#fic i was working on

[sapphoherselz]

Writing this in my docs cause it keeps deleting on tumblr!! SO, third time is the charm…

Lesbian andreil based on a fic a was working on “one of your girls"

NSFW!!!

Comphet

Writing sucks!! So, Alexa play Picture You by Chappelle Roan

1. Neal and Andrea are not in love with eo, they’re just very good roomates and Neal is 100% straight and is going to end up with a man even though she has never felt any physical or emotional attraction to the opposite gender, until

2. Andrea usually brings her hookups to their apartment, and Neal usually leaves said apartment to give them some privacy, UNTIL

3. Neal has the apartment to herself one night, and she decides to follow her friends advice and explore by herself because apparently “you need to know what you like before trying it with another person”;

4. so, she watches porn, she read some articles but it's doing nothing to her, even if she’s tying to mimic what they're doing, UN TIL;

5. Andrea comes home and she’s brought someone over! Neal's hearing is very good and the walls are very thin so she can hear everything they’re doing;

6. everything, meaning the passion in their kisses, the hurried footsteps and…Andrea leaving her one night stand on her bed while she goes sitting on a chair because apparently she prefers to give orders and watch how their partners pleasure themselves;

7. And look, Neal is not a pervert or a voyeur or anything like that but she was there first and she’s going to get an orgasm out of her, come hell or high water!

8. It's not her fault if she can hear Andrea so clearly it's almost as if the blonde is whispering in her hear, it's not her fault if the "You're gonna touch yourself for me, Nath”, the order being given, the ever present authority combined with this intimate moment making Andrea's voice huskier than usual, or the accidental use of her almost-ex-name, that make all of her senses feel heightened; goosebumps rise delicately on the length of her arms and legs, the faint fragrance of cigarette that always seems to follow the blond seeping through the gaps of the wood pattern into her bed, wrapping her tightly;

9. It's not her fault if she starts touching herself just like Andrea is telling her partner-for-the-night to, her ears perked as if she were a puppy, trying to catch the faintest breath of air escaping from Andrea;

10. It's not her fault that the blonde's voice, once it comes, is as flat as it usually is, devoid of any emotion, reminding her one-night stand to slow down and Neal can't help the thoughts flooding in her head, telling her that she's doing good and wondering if the other would praise her if she knew, if she were the one- the mere thought is enough to make her her hips buck and jerk unconsciously against her cupped hand and…oh. That’s different, that's good;

11. It’s not her fault if she has to bring the unoccupied hand to her red-bitten lips as a a faint wail slips its way out of her, hips still oscillating despite the fear of being caught; the touch makes her feel ashamed but stimulated at the same time, heaving breaths getting out of her opened lips as silently as she can;

12. It's not her fault that she starts mouthing Andrea's name, wishing she were the one screaming her name, instead of having to swallow it down as she keeps rubbing oh so slowly, her long legs shaking, eyes half open and half closed, wisps of sweaty hair sticking to skin;

13. It's not her fault that once she comes, her vision blurring, her body trembling greatly as if an earthquake had taken place in her body, her hand still moving as if it had a mind of its own, that she wanted the wall between them to disappear, to have the blonde leaning over, her chest against her back, kissing her shoulder, her neck, whispering sweet nothings in her ear;

14. But that can’t never, ever happen because Neal is a straight woman, she's not attracted to Andrea and this whole night was just a fluke;

15. Neal throws these false hopes away as far as she could, as soon as they came. She has not even an ounce of strength left, simply letting the wall support her weight with a far-away look in her eyes, still gasping for breath and listened unwillingly as the other woman came off from the high, wondering if she was being helped cleaning herself, if her hair was being played with, if her forehead had been kissed…

16. But Neal didn't need any of this, she could do it on her own. She lays on her side, her knees up to her chest and shivering from the cold of the night, a hand resting on her own head, twirling a few curls, scratching her scalp, imagining a larger hand, a rougher touch…

17. And if Neal falls asleep, still muttering her roomates name, that's nobody's business;

…

18. And if Andrea had almost said the wrong name, lost in the red curls and freckled skin, if she had pursed that woman because she resembled one annoying roomate of hers…then it's really her business, and no-one else's.

