#sapphicsept2023

[sapphic-september]

Welcome to Sapphic September 2023!

These prompts are open to any fandom and any medium as long as the works center sapphic, WLW/NBLW, F/F+, or femslash ship(s). There are no other rules — you can use all, some, or only one of the prompts; do one or more a day or spread them out; begin late or post them after September; or mix ‘n’ match prompts; it’s up to you!

Make sure to tag your work(s) with #sapphicsept2023 or #Sapphic September 2023 so that others can find your contributions and to spread the word!

Prompts: {Day 1: parallel worlds; || Day 2: holographic; || Day 3: 3 AM; || Day 4: chrome; || Day 5: kitchen; || Day 6: experiment; || Day 7: flight; || Day 8: gravity; || Day 9: time warp; || Day 10: body mod; || Day 11: letters; || Day 12: virtual reality; || Day 13: consciousness; || Day 14: space opera; || Day 15: vacation; || Day 16: anniversary; || Day 17: magnetic; || Day 18: life on Mars; || Day 19: highway; || Day 20: morning after; || Day 21: utopia; || Day 22: dystopia; || Day 23: phone call; || Day 24: hotel; || Day 25: dreamscape; || Day 26: gears; || Day 27: atomic; || Day 28: bad ideas; || Day 29: replica; || Day 30: robot/AI.}

[bookishfreedom]

sapphic september reading wrapup 🧡🤍🩷

not pictured: also read Girls Like Girls by Hayley Kiyoko and I’m partway through The 2000s Made Me Gay by Grace Perry

[solar-settings]

fic: nearing the flame: shauna/jackie

written for @sapphic-september 2023, prompts: “kitchen,” “dreamscape.”

wordcount: 1,828 // rating: T

tags: pining, unrequited love, religious imagery & symbolism, catholicism, dreams & nightmares

[wardenred]

Sapphic September 28: Bad Ideas

Poking at an old idea for a sapphic romantasy with Regency vibes.

Vinsen had told her to wait for him by the mews.

Liola assumed he’d meant a few minutes. Fine, a quarter of an hour, although in her book that already verged on impolite. But time stretched on and on, the azure summer skies fading into gray with a pink trimming over the horizon, and Vinsen was nowhere in sight.

She considered going back to the house and asking where he was. She considered turning around and walking home. But every time those thoughts sprang up in her mind, they were followed by the image of her mother’s pale, tear-stricken face.

Her family owed too much gold to the Rezenforts, all thanks to her late father’s gambling addiction. They desperately needed a way to soften their wealthy neighbors’ hearts toward them for the debt to be restructured. Perhaps even forgiven, if miracles ever happened. And between Liola, her mother, and her grandmother, they’d been able to come up with one way to achieve that: through Liola charming Vinsen Rezenfort. The heir of the family, the one everyone in this estate doted on.

Now, he had either seen right through her ploy and chose to humiliate her on purpose, or he was simply an inconsiderate oaf. At this point, Liola wasn’t sure what was worse. 

She drew a deep breath and nearly choked on the abundance of scents in the air. In isolation, none of them were too bad, not even the musky smell of horse sweat. Most were, in fact, downright pleasant: the sweetness of flowers blooming in the rolling hills past the fence, the freshness of hay, the light bitterness of sun-warmed tree bark. Mixed together, though, they became as overwhelming as her fears and thoughts.

Inside the long wooden building, a horse huffed and neighed. A stableboy hurried past, carrying a bucket of oats. The sky darkened further, and one by one, orbs of magelight sprung up along the length of the high fence—a majestic sight that only served to remind Liola of her precarious situation.

Her family hadn’t been able to afford magical lanterns outside of the house for months now. And they’d been forced to sell all their horses but one.

“Have you ever been to a fairy market?”

The sudden question jolted Liola out of her wallowing. She looked around wildly for its source, half-expecting a magical creature to have made it through the estate’s defenses to taunt her. But nw, the girl who stood in the shadow of a sprawling oak tree was as ordinary as one could be while wearing male riding clothes and boasting a flaming mane of loose, windswept hair that went past her waist. It was the hair that made her so easy to recognize.

Janiz, Lady Rezenfort’s wayward niece who’d come to live here at the start of summer for some obscure keep-it-inside-the-family reason. They’d never been introduced, but Liola had caught glimpses of her. She knew they were of the same age. She’d heard that Janiz kept to herself, disappeared gods knew where for hours on end, and had made it clear she wasn’t interested in any offers of courtship. Once, Liola had tried asking Vinsen about his cousin and the vehement derision in his response was shocking.

