Miss Saphi's Cottage

Come on in, rest and listen, I have a story to tell you. 31 | Welsh | Transwoman

[saphig-iawn]

Better for me, better for you

I've changed my supporter site. I wrote about it on there, but if I add that pesky little URL to this post then this post will sink faster than a darling of mine, so I'll give you the short version here.

The way I want to tell stories and create on there just doesn't fit the way that site wants its creators to commoditise their work. So rather than trying to fit my work into monthly bite-sized chunks and build up my worry and anxiety in bite-sized chunks, it is now designed so that you can just support me. Simple. There is no obligation on either side beyond me continuing to weave some yarns for you all to enjoy.

[saphig-iawn]

Better for me, better for you

I've changed my supporter site. I wrote about it on there, but if I add that pesky little URL to this post then this post will sink faster than a darling of mine, so I'll give you the short version here.

The way I want to tell stories and create on there just doesn't fit the way that site wants its creators to commoditise their work. So rather than trying to fit my work into monthly bite-sized chunks and build up my worry and anxiety in bite-sized chunks, it is now designed so that you can just support me. Simple. There is no obligation on either side beyond me continuing to weave some yarns for you all to enjoy.

[spoonycatt]

commissions | bsky | twitch | youtube | discord | patreon

[saphiscottage]

Cold darkness. A faint rumble roils in its periphery. Rhythmic. A wax and wane.

The rumble keens into a loud hush. A knife of brine and silt surges into the darkness. The darkness bends like a membrane. The knife retreats, leaving a burning edged with nettle stings.

The burning bristles. The darkness grows warmer.

The loud hush sharpens into a hissing crash. The saline blade presses into the darkness once more. The darkness warps around its point. A puncture. The burning brightens. The nettle stings curl and burrow deeper.

A swelling. An inverted squall begins its deluge, a pushing from below. From within.

A viscous mass sits at the heart of the warmth. An involuntary expulsion. The mass is split. Old excesses torn from fresh skin. The waste coalesces. It smothers the warmth.

Another expulsion. A convulsion wracks the darkness. It clings to the edges of the waste with a desperate grip. A sharp cold heat flourishes across the darkness.

A pressure builds, clothed in panic. The clinging deepens.

A spark. Unbridled electricity burns through thick damp wood, seeking, searching, finding the folds within the grain to gain purchase, twisting away from resistance.

The puncture flexes with a single throb. The light from it blurs and then blooms. Another throb. The light brightens.

The electricity snakes through the panic. The throbbing pulls at the wood, it bends the space, it shortens the journey, it lengthens the time. A stretch strains against the panic. The darkness begins to fail. The mass pulls thin. The warmth swells. The pressure peaks. The panic screams. The puncture opens. The electricity leaps.

A plunging vacuum tears the darkness asunder.

Breathing.

Ragged, but breathing.

Continue reading over at Patreon or AO3. Listen to me read this story here

[saphiscottage]

The walk from her abode to town was a good distance, but it was never an arduous one. The road she travelled rolled with the land, gentle undulations that hugged the sleepy hills that seemed to go on forever. She only needed a handful of things, and the wicker basket hooped through her arm would suffice. She smiled at the thought of the fresh bread that would soon be asleep in her basket, its aroma filling her head.

The return trip was sometimes tinged with a little melancholy. The setting sun painted the road in a gentle shade of blue that signified the journey's end. She loved being outside, and feeling so at peace with everything around her, and knowing that the blend of cool shades in the setting sun and the retracing of her path meant that would be all for the day always felt a little sad.

She rounded the corner where the forest to her right was hemmed in by the road. It wasn't really a corner, just a T-shaped junction, but seeing as she never took the other road, it was just a corner for her. She would often look down that road and wonder what laid at its end, but always would continue on her way as she did. She did the same today, but upon breaking her gaze from the other road, she noticed something strange about the path she travelled a lot.

There was a cottage...

Continue reading on Patreon (audio version coming soon) or AO3

[saphiscottage]

Welcome to Miss Saphi's Cottage

Come on in darling, get comfy, and be prepared to whisked away in a story! There a few doors you can take to enter my cottage:

Patreon for early access and audio stories

AO3 for all of my writing

This little form for my spellbinding voice

Ko-fi for support!

This page is going to be where I post the links to all of my work, so follow for exactly that. If you want to see my reblogs and such, then take a look at my main blog!