#sapphic sanctuary

[the-sapphic-sanctuary]

[kanangul]

After spending a childhood in isolation, Mikhail has finally been able to find freedom in academia. Pursuing the passion of their only solace; the forever gentle sound of song. Though, Mikhail has lived a life of naivety. A life shielded by the harsh faith of their church and family. Now Mikhail will discover the dark underbelly of the city of Vilyuchka — and what it means to be a composer in a city where crime and music are one in the same.

Demo: July 2024

The Garden Sanctuary is an 18+ horror, lesbian romance, and erotica interactive fiction. It takes place in a world built in Gaslamp Fantasy, with Art-Deco and 1920s influences. It is planned to be a browser-based visual novel style experience, with multiple illustrations and CGs placed throughout.

(Character bios and additional info can be found under the cut.)

CONTENT WARNING: The Garden Sanctuary is a HORROR and EROTICA interactive fiction. CWs include gore, violence, body horror, body dysmorphia, gender dysphoria, as well as internal and external transphobia, homophobia/lesbophobia, and ableism. The Garden Sanctuary also portrays critical views of the effects of CSA and incest from a personal perspective. (No on screen depictions, just the aftermaths of such events.)

MC: Mikhail Ilyushin - The Composer - They/Them

Mikhail Ilyushin was raised in one of the many churches of Vilyuchka who follow the single god of Lithos. From birth they were seen as sick, in body and mind alike. Thus they were sheltered from the rest of society in an attempt to protect their frailty from the outside world. During their time in the church they would occupy their dark upbringing with their passion for music. Mikhail had given up on the prospects of freedom. Until one day their overbearing family was contacted by a mysterious sponsor, who was somehow able to convince them to allow Mikhail to attend the University of Saint Yelena in order to pursue becoming a professional composer.

RO: Watcher Uriel - Patron of Pestilence - He/She/They

Watcher Uriel, the cursed angel forced to live on the outskirts of the city. Their very existence brings sickness. Her appearance is gruesome, no matter how hard she tries to mask her true form under a mortal glamor. In spite of the nature of their very existence, they long for only one thing: Love and affection. They are the head of a fanatic cult, obsessed with finding love for their holy angel. Nonetheless Watcher Uriel remains on the ceaseless hunt to find a soulmate. No matter the cost.

RO: Lucia Blackhart - The Violet Songstress - She/Her

Perhaps one of your only hopes of learning what the life of a composer entails. Lucia is not only a prolific melodist herself, she's also an extremely elusive detective. The catch: she only works with criminals in the Vilyuchkan Underbelly. Her allegiances are never set in stone. And while her services are invaluable, you can never fully set your trust in the Violet Songstress. Bonus Route: Because of her good natured relationship with Caim, it is possible to pursue a polyamorous route between the two of them.

RO: Caim - The Wonderland Ensemble, one of the Five Kings of the Vilyuchkan Underbelly - They/Them

Caim is a demonic being who surfaced in Vilyuchka many decades ago. Since then they have founded the Wonderland Ensemble, a ruthless crime syndicate known for its equal worship of pleasure and pain. Caim is an absolutely ruthless criminal, earning them the title of one of the Five Kings; a designation for the most dangerous and esteemed crime bosses in the Vilyuchkan Underbelly. Bonus Route: Because Caim is great friends with Lucia Blackhart, it is possible to pursue a polyamorous route between both of them.

RO: Headmaster Stelliana - Beholder of the Moon - She/Her

Headmaster Stelliana is the only companion you will meet on your journey that has the privilege of participating in regular society. She's a highly respected scholar, and lead of the academic group known as the Beholders of the Moon. Though she just poses as an intellectual elite, she holds a dark secret. Her and her fellow Beholders are apart of a cult seeking to resurrect the Old Gods. Only she and her fellow scholars know what this entails, and what fate this may bring about.

RO: ████████████ ████████████ ██████ ███ █████████

Something about this presence seems familiar. Yet foreign. I can feel my heart pounding against my ribcage. Is it fear, or is it fiery yearning that I feel? Nonetheless something inside of me burns. Threatening to sear through my sternum and breach the skin along my breast. Until we meet again.

[eternal-moss]

This could be us but I’m too much of a coward to send you a text message 😔

[pyreoflovesdesire888]

I ache for your touch, my dear.

the stillness of your mind,

the hunger of your mouth,

the taste of your skin.

I want to feel you, through my veins.

Kneel before you in the sanctuary,

Pray to you,

Submit to you, my goddess divine.

For you’re my religion,

And I am in your submission.

In a trance, so bewitching,

So captivating,

So... magnetizing.

To feel,

To love,

To touch and see.

In light,

In peace,

To be one with thee,

Amen.

— E. I. Alaric, the pyre of love's desire '23

[pollenallergie]

say it with me now, folks:

cottage core!chrissy, cottage core!chrissy, COTTAGE CORE!CHRISSY

[elizabethrobertajones]

ffxiv sapphic week 2 "vulnerability and vacation" just made me think immediately of poor Zero dealing with sunlight for the first time in a zillion years and I'm cackling about this hat having the same brim effect as her usual hat.

She is killing me with her mind for doing this to her.

Frog is empirically correct that Zero needs a vacation where she's ordered to do nothing and soak up sun for the good brain chemicals. They will kiss about it later, but for now this definitely feels more like medicine than a date :'D

[prismsanctuaryofficial]

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️ Beyond the Binary 🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈

Today we have another from Jessica!

[r3starttt]

CAITLYN X YOUNGER READER

CW: hc's. requests. mentions of spitting, slapping, fingering, strap-on sex. Caitlyn masturbating at the thought of reader (yum) finger sucking and lots of self indulgent filth tbh.

TAGLIST: @lewd-alien @greysontheidiot @jolyne @sapphic-ovaries @tlouloser @prwttiestbunny @visobsession @thesevi0lentdelights @lvlymicha @stickycherritart @patronagrona @halle5s @usuck @thalchmy @lovelyy-moonlight @nosferatuv

There are whispers about the two of you everywhere, a constant murmur. People talk—always do, always will—assuming you’re just another one of her fleeting indulgences, another girl caught in the gravity of her wealth, her power, her privilege. They say she’s using you, and that you, in turn, are using her. Yet, neither of you make any effort to deny them. If anything, you fuel the speculation, feeding it with the quiet, effortless way you let her spoil you.

She buys you everything—things you ask for, things you don’t. She knows your desires before you even voice them. There is no request too trivial, no whim too extravagant. From the simple comfort of a warm meal waiting for you after a long day, to the brush of her fingers working the tension from your shoulders, to the extravagant, glittering pieces of jewelry she insists will suit you perfectly. A handbag you mentioned in passing, the scent of a perfume she once caught on your skin and decided you should always wear. Every detail, every fleeting thought that crosses your mind—she captures it, makes it tangible. You have learned that with her, indulgence is not just a habit but a language of its own.