She couldn’t deny she’d been intrigued and fascinated by this newcomer for months, and yet she’d done nothing about it. It was, after all, dangerous to indulge in fascination for other girls. Especially in Liola’s present position.

And yet here was Janiz, a vision of freckles and impish dimples, and Liola couldn’t look away.

“I haven’t,” she said after an all too obvious delay and hoped the warmth in her cheeks could be written off as a touch of the setting sun. “Why do you ask, Miss Janiz?”

The girl laughed softly and took a step out of the shadows. “Recognizable, am I?” She traced a fingertip up the bridge of her nose, as though fixing glasses that weren’t there. “Well, see, Miss Liola, I have this annoying habit of filling awkward silences whenever I spot one. And you’ve been standing there quite silently... and quite awkwardly, too, if I may say so.”

“Oh.” Liola knew she should feel embarrassed, but she was too busy getting captivated.

Especially when Janiz ventured even closer.

“I’ve been to several fairy markets,” she confessed in a low voice, eyes sparkling. “Back home in Atissia and here in the hills. I have a tree house just beyond the fence that I’ve built myself, and I store all my purchases there. Would you like to come and see?”

That sounded like a strange offering and a really bad idea. But Liola could see nothing good in hovering about waiting for Vinsen to remember her existence, either. And out of two bad ideas, why not pick the fun one?

“I would be delighted,” she said.

Perhaps through Janiz, she could get into the Rezenforts’ good graces just as well.

[chenfordswopez]

Gwikki x Gorgeous

[endlesstwanted]

An ‘I Love You’ Slipped Away From The One Who Didn’t Want Anything

Wrote my first female!Reader insert for @sapphic-september, day 16 prompt anniversary.

Fandom: The Avengers (Marvel Movies) Rating: General Audiences Pairing: Maria Hill/Reader Tags: Female Reader, Established Relationship, Surprises, Reunions, Domestic Fluff Summary: You’re planning to spend your anniversary evening doing something fun on your own since Maria was on a mission, but lucky you, she may be back home in time to surprise you. Wordcount: 1,2k

Also created for: @lyricalescape — “And nothing but your shadow’s on your side.” / @badbitchesbingo — Anniversary Dinner / @multifandom-flash — In My Language, That Sounds Like …

Read on Ao3! Or visit my Sapphic September 2023 collection

[lingeringmirth]

sapphic september 2023 - day 30. robot/AI

bram stoker's dracula | westenray | angst, hurt no comfort, major character death, canon? don't know her, future (i'm thinking 2100's) | cw: implied murder

THE WORST OF ALL

Lucy doesn't think too much as she kisses Mina, just lets herself get lost in it, revels in it after so long, fingers sinking into her hair, every single part of her crying out for it to feel right, for the world to have just a bit of mercy on her for past sins.

It doesn't.

Mina kisses her back, perfect, too perfect, just a little bit wrong, enough to break the illusion Lucy couldn’t quite commit to, no matter how much she’d tried.

This isn't her Mina, could never be. The memory of her might have been tucked away safely in Lucy's mind for almost two centuries now, carefully tended as Lucy had grieved, had longed, had missed her every single day and night, letting her anger out on the world, uncaring of whom she hurt, not when she’d...

'This is a mistake,' she says, pushing Mina-not-Mina away from her, not letting herself care for the way that familiar face falls, because it isn't Mina.

'Lucy… our love isn't a mistake, this isn't a mistake,' the not-Mina says, the tone almost right, the softness wrenching at Lucy’s heart, the voice of words perfect.

The hands reach out for her and Lucy pushes her away again. Her fangs ache to slip out and bite and drink, her tongue to lick and soothe, her lips to kiss all over and leave marks on pale skin as Mina writhes under her.

Lucy can't do that.

The… thing before her is a perfect imitation of Mina, but she's too perfect, enough that it strays into the territory of uncanny valley, even when she'd been promised. She had allowed herself to be scrutinised, had poured her memory into the AI, had let herself be perceived and looked at closer than had likely been wise. All to get… this.

She should have known that she could never get Mina back, that she's been dead for almost two hundred years and her memories, never quite the same after her death, wouldn’t be enough to give her back what had been lost.

Lost, because Lucy had been careless, too caught up and drunk by her new-found vampirism, because she hadn’t known her own power.

