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Mostly lesbian lit, always bi-, ace-, aro- and trans-inclusive.



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She took my face in both her hands and kissed my mouth. I blushed from head to toe. She stood back and grinned at my color, proud of her work.  “I’ll make you dinner at my house next Saturday night if you want,” she offered.

“You’re on,” I said, still blushing.

She scribbled her phone number down on a cocktail napkin. “Call me,” she shouted over her shoulder.

“You can bet on it,” I answered. I was still blushing.

You would have thought I’d won the Kentucky Derby the way everybody came over to congratulate me. I felt like a million bucks. I just wondered if I’d ever stop blushing

 

- Leslie Feinberg, Stone Butch Blues (via sofonisbaanguissola)


Posted 3 years ago reblog 2252 notes


Maybe I still haven’t become me. I don’t know how you tell for sure when you finally have.

 

- The Miseducation of Cameron Post, Emily M. Danforth (via floralfeast)


Posted 3 years ago reblog 419 notes


Ruth was sort of right, I would learn: A relationship with a higher power is often best practiced alone. For me it was practiced in hour-and-a-half or two-hour increments, and paused when necessary. I don’t think it’s overstating it to say that my religion of choice became VHS rentals, and that it’s messages came in Technicolor and musical montages and fades and jump cuts and silver screen legends and B-movie nobodies and villains to root for and good guys to hate. But Ruth was wrong, too. There was more than just one other world beyond ours; there were hundreds of them, and at 99 cents apiece I could rent them all.

 

- The miseducation of Cameron Post, Emily M. Danforth (via ifihadtobreak)


Posted 3 years ago reblog 215 notes


I am in grammar school in England in the 1970s, and in assembly hall
the headmistress wants to let the girls know that it is our responsibility to dress appropriately so as not to “incite” the male teachers to regrettable actions. This, she says, will be good training for us, since we are here to prepare ourselves for marriage and family. I hear a loud voice in my head saying fuck family, fuck marriage, fuck the male teachers, this is not my life, that will not be my timeline. Queer time for me is the dark nightclub, the perverse turn away from the narrative coherence of adolescence – early adulthood –marriage – reproduction – child-rearing –retirement –death, the embrace of late childhood in place of early adulthood or immaturity in place of responsibility. It is a theory of queerness as a way of being in the world.

 

- Judith Halberstam, Queer Temporalities
(via punkfaery)


Posted 3 years ago reblog 156 notes


historical queer love letters


theboywhocriedbooks:

I was reading this autostraddle article about love letters between writers Virginia Woolf and Vita Sackville-West and it was so gay that I thought I’d share my fave. Sidenote: last fall I was taught all about their love affair in class and so this just makes my heart explode with gayness. 

In 1926, a year after the start of their affair, Vita left the country to travel — a trip neither of the two were happy about. In January, Vita writes:

“I am reduced to a thing that wants Virginia. I composed a beautiful letter to you in the sleepless nightmare hours of the night, and it has all gone: I just miss you, in a quite simple desperate human way. You, with all your un-dumb letters, would never write so elementary a phrase as that; perhaps you wouldn’t even feel it. And yet I believe you’ll be sensible of a little gap. But you’d clothe it in so exquisite a phrase that it would lose a little of its reality. Whereas with me it is quite stark: I miss you even more than I could have believed; and I was prepared to miss you a good deal. So this letter is just really a squeal of pain. It is incredible how essential to me you have become. I suppose you are accustomed to people saying these things. Damn you, spoilt creature; I shan’t make you love me any the more by giving myself away like this — but oh my dear, I can’t be clever and stand-offish with you: I love you too much for that. Too truly. You have no idea how stand-offish I can be with people I don’t love. I have brought it to a fine art. But you have broken down my defences. And I don’t really resent it.”

 In reply to that, Virginia writes:

“Your letter came this morning — But why do you think I don’t feel, or that I make phrases? “Lovely phrases” you say which rob things of reality. Just the opposite. Always, always, always I try to say what I feel. Will you then believe that after you went last Tuesday — exactly a week ago — out I went into the slums of Bloomsbury, to find a barrel organ. But it did not make me cheerful … And ever since, nothing important has happened — Somehow it’s dull and damp. I have been dull; I have missed you. I do miss you. I shall miss you. And if you don’t believe it, you’re a longeared owl and ass.

I’m so gay.


Posted 3 years ago reblog 458 notes


If they were a man and a girl, it would be different. There would be less confusion and blur. She would seize Lilian’s hand and Lilian would know what it meant. She herself would know what it meant! Lilian would or would not allow herself to be led to a patch of shadow; she might or might not put up her mouth for a kiss. But they were not a man and a girl, they were two women, with clipping heels, and one of them was in a white dress which the moon set glowing like a beacon.

 

- Sarah Waters, The Paying Guests  (via wholesomeobsessive)


Posted 3 years ago reblog 180 notes


I wish her more happiness than can fit in a person. I wish her the kind of happiness that spills over.

 

- Nina LaCour, We Are Okay
(via bibliosapphic)


Posted 3 years ago reblog 741 notes


I hope you all find yourselves sleeping with someone you love, maybe not all of the time, but a lot of the time. The touch of a foot in the night is sincere. I hope you like your work, I hope there’s mystery and poetry in your life — not even poems, but patterns. I hope you can see them. Often those patterns will wake you up, and you will know that you are alive, again and again.

 

-  Eileen Myles, The Importance of Being Iceland (via eireas)


Posted 3 years ago reblog 14802 notes


Yes yes yes I do like you. I am afraid to write the stronger word.

 

- Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Vita-Sackville-West written c. February 1927 (via violentwavesofemotion)


Posted 3 years ago reblog 32563 notes

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The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid


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