Caitlyn parades you through the gilded halls of her world without hesitation, pulling you into the orbit of champagne-soaked galas and whispered gossip. She tells you what to wear. "I know you better, love. Trust me—you’ll look stunning in this." And you do, always. With a hand at the small of your back, she leads you through the crowd, a silent declaration of possession in every touch, on your thighs, on your hips, on your neck sometimes. Her gaze never shies away, trailing over you with a kind of hunger that doesn’t need to be spoken aloud. She watches you—the curve of your hips, the slope of your neck, the fat of your tits and your ass.

She loves the attention you draw, revels in the way others look, but it’s not just vanity. It’s the thrill of knowing that no matter how many eyes linger, you are hers and hers alone. And she makes sure you never forget it—whether it's the press of her lips against your throat in the dimly lit corner of a gala, or the way she pulls you into a secluded bathroom to claim you over and over again.

Caitlyn adores taking care of you—if that isn’t already abundantly clear. She carries it like a quiet devotion. She notices the signs of your exhaustion long before you do, catching the subtle shifts in your voice, the tired droop of your shoulders, the distant look in your eyes. And she never lets it take hold. She’s there before the weight becomes too much—making sure you eat properly, that your restless nights don’t stretch into patterns of self-neglect, that your health is carefully preserved. When she’s not near, her absence is softened by the quiet efficiency of the staff she’s instructed to ensure your routine is upheld. Meals prepared just the way you like them, reminders whispered with gentle concern, a structure built from her care, constant even when she's not home.

But when she is with you, her attentiveness takes a different shape, something more intimate, more tangible. After one of those long, glittering nights at yet another gala, when the champagne has flowed too freely and the weight of the evening sits heavy in your limbs, she’s there—her arm intertwined with yours. The warmth of her hand pressing gently against your back, guiding you through the haze of indulgence and into the soft sanctuary of your shared bedroom. She settles you onto the bed with an effortless grace, her fingers ghosting over your skin, tracing delicate paths across your arms, through your hair, whispering soft reassurances that melt against your senses. Her lips find the curve of your temple, the corner of your mouth, the pulse at your throat—each kiss grounding you, pulling you closer into the gentle lull of her presence. She holds you like a precious thing, cradling you until sleep finally claims you.

And you can only thank her in the ways you know how. Dressing in the silks and lace she’s so carefully chosen for you. You wait for her return after too many days apart, anticipation humming beneath your skin as you let her enter first, savoring the moment before you follow. Your hands find her shoulders, trailing soft kisses along the nape of her neck, lingering there before moving to her jawline, each touch a silent welcome.

You guide her to sit, undoing the buttons and ties of her clothes with a slow, deliberate tenderness. And then you let her touch, let her remove each piece of tender fabric from your body until her hands are on your hips, guiding you to sit in between her legs. Rocking your body up and down her skin just to feel the heat of your whines against her neck, your nails digging into her shoulders when she grabs your ass almost too aggressive. And then when your wet exposes all of you, when the sounds get so loud it's almost too obscene, there she lets you take her fingers, kissing your breasts and putting your nipples into her mouth while you ride her hand. If she's not too tired then she'll take her strap, laying you on the bed to admire each reaction your body makes, each tone your lips let pass, each frown your eyebrows create. Or maybe she'll let you handle it as you wish, just holding your head while you suck on the blue length, or holding onto your ass and hips and waist while her mouth almost drools at the sight of your breasts bouncing with each thrust on her strap.

Caitlyn is acutely aware that your age can sometimes create a quiet distance between you, a rift born not of intention but of circumstance. She knows it can be the root of certain insecurities, both yours and hers, though you may never speak them aloud. Yet, she meets these uncertainties with a steady resolve, constantly reminding you in her soft, assured way that she doesn’t care about such things. Caitlyn sees the brilliance in you, the sharp wit and unflinching curiosity that often leaves her in awe. She adores the beauty you carry—both the kind that turns heads and the quiet kind, the one revealed in the soft moments when you think no one is watching.

Because just like you she sometimes finds herself in an expensive room away from you, hands sliding her clothes off her body with no shame but desperation, circling her fingers around her clit, grasping at her breasts like they were yours. Only when she feels her slick dripping she allows herself the sensation of her fingers, thrusting in and out of her wet pussy, hoping they could be yours instead. Or brushing her hair over one of her shoulders while her knuckles turn white at how hard she's gripping the sheets, trying to make the soft of the pillow feel as good as your skin.

Caitlyn loves the maturity in you, the resilience, the determination to carve your place in the world. But she loves the immaturity too, the moments when your youthfulness shines through in bursts of enthusiasm, naiveness or stubbornness. To her, it’s all part of what makes you you. And more than anything, she delights in giving you the freedom to explore the world the way she wishes she could have at your age.

But Caitlyn also knows the experience, and she’s certainly not afraid to remind you of that, even when you don’t want to hear it. There’s a quiet authority in her, a subtle yet unyielding belief that she often knows better than you.

And when you forget you’re in a relationship—one built on love and balance—and not simply some casual arrangement. It’s in these moments that her condescension slips through, not out of malice but from a place of confidence in her own wisdom.

You’re standing in front of the mirror, frowning as you adjust the straps of the dress Caitlyn picked out for you earlier. It's stunning, of course—she has an eye for these things—but something about the way it hugs your body, the way it reveals just enough, makes you hesitate. You tug at the fabric, trying to convince yourself it’s not too much, too daring, but before you can slip into self-doubt, Caitlyn’s voice cuts through.

"Stop that," stepping closer, her reflection appears behind yours in the glass. She's already dressed, flawless as always, effortless confident. Her hands find your waist, grounding not only your thoughts but your body in a way that makes your breath hitch.

"I know you think you have a say in this," her tone like she’s humoring you. Like she knows exactly what you’re thinking before you do.

You roll your eyes at her reflection, but she just smirks, tilting her head slightly as she watches you. That gaze of hers—assessing, knowing—has a way of stripping you down more thoroughly than any dress ever could.

One of her hands slides up your bare shoulder, fingers tracing the delicate curve of your collarbone, "but let me remind you—when it comes to things like this, I always know best."

Her lips brush against your neck, and it’s infuriating how easily she takes control, how effortlessly she disarms you with a mixture of amusement and authority. "So be a good girl and wear the dress."

The way she says it leaves no room for argument—not that you’re inclined to fight her when she’s looking at you like that, when her touch is so deliberate, her words laced with something you can’t quite name but crave nonetheless. You swallow hard, nodding slowly, and Caitlyn hums in approval, pressing a lingering kiss just beneath your ear before stepping back.

"That's what I thought." And just like that, you let her win—because deep down, you love it when she does. Mostly because of the reward that comes with it.

And oh, Caitlyn despises it when you’re disrespectful—whether it’s to her or to the carefully curated world she surrounds herself with. She expects a certain grace from you, a poise that matches her own, and when you falter—when your eyes roll in front of her colleagues, when your lips curl in disdain at the mention of a woman who so clearly yearns to be in your place—she doesn’t let it slide. Caitlyn is patient, indulgent even, but there are limits, and she’s always swift in reminding you of them.