She curls in on herself, digging her nails into the skin of her arms and she screams.

The not-Mina tries to soothe her and Lucy lashes out, pushes and break and rends, snarling, reliving the moment she had lost everything, driving herself deeper into madness as she does, all the while the AI begs her to stop… until it doesn't.

And that is the worst of all.

[solar-settings]

fic: and secure the blessings: amy/liz

written for @twwpride day 6, “rare pair,” and @sapphic-september 2023, “phone call.”

wordcount: 4,270 // rating: T

tags: childhood friends, growing up together, pining, politics, not actually unrequited love

[chenfordswopez]

Was supposed to be for sapphic September lmao.

[wardenred]

Sapphic September 26: Gears

With a prompt like this, could it be anything other than steampunk?

"Fascinating," the tinkerer murmured, bending low over the desk. She peered at the weird contraption through her thick goggles. "Would you just look at it! Those gears, so perfectly meshed—and the crystal! I've never seen one cut so precisely. I wonder what it might do—"

"Yeah. Sure. Very pretty," Louada said in a flat monotone. She supposed there must have been something impressive about the device, what with how much she'd been paid to retrieve it and the kind of security she'd had to get through. It really was a nice-looking thing, all shine and moving parts. The truth was, though, she had no interest in aethertech. Only in stealing it.

Besides, there were far more enthralling sights in this cluttered workroom. Such as the single thin strand of hair escaping the tight knot at the base of the tinkerer's neck, curling against the spot where her pulse fluttered. Or the way her gray robes hugged every curve of her body. Or those small breathless noises she made whenever she found another exciting thing about her newest toy.

Louada wondered if she could get those noises out of her under different circumstances, as well. What it would take.

"Pretty? Yes, why, I suppose so. The craftsmanship is exquisite! But it's really the functionality that wows me here. Just look at this! It shouldn't be possible for this spring to unfold in both directions, and yet it does. I wonder if this is because of the way the dual magnets are set up. My, I've never seen anything like that!"

Louada cleared her throat. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

The tinkerer looked up. "What? Oh! Sorry, I got carried away—you must be expecting the rest of your reward, right?" 

She straightened and took a step away from the table, rummaging through the pockets of her leather apron. Louada moved closer, delicately placed her fingers on top of the other woman's hand.

"You've already paid me in advance, remember? An arm and a leg, too. I don't need any more coins. I do, however, want to remind you that you promised to have dinner with me if I get you that thing."

"Oh." The goggles covered most of the tinkerer's face, yet did little to hide the blush darkening her brown skin. "I thought you were joking. You do that. Sometimes."

Smiling, Louada shook her head. "Never about the important things. So? Dinner?"

[chenfordswopez]

Sapphic September 2023

A fight with Nikki leaves Gwen heartbroken. Prompt: “i told you not to fall in love with me.” - Nikki/Gwen Runck

wc: 123 | ao3 | sapphic september: day 1 | sapphic september prompts (@sapphic-september): 001, parallel worlds | sapphic september prompts (@cora-writes-things & @solar-settings): 001, parallel worlds | fandom: that ‘90s show | rating: general

(I liked the way @iammyownsaviour made the moodboard and aesthetic for her gwikki femslash Feb fic so that was also an inspiration!)

[endlesstwanted]

Lucky To Be With Me

Drabble inspired by @sapphic-september, day 22 prompt dystopia and @darcylewisbingohq’s prompt Opposites attract.

Fandom: Loki (TV 2021) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Pairing: Darcy Lewis/Sylvie Tags: Canon Divergence episode: s01e03 Lamentis, End of the World, Angst and Feels Summary: Lamentis is on fire, but at least Darcy’s with Sylvie. And the other way around. Wordcount: 100

Read on Ao3! Or visit my Sapphic September 2023 collection

[chenfordswopez]

wc: 279 | sapphic september: day 22 | sapphic september prompts (@sapphic-september) | 019, highway I sapphic september prompts (@cora-writes-things & @solar-settings): 022, dystopia I fandom: that ‘90s show I rating: m

[endlesstwanted]

I Got You, You’re Safe

Wrote a drabble for @sapphic-september, day 3 prompt 3 AM, part of my Thunderbolts collection.