[holographings]

someone on twitter said Imagine what s2 jayce would give to talk to s1 viktor just one more time. and someone had a time travel alternate dimension fic ready to go. and i read it. and now my face is being eaten by 3750 feral dogs i think

[itsscaredycat]

and they lived happily ever after 🥲🙏

[roppiepop]

Typical role dustribution

[nenoname]

hunting down a specific image but finding miscellaneous storyboards/some cut panels from the stan comic story instead

[frownyalfred]

thinking about the expert masseuse Alfred hired for the family that is paid a small fortune annually to provide massage services and ignore so, so many things. No questions, no remarks, just quality service and an ironclad NDA that, if broken, would probably topple said masseuse’s entire family line.

Things Alfred is paying them to ignore, in no specific order:

Bruce’s spinal hardware courtesy of Bane :)

weird amounts of muscle on everyone, even the kids (despite them allegedly not working physical jobs)

scars

FRESH scars

the fact that every joint in Bruce’s body clicks when moved/manipulated at the tender age of 42

Olympic athlete level physiques

rotator cuff injuries across the whole family

scars that are definitely from bullets and/or acid splashes

old signs of what looks like torture (Bruce)

Dick’s entire left arm is basically screws and plates (he “fell really bad” once)

every single family member takes deep tissue massage with max pressure with 0 complaints

calluses

no really, the weirdest fucking calluses

[eydilily]

break like an artist.

--

a collab between me and @slashmagpie for hermitadaymay's Solstice Social Collaborative Event! make sure to check out magpie's amazing fic for this too :D

(alternate ver under the cut)

[eridan-ampora]

i love it when characters are codependent. i love it when losing someone feels like losing a limb. i love it when two people "complete" each other so wholly and terribly that one can barely function without the other. i love it when the fear of losing the only person who understands them is so all-consuming they'll destroy anything to stay together, including themselves.

[blueflipflops]

Have you ever read a really good fic then looked up the author's other works and lo and behold a treasure trove of fics that are exactly your kind of shit? Because god that is what euphoria feels like. I love you random fic writers i unexpectedly find

[emphistic]

Toji hasn't been able to kiss you in ages, and it's not far fetched to say he's starting to go insane.

"So," you began, taking a seat on the armrest of the sofa where your boyfriend sat, "how's your day going—so far? How are you feeling?"

"Homicidal."

You laugh, and ask if there's a reason for that, but you already know why.

"Your son—"

"Our son, Toji."

"Doesn't feel like he's my kid when he's bein' the worst fucking cockblocker of the century." Toji snapped his head to the side to meet your eyes, and his scowl deepened ever so slightly at the sight of you—the can of soda in his hand got crushed within seconds.

"C'mon, honey, he's just a baby. And you know how babies are."

"Yeah, I do. Whiny little assholes that can't be alone for a second before they start cryin' for their mothers. I know you pushed him out of your vagina . . . or something, but he needs to know I had to push him out of my balls before any of that was even possible."

"Toji!" you scream-laugh, before clasping a hand over your mouth, wary of the fact that a baby was sleeping just down the hall.

"Okay, okay, that was a joke. But still," Toji murmured, "I can't really say I haven't missed you these past few days, because I have."

"Awh, Toji, baby," you began, rubbing his shoulder, "I've missed you, too! We should totally call Shiu—let him know his babysitting services are needed." You squealed, "You are such a cutie, Toji. You missed me?!"

"Uh huh, I've missed you," mumbled Toji, before he began to quietly add, under his breath: "and so have my balls, which have been real freakin' heavy recently."

[swordsandholly]

Thinking about a mechanic!AU where the 141 boys run a garage and need a new receptionist. They hire you because you’re just so cute (great tits) and have a decent resume but it becomes a slight problem when they realize you’re a bit… dense.

Total ditz to be precise.

But they can’t really get mad when you get the keys for clients mixed up and look at them with those big eyes all teary and a little pout pushing out your lower lip.

Price is the most patient, perfectly content to walk you through how to file paperwork and fill out forms. Instructing you in a low voice while his breath brushes the shell of your ear. It’s really their fault for having such a terrible system, you know? Don’t worry about it too much, dove. He’ll settle his big hands on your shoulders and gently trace up and down your arms. See? You’re getting it. Just needed some more practice, hm?

Johnny is more than happy to show you around the garage, rattling off everything he knows about all those nitty gritty details that go right over your pretty little head. He’ll pop open the hood of some sports car and point to the engine to show it off. No, bonnie, you’ve got tae get in close. Closer.