She waits, of course, never one to make a scene. But later, when the champagne flutes have emptied and the polite smiles have faded into the background, she’ll take your hand, leading you through the corridors of some grand, gilded venue until you’re behind the locked door of an opulent bathroom. The kind with marble counters and mirrors that stretch too high. Her fingers, steady and knowing, trace the hem of your dress—the very dress she picked out for you, ensuring it would allow her effortless access when the need arose. And now, it seems, the need has indeed arisen.

She’s meticulous in her control, sliding beneath the delicate layers of fabric with a slowness that feels deliberate, a punishment in itself. Her touch is firm, possessive, her lips brushing just below your ear. "I dress you for a reason, love," she whispers, her tone dripping with authority, "so I can do exactly this when you misbehave."

She loves teaching you lessons like this—loves the way your bravado crumbles under her touch, the way your protests dissolve into soft gasps and whispered apologies. She keeps you there, pinned between the cold marble and the heat of her body, circling the pads of her fingers around your clit, smiling at your neck at how wet you are already, how damp your panties are. She sometimes thinks you're rude on purpose, just to get some fun at the boring of such events. Just to end up laying on your stomach on top of her lap, legs separated while her hand plays with the fat of your ass, spanking with no warn before sliding her fingers inside of your panties and scissor your folds, playing with your clit until you're wet enough and a wining mess. Only there she lets you have her fingers, her right hand busy holding your face in place as she lets you suck on her fingers, her rings still on. And her left one pumping in and out of you at the slowest rhythm. Maybe one day you'll learn to behave like she expects you to. Like you should.

[imorynn]

︵ ✮⋆˙ 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 | 𝙡𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙖 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙪 ރ 𝙛𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

︵ ✮⋆˙ ᥴꪮꪀꪻꪖ꠸ꪀᦓ : FLUFF, drunk!reader, alcohol usage, softness, hopeless!reader for lilia, lilia being a caretaker and the sweetest lover, physical affections, usage of pet names, touch!starved!reader, drunken confessions that are pretty much well known, cliché and sapphic shit I experienced and cannot get over ︵ ✮⋆˙ ᭙ᥴ : 1k+

quick note : one thought to, “oh, lilia calderu would be the sweetest girlfriend to ever exist with her drunk s/o” wounded up into this and all I can feel and see are hues of oranges, tangerines, soft reds, golds, yellows, sparks and stars while I was on cloud 9 for a few hours — I hope you enjoy !!! <3

─────── .𖥔 ݁˖✮˖ ݁𖥔. ───────

There is a patience to Lilia, a devotion so effortless, so intrinsic, that it feels like an enchantment interweaved into the very fabric of her being. And never is it more evident than in moments like these — when the weight of your intoxication has rooted profoundly between your limbs, rendering you languid and sun dappled-eyed, your voice spilling over in hazy murmurs that make impeccable sense solely to you.

She holds you close, her arm a firm but gentle band around your midsection, guiding you through the soft golden glow of your shared sanctuary. You are all movement at the beginning, all impulse, your hands reaching for items on her shop’s shelves, tugging at the silks of her sleeves, attempting, with slurred determination, to drag her toward something that has suddenly become fascinating in your clouded mind even though you have come across these items thousands of times.

And when she murmurs a soft, "baby, no, come on, let's go to bed', you protest like a child, her name stretched long in its affectionate bits, tone heavy with tipsy impatience. "I need to show you, my love, something, I don’t know where it is yet, but it’s important, it’s—”

You are liquid in her grasp, slipping and flowing, drawn to the world in a way only being drunk allows — every warm lamp, every shimmer of the beaded curtains as you both made your way through them ( or rather, she's come to recognize, she gives into your nonsensical sentences enough for you to become completely engross by uttering them to her that you barely recognize the change of scenery as she drags you away ), every shadowed outline that swayed along the walls, every gleam of silver catching the low light suddenly a wonder worth chasing.

Though Lilia, ever knowing, ever perceptive, keeps you tethered to her, her fingertips pressing insistently into your soft flesh, securing you as you try to wander. She knows your ways, knows you too well; how everything illuminates in new hues when drink lingers on your tongue, how your sly little tendencies take root, your flickering marvel with everything but still, somehow, and mostly, always her.

And oh, how she lovingly indulges you.

She listens, her mouth curving at the edges as you ramble, voice swaying between dreamlike astonishment and tiny complaints, entirely enraptured with her as though she is some celestial thing newly discovered. And to you, even in this state of supple-limbed reverie, she is; otherworldly, ethereal. You cling to her, as if proximity alone might keep her from vanishing, and she laughs, airy and betrayed with a soft snort, something bashful curling beneath the sound when you burrow yourself into her while you sit at the edge of the bed and she's standing in front of you.

“Cruel,” your murmur is thick with drowsy affection. “So cruel of space to keep you away from me like this. Or are you and the concept of space teaming up against me, huh?”

Lilia hums, entertainment whirling her whiskey-hued gaze as she presses a sweet kiss into your hairline. “I am right here, my love.”

But it is simply not enough. Not when her warmth is mere inches from you, not when she moves to ease you into fresh, soft and cozy pajamas and she barely grazes your bare skin with her touch, and the whispers of oxygen between your bodies feels like the greatest injustice within this universe.

You let out a whine, a prolonged sound wholly unguarded for her to come back, and she hushes you with a saccharine croon, guiding your gauche arms into the sleeves of a clean, long sleeve shirt you always claimed was the second-most comfortable feeling in the world besides Lilia herself. Her hands are stable, metallic rings pressing ever so slightly into your heated skin as she works, and every touch is a soothe, a promise that she is not leaving, not ever.

Fingers become greedy and cherishing as they catalog the elegant lines of her features, over the regal slope of her nose, the fine etchings of age that time has worked with grace into her skin, the way the light softens her edges.

You stare at her then, brow furrowed, irises dazed and musky with wetness but gleaming with something unbearably enamored. “You’re so beautiful,” Admiration douses your every whispered syllable, thumbs brushing a path over the swells of her cheeks. “So unfairly beautiful. Pretty. My pretty, pretty Lilia.”

How you then speak something along the lines of how her smile makes you feel like you are dissolving into love itself.

Then Lilia, for all her age, for all her wisdom, stills as your drunken confessions peel back the centuries and for a moment, just a flicker of a second, she looks young again. Not in body, not in form, but in the way her lashes flutter like the edges of a butterfly's wings beneath her eyes, the way her lips parted just vaguely, taken by surprise. The sensation is familiar — this sensibility of being gazed upon as if she were the very reason of someone's existence, but goodness gracious, it never loses its luster. Not with you.

Even drunk you are in love, you are a poet, mapping the delicate silver in her locks with your fingers, each strand conveying a story you so desperately wished to learn by heart. Your words, though unclear, hold such conviction, such dizzying sincerity, that Lilia is left breathless, humbled by the depth of your love.

