eldest daughter, my love. There are no demands you could make that are any more absurd than ones I have already fulfilled. I will rub your feet and buy you pickles to put in your ice cream, and I will do it all happily because you will be growing our baby.”

“Our baby,” Violet repeated, placing her hand over top of Ellie’s, only able to feel it through the fabric of her shirt. “God, I’m never going to get tired of hearing that.”

Violet shook her head a little, blonde wisps of hair coming to cover her eyes. 

“I still can’t quite grasp the thought. Us as mothers,” she smiled, but then paused. A small falter, but she didn’t say anything, instead just held onto Ellie a little bit tighter. 

Ellie noticed a slight shift, something so subtle she almost missed it. She watched Violet for a moment, deciding whether or not she should ask. When her wife’s grip on her grew a little stronger but she didn’t take advantage of the lull to say anything, Ellie decided to let it go for now. Perhaps Violet might mention whatever it was on her own, given the right moment. For now, Ellie felt that holding onto the newfound lightness would serve them both best. 

“Mmm.” She accompanied the hum with a little pat on Violet’s hip. “What do we want the baby to call us? Mama and Mummy? Mummy V and Mummy E?” She pulled her hand out from beneath Violet’s shirt, letting it slip down around Violet’s thigh until it settled on the soft innermost part above her knee. “We could go really unconventional and just let them call us by our names,” she teased, knowing Violet would hate it.

“God no,” Violet quickly snapped out of her haze and shuddered. “You can have the baby call you whatever you please but our child will not call me Violet.”

She thought a little more carefully about the names that Ellie had suggested, at least the ones that were more within the realm of possibility. 

“Mummy V and Mummy E are quite cute, but I think the poor child would get confused,” she admitted. “Maybe Mama and Mummy are best.”

She looked down at her wife and traced mindless patterns on the top of her arm, fingers lightly tracing over smooth brown skin that was currently being kissed by sunlight. 

“You look like a Mama to me,” she mused. “My darling Ellie, what a wonderful name to add to your collection.”

Ellie laughed at Violet’s immediate shut it down, pleased with herself for being right that she would hate it. But she was so cute when she was a little fussed, Ellie could never help herself when a teasing opportunity presented itself. 

As Violet continued, she gazed at her, listening intently, soothed almost into a trance by the delicate patterns being traced along her arm. At her final sentiment, Ellie felt a tightening around her heart that caused the slightest glisten to come over her eyes, settling into the corners. Mama, she thought. Somehow, hearing it out loud from the love of her life, it suddenly felt as if that was who she was always meant to be. 

“Mummy and Mama.” She hummed pleasantly at the sound of it. “At least until they’re older and just yell ‘MUM’ for everything and we never know which one of us they need.” She chuckled at the thought, already shaking her head in exasperation. 

Violet chuckled at Ellie’s words, noticing the slight sheen of happy tears making her brown eyes sparkle in the late afternoon sunlight. Whenever they had a quiet moment like this, Violet counted herself lucky. The fact that her first love, who she never thought would even remotely have feelings for her aside from platonic love, was now her wife, and soon, Violet would be carrying their child which she hoped she would have the opportunity to do again. 

“El,” she began softly. “How many kids do you think you want?”

Ellie’s thumb rubbed a path back and forth against Violet’s leg as she tilted her head to one side. She didn’t have a clear answer. While she had always hoped to have kids one day, as a lesbian, she had always known it wouldn’t be a guarantee, so she hadn’t let herself hold onto any certain number. “I’m not sure, if I’m being honest,” she finally said with a shrug. “I’m not sure the number matters too much to me. I figure we’ll know when our family is complete and that’s when we’ll stop. It’s not like we can have one on accident,” she said, laughing. “How many do you want?”

Violet blushed a little when the question was returned to her. Children had always been something she’d seen for herself no matter what route it took to have them. Living in a family of three she’d always had a certain longing for something more than that, something larger. She’d wanted siblings who she could love and hate simultaneously, bicker with and have incredible inside jokes that ran for years. She certainly didn’t want her child to be alone. 

“It’s kind of a big number.” She looked down at Ellie. “I’m not set on it, but it was one of those silly childhood dreams I had.”

