#like really this is just going wonderfully

[peachdues]

Work has been kicking my ass the last couple of weeks, so I haven’t really had time to write. This is all I’ve got for y’all right now 🤍

Lovers of Compass!Sanemi and Reader discussing books, rejoice. They’re still a couple of fucking nerds (no matter how horny)

It’s almost one in the morning when your phone buzzes.

A message; one from the only person you text, who also happens to be your favorite. On your screen is a picture of the front cover of the book you’d given Sanemi before he left the day before; beneath it, the chat bubble signals he’s sending a follow up.

You caught up yet? Sanemi’s text reads.

You toss your own book to the side, straightening up in bed. Though no one is around to see, a smile unfurls across your lips and your thumbs hurry across your phone’s keyboard.

How far are you?

Sanemi’s reply is instant. Halfway. Can’t finish tonight but I’ve got a few things I need to discuss right the fuck now.

You glance at the time. It’s nearing one-thirty, and your alarm is set for six. Dragging yourself out of bed after less than five hours of sleep is a kind of stupidity you know better than to indulge.

You hit the call button anyway.

Sanemi picks up on the second ring. “I’ve got five minutes,” he warns, voice low, like he’s wary of being overheard. “So if I hang up all of a sudden, it’s ‘cuz of work —“

“Hi to you too,” you tease, settling back against your pillows.

A pause. “Hey there, beautiful,” you can hear his smile even through the phone. “You okay?”

“Better, now that I hear your voice,” and you can’t even be bothered to be embarrassed by the cheesiness of the admission. Texting him is one thing; hearing him, actually hearing that wonderfully gravelly voice of his soothes a tension in your limbs you hadn’t realized you’d been carrying.

He’s okay. He’s unharmed — safe, even. For now, that has to be enough.

Sanemi’s laugh comes through the phone as a staticky exhale of breath. “Normally, I’d ask what you’re wearing, but I’m dead fuckin’ serious — if they don’t win this war —“

“Which battle did you get to?” You sit up, wracking your memory for the approximate place Sanemi has reached in his book. “Did the cadre reunite?”

“No, half of ‘em are still across the fucking continent.”

“Ohhhh, yeah. Okay. I know where you are.” You tug at a loose thread on your comforter. “I can’t say anything. You’ll just have to keep reading.”

“God dammit,” and you imagine he’s rolling his eyes, maybe even glaring down at the book in distaste. “Shit’s got me stressed the fuck out. I don’t know how she’s gonna wrap this up —“

You giggle as he launches into a rant over loose plot ends. Squaring the mental image of your boyfriend — the one currently ranting about the various loose plot ends to still be tied up in his current read — with the one you know must be sitting in some alley or warehouse, waiting to do things he’ll never speak of, feels impossible at times. But here, for this small moment, Sanemi isn’t a Hashira. He’s just a boy, spouting off theories and guesses as to his book’s ending with an almost childlike enthusiasm. Here, there are no orders to leave, no bruised knuckles or bloodstained hands he has to scrub clean in your bathroom sink.

It’s just you and him; your Sanemi. Your wonderful, gentle, sweet Sanemi.

“Ah shit,” he cuts his impassioned tirade off with sigh. There’s a rustling on the other end of the line, but it’s too muffled to be distinguishable. “‘M gonna have to go —“

Just like that, the moment ends and the smile you’d been wearing slides from your face.“Oh.” And you hate how small your voice sounds. “That’s okay — I’m glad I got to talk to you for a sec.”

The rustling stops. “Me too,” Sanemi says softly. “Fuck, I miss you.”

This is the part you hate most; the part when he has to stop being yours and go be theirs, no matter how much you know he doesn’t want to.

Your moments with him are pennies to the hours the Corps gets to demand. As long as they keep their claws in him, this will always be how your moments with him end: in abrupt, hushed voices, Sanemi’s shoulders sagging with a guilt he shouldn’t have to feel.