A quiet guardian of your untamed spirit she is, settling herself onto the mattress and tugging you into her homely embrace before you could try to form the idea in getting up to rove around the room and further.

Baby, doll, my love, darling, angel, sweetheart, sweet girl, honey.

Even pet names in her mother language were aerated against your temple before sealing them with a sweet kiss, lips and endearments skimming across the apple of your cheeks, the curve of your forehead, reaching every corner of your being where love collects like morning dew.

"Behave for momma, darling girl," She is speaking to you in such honey-soaked croons, lilted with firmness that portrays her gentlest, most instinctive protectiveness when you try slipping away from her.

Utterances are tenderly pressed into the flushed skin of your cheekbone as you protest in indignation, too busy letting petulant complaints tumble out of your mouth that you are oblivious of the soft grin she harbored as she chuckled.

Her fingers start grazing the side of your face, the chilled silver of her rings gliding over your fevered flesh, soon ascending to brush through the pieces of hair adorning the crown of your forehead. She then tucks you into her bosom, placing her chin at the top of your head with a low 'hush now' exhaled as you try writhing in order to sit up, drowning out your mumbled words from the slumber overcoming you, finding solace in her heartbeat, your arms winding around her in lazy devotion.

︵ ✮⋆˙

[papenathys]

Hey Mimi do you have any recommendations for books set in Latin America (any genre) ?

So I am going to assume that you are not asking for picks like Gabriel Garcia Marquez or Isabel Allende. Most of the Latinx authors I read are unfortunately fantasy or genre fiction set in the USA (I'm trying to remember if Tehlor Kay Mejia or Anna-Marie McLemore wrote a book that is explicitly set in a Latin American country.)

Here are a couple of books I enjoyed, or at least feel confident recommending based on what I remember:

Certain Dark Things by Silvia Moreno-Garcia (adult, urban fantasy, horror): Described by the author as a "violent neo-noir", this story is set in an alternate, gritty Mexico City, and follows a Tlāhuihpochtli vampire who strikes a bond with an impoverished street kid, while fleeing from narco-vampire clans, criminal gangs, and other dangers lurking in the dark underbelly of the city.

Gods of Jade and Shadow by Silvia Moreno-Garcia (adult, historical fiction, fantasy): In 1920s Mexico, a young woman accidentally frees the spirit of the Mayan God of Death, and embarks on a cross-country mission with him: from the dazzling Jazz Age opulence of Mexico City, into the darkness of the Mayan underworld– where she must face great dangers to reinstate the God on his rightful throne.

Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia** (adult, historical fiction, horror): A glamorous, fun-loving socialite in 1950s Mexico receives a disturbing letter from her married cousin, prompting her to travel down to their ancestral mansion, where the in-laws' live. There, on that ancient, colonial estate, she begins to be haunted by an equally ancient evil, and soon realises something is terribly wrong about the family her cousin has married into.

Tender is The Flesh by Agustina Bazterrica** (adult, dystopia, horror): In a near-dystopian future, an infectious virus turns all animal meat poisonous and unfit for consumption, forcing governments to legalize the factory-farming, breeding and eating of human meat. At one such processing plant, a worker is faced with a moral dilemma when he is gifted a "live" specimen.

Elena Knows by Claudia Piñeiro (adult, psychological thriller): Set in Argentina, this is a claustrophobic, uneasy novella about a mother's journey to uncover the truth behind the hushed-up murder of her dead daughter; the investigative mission, however, is made difficult by her advanced locomotive disability and age, as well as by this slowly unfurling realization: that she may not have known her daughter as truly as she thought.

And a couple I have not read/read and did not enjoy at all, but would recommend because my opinion seems to be in the minority:

Jawbone by Mónica Ojeda** (adult, horror, thriller, LGBTQ): A group of wealthy teenage girls attending an elite academy in Ecuador begin to convene regularly in an abandoned building, after school hours– but what started out as a place to exchange ghost stories, soon devolves into a site of dangerous thrill-seeking and dark, bloody rituals. (Note: I absolutely despised it, but you may enjoy; it's sapphic dark academia with cosmic horror and yellowjackets vibes).

Our Share of Night by Mariana Enríquez (adult, horror, historical fiction, fantasy): Set partially during the years of Argentina's brutal military dictatorship, this novel follows a father and son on a road trip, trying to escape a death cult, who have committed unspeakable atrocities. I have not read this gigantic tome, but I really want to, I am a sucker for horror rooted in political/historical allegories.

Cantoras by Carolina De Robertis (adult, historical fiction, LGBTQ): In 1977 Uruguay, a time when oppressive militia rule criminalized homosexuality as a dangerous transgression, five queer women discover an uninhabited cape, and claim the coastal sanctuary for themselves. Over years, it becomes their one safe haven, to be their true selves. Not read this, but it sounds strikingly similar to Last Summer at Bluefish Cove, one of my favourite queer stories of all time.

[ Note: All the stories are adult and given my inclination towards horror and psychological fiction, they are likely to be dealing with sensitive issues, but for the stories marked ** I very highly recommend checking trigger warnings ]

[the-sapphic-sanctuary]

After the great Catgirl vs. Doggirl war of 2017.

[nerdishpursuits]

It's rather obvious the lavender marriage will, eventually, happen. And I'm not against it, given it's 1958. In fact, I think it can lead to interesting storylines if handled smartly (I know, I know ... smart isn't really the MO here) However? I have some gripes with the way they're introducing this scenario. Gripes which by no means lessen my enjoyment of the show. Like I keep saying, this is a novela de sobremesa and, thus, subject to the whims of its genre: nonsensical timelines, plot-points that don't quite connect, pacing issues etc. Nonetheless, it doesn't deter my amused nitpicking nor my eyebrow-rising routine.

Marta & Pelayo have known each other for 2.5 seconds.

There's currently no threat in sight that would merit Marta & Fina considering this suggestion (S. is in jail; the people who know them, and support them in their own way, wish them no harm; Marta is a wealthy widow, has a surname that carries weight, a social standing and, momentarily, needs no protection - if anything, it's Fina being perpetually single that would raise/raises most eyebrows; Marta & Fina have their own life and rhythm that requires no upgrade; Marta's business deal is going swimmingly etc.)

The one who stands to profit the most from this is Pelayo himself, who keeps repeating he has no interest in anything sentimental, unlike Marta & Fina who have been fortunate enough to win the sapphic lottery. This is a business decision for him, of course, yet he also confesses he envies their relationship. Pelayo then tries to sell this idea of a sudden epiphany he’s had? One he tries to wrap up in a neat little bow and market as the best thing since sliced bread? Ultimately, it involves invading the sanctuary he’d just praised for reasons that, at present, are largely selfish (befitting his character as a ruthless businessman and the show’s timeline). I will say I love the fact that in the preview for the next episode Marta goes “WE have a reply”, ergo. Fina and Marta herself.

