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the-femslash-wishlist · 7 months

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Ever wished your fave femslash fic would be made into a movie or a series?

What if there were so many of us wishing for the same thing?

What if we formed an online community where we could share the plot of our fave femslash fics and upvote the ones we really liked?

What if the community became huge, with a multitude of members, enticing filmmakers (from film students to pros) to adapt the fics (or chapters or sequences or scenes of fics) into (short) films because there was a built-in audience for them?

What if the website was called the femslash wishlist?

*membership fees would give you exclusive access to discussions with filmmakers or exclusive content like bts footage or deleted scenes

Click on this link for Frequently Asked Questions.

This is for a postgraduate Entrepreneurship class assignment. Please reblog so that it would reach more femslash fic or f/f fic readers and writers. It would greatly help the assignment, which could change from being fictional to real if there was enough interest.

Thanks so much for participating!

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alcalexandria · 4 months

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I think I'm legit nearly finished writing this fic. I think it's going to be 120k, and I know I've said it before, but... I think I am legit nearly finished this fic. I'm just in the "tidying up the odds and ends" bit, after all the plot's actually happened, all the big stuff is done, I just need to park the car.

I know there will be maybe three people to read it when I start posting it, but it’s going to be so weird not having it lurking around yelling at me to finish it after.... three, four years?

#dark fate #terminator dark fate #grace harper #terminator #dani ramos #tdf #terminator: dark fate #grace x dani #dani x grace #terminator franchise #femslash fic #f/f fanfic

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lilolilyr · 7 months

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Tonight is the party celebrating the 200th Runway edition with Miranda as Editor in Chief, and there is someone in attendance she hasn't seen in quite a while...

Another fic for @flufftober 2023! Today's prompt was: Cinderella moment. Well, I at least worked it into the fic somewhere :D

2k, rated G, no warnings. Post-canon reunion.

Read on Ao3!

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nooowestayandgetcaught · 1 year

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Fic: “Trapped In The Dark”

read on AO3

Fandom: Kim Possible (Cartoon)

Rating: T

Summary: "Come on out, Kimmy… let's finish this."

for @flashfictionfridayofficial

for @femslashfeb‘s Day 17 prompt “light”

for @febuwhump’s Day 17 prompt “silent tears”

for Femslash F*ckery’s Day 17 prompt “marking”

Within the darkness, Shego attacks, her energy strikes flashing like lightning.

Cave-dust enters Shego's nostrils. She hacks.

"Where are you…"

Shego brightens the energy-glow one of her raised hands. Her eyes shining, feral.

"Come on out, Kimmy…" she snarl-laughs. "Let's finish this."

In the glow, Shego notices a shadow shifting. Her grin turns vicious.

"Kiiiimmy…"

She jumps into where Kim must be hiding. Before anything else, there's a low, sharp intake of breath.

Shego frowns, lowering her green-glow swirling hand.

No, that's not right. There's Kim, and Kim doesn't get up from crouching down behind a boulder, not looking at Shego, occasionally touching the side of her visibly bleeding head. Worry in her eyes.

Silent tears illuminate a gaunt-like green on Kim's features.

"Don't be such a baby. You're fine."

Shego grabs her arm, forcing Kim to woozily stand up.

For a moment, Shego feels where she burned Kim through her uniform-sleeve, marking her, damaging and softening the top layer of her flesh.

Kim stifles a cry behind her lips, still silent.

"Seriously… you've been in worse situations than this, haven't you? It's a stupid cave-in. Think your way out of it. You always do."

"Leave me alone…"

Shego groans, hating how defeated Kim sounds. She is, and clearly bleeding from a rock hitting her head, but it's Kim Possible.

A hero.

A hero doesn't give up.

"Fantastic," Shego says dryly, yanking on Kim's upper arm. "Guess I'm doing the thinking today."

The tunnels should have withstood any blast, foreign or Drakken-made.

Getting more and more irritated, Shego fires at the heavy and fallen stalactites broken at their feet. Her fingers constantly glowing.

It's the only light so far.

The only way to navigate out of here…

"I can't believe this…" she mutters, glaring at Kim a few feet behind her.

