#fucked up one not the mirror image

[doodles-in-sand]

i realised i never did post anything for triage 1 mil....well, heres thumbnail redraw!

[vaguely-concerned]

you ever think about how the horrific thing dorian almost had done to him... is exactly the thing iron bull went to the reeducators to beg them to do to him. yeah. me either. for ten years straight now. what the fuck. wanna be my narrative foil dude. we could fuck about it if you're game and single

[ccbatman]

what if i said hal's mom called him "hally" specifically as a play on halley's comet, huh. what if i said she did that because she knew no matter how far he went, he'd always come back to her, hm. what then.

[arthur-lesters-spinal-cord]

Characters from the Egypt arc of The Man in the Mirror by @grayscale-sparks.

Its seriously my favourite fic ever and I will never shut up about how much I love it.

Florence Sharp and Gideon Hayes. Florence Sharp is the love of my life i dont think i will ever be normal about her, i hope Gideon knows how damn lucky he is.

Wolf and Charlie deciphering the riddle. Charlie is slightly bemused by this teenager

[unordinaries]

presented without comment

(chapters 280 + 344)

[hrzwrm]

i'm literally going insane about the symbolic potential around Warden's gloves and glasses. like. yellow is the primary color of his silly little coping mechanism escapist amusement park that he fortified away from the rest of the world. it's the color of his custom-built, 100% hand-made mirage where he is always in full control. he's so firmly stuck in his own delusional perception that his actual vision is tinted and warped by it. yellow. it's all fucking yellow. he literally can't see the world for what it is and that's by design because who is forcing him to wear those dumb glasses? and motherfucker even wears them to sleep like are you kidding me?? not a single second spent outside of the safety of his personal fantasy, not a single second spent confronted with the horrors he's been surrounded with from childhood and continues to choose to be surrounded with. always a layer of canary away from life as it is. and the fucking gloves, too!! this marker of distance and sterility on a guy with a moral superiority complex who, due to his holier-than-thou coping mechanism narcissism, isolates himself from everyone around him because they're beneath him or some shit when in reality he's desperate desperate desperate for connection and terrified of being abandoned but can't fucking admit it or achieve any form of human proximity because of his patrilineal brain damage that dictates that big strong manboys can't have feelings and because women are a foreign concept to him and he's "better than" everyone anyway. and the empathy has been pavloved out of him one dead puppy at a time. so he wears the goddamn gloves and he wears them to sleep and he wears them when he's supposed to be intimate with someone. he's removed himself from everything and everyone and he's ruining his life, and the lives of all those he holds hostage so that he doesn't end up alone, because of it but he can't help himself because he's so thoroughly and intentionally wrapped up in his own bullshit that he keeps reinforcing in a never ending cycle of his own creation. FUCK!!!!

yes, i'm reading too much into the stupid joke character from the stupid joke show, thank you for asking <3

[jackgoodfellow]

He's despicable, I'll take 12.

[Work-In-Progress]

Please feel free to drop your favorite toxic positivity slogans in the notes!

I want to write at least one such quote on this image. The top contender right now is "We all have the same 24 hours in a day!"

Also valid examples: "Nothing's impossible!", "Anyone can do it!", and "Pull yourself up by the bootstraps!" - or maybe just "Self-made :)"

---

Originally drawn in crayon at my local bar's game night because tabletop games are slow as fuck

[mythicandco]

thinking abt the blorbos but they aren’t even rotating. they’re just sitting there and it’s very intense

[damadorias]

Ngl I got like, an old unfinished dreamswap fic au ig ??? That's just been sitting there for years and lowkey I'm tempted to actually continue and share it mayhaps if it's not too cringe, it would be good practice for my original stuff since well,,, I'm still fckn tryna write doranverse lmao,,, my perfectionist brain is in editing hell with doranverse rn so idk maybe practice fics would help with that, and also bc it's fun writing dreamswap stuff ngl even if I have no idea how accurate I am with the cast, lots of ppl like my older dreamswap fics to this day on ao3 so ig that's something good

[wandaxpietro]

relapsed thinking about eriklorna again. fucked up fucked up fucked up

[haarute]

Show your fightstick

behold, the BaikenBox™

[neverendingford]

.

[breitzbachbea]

I could really benefit from a Team Portugal, he's just such a bitch. He's such a bitch and he'd be such a failguy. I just know it. I desperately need him.