Most of Marta & Fina's circle of family and friends are aware of their relationship and Pelayo would only expose himself (I assume most of the Mafin friends and allies would piece it all together and Jesús wouldn't hesitate to use this information to his own gain)

Even if this is a lavender-marriage, Marta would lose her freedom: socially and financially. She’d have to attend all kinds of functions and play the dutiful wife. Is it manageable? Eventually. And a lot of the conflict will derive from it, I think. At the same time, do I think a more solid reason is needed for Marta to take this step and for Fina to agree with it? Yes. But who knows. Maybe Marta’s own ambition will end up playing a part? More information is needed here. I will say, I hope they refuse at first.

Commendation to Marta's before and after reaction … hahaha, you’re kidding me … you’re kidding me, right?

I find myself pondering if, at first, they only want to test the waters with this idea. Introduce it as a possible option these characters can fall back on. To me it would make sense for Marta & Fina to initially refuse Pelayo's proposal. Their friendship can then continue to grow and when their backs are against the wall, which will inevitably happen, the lavender marriage-card can be pulled out of the sleeve. Ergo, Pelayo might be in danger and they decide to help him, Marta might be in jeopardy herself etc. As it comes across right now? They’re racing downhill without breaks. I suppose we'll see what they have in store for them, won't we? I have to say it was lovely to see Marta & Fina behave like a couple while in company. I don't think they've ever acted as relaxed in front of anyone, not even Carmen. Which is why I'd love to see their friendship with Pelayo continue to mature in a way that brings the three of them closer, making joint decisions. For now, I'd say more time is needed to grow a true sense of camaraderie. But hey: we're on novelita time and it has its own quirks. Other than that? Carmen inadvertently running her mouth in front of Tasio? Drop the ball she did. At least, she vehemently pressed hubby dearest to promise he'd hold his tongue. A tall order indeed, because knowing Tasio and his chronic foot-in-moth syndrome? It's only a matter of time before he shits the bed. Granted, he didn’t react as badly as I thought he would, but it’s obvious he considers Marta and Fina’s relationship an aberration, something laughable and ridiculous. Let’s hope he fully comes around and becomes the brother Marta deserves. And speaking of Carmen: she really needs to loosen up with Marta who's done nothing but bow her head, plead guilty and ask for forgiveness. I still think Carmen should have understood Marta’s position and anguish and shown more empathy. If not as a friend and Fina’s partner, at least as a fellow woman? It’s still unclear to me if she learned the extent of Santiago’s abuse? But given her attitude, I gather she’s still clueless.

Case in point? Carmen is pulling at this thread with Marta so hard it'll end up snapping and hitting her square in the face. And I do confess I'd like to see Marta finally bite back. Carmen is treating Tasio as if he doesn't have two brain-cells to rub together, incapable of making his own decisions and subject to the most devious manipulations. Not to mention Marta has never treated any of them as if the class divide mattered. And now Carmen heaps that reproach onto Marta's overflowing plate as well. Might be Carmen needs a healthy dose of Fina's volcanic temper. Front-row seats to that, please and thank you. If Carmen can go full-blown unreasonable over her troglodyte husband? Then Fina can go full-blown reality check over her fiercely protective wife.

Ahoy!!! Onto next week’s drama.

[aangarchy]

Netflix atla live action review ep 4-6

So, they completely ruined Bumi. Spoiler warning.

The more episodes pass by the more confused i get with the choices that were made. I wrote down commentary for the episodes and the thing that i wrote down the most was "why does this happen?". The writing is incredibly confusing and messy, feels too rushed in some spaces and too slow in others. There's just... so much going on and so little at the same time. They brought in elements that in the OG don't get introduced until later in s1, s2, the comics, or even the legend of Korra. The reason these things get introduced so early here is not clear at all, because they don't serve any purpose other than to be an obstacle to Aang, Sokka and Katara on their way to the North.

Mai and Ty Lee are.. there. They get introduced earlier but they don't serve any purpose at the moment other than stand around, watch Azula train, ask questions so that Azula can give us the answers the viewer needs. My guess is they only got introduced for the audience who watched the OG to go "oh we know them!". We get the secret tunnel story earlier too, but it has absolutely nothing to do with love. Somehow "love is brightest in the dark" now correlates to the badgermoles being able to sense a human's emotion. It's a waste of a storyline, doesn't teach us anything about love, gives us Omashu lore which is useless bc neither Sokka nor Katara actually use love to escape the tunnels. Also Oma and Shu are lesbians now, but you only know that bc they changed Shu's pronouns. Wow, so progressive! We have lesbians in the story now! Boy do i feel represented as a sapphic!

We get Koh early on as well, but his entire gig got changed. Now suddenly he doesn't steal faces but he "feeds", and hunts using the fog of lost souls (which is tlok lore mind you) as a tool to trap humans. We introduce the mother of faces (comic book lore!), or rather pendant of her that Koh owns. There's no reason for her to exist in this story though other than to be an easter egg to everyone who read the search (Not even the majority of the fandom!) and to offer a solution to this problem we've created, which is Koh capturing our friends in order to eat them and us not being able to convince him into letting them go. There's no feeling of dread in the Koh scenes at all because the whole problem of not showing emotion is just not a thing now. No suspense, no fear, just a weird cgi clown face worm. The worm doesn't even menacingly circle around Aang to invoke a feeling of being surrounded, it just sits there. I also just don't understand why Koh is here already bc now who is going to give us information about Tui and La?

This decision also creates a problem that Hei Bai's story just isn't about Hei Bai anymore. We get fed a few lines from a talking fox about how the forest spirit got hurt, but there's really no solution? Aang buries a pinecone in front of the statue and tells him not to give up hope but he didn't even really need to do that, because Hei Bai wasn't the one kidnapping villagers! It was Koh. Why did we appease Hei Bai if Koh was the real villain? Hei Bai/Koh's story leads us to Roku, but Roku is completely useless. All he does is undermine Kyoshi's advice to Aang, tell Aang about the mother of faces pendant so he can appease Koh, and then we leave. I knew in advance Roku wasn't going to warn Aang about the comet here bc Albert Kim already told us working with a deadline like that with child actors is just impossible. But with Roku suddenly not being Aang's main Avatar guide he just gets nothing to do. There's no suspense in this part of the story either, bc the time limit of the winter solstice isn't a thing here at all. Aang also ends up flying over Fire Nation borders without issue, and gets led right into the sanctuary without the puzzle of figuring out how to open the door, and without the problem of Zhao's soldiers waiting for him when he comes out. It creates this issue of there not being any excitement, at least for me. I genuinely am getting a bit bored with the show, which was never an issue with the OG for me. There's a reason all of this extra material didn't get introduced until later on. There's too many characters and they all get too little time to really do anything useful, they're not fleshed out, the stories aren't thought through and it ends up getting very confusing and boring. I'm genuinely curious for the perspective of people who have never watched the OG cartoon, bc i wonder if they're even able to follow along without prior knowledge of this universe.