Until you’re bent entirely over in one of those too-short skirts you wear everyday. It takes all his willpower not to yank you into the supply closet.

Gaz is just so sweet to you. Always bringing you little treats and candies to suck on. To help you concentrate, of course. Always greeting you with a soft ‘baby girl’ at the beginning of your shift. Whenever you’re standing around be it at the printer or counter - wherever really - he’ll slip a hand on your waist. It always trails a little lower, his pinky just edging on the hem of your too tight jeans.

Ghost gets frustrated with you to the point of causing tears to well up in the corners of your eyes. He’s feels guilty, sure, but bloody hell just print the damn receipt. He avoids you for the most part. Until one evening when it’s pouring down. You forgot your rain coat of course, silly girl. He offers you a ride which you take happily.

After that he can’t get rid of you. You bring him coffees (how you remember his order word for word but not where you last left your own cup is beyond him) and giggle at his jokes. When a client gets too snappy or too loud he’s the first to step in - standing behind you glaring at them with his huge arms crossed over his chest until they back down.

[forsworned]

Being the only female on TF141 is like Simon constantly scolding you for getting into sheningans with Johnny and Kyle while Price sits on his arm chair with a good book, whiskey in hand and him puffing out smoke like a chimney from his cigar like the daddy he is.

"Delete it."

"Why?"

"Cos I fockin' said so."

You cock an amused brow at him as you look up from the embarrassingly cute photo of the skull-masked behemoth fast sleep and cuddling your Hello Kitty plushie. "Cos y'fockin' said so?" You mock his gravelly Manchester accent and it sends Johnny and Kyle into a fit of giggles. And even Price is chuffed by it. It's contagious really.

It lets your guard down enough for him to yank your phone out of your hand deleting the picture with a swiftness that made your eyes ream and your heart jump. You all groan and jeer at him for being a poor sport but he's quite satisfied with himself. Little does he know, you have a few copies of it in your desktop.

[givemeureyes]

day 1 without ao3: i have gone through all 5 stages of grief multiple times and have invented a 6th. i will not disclose what the 6th stage of grief is.

[clairiko]

i had a dream recently that wild used the four sword and its magic split him into his past, present and future selves 🤔 so ofc i had to draw this concept

[adler-obsessed]

god. Vivienne really is just. that character. She is taken to the circle so young she does not remember what her parents even looked like and someone had to tell her. She wouldn’t even know if they were telling the truth. She is ruthless, the terror and nightmare of the Orlesian court. She almost weeps when you find the Tranquil skulls in Redcliffe. She hates drop waists. She is harrowed younger than any other mage in living memory. She teaches Bull the steps to the dance of the six candles. He likens her to a Qunari dreadnought that has half the enemies on the ground before he’s even reached the front line. Her accent’s not Orlesian. No Free Marcher can tell where she is from either. Is her original voice another part of herself she cut off? She enchanted a duke within one meeting and they scandalised even Orlesian society. She was good friends with his wife. They possibly fucked too. No can control her. She’s been owned since the moment she was first brought to the Circle. She belongs to no people. There are a dozen leashes around her neck claiming otherwise. She makes fun of an elven god for setting his coattails on fire.  She is on the verge of banishing Cole back to the Fade all the time. She can’t help but grow to care for him at the end despite her best efforts to pretend otherwise. She hates herself for it. She thinks caring makes you weak. During the first conversation you have with her unmasked as a Trevelyan, she begs to know if you also cared about her childhood friend, Lydia. She tries to import illegal fur into Skyhold. Did she kill everything soft within her soul herself or did the Chantry sisters do it for her? She is impossible to prank. Some might say she’s even better than Sera at pranking. She was pulled into the game by the time she was nineteen. She’d faced worse things since she could first remember her dreams. Life has never been fair. One merely needs to be hard enough to survive. The blade at her neck when she lay on the floor of the harrowing chamber was no different from the hunger in her belly as child, a necessary pain that only drove her forward. Maker, was there ever any chance that she did not see cruelty as simply another word for life? Is there any version of her that does not end up surrounded by moral filth? 

[mail-me-a-snail]

one of my favorite things about unmasked spy is that he has such a peculiar hair pattern with his little gray wings. like if he grew a white streak he could be the next administrator.

also engie is here 👍