#lgbtfiction

[wikifuck]

Puppylove - Chapter 1 (on Wattpad)  

A vampire arrives in a small town in Kentucky USA and gets swept up in the small town drama. He befriends a human teenage girl and partly due to this, the local werewolf family sends their eldest son to monitor him. The son is hella cute though, and fun to be around... Bonus: A fairytale-style short story of a dog and a cook who cooks for the dog.

A cozy romance novella

This is a 1st draft and so subject to minor changes, though that shouldn’t affect your enjoyment.

[tripstitan]

An Author's Rambling

I'm not really sure how to do this social media'ing thing. I don't use this site, or really have any desire to do so, so I feel like some hack making self-advertisements with the help of guides and AI and stuff, just throwing them into the wind where they'll be seen by no-one, because I don't have a follower base that would reblog them. It might seem self-defeatist to not want to really do the social media thing, but I'm asocial, a hermit, content to not interact with other humans for the most part, plenty neurodivergent. I guess this ramble is also me technically coming out in public pretty widely. Yeah, like Reggie, the narrator/main protag in my webnovel series, I'm an aro-ace with neurodivergencies up the wazoo, disabled in a few ways.

What am I hoping to accomplish? Just to get "An Age of Mysterious Memories" out there to people that need it, that need to be seen, to feel represented. But, like I said, posting here feels like throwing fliers into the wind, hoping that they'll land somewhere that someone picks it up and goes, "Huh, neat, maybe I'll check that out someday when I'm bored or depressed."

I'm actually surprised that a couple of my posts have been seen by at least one person that wasn't on my follower list, which, hey, shoutout to you new fam.

This social media stuff really burns me out and detracts from my writing, but between this, and some pretty-expensive google advertising, I don't know how else to offer up my story to the world.

I don't even care about "conversions" or conversion to click ratio or whatever. I have 0 patrons on Patreon, and that's fine. I've been skating by in life on the thin ice of every new day (Thank you Jethro Tull's Ian Anderson, heh.)

I guess maybe I should ask how I should even do this. Should I get more personal? Post more ramblings, with popular tags, and just hope that those bring traffic, and then hope that that traffic sees that I have a free webnovel up?

A lot of the guides suggest quantity, and a regular posting schedule for this social media stuff that's way too hard for me to keep up without burning out, because I have chapters going up every day or every other day, basically, nonstop. In the approximately two years since i started getting serious with my webnovel series, I've averaged at least a chapter every other day. Some days I write ten to twenty chapters, maybe a few days in a row, then I don't write anything for a month or two, because titling them, posting them, advertising them, burns me out. I could keep writing, forever and ever, even if that means writing chapters I can't post yet (I have so many chapters written for the next volume in my series that it's not even funny.) Or I could write side-projects, or fanfic I guess. I took my first foray into that a while back, and I kind of want to do a reread on my fanfic and plot out a conclusion to it, instead of leaving it hanging like it is. But fanfic isn't my baby, it's not what I want to get seen.

What I want seen is AAoMM, because it's... it's the representation, it's me putting myself out there, my internals, my neurodivergencies into a narrator, my Q status in the lgbtqia, having intrusive thoughts and not acting on them, and just so much more, that I know other people identify with, and honestly need. The representation matters, and I just want to provide that, because I know people who have been, or are hurting, or struggling, or are just in a funk, or depressed, or bored, or any number of things, that share so many of the traits that Reggie carries, that I carry. Several of my readers have said that it feels like the thoughts that are expressed are them in the situations Reggie is in. I don't think I've seen another adventure novel series where we get stream-of-consciousness moment-to-moment inner narration of a neurodivergent narrator that falls into the lgbtq community.

What a niche, right? Except... it's not. We're all having our own inner adventures. We all do have a stream of consciousness, whether we acknowledge it or not, and there are *Tons* of people out there who are neurodivergent in the lgbtqia community. Hell, at this point in Earth's history, I'd be surprised if anyone has survived unscathed without any neurodivergencies, trauma, or panic. We went through a global epidemic, a pandemic. That must have been rough on you peeps out there that actually leave your homes and do stuff with other humans. My sympathy to you guys. I'm a hermit, my life got a little bit easier, because things started allowing web-based doctor's visits, and delivery of groceries, and other stuff to help with social distancing. I'm rambling, but I just want to give AAoMM to everyone who needs it.