[choslut]

# PUSSY TALK !! (vi x reader)

$YNOPSIS. you’ve been feelin’ a little insecure about yourself lately. good thing you have a girlfriend who’s head over heels for you, no matter what! // wc. 2.4k

warnings. insecure!reader, talk of body image + weight, face sitting, spanking (ass + clit), praise, dirty talk, stripping, oral sex, size kink (?), teasing, fingering, begging, squirting, overstimulation, mirrors, awkward aftercare, spooning, pet names

NSFW below the cut. minors, stay away. enjoy your read!

Dresses aren’t your favourite piece of clothing. They never have been and they never will be, and even as you stare at yourself in the floor length mirror of your bedroom, you absolutely hate how this dress looks on you.

When you asked for something flared that would hide your curves, you didn’t expect your tailor to make you look like an overstuffed cream puff. The flared sleeves hang off of your arms like misplaced scraps of fabric, and the material pools at your feet, surrounding you in an unceremonious circle. You look frumpy, you feel frumpy, and nothing in the world could have convinced you that this is the dress you were going to wear to the annual Councillor’s Gala.

“What the fuck…” You turn around to inspect the back, and it’s even worse than you thought. It seems as if the tailor has attempted a daring backless design, but to you, it just looks like a gaping hole, the fabric tight and loose in all the wrong places before messily accumulating just above the apple of your ass. It looks horrible, and if you weren’t insecure enough, this dress makes you feel like a laughing stock. 

And that’s when the dreaded words come out of your mouth. “I seriously need to lose weight.”

Someone doesn’t like that, because out of nowhere, you feel a strong pair of arms wrap around your waist and a sharp chin on your shoulder. “And why’s that? I think it looks perfect.” 

Vi loves seeing you in dresses. She thinks they make you look so graceful, no matter what shape you choose. It solidifies the fact that you are her perfect princess, and she will never understand why you hate them when they make you look so pretty. 

She also doesn’t understand this whole weight thing you have going on. If anything, one of the things that first had her on her knees for you was your body, and like now, she always feels a need to be touching it, whether it be stroking your thighs or kissing your collarbone or, like now, wrapping her arms around your perfect waist and pulling you into her chest. 

“‘M not perfect though, Vi,” you grumble, hands running along the sides of your chest and resting over where her hands cradle your tummy. “I look like a creampuff.” 

“Creampuffs are sweet. I like creampuffs,” she says, her eyes making contact with yours in the mirror as she noses your neck. “I like you.”

You roll your eyes and whine. “I know you like me, Vi. But that’s not gonna change the fact that I hate this dress.” 

“Take it off then.” She says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world, like you’re not going to be stuck in it for three whole hours, playing the part of a member of high society whilst trying your hardest to ignore the obvious stares at the atrocity which is your outfit. You want to tell Vi that it seriously isn’t as easy as that, but you’re distracted by her hands slipping into the open back of your dress. 

“I can help you,” she whispers in your ear, and you can feel the cold metal of her nose piercing against your heated skin. “Take it off, I mean. Relax.” 

“Vi…”

“Can we try something?” She begins to kiss your neck slowly, and you whimper when you feel the rough scar on her lip brush against your heated flesh. “I know you’ve been feeling some way about your body lately, and to be honest, I have no idea why because your body is already so fucking perfect…” Her hands slide up the insides of your dress, and you lift your shoulders automatically as she slips those god awful sleeves off of your shoulders. “There’s something I want you to do for me.”

After all this time, she hasn’t broken eye contact once, and you notice her eyes go dark when she shoves the front of your dress down, only to find your perky nipples staring right back at her. “What is it?” 

“Sit on my face,” she states simply, hands coming round to rub at your tits. “I want all of it, baby. Your whole body. I want you to fuckin’ suffocate me.”

You probably will. You stare at your girlfriend in the mirror incredulously, because there’s no way in the universe that you’re going to sit on her face. Not in a million years, and certainly not today. “No.”

“Give me one good reason why not.” She has a point, because it’s getting increasingly hard to refute her when her hands are making their way underneath the front material of your dress, letting it drop to the floor and revealing your regulation panties. “Go on, give me one good reason why you shouldn’t sit on my face.” Before you can open your mouth to protest, Vi smiles and bites your shoulder. “And your weight is not a valid answer.” 

You raise your eyebrows. “Violet.”