You grimace. This forced distance between you is bad enough, and you don’t want him to feel worse than he likely already does. You knew what you signed up for by telling him you loved him. You can’t be mad for getting exactly what you’d known to expect. And besides, your ire is reserved for the Corps and the Corps alone. Sanemi doesn’t deserve it. You can’t leave him on your sour note.

He’ll be yours again soon enough, even if only temporarily. That has to be enough, for now. Better to give him something to look forward to, rather than reminding him — and yourself — of what you’re both currently without.

“If you still wanted to know — I’m wearing your shirt. Only your shirt.” You smirk. “A thong, too. The lacy green one.”

A favorite of Sanemi’s, as he’d mentioned a handful of times. One that always set his eyes wide, made his tongue flick out to wet his lips.

Your distraction works. A strangled groan crackles through the phone. “You’re killin’ me, woman.”

[saphig-iawn]

Behind Frosted Glass

Inspired by a certain story, one of my dolls asked if she could have a Good Girl Button.

She was so excited by the way in which should be so easily rewritten. Little tweaks and changes, here and there.

But what really excited her was the idea that I could just record over memories. I could omit little things or construct something new.

She wanted so desperately to be a plaything, programmable by whoever plays with her.

So, after fractionating her pretty little mind until it was putty in my hand, I wove my ribbon between my fingers and into her.

It took her a while to come to after I counted her back up. She's a bit of a glutton for fractionation.

She was so happy to have gone so deep, but we didn't waste time in getting to play.

I asked her a simple question.

Would you be a good girl and touch your forehead for me?

There was a hesitation in her movement, but she obeyed and-

Night night doll!

Bye bye brain!

No matter my teasing, she remained limp in her chair, brain off, just a mindless empty doll.

I counted her up and she awoke with a wonderful smile on her face. I've had this doll for some time now but I recognise that smile. A small part of her was still in a little bit out of doubt, just a tiny piece of doubt, which was immediately quelled by her Good Girl Button working just as she had fantasised.

But then I asked her to hold the button.

Now her mind was like an open microphone, recording anything I told it.

I told her a very simple thing.

That she had a deep arousal that need tending but she just can't remember how to do it.

I counted her up and her hips bucked and thighs squeezed the moment I reached the end.

Her eyes clenched, she bit her bottom lip.

And then she began to twist her arms.

She knew she needed to feed that hunger between her legs but there was static on the line that the signals from her brain were trying to travel along.

Phantoms of muscle memory trying to reach out but being pushed back by the little spell.

Her intimate areas became uncharted territory and it was delightful to watch her try but wonderfully fail at pleasuring herself.

Her moans were delicious, equal parts frustration and pleasure.

While she was on my lap I also wove a lovely pleasure spell, that a snap of my fingers would send pleasure coursing through her.

So to tease and torture I would snap my fingers while she was trying to scratch that itch.

By the time we were done she was a puddle, barely able to string a word together, let alone sentences.

I cooed and coddled her, turning her into a soft ragdoll to ease away the stresses of the scene.

When her mind finally returned to her, she said something beautiful about the experience.

That it was like her memory was trapped behind frosted glass, amorphous and vague, but tantalisingly recognisable, like it was on the tip of her tongue.

I am going to have so much fun with these new spells.

[baggebythesea]

What do you consider a rare ship in SPOP fandom. A real one not like a crack ship. Like I guess off the top of my own head Catra and Perfuma

I'll never stop gushing about the good ship Glimmer and Double Trouble. As much as she loves her life as high queen, Glimmer needs to woo her a scoundrel now and then.

Catra and Perfuma is surprisingly sweet. Much like Glimmer, Perfuma - or should I say Tara - has a thing for reformed (or not so reformed) Horde hotties. I could see her having a fling with Lonnie as well.

Adora and Mermista have some really good fics. A bit Spinnerella and Netossa-vibes.