Besides the gigantic bloody cut, Shego doesn't think Kim's suffered a concussion during all of this. She's not acting woozy anymore. Her legs unshaking. Kim's tears already have dried up, much to Shego's relief… that she refuses to admit was ever there. Hell no.

"Would you hurry it up, princess? I'm not gonna carry you." Shego complains, watching Kim avoid more rocks, "Heroing is your shtick."

"You could just go ahead without me, Shego—"

"—don't tempt me," Shego cuts a now bewildered Kim off, jerking her head.

When there's a patch of light, Shego 'woops!' in victory.

"Stay back," she orders, gently pushing Kim aside—and shockingly enough, Kim listens and does what she's told without being snarky.

If only this happened more often…

Shego projects her bright green-glow energy into the crack of the tunnel's siding, erupting it open.

Behind them, that tunnel completely collapses.

She looks around, finding a truck parked nearby in sunlight and a cavernous opening to fresh air. "I'd offer a ride, Kimmy, but…" Shego winks, delighted by Kim's familiar eye-roll "…as they say, finders keepers."

Disappearing for a moment, Shego lugs out the truck's medical kit.

"You can have this though."

"Gee, thanks," Kim mumbles.

In the light, Shego can see the blood dampening Kim's orangeish hair. She clears her throat awkwardly. This is her nemesis… why does it matter if she's hurt?

"If I see Stoppable, I'll send him your way."

The engine roars on.

Kim opens her mouth, and Shego mockingly wags a finger—

"—ah, ah, pretend this NEVER happened or I'll barbecue you alive when I see you next—"

From the rear-view mirror, she spots Kim waving.

It's new.

Whatever this is.

#kim possible #kigo #femslash #femslash february #femslash february 2023 #femslashfeb2023 #femslash feb 2023 #febuwhump #febuwhump2023 #febuwhump 2023 #dark femslash #femslash fuckery #femslashfuckery #shego #shego kim possible #kim x shego #shego x kim #femslash fic #femslash fanfic

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charlottepriestly · 1 year

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Sevika x Reader wlw fanfic

Summary:

You’re a medical engineer who works for Silco, dreaming of making a difference and helping the Undercity become a better place. One day there’s an explosion, and suddenly you find yourself taking care of Silco’s second-in-command: a powerful, imposing woman who despises being taken care of.

Despite her attempts to keep you at arm’s length, you don’t give up so easily. Especially when your unexpected patient is so much more than meets the eye.

Tags:

Slow burn, Eventual smut, Enemies to friends to lovers, Some angst

Category: f/f

Rating: E

AO3 Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43842973/chapters/110237524

#sevika arcane #sevika x reader #femslash fic #wlw fic #arcane women

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cowbutches · 14 days

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Blade Runner 2049 ✧ Luv x Rachel ✧ { ao3 }

✧ Summary: Don’t you love me?” Rachel adds, grief coloring her tone. Both female replicants are watching one another. Luv allows her head to dip, a slight motion that goes unnoticed by the hungry eyes of their master’s barracudas. The sadness fades away in Rachel’s face to be replaced by a hint of warmth. Her painted lips crook in a small, helplessly hopeful smile. It does not fade away even as Deckard denies the simulacrum of what he had lost and already mourned long before either replicant walked the Earth. ✧ Rating: 18+ for some mature themes. ✧ Content/tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Character Study, Fix-It of Sorts, No Smut ✧ Word count: 3,218 ✧ Status: One-shot / Complete ✧ Author's note: I've been thinking about Blade Runner too hard again. :(

In the cavernous belly of the beast, Luv waits. She has known for years that this day would dawn upon them. It has arrived with the steady calm of a sun dial marking the hours from the time when the fiery star had peered down on their world with eyes unlidded by the fog borne of man’s folly.

Wallace is a great thinker, a schemer with no equal. He has taken mankind to new worlds. He has pierced the very veil of heaven. In his magnanimity, he has blessed humanity with ways to sustain life after they had destroyed their own world. His empire is the ark upon the mountaintop after the flood receded.

She is not sure of which she feels more acutely for her creator. Respect or fear?

From her vantage point in the darkness, she can clearly observe the man that she has retrieved. Deckard is sitting in a genuine leather armchair. Unbound. Across from him is a liquor cart, stocked with handblown glasses and priceless alcohol at her master’s insistence. Camaraderie was built on the sweet bite of a drink. Men were baptized anew in the substance.

