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    • Half roleplay blog, half snark, half personal blog, and three fourths shit that amuses me.

    Expect to see: Homestuck, Pokemon, MLP, Ace Attorney, porn, minor amounts of political rambling, Doctor Who, Zelda, webcomics, shipping, smut, and copious amounts of snark.

    I also roleplay as four aged up lesbians. I focus primarily on Rose Lalonde, now 23 years old and in her fourth year of college at Vassar.

    Problem? Too bad.
    (All art belongs to other people. My art is atrocious: It's part of why I don't do an Ask blog. Owners reserve the right to force my happy ass to replace any and all images I use.)
    |084 notes| Monday, Feb 2 at 12:47 pm
    via fine-wine-and-black-lipstick (originally fourlesbianssuited)

    Anonymous asked: qurl you should go have makeouts with yo mom. it’d be so haaaaawt

    fine-wine-and-black-lipstick:

    fourlesbianssuited:

    I feel I may end up losing count. Not that that is a bad thing.

    I felt it proper to ask, dear mother. I would hardly want to thrust a martini into someone’s face before they had even had the opportunity to enjoy their current one.

    You slide a little closer, using the opportunity to hand the elder woman her drink, but you do not pull away, instead sitting quite close beside her as you sip at the drink you held in your other hand. It may just be you, but it seems to be getting quite warm.

    Oh by all means, thrust as many maritnis upon me as you can. If at all possible I would one day enjoy bathing in a pool filled with vodka. Of course that can’t possible be good for my health.. But when have health problems ever held me back, hmm?

    You give another small laugh, taking the glass within your hand and downing it’s contents. Meanwhile, your daughter seems to be drawing closer and closer to you. Or perhaps your perception was a bit off due to all the alcohol? Who knew? Who cared? You find yourself leaning closer to her as well, closing whatever distance lay between you as you took the chance to pour her a glass this time. It was only fair as she’d been doing all the work so far. But rather than allow her to drink it herself, you wait until she finishes her glass and slowly tip the one in your hand towards her lips.

    Say aaaah~

    Counting when drunk is bound to fail either way.

    Something tells me I won’t be the only one saying aaah.

    If cirrhosis were going to have any effect on you, dear mother, it would already have claimed you. I think that your health is likely the least of your worries when it comes to drink.

    You smile mischievously, leaning forward and pressing your lips to the glass, tilting your head back as your eyes lock on Violet’s own. You become acutely aware of her perfume, and how fine it smelled. Was that watermelon? Regardless, you steady yourself by placing a hand on her thigh, allowing her to pour the drink into your mouth.