I want to nerd out about my webnovel series with people, and answer questions ranging from silly, to heart-wrenching. Why? Because I am in a good place, I've gotten somewhere in life that I feel content, despite all my comorbid things, all the depression and trauma and anxiety and social-phobia and adhd and spectrum'ness and the struggle with identity, especially my AA agendered ace identity, that I've slid around on, and worried I'd invalidated myself over the years, and everything else I've got, gone through, carry around, or deal with. Reggie's narration is that--, that beacon of, no matter how hard things get, what slams your mind with intrusive thoughts, that there's hope, that there's warm, soft times, contented times, happy times, ecstatic times, somewhere along the tunnel that is life's journey. Also that you can slide around on the scale of your agenderness or aromanticness, or your sexuality, and that that's okay, that you still are who you feel you are, or say you are, no matter what others think, that there can be romances and fluff and all kinds of things that are exceptions to rules, whether those rules are imposed by others, or yourself.

It feels like I'd look like I was shilling or pandering though if I interjected all the tags though, for every chapter, because not every chapter does it really come up that Reggie(and most of the inner circle) is at least technically agendered, or that there are several LGB relationships for side characters, or--. Well, it is always pretty evident that Reggie's brain is neurodivergent, we hear every thought that Reggie ever thinks, including the intrusive ones, almost every thought anyway.

But I also sort of want to put AAoMM in front of non-ally neurotypicals who are ablebodied and cishet, and be like:

"God forbid you ever had to walk a mile in our shoes 'Cause then you really might know what it's like to sing the blues" (Thanks Everlast, for those lyrics.)

Not in a malicious way or anything. I don't want them to suffer, I don't want anyone to suffer. Plus, I'm sure they're going through their own things, just like everyone else. I just want to try to remind people to be empathetic to each other, to think for that brief moment, before interacting with another human being, that -they are another human being-. That they deserve to be treated equally to how they're interacting with the world around them, more or less. Everyone deserves human rights, and the dignity of being acknowledged as existing with their own struggles.

I got pretty soapboxy here I guess, probably best if I shut up now and just hit post. (Could you guess that I'm an author by the verbosity of this goofy-arse post that was just supposed to be me semi-ironically whining about social media on social media?)

[queerwriterforever]

Dames In Distress - Chap-1 : Coffee Shop Chaos (on Wattpad) 

 Ganymede is tired. Of life, of the Greek Gods, and especially Zeus. He wants to kill the King of the Gods and then himself, but that would be difficult to do since they are both immortal. During one of his visits to the mortal world, he runs into Apollo. Radiating sunshine (literally), sprouting poetry, playing the lyre and occasionally shooting down monsters, the God Of Healing is instantly hated by the Cupbearer of the Gods - and the feeling is mutual. But as they spend time together and let down their guards, their hatred begins to transform into something completely different - but not without several obstacles along the way. Will they be able to face the storm - or will their story only end in pain?

[badger-00k]

Of Cats, Apples and Old Friends

It was a lovely October morning: a radiant day with a fine weather unspoiled by clouds and a playful breeze to match; indeed it was a day fit for poetry and romance of the highest degree. However, as is the case for most such days, it came at a time where it was less fit to be enjoyed.

In fact on that spry autumn day our dear protagonist was holed up in her room with a steaming mug of tea, pouring over her professor's infuriatingly vague assignments. Mr. Cog had demanded that they take a picture of an apple; but not just any picture, mind you.

"The picture must tell a story. What is this apple? Whence does it come? What is its purpose?"

Olivia, who perhaps naively had heretofore believed apples to be rather straightforward botanical objects was now racking her brain over the platonic ideal of an apple in search of a good idea.

She'd grabbed a handful of different apples from the kitchen basket and had been carrying them around nonstop trying to observe them in different lightings and settings; even sketching them a few times.

It was all for naught. Either the apples were withholding their ethereal secrets out of sheer, unbridled spite (which the superstitious part of her brain was starting the believe, beginning thus a lifelong feud with the fruit) or Mr. Cog was an unbearably pretentious bugger.

Either way her efforts had been all but thwarted for the time being. Olivia glanced sourly at the insultingly blue sky unfolding over her window and stepped away from her desk to refill her empty mug.

As she shouldered past the minefield of laundry baskets and precarious book piles scattered through her room she perceived a fluffy orange thing in the very corner of her eye.