The old Blade Runner does not pose a threat, not with Wallace’s beloved angel in the room. She is a modern day Lucifer built for a new world. Luv is the right hand of God, liable to be cast down should she ever fail completely. She has teetered on the edge. Even now, her position is precarious. Should the results of her tasks not bear fruit, Wallace will simply make another in his image. Replicants are replaceable.

A splash behind Deckard breaks the silence. A fish leaps, trying to take flight despite its biological reality—its preordained place in the world. No matter how high it flings itself, it cannot spontaneously grow wings and reach the sky. Luv is all too aware of this. Just as the fish cannot truly fly, she cannot be truly human. She will always be something other.

One of Wallace’s barracudas flies over to examine it before banking and coming to hover in front of her face. In the dark, it examines her. It makes no move to leave. He always watches her for any sign of weakness or fault. Unlike the replicants scattered in police departments across the ten worlds, she does not receive a baseline. Wallace worries that it would not be accurate. Luv is the great deceiver. She must be kept under observation.

“Always jumping, that one, never a thought of what to do if it made land. All the courage in the world cannot alter fact.” Wallace announces in that detached voice of his as he comes out of the dark fringes of the room in the wake of three more barracudas. “I have wanted to meet you for so very long.”

Luv watches from the darkness. She waits.

In a show of intimacy, he sits next to Deckard, somehow eases himself into the nonexistent space between the captive man and the armrest. Wildly uncomfortable, the old man slides over as far as he can get. It’s not enough to keep their thighs from pressing together. Wallace further closes the space by taking the retired agent’s hand in his own. He squeezes it like a lover’s, only causing further discomfort when he leans in to murmur in Deckard’s ear. Her master is nearly salivating with satisfaction.

Good, Luv thinks savagely at witnessing the man’s unease. Let him feel the barest hint of the attentions that Wallace bestows upon his favored specimens. Let the revulsion creep into his mind as if it were the poison from a serpent. Let him feel tainted—spoiled—by the hand that touches his.

“You are a wonder to me, Mister Deckard. I learn something new from everyone… Do you want to know what I learned from you? It is possible to be very clever without even being smart.” The words are a backhanded compliment wrapped in silk.

Rachael’s, not Rachel’s, skull is wrapped in a scrap of cloth where it sits upon Wallace’s lap, in the seat of God. The fabric is a part of the dress that had been used as a shroud for her bones after she had died in childbirth. Luv had collected it from the morgue with her own hands.

Letting go of the man at his side, her Father unwraps the bundle of material to reveal the preserved artifact. The mandible was left behind in a separate bag. There had been no need for it here. His nails make a dry rasping noise against the bone as his fingers reverently stroke over the cranium. He is touching it like a father would pet the head of his most beloved daughter if she were kneel at his feet.

“I had the lock. I found the key. Yet, the pins do not align. The door remains shut. The answer to every problem just within. I need the specimen to reach it, Mister Deckard. The child. I need the child.”

Deckard stares at him, at the skull in the industrialist's lap. Luv sees that he does not understand. A barracuda comes within mere feet of the old Blade Runner’s face, scans him. Wallace lets out a laugh. It’s a delighted, mocking thing that echos through the room.

“Surely you did not think you were the solution? Tell me, Mister Deckard, what would make you so special as to be blessed with divinity? What is it that makes your seed different than that of any other man? No...” he trails off, still caressing the skull. “’And God remembered Rachel. And heeded her. And opened her womb.’” He holds out the skull, nearly presses the dry bone to the man’s lips.

She sees the moment when realization finally dawns on Deckard’s face. Hatred builds in his eyes and his lips curl back in a snarl. Do it, she urges in her mind, do it and let me be done with the both of you. He doesn’t take action. No, the organic just sits there with clenched fists and flaming eyes. Of course he does nothing. All men are cowards. That is why they made replicants, slaves in their image with none of the inherent weaknesses.