“Yes, baby?” She acts like nothing is wrong, like asking you to crush her skull in between your legs a couple hours before the most important event of the year is a completely normal request. And she continues to act this way, even when she slips her hand into your panties, fingers eagerly in search of your clit. “So what I’m hearing is you don’t want to sit on my face, and you don’t want me to make you feel so good that you forget all about this stupid dress and that stupid gala?” 

Your back arches into her chest when she starts rubbing your clit in small circles, lips widening into a smile as she watches you unravel against her. “That’s not what I said.” 

“So why are you acting like you don’t want it?” She’s taunting you now, fingers halting all movement on your clit and sliding down lower, tips starting to tease your quivering hole. “Because I know you want it, baby. She’s telling me you want it.” 

You hate how Vi can read you like a book. You do want this, but you’re worried, and she makes sure to eliminate of all of that worry by slipping her fingers into your cunt, mouth dropping open in wonder when you begin to crumple against her.

“Vi, please.” 

“No.” Stubborn. “You’re not cumming unless you’re where you're supposed to be, princess. My game, my rules, and no amount of that pretty begging is gonna change that.” 

You bite your lip as you feel her palm grind against your clit, fingers speeding up and continually assaulting your sweet spot. It’s so hard not to beg her to let you cum, especially with the way she’s holding eye contact with you so intensely. 

“Say the words, and that orgasm’s yours,” she mumbles, smile ever present as her fingers alternate speeds. “Come on baby, I know you can.”

You can, you will, and you do. Your pleas to cum are replaced with nonsensical begging and whimpering, your hands futilely clawing at her biceps as you try to rip her fingers away from your weeping hole. “I’ll do it, I’ll do it, just let me cum, Vi, please-”

All of a sudden, the pressure building up inside of you dissipates, and you notice Vi licking her fingers clean as she backs towards the bed. “That’s what I like to hear,” she laughs, sitting down on the bed in a way that has you weak in the knees. “Come take a seat, princess.” 

Embarrassingly enough, that’s all it takes to have you stepping out of the pool of fabric on the floor and crawling onto the bed towards her, legs planted on either side of her hips as you bend over and catch her lips in a heated kiss. It’s loud and it’s messy, her hands sliding up your thighs and onto your covered ass as you grind down onto her knee, tongue intertwining with hers in a clash of passion and need. 

“Good fucking girl,” she groans, squeezing the flesh of your ass before slapping it hard, drawing a quiet gasp from your lips. “Come on, baby, c’mere, come sit.” 

Your hands splay the surface of her chest as you push her back onto the bed lightly, chest heaving gently with every heated breath you take. Vi looks up at you like you’re the most beautiful girl in the world, because to her, you are, and she wouldn’t want to be underneath anyone else. 

“There she is,” she whispers as you situate yourself comfortably on her chest. “My pretty girl, huh?” 

“I’m nervous,” you mumble, hips beginning to move slowly as you plant your hands on either side of her head. “I… don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Trust me, you won’t.” She captures your hips in her strong hands and pulls you further up her body, letting you hover just above her collarbone. “I’ve lifted this perfect body with my own two hands before. What makes you think a little face sitting will hurt me?” 

In a way, she’s right. Vi is strong, more so than most people. If it got too much, she would be able to move you effortlessly, and-

You’re pulled out of your train of thought by the feeling of Vi’s nose nestling in between your legs, rubbing up against your pulsing clit under your panties. “Vi…”

“You’re thinkin’ too much, baby,” she groans, voice muffled in between your thighs. “Just do it.” This time, she doesn’t leave you any time to think, because she’s now mouthing at your cunt through your panties, strong arms wrapping around your thighs and pulling you ever closer. You gasp in surprise, one hand coming up to grip onto the headboard as you fight not to lose balance. 

Another thing about Vi: she’s impatient. And when you hesitate to begin moving your hips, she does it for you, fingers pulling the seat of your underwear to one side and arms pushing you down hard. 

“She’s so wet, baby, I don’t know how you can say you don’t want this.” Her tongue darts out to lick your throbbing clit and you whine, hips stuttering as you stare hazily at the mess of pink hair in between your legs. Vi is staring up at you with lust swirling in her eyes, and you can feel her smile on your cunt as her tongue slides downwards to your entrance. “I mean, she is practically begging me to eat her out. Is that what you want?”