Bumi is just... not Bumi. They completely changed his character to be this bitter old senile man that resents Aang for abandoning the world. This doesn't make any sense because in this version of the story Bumi shouldn't know that Aang is the Avatar at all, because Aang was told right before he disappeared! So why does Bumi immediately know that Aang is the Avatar, and why does Aang immediately recognize him? Also the original point of Bumi's tests is to get Aang to approach fights and puzzles from a different angle, so he can learn versatility as the Avatar. But here the tests are just happening because Bumi is mad at Aang for leaving and wants to get back at him for being gone so long. He says some lines about Aang having to learn to make hard choices and you can't rely on your friends, but Aang ends up proving him wrong in the end! What is even the point of Bumi's part in the story now, except for him just being another obstacle on the way to the North Pole?

There's a lot of instances where I feel like the bond between characters gets completely lost. We barely spend any time with the side characters like the mechanist, Teo, Jet and the freedom fighters, and the people in the spirit village. It makes some scenes feel very out of place. These storylines all happen at once, and they don't get their individual moments to shine. We have no room to feel betrayed by Jet or Sai, because we barely got to know them to begin with. Jet and Sai only spend time with One member of the gaang each, but when their betrayals come to light the rest of the group acts devastated, as if it was their dear friend. Sokka also gets really mad about the Jet thing, but he only met Jet once when he smuggled them into Omashu, and Jet didn't even tell Sokka his name. He said it afterwards when Katara met him again. It makes absolutely no sense why Sokka is yelling at Katara for trusting Jet only bc she finds him attractive, when Sokka wasn't even there during all of that!

The sense of family between the gaang that we get from the original also just doesn't happen here. Especially because these characters so far have spent more time apart than together. Aang constantly gets separated from Sokka and Katara, leaving no room for them to bond. We get Katara and Sokka bonding, but they shouldn't need those types of scenes because they're already siblings (which isn't very clear in the show either btw!). I ended up forgetting that Sokka and Katara were trapped by Koh, bc we spend so much time away from them (a whole episode, which is now an hour!).

I have little to no criticism for the Blue Spirit story. Want to guess why that is? Bc they left it pretty much untouched. We even get a little bit of an extra scene, with Zuko and Aang talking while Zuko recovers after getting hurt during the escape. I liked this choice, especially bc it highlights how conflicted Zuko is.

This is where we get Zuko's backstory. I have one question here: why did they make Ozai more sensible and less ruthless? Was that a Daniel Dae Kim decision? Bc it feels like a Daniel Dae Kim thing to do. They're very on the nose with the way Ozai is abusing Zuko and Azula, but then they turn around and make this man visit Zuko after he burned him and praise Zuko about finding the Avatar. I understand that they did this to show how Ozai uses Zuko's accomplishments in order to push Azula, but even if it were to do that: the original Ozai would NEVER. The problem here as well is that they don't let the viewers draw any conclusions themselves anymore. They're holding the viewer's hand through the whole thing, leaving no room for nuance or doubt.

I just finished episode 7 and 8 and I have Things To Say. None of which are good. Writing it down is challenging so it might take a day or two.

[valentine-cafe]

˖⁺. “ sapphic kind of love ! ” :

﹙ various women characters x fem reader﹚.𖹭 ݁

. . . various women x fem reader!! 🍓:﹙ meng yao 9948e : reaper ˖ mother character ˖ nadia 9948e: harpy ˖ villain character˖ lisse 9948e: nature elemental ˖ mercenary character ˖ rishima 781: scientist ˖ professor character ﹚

some sapphic headcanons for our girlies <3

﹙ cws﹚: none! | wc : 1.0k

﹙ receipts﹚: this one's for you @squeesh1 ! hope that you enjoy it <3

꒰other treats : guidelines ˖ m.list ˖ characters.˖ our lore꒱

Nadia Armetta Stenskjold !! 🍒 :

who adores when you help preen her feathers, so that she can wrap her wings around you after and hug you close.

who loves waking up early to bake pastries and bread for the breakfast. Excitedly awaiting your wake, so that she can see your eyes shimmering all happily yet another day.

who takes you for a walk around her manor every day so that the two of you can walk and talk. Assuring that your mental and emotional health stays well kept, as well as your physical.

who sends adelina ( her owl ) out for you whenever she’s curious where you are. Watching over you and assuring no bother or disturbance comes near you.

who dresses you up in beautiful dresses and suits, whichever your preferences are. She pampers you, cooing softly into your ear, going on and on about how handsome or pretty you look each time you show her a new outfit she bought for you.

who gets jealous whenever she sees you talking to other people around. Sharp owl talons wrapping around the side of your hip while she stares down at the other, a slight strain in her smile.

who likes to steal you away for flights around elritea, whirling around and about in the air to listen to your small yelps and squeals. The sounds of your little complaints and scolds are even better.

Lisse !! 🍓 :

who buys you flower bouquets in masses, covering drawers, shelves and any surface where flowers can stand in their vases. Each and every bouquet is costumized to express her love to you through flower language.

who shoots vines in your general direction the second she sees you passing by. Wrapping them around your waist to pull you over. All so that you can feel her lips feathering away at your skin with small kisses. Heart fluttering like the petals of her flower trees.

who takes you on walks around the gardens of her home, introducing you to the flora and fauna. You swear, each time the earth feels her steps land upon it, everything around her sighs in yearning and relief.

who puts copius amounts of belladonna into your ex’s coffee one day. You didn’t know any of it. Only that they suddenly stopped harrassing you one day and disappeared

who sits and listens attentively every time you have something to ramble to her about. Always inviting you with her to her private gardens for a cup of something pleasant as you speak

who doesn’t take any shit from people who try to hurt you. Depending on the intensity, they usually get it back the same. Sometimes even twice as much as they gave.

who fixes you up some teas or floral drinks to aid you in your sleep schedules or stress. She knows many recipes. Though she never seems to use them on herself much. . . You admire the mental strength of this woman.

Mèng yáo !! 🍒:

who will send out her raven, Dhalia, to message you whenever she’s to travel out of her sanctuary. In the letters are always countless of comfort, the smell of her perfume sticking onto the paper and never leaving. You can only yearn for her to come back home.

who bathes you as though you were the high priestess of death and she your servant. Bath salts, exfoliators, body butters and homemade hair remedies to keep it healthy. Her hands do the work, of course, nevermind how much you insist.

who lights up her lavender and jasmine incense for you. Gowns joining together for each swing she does of her arm with you in it. She’s always loved to dance you around during moonlit nights.

who appreciates it a lot when you help her take care of the yuè sanctuary visitors whenever she’s busy with prayers and healings of the sickly or wounded travelling reapers from all around.

who grows nervous each time you speak up around her deadbeat husband. It is one thing she does it, it is an entirely other when you do it. Mùchén has harmed many before, you would not be an exception. She always shields you extra in the aftermath.

who teaches you how to use a scythe, despite your human ancestry. She sees your passion for the craft as a reaper, and once allowed you to wield her scythe.

who takes you out shopping for the usual essentials around the household and sanctuary. You find the groceries while she gets the uniform packages she ordered for her new maids.