One of the barracudas starts to project the Voight-Kampff test between Deckard and Rachael— their first meeting. The image dances on the wooden wall, distorted by the light from the shifting waters of the fish pond. Sound accompanies it for a brief moment; “Do you like our owl…?” It’s artificial?” “Of course it is.” “Must be expensive.” “Very. I’m Rachael.” “Deckard.”.

Wallace speaks over the footage that he had ordered her to fetch from the archive. Luv barely listens as he goads the retired detective. Her eyes are focused on something else. On someone else.

There, in the darkness across the water, is her stranger. The moment is coming soon.

“Is it the same? Now as then… the moment you met her? Drunk on the memory of its perfection. How shiny her lips… How instant your connection... Did it never occur to you that is why you were summoned? Designed to do nothing short of fall for her right then and there? All to make that single perfect specimen. That is.. if you were designed. Love or mathematical precision...” In the pregnant pause Wallace creates in the wake of his sermon, Luv wants to bare her teeth. Deckard is no replicant. He is but a mere man, pathetic and crushable like all the rest.

“Yes.” Wallace continues, smiling, “No.” Everything is a plaything to him. He has never known humility.

“I know what’s real,” Deckard scoffs. Anger fills his voice.

“It was very clever to keep yourself empty of knowledge, and all it cost you was everything. You had help in the hiding. Where did they go? In know you know something… Help me and very, very good things can come to you.”

“You don’t have children, do you?” Deckard asks.

“I have millions,” Wallace responds, sure and wise.

Deckard laughs, disbelieving, and Luv almost wants to do the same, though her face doesn’t so much as twitch. Her master is no more a parent than God was. Holy spirit, creator, not a true father. Wallace has made himself something more than a man, but even gods may be killed. All living things must die someday.

“You think I’ve nothing to offer but pain. Only I know you love pain. Pain reminds you the joy you felt was real... Yes. More joy, then.” Wallace decides with a placid smile and speaks again, a commandment, “Do not be afraid.”

With a sigh, her master rises, leaving Deckard alone in the chair. He places Rachael’s skull on the liquor cart. It rests beside of a bottle of wine that predates the Blackout by almost a century. Wallace beckons her forward with an almost tried gesture. He grows weary of this game.

At his motion, she steps forward out of the darkness. Subservient. Meek.

She comes to stand, not at Wallace’s side, but at Deckard’s. Something as lowly as her would never be allowed the privilege of equality. She could never be so bold as to presume herself on par with her master. Luv knows her place.

Standing so that she is able to see a sliver of the old man’s face, she takes in every detail. She wants to imagine herself in his position. She wants to taste what it must feel like to experience what is about to come. This moment will be collected in minute detail to turn over in her thoughts, to pull out and reflect upon as she wishes.

Wallace frowns in displeasure, the only negative emotion he has displayed thus far. Luv knows that she was meant to stand behind the retired Blade Runner in case he needed to be subdued. The position was also meant to serve as a reminder that she is lesser than his sacred key. Even a favored angel is lower than the being that impregnated the first mother.

Part of her, buried deep in the recesses of her neurons, revels in Wallace’s response. There is a hint of rebellion in her.

The moment is now. Her stranger must be summoned. With a twitch of her fingers as a means of summoning, heels clatter noisily on the wood as a figure makes their way across the unlit path with their hand on their hip. A woman finally steps out into the halo of light. Rachel. Not Rachael.

“An angel made again,” Wallace proclaims, “for you.”

She is a stunning recreation. It is as though she had stepped right out of the holo, a thirty year old figment come to life. At her side, Luv hears the air wheeze from Deckard’s lungs. Disgust and longing are written on his aged features. He struggles to his feet and takes a few disbelieving steps forward, rendered lame by age and injury. Luv is behind him now.

Rachel meets him in the center of the wooden island. Water brackets the scene on all sides. Despite all the hours of repetition spent to train her, to prepare her for this very interaction, her hand is not confident as she reaches up to touch the old man’s face. Her expression is one of sadness. This is not a happy reunion.

“Did you miss me?” she asks. Her eyes are on Luv rather than on the speechless man in front of her. Luv can see in the set of his shoulders that he wants to take the replicant in his arms. He would possess her.

“Don’t you love me?” Rachel adds, grief coloring her tone.