They rarely get over the dating stage, but I do find Bow and Perfuma really sweet (and I see no reason not to bring Glimmer in to get a constructive resolution of their prom woes).

Speaking of, Glimmer and Perfuma are very cute together. And Glimmer and Mermista (especially when Glimmer is young and naive and look up immensely to the cool pirate princess) and Glimmer and Huntara is great fun in "spoiled brat tries to chat up the badest butch in the biker bar" way and... dangit, I'm just recapping Glimmer Dates Everyone again, aren't I?

For some non-Glimmer rarepairs (which is fine too, I guess) Wrong Hordak and Double Trouble are fun in the 'cupcake + scoundrel' kinda way. Perfuma and Mermista can be sweet if you build on their friction in the show. Entrapta, of course, can be shipped with any piece of sufficently advanced technology, ai or princess that needs 'auntie trapta' to show them the ropes.

I don't exaclty know if Shadow Weaver and Castaspella counts as a rarepair - the ship has a dedicated following. Shadow Weaver and Angella on the other hand definately counts, if you are into toxic yuri milfs. I also kinda like to write Castaspella with just the tiniest lingering crush on Angella, and just a tiny bit of resentment that her bro asked her out first. I have also written a fic with Angella and Hordak, that even if it is a horribly wrong politically arranged marriaged can be a foundation to build on.

Bow and Sea Hawk need to go on hot pirate adventures together, and more often than not I like to bring in Mermista. X marks the spot. For whatever reason I also like to give Kyle some high see adventures with hot pirates. Oh! And Double Trouble flirting with Sea Hawk in the Peekablue episode never gets old.

Scorpia is immensely shippable. I don't count her being with Catra and Perfuma as rarepairs, but there are some wonderfully sweet Scorpia and Entrapta (with Emily as a child). I see her with Adora and even Mermista, and of course some glitter cuddles with Glimmer (dangit, I promised to stop bringing in Glimmer).

This is more of crack fick territory, but Horde Prime is useful in a 'bath her and bring her to my chamber' kind of way, as long as the object of his affection gets to bust his fucking orb before the story is over. There is lots of really sweet and thoughtful clone shipping that deal with the concept of intimacy, the hive mind and learning what it means to be your own person.

Oh, and Octavia and Huntara should totally be bitter exes.

I've said it before, I'll say it again. the Spop show is really good at presenting attraction, and that gives us so many fun ships to play with.

[ladysunbite]