Rishima !! 🍓:

who stays up late and scolds you lightly whenever you’ve stayed awake for her to come home. Only to then join you in bed and make sure you sleep.

who coded you into her laboratory system once, so that when you call her from home, a life sized holographic version of you will pop up while you tell her about your day.

who you whine about not taking enough breaks. Your fruitless attempts at moving her to take a break leaving you huffy and pouty until she actually takes one. Even if it is short! You wanna sit and enjoy some coffee with her.

who leans into you and groans quietly at the fingers working away at the tired muscles of her back. You know she carries the entire order of aetheers, so why not take the weight off of it?

who takes you out for dinner on the rare occassions she takes a day or night off. She always lets you pick. And after, she spoils you rotten.

who will work despite being on vacation, typing away at her keyboard, while she’s covered up in sunglasses, a large sunhat and a long dress, to cover her from the sun. All while you play around in the pool with her husband and adult kids, and their tia and tio.

who sighs in frustration when you’re not around. Forgetting her little basic to-do’s, take meds, eat, hydrate. Sometimes the presence of you around is just nice, easier to focus.

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[sunlit-arrow]

About Artemis Parthenia

In my short time learning about Lady Artemis, I have encountered a lot of discussion and reiteration regarding Her virginal aspect. Since Her cult revolved significantly around this commitment to chastity, it is a topic that must be addressed by anyone interested in an in-depth worship of Her. Still, I have made my own reflections and would like to share these here.

(Please note that I am in no way an expert—just a single worshiper writing down her personal perspective on a vast topic.)

It is a lot to unpack since it is one of the main things that distinguish Her as a deity, so I'll go through the following points:

Virginity and Maidenhood

Artemis as Protector of Girls and Women

Artemis and Childbirth

Patriarchal Views on Chastity

1. Virginity and Maidenhood

Homer describes Artemis as "one of the three" who cannot be swayed by Aphrodite's power. This is how we learn that Artemis has no romantic or sexual interest. (While I acknowledge that many of Her myths and their possible reinterpretations can be read through a sapphic lens, that is not the focus of this discussion.)

What is particularly interesting about Artemis’s detachment from romantic love is that She not only rejects marriage but also actively chooses not to marry. From an idealistic, romantic, and modern perspective, we might imagine Lady Artemis declaring that love will never keep Her from the wild and that no man will ever take that from Her. However, we still get to read myths that describe the moment in which Her father, King Zeus, grants Her the wish to stay an eternal Maiden.

Virginity, in this context, does not mean actual chastity but rather a rejection of marriage to a man.

In contrast to other married goddesses, one can only imagine how offensive it would have been to lust after a maiden goddess—something reflected in the many myths where Artemis punishes those who violate Her privacy. Thus, "virgin" or "maiden" became a title that imposed limits on how men perceived girls and women.

This leads me to my second point.

2. Artemis Soteira, Hêmerasia, Philomeirax & Paidotrophos.

When we look at other virginal goddesses like Hestia and Athene, we could go through their cults and analyse why their aspects as maidens are relevant to their domains, but what about Artemis?

Lady Artemis is not only, along with Lord Apollon, the protector of Lady Leto (their mother, who was abandoned in Her time of need); She is also the protector of girls—their untamed nature, their growth through puberty, and their well-being once they are married off and considered women.

Artemis, as the protector of girls and women, remains a maiden because She transcends the control that men have over girls. Her independence and fierceness as the Lady of Beasts is a power no man can overcome, and for that reason, She is a threat to those who would seek to violate what She most fiercely protects: the innocence and autonomy of young girls.

Artemis must be depicted as a maiden not because She must be pure and chaste but because She is an adult, powerful goddess who represents the right of little girls to choose their own futures.

Taking my own perspective, I can imagine Lady Artemis choosing not to marry because of Her love for the freedom found in the wild. As if She wants to share the gift of choice with all, She calls women to Her sanctuaries, offering them a refuge from forced marriages.

"Come with me and be free."

3. Artemis Orsilokhia

So, how can a virgin goddess also be the protector of mothers?

Just imagine being married to a man your father chose for you, being forced into sexual intercourse because it is your duty to bear an heir, and suddenly, you have this little baby—yours to carry, yours to nurture, yours to bring into a world that has wronged you.

Artemis understands the love of a mother, whether it comes from choice or coercion. She knows this because Her own mother suffered while bringing the godly twins into the world. One could say that She held Leto’s hand as Apollon was born.

Here is where I could go on and on into an in-depth analysis of the myth of Kallisto—since, in my opinion, Lady Artemis would never kill a pregnant woman out of rage—but I will save that for another post.

All I want to say, since this post is already long, is that if we examine how earlier civilizations viewed sex, we see that it was often directly tied to procreation. Sex frequently meant childbirth. In this sense, one could argue that Artemis is also a goddess of sex—not as an act of pleasure but as a force of nature. She is a protector against rape and sexual violence, a judge of those who mistreat their partners in intimacy, and a caretaker of those who bear the fruits of fertility.

Once again, Lady Artemis is not against sex or pregnancy. She is a goddess of freedom, and because of that, She is a goddess of choice—of the ability to decide whether to be a mother, a wife, or neither.

4. Chastity Culture and Artemis’s Priestesses

What I dislike most about the modern interpretation of Artemis as a virgin goddess is how it has been used as an excuse to police the sexual behavior of women.

Yes, Artemis’s priestesses were once required to be virgins. Yes, a vow of chastity was demanded. But based on everything I have discussed so far, doesn’t it make more sense for Her priestesses to be free with their bodies as they choose? Why do I still see people asking Artemis’s priestesses if they have taken a vow of chastity? Why does it matter?

Let me put it this way: as the Lady of the Wild and the Mistress of Beasts, how can we even begin to imagine the untamed forces of life without sex?

This may be a controversial opinion, and I don’t expect everyone to agree with me, but continuing to demand chastity vows from women as a condition to validate their devotion to a goddess who protects girls and women is an insult to much of what She stands for.

Do not let chastity culture corrupt Her worship. Teach children how to say "no." Teach them to recognize manipulation, grooming, and abuse. Teach teenagers how to have safe sex, how to ask for and give consent. Teach people to respect their bodies and that "No" is a complete sentence. Discuss sexual violence in relationships, peer pressure, and healthy understandings of sex and love.

Worship Lady Artemis by giving people all the tools they need to choose for themselves. And if their choice is to have sex, let it be in the healthiest way possible.

[alexusonfire]

Tincture Tantrums

Jane Murdstone x Reader

Jane is a frequent migraine sufferer, only this time she has a bit of help.