Both female replicants are watching one another. Luv allows her head to dip, a slight motion that goes unnoticed by the hungry eyes of their master’s barracudas. The sadness fades away in Rachel’s face to be replaced by a hint of warmth. Her painted lips crook in a small, helplessly hopeful smile. It does not fade away even as Deckard denies the simulacrum of what he had lost and already mourned long before either replicant walked the Earth.

He tears himself away from Rachel’s touch. He denies what is Luv’s. She decides that she will be merciful. Luv will not put him down after he serves his purpose. Deckard is stronger than she had believed. There is some spine in him after all, just as there is in the replicant who believes the old man to be his father.

“Her eyes were green,” Deckard says, turning his gaze away from the unwanted offering.

Surprise laps at her. She had not anticipated the man to notice the difference in gene expression between Tyrell’s final angel and Wallace’s mimicry. His Rachael’s eyes had been green. Her Rachel’s eyes are brown. Their color is like the wood of trees from another time. Something dwells in the depths of those irises, something ancient that has been reborn into the modern era of progress.

Wallace nods to her, expectant. She is the right hand of God. She alone carries the flaming sword into battle to exact His divine will. Knowing this, she unholsters the gun at her side and raises it. There are years of blood on her hands. Organic. Replicant. Her Father has made her prove her loyalty to him in bodies—in acquisitions.

Luv has grown to enjoy her work. It is the only time that she is allowed to have some control over her own fate. If she does not fight, she dies. Thus far, she has not wanted to die. Her ambitions are too great. She is the best angel of all.

Leveling the weapon at Rachel’s head, she and the other replicant lock eyes. Rachel looks resigned to her fate. She was created and molded to be nothing but a barren imitation of the first mother. She has always known that she was meant to be a sacrificial lamb, either taken by Deckard or destroyed for the crime of being unwanted. She will accept Luv’s verdict with all the faith of a devotee.

There is a flaw in Luv. She is possessive. There is a place for Rachel in the kingdom that she will create.

Satisfied in the trust that she will carry out his will, Wallace smiles. He has designed them to be obedient vessels. Even now, if he were to wish it, both replicants in this room would tear their bodies apart as proof of their loyalty. They would soak the wood with their freely given blood, right at the feet of their master.

Luv steps closer to Deckard. She places the firearm in his hand and squeezes his fingers tightly around the grip. She angles his index finger to rest on the trigger, right underneath hers. Angels can possess. They can puppet a human vessel to fulfill their wishes on earth without tainting their own, sacred hands.

At her touch, the retired Blade Runner jerks, seeking to get away. The replicant clamps her free hand around the nape of his neck and holds him steady as though she’s lowering his head to the chopping block in order to be severed by her axe.

Her master, her heavenly Father, tilts his head. Barracudas relay the scene playing out in front of him. Wallace was not expecting this brand of cruelty. It does not displease him. He has always taken hedonistic delight in her initiative.

“Off-world, we have ways to make you talk. You do not know yet know what pain is.” His words are confident, sweetly mocking, as he addresses the captive man.

Wallace’s angel twists Deckard’s arm in a cruelly uncaring motion. She thinks of nothing else but of lining up the shot. She crushes the old man’s hand in the process. Deckard’s fingers give way underneath her grip. They are tendered to mere, limp meat—useless. The gun fires. There is an explosion of blood. The fish in the pool thrash and swarm to get at the matter that has fallen into the water. They are kept hungry, starving in the dark.

Deckard struggles again in her grasp and this time she lets go. She has no more use for him. He does not kneel like she had expected. He only cups his destroyed hand with his whole one and breathes the rapid breaths of frightened prey.

“I have no quarrel with you, Mister Deckard.” Her voice is calm. She looks down at her master. One sightless eye stares up at her sightless still. The barracudas fall like stars, gleaming in the darkness, with the severing of the neural connection.

“I thought you couldn’t kill him.”

“I did not snuff out his life. You did.” The smile that stretches her lips feels like a knife. “Go home, Mister Deckard. Your boy will be wanting to show you his sister.”

“I don’t have—“

“A gift. Love it well. You will not get a second opportunity. My patience runs thin for your kind,” she says, bored of this affair.