The thing turned out to be a small tomcat perched on a high shelf, his paws tucked under his chest. He looked completely at ease and very, very pleased with himself.

He gave a little trill as their eyes met, and despite her confusion Olivia couldn't help but chuckle.

"How long have even you been here, little guy?" she asked, cautiously offering her hand.

The cat said nothing, but sniffed her hand and smushed his pointy face against it with a purr.

She smiled and scratched under his jaw.

A small can of tuna was fetched for him and was immensely appreciated. Olivia, sitting on her bed, watched him quietly as he lapped up the food.

As if struck by lightning she reached for an apple and with a fat black marker drew a sad face on it.

She set it up on the back of the chair where the feasting was taking place so it looked as though the apple was mournfully looking down at the cat.

Satisfied with her handiwork she snapped a few pictures from different angles. Oddly enough even when he was finished eating he obligingly stood still, smelling the interior of the can as if it were the single most interesting thing in the universe and then just not moving at all.

She didn't have the time to reflect on her luck before being startled out of her thoughts by the doorbell's shrill howl.

On the other side of the door stood a tall, gangly young woman with brown skin and wild black curls that complemented her dusty cargo pants and washed out t-shirt.

Recognition flared up in her brain, but before she could utter the tiniest sound the other girl was already halfway through a speech she seemed to have practiced hundreds of times.

"Hello! Awfully sorry to bother you, I'm looking for my cat. He's a small ginger male, neutered, likes to sneak in houses and dorm rooms. Have you-" her big hazel eyes flung open until they were the size of saucers.

Olivia couldn't help but giggle as the realization slowly dawned on her old friend, and flashed her her signature winning grin as a response.

"What, forgot my handsome face already Amelia dear? High school wasn't that much time ago."

The light brown on the other girl's cheeks darkened slightly.

"Oh, uhm, hey. It's been a while!" She gave her a genuine if slightly awkward little smile.

"Indeed. What can I do you for? Something about a cat?"

"Yes! Have you-"

"Say no more!" Olivia whirled around, scooped up the cat and returned triumphantly to the girl.

"I believe-" she said, showing off the little creature with a dramatic flourish of her arm, "you were looking for this small fellow."

Amelia clasped her hands together and sighed with relief.

"Yes! Thank you. He usually follows me like a shadow, but every so often he decides to strike out on his own and just... hang out with strangers I guess." She shrugged. "Don't know."

She dropped to her haunches and extended her hand to ruffled the top of his head.

"Ay, bobito! Me haces preocupar por nada."

The young artist leaned against the doorframe and bobbed her head to the side like a quizzical little bird.

"Is Bobito his name?" 

"No, I just call him that sometimes. It's... kind of like calling a child little dummy, you know? But  his name is Banjo."

"Aww, how cute!" squealed Olivia, burying her hand in the luxurious fur of the cat's back. 

"It suits him so well!"

Banjo chirped and politely weaseled out of her grasp, hopping by Amelia's side. 

Olivia feigned a noise of distress; then she leaned down, winked, and blew him a kiss. 

The little tomcat straightened his tail and answered with a happy little meow.

For a half minute the tall unkept girl shuffled awkwardly on her feet before finally muttering: 

"Hey, listen. I know we haven't kept in touch but... I don't know man. I liked you- platonically" she added hastily, "-back in school. If you're not busy, would you like to come grab a coffee with me one of these days?"

The clumsy sincerity in her ex classmate's voice warmed Olivia's heart.

"Of course. Hell!" she glanced back at the delightful blue sky unfurling out her window.

"Wanna go now?"

"Wai- now?"

"Yeah! You busy?"

"Not really, but-"

"Then it's settled, innit?"

She whisked over to her closet, grabbed a coat, locked the door behind her and snatched the other girl's wrist before pulling her along and out of the dorms.

"Come on now! I know the *best* coffee shop around here."

[cheyenneisles]

Searching for a new read? LGBTQ+ characters? Drama? Historical fiction? Well, look no further!

"Beards" is a new novel revolving around the complicated lives of two same-sex couples in the 1950s.