Before you can answer her, you’re caught off guard by her hand slapping at your clit playfully, sending pleasured shockwaves throughout your system. “ ‘M not talking to you anymore, silly,” she laughs, thumbs rubbing at the area she just assaulted. “I’m talking to her, since my girl doesn’t seem to know what she wants anymore.”

“Stop it,” you grumble, but Vi pays no notice, resuming her languid licks on your pussy. Your protests are quickly turned into prolonged whines and whimpers of her name, the pressure once taken from you beginning to build in your core with each shallow thrust of her tongue into your hole. 

“Not until she’s satisfied, angel.” And she means it, because the grip she has on your thighs is nothing next to lethal, and you feel yourself begin to shake as the pressure builds more and more. “And she’s getting close, don’t you think?”

She is. Your head begins to swim and you tangle your fingers in Vi’s hair in an attempt to stabilise yourself but it proves futile, mouth dropping open as you beg her to let you finish. “Vi, please, please, I’m sorry, I-”

“Nothin’ to apologise for, angel, you’re doing a great job.” You have no idea how she still manages to speak when she’s being all but crushed in the trap that is your quivering thighs, but her voice drives you ever closer, your hips grinding down onto her happily awaiting tongue as you chase your orgasm desperately. You want it- no, you need it, and when she begins to massage your ass sensually, you think you might just squirt.

“Vi...”

“Yeah, baby? Is she telling you something?” She loves playing this game, delaying your orgasm as long as possible whilst making it impossible to hold yourself back. It feels like her hands are everywhere because suddenly her thumb is massaging your clit, and you’re begging her like there’s no tomorrow.

She seems satisfied by your begging, because she takes one arm off of your thigh to use her fingers to fuck your needy cunt. “Cum for me baby, c,mon. Give it to me.”

And give it to her, do you, and in gracious abundance at that. Your juices drench her face unceremoniously as you twitch above her, spine shaking as you hold on to her hair for dear life. You’re all but riding her tongue, and she’s moaning profusely into your cunt, the vibrations only heightening your sensitivity. And try as you might, you can’t pull her away, her mouth a suction as she pushes you unforgivingly into overstimulation.

When you’re all but ready to surrender your stability to her relentless assault in between your legs, you feel a strong pair of hands lifting you off of her mouth gently, and light kisses being littered all over the expanse of your thighs. Vi’s mouth travels along your skin lazily, her powdery blue eyes looking up at your shaky form with nothing but love etched into her irises. You barely begin to register the sweet praises she gives you, instead basking in the afterglow of your intense climax mixed with the feeling of her hands stroking your back.

Moments later and you’re laying down on the bed next to her, curled in a foetal position as you fight the army of sleep threatening to overthrow you. “Are you tired?”

“Mhm.”

“Why don’t you… skip the gala? Stay here with me, I’ll cook, and…”

You think the difference between the Vi laying next to you now and the Vi who made you climax to the brink of passing out is a cute one. She’s never been too good with aftercare, instead trying to make awkward conversation in an attempt to divert from the fact that she just rocked your world in more ways than one. “We can stay home. I’ll tell the organisers I wasn’t feeling too well.” That, and the fact that god awful dress made you want to bust a nerve.

Vi smiles at you gently, and you wish you could stay like this with her forever. “Sounds good. I’m looking forward to it.”

© this work belongs to choslut. do not copy, translate, repost or feed my work into any regenerative ai system.

main masterlist

[confetti-critter]

How do I get my coworkers to stop talking about their weight and losing weight and my weight and weight weight weight weight weight!

You lost weight when you were sick? Well whatever works HA. I cant wear that I'm too fat. You dont want to eat too much of that chocolate before your wedding or you wont fit into your dress! I need to lose 40 pounds before june. Well you're allowed to eat that you're so skinny! But just you wait when you get older. I'd wear this but it'll make my stomach look huge. I'm so fat ugh. BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH

UNSHACKLE YOURSELVES, MY CISHET COWORKERS

[kissingwookiees]

todays argument with my mother: mom got a bouquet. very pretty. noticed it had three lilies in it (very small part of the bouquet but we have a cat in the house) and reminded her as i have a thousand times before, that lilies are incredibly toxic to cats, hadnt even suggested removing the lilies yet... CUE THE FUCKING SCREAMING. her telling me she doesnt care if my cat dies and actually the only reason im bringing this up is because im JEALOUS of her getting a bouquet...