"It is my luck that you are not," the weight of Ciri's head against her shoulder was a foreign, new sensation. The touch against her wrist made Orianna shudder involuntary, the sacred wound studded with bones and demurely hidden under the bracelet throbbed, as if opened anew. It was a long time ago since the sun-eyed vampiress trembled before anyone. "...otherwise, you would not tempt me with your powers. And we would not end up in this world of many wonders," warning and chastisement add a sour note to her voice, half-hearted as both were. As she remembered all the foolery that happened tonight, from the moving pictures to the assault of the strange food, still sticky upon her fangs, a short chuckle escaped her lips, a clicking soft sound, similar to a pleased noises of a bat. In her selfish, curious heart the sun-eyed enjoyed the trip and its fruits. "The place you have agreed to take me to..." something in her voice broke, scratched like a blade against an amour. "...it means to me more than I can put into words, in any language under the moon. Yet I do not even know for sure if it really exists. It might as well be a dream." a beautiful dream that the elders of Gharasham suckled the fledglings upon. What if the laws, the rituals, the studies - a sea of parchments buried in the vaults of Tesham Mutna, an unwritten array of sacred rituals tattoed into her very own mind, were nothing but a lie crafted to keep insanity and chaos at bay? The thin, orphaned darkness of that world felt Orianna's open-eyed alarm and pressed closer to her skirts, consoling or preparing to feast upon her mind that was yet to know. Then, shrouded by a lullaby of the metal on the wind, and the scent of the little witcher's skin so wonderfully close, Orianna, Thezanna realized the most terrible revelation. Even if her homeworld was a lie, it was a lie worth of creating. With the little witcher at her side she would hunt along the pathways of the universe, and if they find nothing, if they find a place barren and hostile, let it be. And it is her duty to discover and to know and to keep that knowledge. She shall polish the shards of the broken world and tend to the growth of another. Toussaint was their found home, but home nevertheless. And she longed to return. Just like her orphans longed to return to the walls of La Compassion, under her bright, sun-like eyes. "I would not do to travel lightly, even if we are seeking a dream. It, after all, could turn a nightmare," the cold fingers continued to play with Ciri's hair. How willing was she to run towards the edge of the unknown, the same reckless passion oft wetted Orianna's own fangs, once she discovered a new place in the stepworld, a new fancy of humans. Yet it was not only curiosity that rushed the maiden forward. Her children were the same, possesed the same trait she could not find a name for. Weaker than herself in every aspect, they continued to offer their blood to her with the benevolence of kings as it was flowing away from their bodies, pushing them into another, cold embrace. Instinctively as any wise animal did, little humans knew well what it was that paralyzing breath of death. Yet still they pressed close, asking her to go on. Not for their own gain, but thinking that she needed it to survive! Naturally, young Orianna made a few mistakes at first. That strange willingness to risk destruction confused her and misinformed her. She was also quick to mend her ways, for vain violence did not amuse her. However, that behavior never ceased to tempt her with its terrible absence of constraint and logic.

Cirilla had the same divine benevolence in her, the madness of one offering its death to a deathless one. It was not possible that she, confident in the ways of her power, did not realize all the dangers her agreement brought in its wake. "It is nothing that should be done, if you are unwilling. I am not even sure if it can be done," mused Orianna, brushing the grey-locks and peering into the thin darkness, veiled across the poisonous, bright colours below.

@fallesto

She sat quietly, her eyes never leaving Orianna's, the weight of the vampire's words pressing down on her like a heavy cloak. Her heart fluttered like the pages of an old, forgotten book. The sun-eyed's warning was clear; there were dangers in this world she had not yet encountered, dangers that even a witcher with centuries of experience feared. In this world and her own, she knew this and she was not the little girl she had once been, coming to terms and grips with her power, she knew what she was doing, despite maybe, just a little bit, showing off what she can do and trying to impress the vampire, just somewhat, to put behind what they had done.

The thought of being used, manipulated, and her power bent to someone else's will was a horror she had not considered. But she understood the gravity of the situation. She nodded solemnly, her eyes reflecting the candlelight. "I shall be careful," she whispered. “I will not do it there then and I will respect that.” As she said to her, she will respect the choices made and what she had asked, that was her land, the land of blood and wine and she will listen to someone who has lived there their entire life, and held it within the palm of their hands.

The second request was more puzzling. Orianna spoke of a world, a place beyond the veil of what she knew. Her curiosity piqued, she leaned in slightly, eager to hear more. "What world is this?" she asked, her voice tentative. Orianna's eyes searched hers, looking for a spark of understanding, a flicker of the same yearning. "I can search for it, but I need a little bit of information," she said finally. "A world that you wish to see, I need information, to find it and take you there without any harm and issues." Ciri felt a strange tug at her heart. The idea of such a place was like a siren's call, beckoning her to a land of safety and belonging.

The vampire's gaze grew distant, lost in the mists of memory. "Tell me what it is you want and I will take you there." As she looked at the vampire for the moment, her mind raced with questions. Could it be possible? A world where witchers and vampires were not sworn enemies, but rather, allies? A world of vampires, a world of monsters, she only had to say. It was a concept she had never been taught, never even considered. Yet, as she sat there in the chairs at the top of the world, the warmth of the vampire's gaze seemed to offer a glimpse of a brighter future, a promise of something she had never dared to hope for.