[jaybellbooks]

FREE GAY AUDIOBOOK! 🏳️‍🌈 Link/bio! Something Like Summer is a passionate LGBT love story that lasts more than a decade! #gaybooks #lgbtqbookstagram #lgbt #gayart #lgbtqbooks #gaybookworm #gayteens #gaylove #mmromancebooks #gaycomics #gaybook #mmromance #lgbtbooks #gayromance #gayfiction #lgbtfiction #mmromancenovel #mmromancebooks #gaybookstagram #gay #lgbtbook #lgbtreads #jaybell #somethinglikesummer https://www.instagram.com/p/Cokh4zkO0GU/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[ampaulsoncreativeworks]

Under Peacock Feathers - Chapter 2: Where Am I? (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1371219748-under-peacock-feathers-chapter-2-where-am-i?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=AMPaulson&wp_originator=8D8M%2Fi2%2B%2FVwqq%2BzE4t6jeAzy%2F1do0zn%2BcWL1TvU0SLZgz4p7uW7zMm7UO5TW3GqEGjQzglrKWq3QXGqndehvZ%2Fj%2B9bObEOxUHUjNzeLI7I0pvtcIDS1tBGSQj10ToWO%2B Through no fault of her own, sixteen year old Naomi is kicked out of her home. She nearly dies in the middle of a blizzard but is saved by a drag queen named Charlie aka Charlotte le Paon. Naomi find herself a new life with other homeless teens in Charlie's house/ drag theatre Masion Du Paon. There Naomi and her new friends learn about themselves and a love of drag theatre.

[ninalapotatoes]

Faustine getting ready...

Concept art for my futur comics, I hope.

[withgaby]

J'ai regardé... J'ai adoré First Kill sur @netflixfr ! 🤩🥰

Un amour interdit entre Calliopé & Juliette, deux familles qui s'affrontent, les Burns & les Fairmont... 🤔 Ça me rappelle quelque chose... 🤓

Adapté de la nouvelle du même nom de V. E. Schwab, créatrice de la série et réaliser par Jet Wilkinson.

Super série pour le mois de la fierté à regarder au plus vite !

[wikifuck]

You aren't a monolith

I know my ADHD ass needed this reminder, so maybe one of you needed it too: just because all the professionals say that the only way to be taken seriously is to write every day, and to write actual words and not just notes. Just because they say you need to force yourself to finish a project in one go to get anything done doesn't mean that that is true. Just because they are published doesn't mean they know what they are talking about.

I have ADHD, which means I can't force myself to stay on one thing until it's finished. My brain works in cycles, usually, I write fantasy, sometimes I write sci-fi, rarer than that is celebrity drama and rarely it's horror. I can't force myself to write outside of my current mood because if I do, I'm not having fun and the text is dogshit, so I might as well have not written anything at all and I would have paradoxically been more productive!

I'm currently experimenting with a style where I have a WIP to represent each of my moods and I will work on each WIP when that mood comes. I shall report back once the results are in.

Forgotten

So, I have been quiet about my last WIP bc I have been struggling with it. I have been slogging along, writing daily for months, but last week I gave up because it was too painful. I then started a project with a friend where we randomized everything.

It's about a polycule, where the POV character is like an edgy Robin Hood who starts dating their childhood friends, Cruella Devil the tattoo artist, and a scarred war veteran who is a golden retriever in human form. The tone is light and "childish." (We randomized children's literature as one of the genres)

This reminded me that writing, it turns out, is supposed to be fun! Shocking, right?

This is the reason I'm not currently pursuing getting published even tho I wish to do so; I started treating writing as if it were my job even though it's just my hobby. (The avalanche of writing advice only applicable to neurotypical writers didn't help)

[tripstitan]

Be Careful Making Wishes in the Dark

Y'know, for a lot of reasons really, especially since, well, in the end everything collides.

Yup, it sure does. Everything, everywhere, is always colliding, on the subatomic and atomic levels. Speaking of, that's how Reggie developed thermokinesis. Monstrous, isn't it? Reggie's childhood spat back out the monster that you see.

*Whistles innocently.* Sometimes, being the only genre-savvy member of a party, or family, is painful. Yup, really painful.

What's worse is, Reggie's an individual with PTSD. The portrayal I use in-narrative is only slightly dramatized, to help get the point across to other readers that might not be aware of subtler symptoms. Much like most of my writing for this series, it's about expressing and representing people who are underrepresented in escapist fantasy literature, or even just in general. Those of us who suffer these issues can still lead full, rich, even adventurous lives, depending on our symptoms, their severity, our coping mechanisms, our support networks, and a lot of other factors. That's why the severity of Reggie's episodes slides up and down a scale a bit, to display that side of chronic illness, and mental unwellness.