Fandoms: Black Widow (Movie 2021), MCU Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Pairing: Antonia Dreykov/Ava Starr Tags: Nightmares, Hurt/Comfort Summary: It’s hard for Antonia to live outside the nightmares, but Ava’s around to help. Wordcount: 100

Read on Ao3! Or visit my Sapphic September 2023 collection

[chenfordswopez]

Sapphic September 2023

- Nikki/ Gwen Runck

wc: 369 | ao3 | sapphic september: day 6 | sapphic september prompts (@sapphic-september): 006, science experiment I sapphic september prompts (@cora-writes-things & @solar-settings): 006, science experiment I fandom: that ‘90s show I rating: not rated

[wardenred]

Sapphic September 3: 3 AM

Pretty much a free writing exercise, I guess.

The familiar ringtone I haven't heard in six months rips through the silence of my apartment. Shabby, my ancient cat, twitches an ear in her sleep and stretches, pushing the phone off its usual charging place on the edge of my mattress. On the floor, it continues singing the song of the past, and I should really pick it up—the phone, not the call, any wise person would simply ignore the call—but I'm frozen.

"Meow," Shabby says. Her eyes are still closed, but her annoyance is apparent. I nearly fall out of my desk chair as I scramble up, then down on my knees. I stare at the phone screen. The initial followed by a sparkling heart emoji blinks back at me. I remember changing that heart to a broken one on the evening of our oh so amicable break-up, then deciding I was being too dramatic and refusing to save the change.

The song goes on and on, an old melancholy tune with a trace of hope in it. Babe, I'm Gonna Leave You. What did I ever expect, really, with a song like that to serve as our romantic theme? She all but warned me on the very first night when I heard her sing in that dumb karaoke bar for the first time.

Behind the paper-thin wall, a neighbor coughs. I draw a breath. The last two brain cells I possess vote unanimously for tapping Dismiss, and like the fool that I am, I go for Accept instead.

"Yes?" I've got the perfect excuse for my shaky voice, for how long it's taken me to respond. Just look at the time!

"Hey you." She dares to sound just like herself, like all these months of distance have never happened, and I think I'll never breathe again. Consider me dead. "So what are you doing awake at 3 AM for the fifth night in a row?"

"How do you—"

"I can see you online on Discord. And Facebook. And basically everywhere."

Oh. Right. We're still friends on basically everywhere. Messengers, socials, she's on every contact list I have. I'd lie if I said I don't still waste unreasonable chunks of time just staring at her userpic, the same across all of the Internet. A photo I took with a filter she applied. Except I don't see her online all that often, and when I do, it's always with some stupid red status icon. Busy. Away. Do Not Disturb.

"I ran into your friend Maggie tonight," she continues,as if this was a perfectly normal conversation. "She said you’re dating her brother."

"Uh." That's not quite true. John and I have agreed to go on a date. Next week. It hasn't even happened yet. In truth, I'm not sure I want it to happen. Maybe I will conveniently get sick right around Friday evening. Or there might be a food poisoning. Or a sprained ankle. Normally, I prefer excuses focused on last-minute work projects I couldn't say no to, because I have this stupid conviction it makes me look like a responsible adult. Alas, those don't fly so well on the weekends.

"Don't do that," she says. "I don't want you to."

Such a simple request, worded so confidently, like she has any right whatsoever to dictate what happens in my life. The life she's no longer even a part of.

I can't help but laugh at the sheer audacity. Shabby opens one yellow eye and peers at me in such abject displeasure I am forced to reach out and give her all the pats to compensate for the inconvenience.

In a certain light, her eyes look yellow, too, though they never lost their green. Like an autumn lake with golden leaves floating over murky waters, illuminated by the last rays of sunset.

"So?"

"So?.." I repeat after her.

"You won't do that, right?"

"Darling," and I meant to use her name, I swear I meant to, but the usual endearment flows way too easily of my lips. "I don't think you get a say in what I do or don't do any longer."

"Well, no one else is running an intervention, so I kind of have to!"

"What on earth makes you think I need an intervention?!"

"Duh. You own stupid plan? Come on. You don't even like guys most of the time."

"Some of the time I like them just fine," I counter. "And it's John. He's—he's sweet."

"If you ever liked John that way, you would have both gone for it a long time ago.”

He likes me that way, though. He has for a while. And that's why I should feel guilty for how the chances of me getting food poisoning on Friday are plummeting down. I kind of want to go out with John now. Just to give her an excuse to run more interventions.

This is reckless. Twisted. Not like me at all.

All the things she's always brought out in me.

"You won't go, will you?"

"Why are you up at 3 AM on the weekday stalking my socials?"

Neither of us gets an answer we want.