Ellie grinned at Violet. Somehow, a big number didn’t seem surprising in the slightest. She knew her history with her family and how much she felt was lacking there. Ellie was lucky to have a family that was supportive and welcoming to her wife, but she was aware that that wasn’t the same as having your own family in your life.

She nudged Violet and challenged, “Hit me with it.”

Violet chewed on her lip looking out towards the river for a moment before looking back at Ellie. 

“Have you ever watched the film Cheaper by the Dozen?”

“Uh, yeah…” Ellie tried so hard not to show her growing concern on her face, but she could feel her eyes widen anyway, and her mouth hung open just a little so she quickly pressed her lips together. Did she want twelve? Ellie was expecting a big number but double digits? That was… well it was a lot. In every way. 

“Oh Christ, I should have clarified,” Violet almost laughed. “I don’t want twelve, that's a lot.”

She squeezed Ellie’s shoulders and kissed her temple, resting her nose there afterwards with a sigh. 

“I just remember seeing how lively that family was. I know it’s a film and it’s maybe not the most realistic, but that craziness. God, I crave it, El. Is that weird?” 

She turned her head against her wife’s, looking out on their outstretched legs that were almost tangled together. 

“I just think it would be nice for it not to be quiet,” she murmured. “Eight, that was my actual number though,” she sighed. “Like I said, it’s just a childish dream.”

Ellie couldn’t help but feel just a little bit of relief. Eight was still a lot but felt more manageable than twelve. 

“I don’t think that’s weird at all,” she said with assurance. “Or childish, for that matter. I think it is exactly like you. I’ve never known anyone with as much love to give as you, and if anyone could handle loving eight children, it’s you, Dot.”

She nudged Violet’s foot with her own. “We’re gonna have to get one of those enormous vans. Or perhaps a school bus,” she was laughing as spoke. “Or two minivans! God, Vi, can you imagine us with matching minivans?”

Violet let out a resounding laugh so full of joy and hope she couldn’t quite hold herself up any longer and fell back onto the blanket, two hands on her stomach to steady herself. 

“I’d love each and every one of them so much,” she sighed once her laughter had settled. “But you’d do that for me? The eight kids and the minivans. I know how much you hate those things,” she teased with another chuckle, looking up at Ellie and reaching out a hand to hold hers. 

Ellie brought Violet’s hand up to her lips, pressing a kiss along the tops of her knuckles, her eyes capturing and holding steady Violet’s ocean blue ones. “I would do anything for you, Vi.” It was said with such reverence and sincerity, she could feel it pulse between them, somehow both heavy and weightless, slowing down time until it felt like it stopped altogether. 

After hearing Ellie’s words, Violet felt like she was drowning in her love. She still couldn’t comprehend how Ellie loved her so fervently despite everything she saw in herself that felt undeserving of her devotion. 

She traced her hand, still resting on the ground, up Ellie’s arm until she cradled her face, encouraging her to lean down overtop of her, meeting her in a teary kiss that held so much love and gratitude. With her wife, Violet always felt cared for, she knew she had someone she could count on, who was looking out for her, who thought that what she wanted was important. She couldn’t say she had experienced that anywhere else. 

“I love you, my darling. More than I think I could ever possibly put into words,” Violet murmured against Ellie’s lips. 

Ellie let her hand glide up from Violet’s leg, over her body until it reached her cheek. She swept her thumb over the sharp crest of her cheek, admiring the freckles sprinkled like sugar around her eyes and across her forehead. She swept a few wisps of blonde hair away, tucking them behind her ear. 

“I hope our baby has your freckles. They are so beautiful.” Laying down beside her, Ellie looked up at the steel blue sky for a moment before turning her head to look at Violet’s profile again. “And your blue eyes, too. That way I can look at the sky even more often.”

Violet turned her head so that she was facing Ellie, an emotional smile painted on her face. She moved Ellie’s hand from where it was tucked behind her ear and placed it over her stomach again, closing her eyes, thinking she could feel something in there. Life, a soul, her baby. 

