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Everytime an editor on TikTok uses art of a character in an edit and the caption is “I don’t know the artists, I found them on Pinterest” A puppy dies.

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back together

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I just wanted to say, when I use “___!reader” in my fics, like femme! Or fem! They mean different things, femme, is an exclusively lesbian term, as well as butch. Fem and masc, are just sapphic terms, I use femme! In relation to femmexbutch/stud relationship dynamics.

Femme: refers to an identity rather than an aesthetic, it carries cultural, personal and political significance.

Fem: mainly focuses of the aesthetics of being feminine, like traditionally ‘feminine’ traits such as gentleness, nurturing, or appearing feminine. (I’m not saying only women are gentle or nurturing, I don’t adhere to outdated beliefs like that, this is just the general meaning from what I’ve researched)

“Femme” generally is an identity that challenges gender norms, is often political and community specific. With no regard to men or the male gaze. Generally ‘femme’ women, experience and present femininity differently from women who are attracted to men. For a lot, being femme means exercising your femininity (gender confirming privilege) to speak up for butches, studs, stems, mascs or any gnc lesbians/sapphic people who don’t have that privilege/ability.

For me personally, being a femme, doesn’t just mean a ‘feminine lesbian’ it gives me agency to embrace my femininity in a way I never did when I thought I like men or when I was suffering from comphet, I express my femininity in a way that doesn’t appease men.

I just wanted to explain my reasoning because I know femme/fem can cause some confusion, I’m still brushing up on my lesbian history, so if anyone is more experienced or more knowledgeable on lesbian history feel completely free to correct me! I’m completely open to learning more. Love yall <3

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Everytime someone hcs a buff/strong character as mean or toxic an angel loses its wings

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Pious Hands

Caitlyn Kiramman x fem!religious!reader

Men DNI

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

TW: Religion, Religious guilt and trauma, descriptions of violence, abuse from a parental figure, mentions of blood, descriptions of wounds (black eye, split lip, lashes on the back) not super detailed though, brief internalised lesbophobia, fear of sinning.

Synopsis: After a violent argument with your oppressive, pious father, you run to the safety of your girlfriend, Caitlyn, she offers to care for you, her anger boiling as you tearfully explain what your fathers done.

Your feet pad against the cold marble floors of the Kiramman house, Cassandra having opened the door for you, her eyes tired as she tugs her sleeping gown around her shoulders tighter, fighting off the autumn chill. She wakes up slightly when she sees you, quivering on her doorstep, dressed in only a silk night dress, your feet dirty, eye swollen, red blood dripping down your chin; your fingertips, toes and face glowing with the cold.

She ushers you in, a lithe hand pressed to your shoulder, the door shuts and the warmth of the homes hearth eases the freeze of your hands and feet. She pressed her hand to your hair.

“Whatever happened dear?”

Your glazed eyes well with tears, you hiccup, your lungs choking on the suddenly warm air.

She frowns, her face tight with sympathy

“Caitlyn is still awake, would you like to see her?”

You nod, blinking through the tears, she moves her hand back to your shoulder, carefully guiding you through the halls of her home, stopping when you reach Caitlyn’s closed door, she knocks, gently, but enough to be heard.

“Come in.”

Caitlyns voice rings out, calm and eloquent.

Cassandra pushes the large door open, Caitlyn is laid back on her lavish bed, flicking through her journal, a thin blanket is strewn across her legs.

“Caitlyn”

She lowers the journal, leaning up against her pillows, long hair thrown over her shoulders, her eyes widen when she sees you, the book is tossed carelessly, and she rises from her bed, tall.

It doesn’t take her long to get to you, lithe, gentle hands catching your shoulders, her eyebrows furrow, eyes glowing with worry.

She thanks her mother quietly when she leaves you.

“What happened?”

You gasp brokenly, tears streaming down your cheeks as you clutch at her nightgown.

“My dad, he found photos of us.”

You choke out, slumping against her

“I’m a filthy sinner, I shouldn’t be here, I’m so sorry.”

She grits her teeth, your father, she’s met the man, thankfully briefly, he was a pious man, as was your mother, and by extension so were you, but you were different, kinder, you weren’t intolerant, you didn’t look down upon the people of the city. You didn’t adhere to most of your father’s beliefs. But she knew your father was a skillful manipulator, convincing you that you were tainted, dirty, thankfully, he hadn’t managed to twist your mind into hate, and Caitlyn intended to keep it that way.