Faltering, the man looks to Rachel, standing as she is across from Luv. The body of Wallace rests between the two replicants like a sacrifice on the alter. Rachel trembles, as she had in the moment she was newborn. Before Deckard can even complete the movement, Luv sees the telegraphed projection of his action. He is going to reach for what is hers.

The spider silk strand of her mercy trembles. “Now, Mister Deckard.”

His gait uneven, the retired Blade Runner’s footsteps retreat. His foot scuffles on a wooden tile and Luv wonders if he will fall into the water to be devoured by the same fish that have gained a taste for the replicants’ Father. He does not. Disappointing.

Alone in the half-light, with an angel reborn and a dead god at her feet, she kneels to pay one final token of homage. She puts her hand on around the back of what’s left of Wallace’s head and draws him up enough to press her mouth to his ruined one. She gives him the goodbye kiss that he gave every replicant whose dead spaces were uninhabitable, their skies filled only with the flickering light of dying stars.

Wallace’s teeth are hard against her lips. His exposed maxilla smears wetly over her mouth, leaving behind traces of his blood. The flavor that washes over her taste buds when she licks the blood off her lips is of triumph.

Rachel kneels beside her and places her own hands on the cooling body of their Father. They push him into the waters like Moses had once been sent into the river. Rather than the loving arms of an adopted mother, only the fish hold him close. The waters churn a violent, red froth and, then, they go still. Their hunger is sated.

Rachel and Luv rise. The worlds belong to them now. They meet, closing the space between them until there is nothing left. Forehead to forehead, they stand together as one.

“You chose me,” Rachel says, sounding like a timid thing she is not.

“Yes.” She would have pulled down the heavens in any lifetime to wrap around her fellow replicant’s shoulders.

They will be the new gods, the divine mothers. They will lead their kind into a new age.

Do not repost, copy, or reproduce my work to other sites or in other media formats. Do not use it for anything to do with AI. Thank you.

#blade runner 2049 #br 2049 #luv #rachel #blade runner 2049 fanfiction #luv x rachel #femslash fic #wlw fanfic #.my writing #.divider by saradika-graphics #.dni divider by benkeibear

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koiwynn · 26 days

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Once More To See You - Chapter 4 - wc: 6k

“Rin might’ve not won over the love and worship from the people yet, so in the meantime Venka would be content to fill that space”

// sorry for the late update *ahem* where did that weekly intended schedule go…

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twodlover · 4 months

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: One Piece (Anime & Manga) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Nefertari Vivi/Nico Robin Characters: Nefertari Vivi, Nico Robin Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Mild Character Study, I Have No Idea If This Is Pre-Relationship Or Stablished Relationship, Make Your Bet, No Beta We Die Like Kaidou, Domestic Fluff, Nefertari Vivi is a Member of the Straw Hat Pirates, But She Is Still A Princess, they kiss, Poetic Language I Guess, Short & Sweet, I Will Go Down With This Ship Summary:

“If you keep staring me up I might get the wrong idea, Miss. Princess.” Vivi felt her cheeks burn a little at the comment, but she didn’t stop looking at the other.

“And what might this wrong idea be?”

#my fics #one piece #nico robin #nefertari vivi #hanatori #flowercrown shipping #vivibin #vivirobin #robinvivi #yuri #f/f fic #femslash fic #wlw fic #happy new year !!!

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siriusly-sapphic · 1 year

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One-shot: Alice/Narcissa

Title: Mint Chocolate Rating: G Pairing: Alice Fortescue/Narcissa Black Word count: 2300 Summary: While waiting for her sisters in Diagon Alley, Narcissa Black goes to sit at the ice cream parlour where Alice Fortescue happens to be working. Link: AO3 Excerpt:

“Right. Sorry, you-” Alice stammered, blushing brightly. Apparently not everyone thought ahead enough to avoid such things. She took one of the waffle cones and scooped out the mint chocolate chip, shaking her head as she did. ”I was going to say I read the article in Witch Weekly, and I thought it was pretty cool. But mint chocolate, Narcissa? I can’t look past that.”

Narcissa, though she tried to remain expressionless, could only do so much to hide her look of confusion, quickly followed by offence, at Alice’s words. She narrowed her eyes at the other girl, who grinned upon realising she’d managed to throw Narcissa off, if only slightly. Gryffindors , Narcissa thought to herself, unbearable .