A/n: Something about healing with herbs just screams Sapphic to me, and I can never get enough. This is slight AU (?), as she doesn't live with her brother and is instead on her own. Also, if you couldn't tell, I am ill once again, and in order to cope here's a good old sick fic with the babyest grumpiest patient in England. 😉

You hadn't heard from Jane yet today, which was rather odd considering she usually made her way to you for breakfast. At first you'd simply passed it off as her being busy, but when supper rolled around with still no sighting of her, you felt something wasn't right. You wrapped yourself in the cloak Jane had gifted you for your birthday last year and headed off towards her house, hoping she had been merely caught up in another one of her sewing projects (she would often lose track of time when she was concentrating on perfecting her needlework, a trait you'd come to find both slightly annoying and incredibly endearing).

Jane's home was a quaint little cottage on the edge of town, she originally picking it for her own privacy and "space from the blithering idiots you call townspeople."; little did she know at the time, it would also serve as a wonderful sanctuary of privacy for the two of you, freeing you to spend the night as lovers without raising any neighbors' suspicions.

You knocked once, twice. Waited. Knocked once more.

"Jane?"

There was a lit candle in the kitchen window, signaling that Jane had indeed been up early that morning at some point. Seeing the flame still flickering made your stomach clench unpleasantly; once Jane completed her morning routines, she would snuff the flame, constantly worried about it being knocked over onto the wood floor and causing troubles.

"Jane, I'm coming in."

The cottage was deadly silent, save for the wind whistling through the rooftop. You scanned the various rooms searching for any sign of her, more troubled to see everything was still in place from your clean up the prior evening. Treading carefully towards the back of the house, you noticed her bedroom door slightly ajar, not a shred of light coming from the other side of it.

"Jane?"

Your whisper carried into the dark room, hoping aganst all hope she'd call back to you.

"Who's there?"

"Leave me."

Nearly startled by the raspy voice, you fumbled your way into the room, being careful not to make too much noise. Worry creased your forehead when you finally saw her, still in bed and huddled under the thick covers.

A groan sounded from the darkness, followed by a hoarse command.

You shook your head, despite knowing she likely couldn't see you, and made your way over to her bedside. Gingerly you placed your hand in hers, slightly surprised when she didn't immediately snatch it back.

"Y/n?"

A small smile crept on your cheeks at her immediate recognition of you; as she'd always told you, it was like your hands were made for one another, slotting into the dips and crevices perfectly.

"Yes Janey, it's me. Are you ill? Can you tell me what's wrong?"

It took a few moments, Jane's deep breathing and small whimpers not easing the crease in your brow. You rubbed your thumb along hers, attempting to bring her some small comfort while she gathered her thoughts.

"Head pains."

She moaned again, her free hand shooting up to cover her eyes. Wanting to help, you attempted to slip away from her in order to gather the necessary items; the vice grip on your hand, however, told you she had other plans.

"Janey I know how to help, you must let me."

"No, I'm fine, just... just stay here."

You huffed affectionately and squeezed her hand, then stood over her to kiss her forehead.

"I'll be right back, I promise."

If you didn't know better, you'd say the next sound that escaped Jane was very nearly a whine. Fortunately for you this wasn't the first time you'd dealt with Jane under the weather; she could be a notoriously difficult patient (according to every local doctor in the area), and would often reject any sort of help as "fluffing" and "unnecessary". Also fortunately for you, Jane seemed less inclined to tell you off, sometimes even displaying small fractions of neediness you didn't dare point out to her, but cherished nonetheless.

Getting right into it, you started by setting a pot of water on the stove and gathering some willow bark from the pantry, chopping it up into smaller pieces as the water boiled beside you. Fond memories of your Aunt Millie teaching you to cure various ailments with tinctures and herbs came to mind, long evenings filled with laughter spent in a kitchen similar to this one. You hummed quietly to yourself as you gathered the rest of your supplies, blowing out the still-lit candle before moving to place the bark in the pot to steep while you soaked a cold cloth in rosemary oil. A creak of floorboard sounded behind you, your heart stopping in your chest as you spun around.

"Jane! What on earth are you doing? Back to bed, come on-"

Jane waved her hand, shooing you away as you tried to turn her around. You tut as you took in her appearance, still dressed in her nightgown with a dishevelled braid slung over her shoulder.

"As I said I am... fine... I'll just... sit here for a moment-"

She stumbled into you, wincing as the light caught her eyes. You groaned and clutched her by the waist, using every ounce of strength to get her back into bed without causing her further pains.

"This is not up for discussion or debate Jane. I'm taking care of you and you will deal with it, now let's go."

Jane grumbled, but appeared to acquiesce as she let you lead her back into the darkened room. You helped her lay back down, every moan and sign of pain making your heart clench. Despite her being prone to stubborness, you really did hate to see her like this.

Once you had her tucked back into bed she grabbed for your hand again, though this time you were quick and caught her wrist, placing a gentle kiss on her knuckles before pushing back.

"Give me two minutes, my love."

More grumbling, a small whine. You had to stop yourself from chuckling when you pictured the pout she was surely sporting now, a sight only you had ever been lucky enough to be graced with. Returing to the kitchen, you strained the bark tea into a cup, then gathered up the cold cloth and some fresh basil leaves. Careful not to bump into anything once in the bedroom, you set down your items on her nightstand, then tucked some loose strands of her hair behind her ear.

"Janey love, I've brought some things that will help. Are you able to hold a cup right now?"

"Of... course I can, silly girl, hand it to me."

Jane's harsh words held no malice, and you simply shrugged it off as you waited for her to straighten herself up before placing the cup in her hands. In the outlines of the dark, you could see her struggle to lift it to her lips, and her wobbly grasp had you worried about her spilling the hot beverage. Silently, you reached out and held Jane's hand in your own, steadying her enough that she was able to drink. After a few gulps she pushed her hand back towards you, a clear sign she was finished. Next you placed a few small green leaves in her open palm, which Jane brought up to her nose to sniff curiously, the action causing her cheeks to wince in pain.

"Basil?"

"It's been used for centuries as pain relief. I chew on it sometimes when my joints are hurting, though I will admit this is my first experience using it for head pains. I thought it couldn't hurt."

Jane simply hummed and silently chewed, the strong taste that coated her tongue a welcome distraction from the pain. As she swallowed she felt a cool cloth that smelled faintly of rosemary cover her forehead and eyes, and she let out a rather loud sigh at the instant relief soothing her temples.

"You should try and sleep Jane, it does help."

"I'll... try. No promises."

It was the best you could ask for. As you gathered everything back up you were surprised to see Jane's hand shoot up, blindly searching for you in the dark.

"Jane what-"

"You'll stay, won't you?"

You detected a small note of fear, dare you even say panic, in her voice, and before you knew it you were slowly crawling into the bed beside her. You tucked yourself into her shoulder, careful not to jostle her too much, and smiled when she clung to you, her free hand once again linking itself in yours.

"Of course I will Janey. Always."

Silence cloaked the room, and you thought she'd finally fallen back asleep by the even motions of her chest. Just as your eyes began to feel heavy, a small whisper sounded in your ear.

"Thank you, sweeting."

Knowing the true meaning behind her words, you twisted your head slightly to place a kiss on her half-exposed collarbone.

"I love you too, Jane."

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@weemssapphic 🖤