“You would think by now, I would be used to nobles.” Even undead ones like her.

Her hand reached out, touching Orianna's arm gently. "How can I take you there?" she asked, the urgency in her voice betraying her desperation. The vampire's eyes snapped back to the present, a hint of surprise flickering in their depths. "We can leave, in a moment," The witcher murmured, her fingertips brushing her wrist, feeling the pulse of her power. As she leaned into her and rested her head onto her shoulder.

“Two out of three, your last choice, is something that has not be done before, witchers and monsters, are sworn enemies after all.”

[roguegrove]

what do you know, i CAN finish something. maybe. sorta. i mean i can honestly go back to it forever. but the idea is to get better at stopping before i get nitpicky.

i made this for my lovely friend ban (@brabblesblog) based on her fic(s) of her tav (also ban) and a different take on ascended astarion. not usually my thing, but i LOVE the way she writes and the way she uses canon's clues to tell her love story. ban is such a wonderful part of the bg3 community and is so supportive of artists and creators, i just wanted to give her a little something for how she and her story touched me. she's been such a good friend to me, especially during this weird period of my life, and i hope my little sketch gives her at least a smidge of the warm and fuzzies she's given me since meeting her <3

what's funny is that i have like 5 different versions of this couple. i started before i finished the story, and you can see as i tried each new sketch, i finally started to understand their dynamic.

anyway i hope you like!!

[arsenicflame]

Bootblacking is my favourite kink to give Izzy, because of course this guy would get his rocks off doing precise, repetitive, manual labour. OF COURSE he gets off on what is essentially just another chore on his list.

[emmerrr]

something about how even though jean's been calling neil 'nathaniel' in his head this whole time, he never says it to his face (preferring his several wonderful insults <3), despite the fact that neil's father is dead now and they no longer belong to the minor family. because he knows that's not who neil is anymore, it's not who he's chosen to be, it's not his name. but it's not until riko's dead that jean gives himself implicit permission to abide by neil's new identity -- even in his own head! -- because he knows riko never would have allowed it.

[cloud-makers-make-pollution]

mental breakdowns backstage behind a curtain for the win 😃 👍

mental breakdowns in the instrument cupboard for the win 😃 👍

[thatonegayship]

I loved the cowboy comic so much that I wrote a oneshot for it. https://archiveofourown.org/works/50934235 🥺 your art is BEYOND amazing, ty for the food

INCREDIBLE!!!!!

[good-beanswrites]

My lyrics for Double!! I really loved this song and became like a thousand times more impressed by Deco27 and Natsuki Hanae after working with it for so long 😅 I chickened out of recording this one in the apartment but if anyone wants to cover it... lmk.... 👀 I can definitely put something together to help hear how the rhythms work, because I got it all to line up very nicely! (Lyrics under the cut and my little commentary in the tags)

(I’ve got you, leave it to me!)

Welcome home, it's another day, keeping things at bay, you see no change

Not a smile in this mess, you're doing your best, you say (wake up)

"Don't need a break" as you proceed to start breaking, both sleeping and waking makes you bleed

And now, reborn anew -- I'll take in on for you

Not your plan? Who gives a damn, I'm here and here is where I'll stay

It's just the two of us, nothing left to run from. You're safe now, your hero's come.

All I did was dream, is that a crime? Is that enough to name me guilty by?

"He can't be trusted, he lied," you cried. Made me out as the bad guy. But why?

Ah, I'm the one that saved you, don't you see? So tell me why the hell you cry to me!

Let me hear you revel, grateful, cling to me with "savior," "adore" -- oh, sing to me.

Welcome home, it's another day, keeping things at bay, you see no change

Too late, your limits passed. Too late, yourself has cracked (goodnight)

If you persist I'll assist with releasing, keeping your peace is why I exist

And now reborn anew -- I'll take it on for you

(Oh, hello? Mom? It’s been a while. Yeah.. well, I mean, some days are hard but I’m doing alright, don’t worry. How’ve you been? I’ll go home next time I get some time off...)