She rubs a hand against the back of your neck, breathing heavily before speaking.

“Do you believe that I am dirty? A sinner.”

You hiccup, shaking your head

“Then why do you think you’re a sinner? If I’m not, why are you any different.”

You stare up at her, your eyes doe like, she thumbs under your open eye, careful of your swollen one.

“Your father lies, how can love be sinful?”

Your cracked lip quivers

“You must know, God will still love you regardless of who you love, God doesn’t hate, why would he punish you for something so pure?”

More tears stream down your face.

“Do you understand?”

You nod, your head falling to her chest

“I think I love you.”

Your voice trembles, Caitlyn smiles

“I think I love you too.”

She lifts your head, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth, you smile gently up at her

“Come, we must clean you.”

She smiles slightly, her hand grasping yours gently. She leads you to her bathroom, the porcelain shines, her mirror still steamed, she runs a hot bath for you, the water sloshing up the sides of her claw foot bath, spilling oils and salts into the water.

“We must warm you up, I’ll clean your eye after, Ok?”

You nod, smiling at her.

She kneels down, gently rifling through her well organised draws, pulling out golden oils and lotions, before she rises, a splatter of red catches her attention, she peers down, there’s blood smudged on the tile under your feet

“Lift your foot, my darling”

You oblige, she holds your manicure foot gently, grasping the ankle, her eyes widen at the state of your soles, they’re littered with cuts, luckily there’s no glass wedged in them, but dirt clings to them.

“Oh my dear, can I clean these for you?”

You hum, blinking with one eye.

She swiped the dirt and blood away with a wet cloth, before she cleans the cuts, she walks you over to the tub.

“Would you like me to turn away?”

You shake your head

“No, you’re gonna see it either way.”

You smile, laughing slightly through your nose, she smiles back, her eyes filled with nothing but fondness.

You pull your night gown over your head, letting it fall to the ground

“May I?”

Her pianist fingers reach out, questioning, nodding, you watch her hand gently grasp your hip, her touch out of nothing but love and admiration.

“You’re breath-taking”

You flush, feeling blood pulse in your ears, you look away shyly, carefully reaching your hands behind your back to unclasp your bra before slipping your underwear off.

She just stares at your face, her face relaxed, smiling leisurely at you. You breath shakily before you turn, facing your back to her.

You can hear her gasp sharply at the lighting strikes of scars down your back, lashes from your father, they’re not fresh, scarred over and pink, she runs a gentle finger along them.

You turn your head when you hear her choking around a sob, her eyebrows are knitted and her eyes glow with sympathy, her palm splayed across your spine.

“How can someone be so cruel.”

It’s your turn to wipe away her tears, she grinds her teeth when she thinks about the evil creature that gave you these marks, leaning over your young, scared form, and lashing at you until you bled, she needed him dead, for how much he hurt you.

She bends slightly to wrap her arms around you, pressing fluttery kisses to your ear and neck.

She breathes deeply.

“I’m sorry, dove.”

“It’s not your fault.”

You hum, running your fingers through her silky hair, she breathes shakily. Focusing on the bath that’s still running, she holds you against her, turning the nob of the tap. She guides you to the tub, easing you into the hot water.

You ooze into the steaming water as she scrubs gently at your skin, humming an old song her mother used to play to her when she was young.

When you emerge out of the tub, she helps towel you off, before she’s rubbing sweet oils on your skin and working moisturiser into your joints.

She dressed you in a pair of sleep shorts and a camisole from her wardrobe, she smiled at you as she tied the fastening of the top, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder. Caitlyn snorts at the way the top hangs off of you, her taller stature making the borrowed clothes appear much to large on you.

She leaves a handful of candles lit to light the room, giving it a comfortable glow, she pulls you close under her blankets. Your body between her long legs, her arms criss-crossed over your back.

She whispers into your hairline, thumbing over your spine.

“I love you, nothing will change that”

You nose into her chest, smiling sleepily up at her before you doze off, curled up on your beloved girlfriend, no fear clutched at your heart, you’re not worried about what your father will think, you just feel loved, content.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed my first Arcane work, and I hope it wasn’t too ooc. Reblogs and Comments are always appreciated.

My request are open, please feel free to send me an Arcane request, I Only write WLW works, all men steer clear! This is a lesbian space.

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"i hate abby anderson"..........but she's literally just a girl that's does no wrong.