“I’m trying not to get my hopes up, but it’s really hard not to when you stay stuff like that,” she chuckled, but then tears clouded her eyes. She wouldn’t have said they were unhappy, but trying to put her feelings to the wayside was proving difficult at this moment. “I want this so bad, El,” she whispered. “I want us to have our small, freckled, blue eyed baby and I want them to grow up to be just like you. I want that more than anything.”

“I know, Dottie. Me too. We will,” she said softly, offering as much comfort and reassurance as she could. But she knew how Violet could get so wrapped up in her feelings that she lost her ability to navigate out of them, so she did what she always did—tried to make her laugh and ground her in the moment so she could find her footing. “I mean, I know we can’t custom order them or anything, but we’re bound to get one that looks like you and acts like me. There’s going to be eight! Those seem like good odds,” she said and winked for good measure. 

Violet rolled her eyes and chuckled through her tears, squeezing tighter onto Ellie’s hand. Her humour had always been on the sillier side, but that was one of the things that drew Violet to her in the first place. How she managed to pick out a shy and quiet wallflower and consistently make her laugh and feel good about herself. 

“Very good odds,” Violet quickly wiped away her tears and tried to regain her composure. 

She closed her eyes and let herself feel the wind blow against her, hear the river flowing in front of them, feel the weight of Ellie’s hand against her stomach, holding her, keeping her from drifting, as she always did. And for that moment, Violet felt at peace with whatever would happen. She knew Ellie would be by her side, and in the end, that was enough.

[momoiro-hime]

putting my ocs in every AU i want part. 34791

| Do NOT repost or use without permission.

[pollenallergie]

i take back everything i said, this song is so best friend!closeted!chrissy cunningham coded.

like you’re jealous of her because “oh everyone loves her. everyone adores her. she’s perfect” but deep down it’s not actually jealousy… you’re just insanely in love with her but also insanely confused about that and like hardcore repressing it (and possibly even resenting both her and yourself for it) because you just can’t have these feelings.

it’s the 80’s… and you’re in a small rural midwestern town… you’re already enough of an outcast as it is… you can’t feel like this, not about any girl, not here. you’d be relegated to being a social pariah if anyone found out. however, you especially can’t feel this way about her. chrissy would never forgive you if she found out. she’d hate you. she’d think you’re a creep. the idea of your best friend hating you is somehow infinitely worse than the idea of being a social pariah.

… but chrissy could never hate you. she’s told you that a million times, and yet you never seem to really believe her. but it’s true, she could never hate you. that’s why she still sneaks in through your window every thursday night for your secret movie nights. that’s why she still goes to great lengths to hang out with you, even though she’s not really supposed to.

according to her mother, people like chrissy aren’t supposed to fraternize with people like you; frumpy people, homely people, the kind of people that’ll never make it out of this place, the kind of people who can’t afford to. her fellow cheerleaders feel the exact same way. they think you’re weird and off-putting, they can’t imagine why chrissy would’ve ever decided to befriend you in the first place. none of chrissy’s friends like you, they all pick on you, but not chrissy. no, she would never. and she’s always quick to divert their attention away from you before it gets too bad, and quick to apologize (genuinely apologize) for their behavior the next time she sees you… the next time she finds herself sneaking around behind her parents’ backs, behind her friends’ backs, behind her boyfriend’s back, just to spend time with the person she’s had a crush on since the second grade.

some people say that you never forget your first crush… but, in chrissy’s experience, you never get over your first crush. no, she hasn’t gotten over you. frankly, chrissy doesn’t think she ever will. instead she lies to all her friends and family just to spend time with her first crush. and she finds herself getting so incredibly angry on your behalf whenever someone mistreats you, but she also finds herself completely unable to do anything to help you, to make the torment stop, because she’s a coward and she’s scared, scared of what people will think, scared of what her picture perfect family and her picture perfect friends and her picture perfect boyfriend will think, and yet… chrissy often catches herself daydreaming about what it’d be like to hold your hand in public, in front of everyone, to be yours and for you to be hers…

[inkshine]

I indulged myself and wrote a Macbeth fanfiction where Lady Macbeth is in love with a witch.

[thismaybekleo]

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