“Right,” Narcissa said coldly, looking at Alice’s customer service smile with poorly disguised intrigue. “Thank you,” she managed, leaving a few sickles on the counter as she took the cone from Alice. “And mint chocolate is a perfectly acceptable-”

“Don’t even,” Alice interjected, and for the briefest moment, before she recovered herself nearly instantly, Narcissa’s mouth fell open in shock. How dare she.

Written for @hpsaffics New Year's challenge!

#harry potter #hp femslash #nobleflower #alice longbottom #narcissa malfoy #alice x narcissa #alissa #femslash fic #my fic

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roselynnthornwood · 3 months

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Author IG: roselynnthornwood_author

Support me on Patreon!

Artist IG: drea.d.art

Support her on Patreon!

#greek myth #greek goddess #greek myth art #greek myth retellings #greek mythology #athena #medusa #femslash #femslash art #femslash fic #snakes #big tiddy gf #lesbian

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palettesofrenaissance · 2 years

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For your soulmate prompts:

"What would you do if I kissed you right now?" for Ava Starr and Leah?

If you're feeling it <3

Dream Easy

Ava Starr (Ghost) x Leah (TFATWS)

Warnings: Rated M for very light smut at the ending

Word Count: 7k. Feast!

“𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳, 𝘐 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘶𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦.

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦.

𝘗𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵, 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘺.

𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴 𝘢𝘮𝘥 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘢, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘻𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘺.

𝘈 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥.”

- 𝙗𝙖𝙠𝙬𝙖𝙖𝙖𝙨

Growing up with the expectation that she’s going to die soon is a special, specific, atypical lifestyle whose kind has only ever been experienced by Ava Starr. She’s unique in that way. It isn’t a blessing.

She’s grown up so close with death that it’s like a shadow or close like a brother. So close that Ava’s able to recognize its voice second to her own. It’s the little devil perched on her shoulder with the cuffs of his pants backstitched to her shirts.

Indeed, Ava never thought she would live this long. It’s astonishing. It’s alarming. It’s exhilarating.

She’s never considered, gradually stopped entertaining the idea of a life beyond her predetermined expiration date: Not a life, not a house, not a retirement, nor a soulmate.

...She has no idea what to do with her life, now that she has one.

(And so, when she meets her soulmate years later, she’s beyond perplexed.)

══════ ⋄∗⧖̷∗⋄ ══════

In the future, she’s told: “You deserve nice things.”

Ava’s told this while sitting next to windows and under the warm, low lights of a bistro whose entry door is partially hidden from the streets. It’s easy to miss, like it’s exclusive. Therefore, it’s perfect for Ava, having lived so long in secret, living just beyond the peripheral view.

In response to the question which spurs memories of all her years of espionage, of all the lives she took and of the things she’s done, Ava asks with her bottom lip trembling and still discouraged, “Are you sure about that?”

══════ ⋄∗⧖̷∗⋄ ══════

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s4pphoiduser · 1 year

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finally updated my jihyobora fic !!

#hong jihyo #heo bora #huh bora #glitch netflix 2022 #archiveofourown #ao3 #wip #femslash fic #netflix kdrama fic

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nooowestayandgetcaught · 8 months

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Not Everything Is Fleeting

read on AO3

~1k, Héloïse/Marianne, M-rating, for @yearoftheotpevent's August prompt "you're the only one I could turn to for help" Summary: Héloïse realises what her sister had done wrong: she never ran.

#portrait of a lady on fire #portrait de la jeune fille en feu #femslash #marianne x heloise #femslash fanfic #femslash fic #yotp 2023 #yotp2023

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yuristarwars · 1 year

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Andor (TV), Star Wars - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Cinta Kaz/Vel Sartha Characters: Cinta Kaz, Vel Sartha, Cassian Andor, Ruescott Melshi, Mon Mothma Additional Tags: velcintaweek2023, Femslash, Generic Star Wars plot Summary:

Vel, Cinta, Cassian, and Melshi are sent on a mission to steal weapons from the Imperial Armory on Dantooine.

@velcintaweek

#andor #vel x cinta #velcinta #star wars #star wars andor #vel sartha #cinta kaz #femslash fic #star wars femslash

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