The reason I'm alive, must be making sure that you survive

"He can't be trusted, he lied," you cried. Made me out as the bad guy. But why?

All I did was dream, did you forget? Go on and forgive me, I'm no threat.

Listen to me confess, honest. Eat your words and I bet, regret

Ah, I just tried to help, tried to be strong. So tell me why the hell it's all gone wrong

Let me hear you revel, grateful, cling to me with "savior," "adore" -- don't sing me this song

Lost my memory

I'm double, it was unavoidable

Living painfully

I'm trying, as hard as possible

Tell me, tell me.

If I wasn't born, maybe this trouble --

Tell me, tell me.

It's all my fault

[keeps-ache]

i have my glasses now!! here are some things:

saw my mother clearly and almost cried

saw the parking lot and the sky and a tree and forgot to breath for a second

was so enamored with the Sky i tripped over a curb

the stars. oh my god the stars

[stealingyourbones]

Ok so here’s my list of videogames I’m going through rn:

Half-Life series

Batman Arkham

And now Zelda

All of which I know jack shit about the stories or spoilers. I’ve started Batman Arkham Asylum and I’m in the middle of Half Life 2 Episode 1. So far I’m having a blast

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

You get to choose:

Fav character/fav moment/fav ship in s4 of TWDG :]

Favorite character: Louis

Favorite ship: Clouis

Favorite moment: ep4 before the bridge scene, the whole reunion and group hug; Clementine, AJ, Louis, and Tenn walking together while Clem and Louis talk about him killing Dorian and he shares things about himself; the two of them talking about building a home together, it's so good

...I'm very predictable haha

Listen, I know what I like, and that's Louis. TFS really said "okay we're gonna write one of the best characters in TWDG for this game and make him so difficult to get to *actually* know unless the player makes an effort [which half of the players won't] and only then will they see the complexities woven throughout him" and I love that.

[pfhwrittes]

Hear me out on trans!141. What if instead it’s a force!transmasc situation.

Reader is transmasc but only just beginning to transition/find themselves.

Bc of this they’re hella timid and price takes him under his wing.

But he doesn’t just guide you. At first it’s normal stuff - taking you to get your hair cut and telling the barber what you need.

Or going shopping on leave as he bulldozes his way over your protests and buys you whatever he wants to see you in.

Maybe you’re on t and your beard starts to come in but you want to stay clean shaven for now. So price plants you on the counter and takes a straight razor to your face, something about a lads first shave needs to be special. It’s something he’ll always remember.

One thing leads to another and before you know it, price has you bent over his desk as he fucks your boypussy, talking about how he’s gonna teach you everything you need to know.

Just let him him in these tight holes in the meantime.

And don’t worry love, he’ll suck your cock too. Or your cocklette when you don’t want to wear the strap.

Sorry to be horny on main ☠️

lmao never apologise for being horny on main, friend. it's expected, dare i say encouraged!

i'm going to level with you, forcemasc isn't my thing at all (on account of my slightly handwave-y approach to my own gender) but i'm sure someone reading my blog will be going "oh hell yessss!" to themselves right now.

you have raised an interesting point on what masculinity looks like to each member of the 141 and how that would be expressed via "influencing" transmasc!reader though....

[jorvikzelda]

today i had this Vivid memory flash through my mind of kissing my ex boyfriend (this was like 2018) and i felt so viscerally fucking revolted and I gotta say. it is truly impressive that I didn’t realise I’m a lesbian sooner than fucking half a year ago

[casmilton]

something something early seasons sam&dean when they were looking for john and wondering if he was even alive and then his death and every horrible thing that comes after it with the caption as “But there's no other explanation. He's gone for good.” “You're lying.”“Am I? Do you remember the twentieth century? Think the twenty-first is going any better? Do you think God would have let any of that happen, if he were alive?” something something