The chapter titled "Save Rock" is up for AAoMM over on RoyalRoad, free as always. Wait'll you guys get a load of the next four or five chapter titles, and their content. Let's just say you're in for either a blast from the past, or at the very least, a blast in general. At least one.

[writingdramaticallyornotatall]

Scene from my novel 4

Read other scenes: 1 || 2 || 3

Three years later, the special forces team caught my parents. I managed to escape; no one paid attention to a pre-teen. That night, my parents entered a dreamscape and spoke to me. 

I sat by the hearth in my tiny family cottage outside the city center of Eldham. Mother and Father joined me on the cushions on the floor. They hugged me tightly, kissing my forehead gently. 

“I’m so sorry, my dear. I am sorry we’re leaving you alone.” Mother mourned, tears welling in her eyes. 

“Heed our words, my sweet child.” Father spoke, the steel in his voice was betrayed by the sadness in his blue eyes. “Do not save us. This must happen. We must die.” 

“Then we all die. Everything dies! You have to let me save you.” I begged.

“No. We are giving you everything, if you’ll have it. The magic is yours. You can carry on, keep everything alive. You might fulfill the prophecy or preserve life for the next cycle.” My father held out his hand. A glowing orb sat in his palm, waiting for me to take it. 

“I’m taking your magic, too, aren’t I?” Father nodded. Mother reached out to grasp my hand. “Memories? Family secrets? Histories?” I asked.

“All of it.” Mother replied, his mouth set firm. 

“Why?” I frowned. I needed to know the answer. But, I didn’t want to. I shuddered as the fire died. 

“When the rooster crows, everything is yours. Darcio will think he’s won. He hasn’t, not truly. He needs to think he’s won. That’s only possible if we die.” Father pried open my fingers and placed the orb in my palm. 

“I’ll need to leave Sakaris for a while, won’t I? Are you certain you can’t come with me?” I plead. 

Mother nodded. “Yes, you’ll need to leave. It’s the only way to make sure you survive. I am so sorry, my sweet chickadee.” 

I sat up straighter, my resolve hardening. “Okay. I love you both. 

“We love you too,” their voices echoed in my head and faded. 

The next day, I watched in horror and anger as Darcio cheered and laughed as my parents burned to death.  He partied and celebrated. His courtiers sang and danced alongside their king. 

As much as I wanted to run and save my parents, I obeyed their instructions. I left Eldham but I couldn’t bring myself to leave Sakaris right away. I watched as Darcio enlisted his special forces to spread terror and fear. I had laughed when I heard that his soldiers ran scared and charred from the Dragon Lands. 

[digitalhime]

Dream Walker (on Wattpad) When the line between dream and reality begins to blur, how do you manage to hold on to what is real, how do you decide what is fake? Waking up isn't as easy as it sounds; even if you know you're asleep in one place, it doesn't mean that the moment you're in can't also be just as real. This is a fact that is becoming hard to deny for a young woman as they navigate the delicate threshold of discovering themselves as an adult in a harsh world and hopping through multiple realities, walking between dreams and dimensions as easily as blinking an eye.

[beforethedawnwattpad]

Before the Dawn - Chapter 32: Sweeter Place (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1220938277-before-the-dawn-chapter-32-sweeter-place?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=brittadaae&wp_originator=inVqzTIqBP64H4E4Gb0enpgBzdY5EBmXzMmLtGUCPCe5NT%2FHfWOdILg9lDC1N%2BWc58ka%2Fc5yap0Xe0JMInfjFNr%2B6drFFgPqEqQX01sdzgD7YRaUMyFD7CLtCmP3lYCl An ambitious ballerina joins the St. Louis Ballet and quickly ascends to the soloist position. After an injury leaves her unable to dance, she takes a job at an art gallery. After this setback, she struggles to adjust to her new life. She then begins to receive help from a secret admirer. Updated every Saturday, information and authors notes will be posted to my tumblr. I can't post the link here, but it is on my profile.

[gaybookpromotions]

🌈 #Bloggers and 📚#Bookstagrammers are invited to join the Book Blast for Bridge at the Beach (A Clyde Smith Mystery #4) by Garrick Jones

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