#ann x leslie

[nickismyspiritanimal]

homoerotic sitcom friendships

[lovelytartt]

wait hold on. polyamory was literally a plot on parks and recreation so why couldn’t leslie just date ben AND ann. respectfully.

[evan-beethoven]

Parks and Rec season 1 really has off-the-charts levels of Ann x Leslie vibes

I'm literally watching it and thinking gay gay homosexual gay

[evie-carnahan]

Parks and Recreation 6.17 "Galentine's Day"

[phantomstatistician]

Fandom: Anne of Green Gables

Sample Size: 488 stories

Source: AO3

NOTE: This chart excludes stories from "Anne With An E", as requested.

[jomiddlemarch]

A letter always seemed to me like immortality

Everyone Diana wanted to write to was dead.

Walter, what seemed like a dozen lifetimes ago, at Courcelette if his last letter to Rilla was to be believed; Diana had often wondered whether he had already considered himself a dead man walking before the day of the last battle, the boy he’d been destroyed beyond repair or rebirth.

Aunt Leslie, whom she’d found it easier to talk to than her own mother, perhaps because she’d also had a brother she adored. Perhaps because she’d left Glen St. Mary and never missed it. 

Perhaps because Leslie liked whiskey better than tea, newspapers better than poetry. 

Una, who’d been too pale since she barely survived nursing her father and stepmother through the Spanish flu, who’d been someone everyone underestimated or decided to treat as a martyr, who would not have judged Di the way her own sisters would. 

Rosalind Foyle, whom she’d had to ask about as discreetly as she could, counting on her general reception as a cheerful and polite Canadian, not much like a bossy Yank, to yield her the few details she’d squirreled away. An artist, a mother. A beauty. Better-bred than her husband, well-liked, she’d had elegant hands and never forgot to wear gloves.

Diana only wore gloves to operate and if an actual gale was blowing in a blizzard.

Who had thought all she wanted was to go to France, to make something of her life that would last her the rest of it. That might make the rest of it of a duration she could bear, an end her family could cope with or justify why she’d never return to PEI.

Dear Una, You’re the best one to write to, I think. The one who’d mind the least, like it the most. The least awkward for me to imagine reading this, the least likely to tell me something I don’t want to know. I leave for France in a few weeks and now I don’t want to go. Or rather, I do and then I don’t. There’s something holding me in England now, something to do with Walter, a mystery. Men, who’ve died. A man who’s alive, very much so.

A man I want to know. His name is Foyle. Christopher. He knew Walter, said Walter knew him as Kit. Everyone calls him Foyle or sir or Superintendent. Christopher. Oh Una, I thought this was behind me. That it was something I’d never have to deal with, some sort of consolation of being a woman in a world missing a generation of men. I thought I wouldn’t know this and that was a relief, watching you and Rilla and Nan. Faith. Mary. I thought it was fair, that I’d never know heartbreak like this. And now there’s Christopher. A half-dozen dead men. Walter’s poem. And France, waiting for me. I have to go, I know that, but how do I go wanting to stay here, a place I can’t call home. Wanting to come back.

Christopher. I like writing his name because I oughtn’t say it often. That’s what a young girl does, lovesick, dull, embarrassing herself, making everyone around her smile behind their hands unless it’s Miss Cornelia, scolding you for making a fool of yourself and for what, a man? What’s a man worth, I ask you—can’t you hear her say it, tart, ready to wash her hands of us— I don’t care what a man’s worth, Una. Just Christopher. And I can’t answer the question, not to satisfy Miss Cornelia or you or myself.

You’d write me back something comforting, if you could. If you hadn’t died before your time, twice over, after the telegram, after the epidemic. I should have insisted you leave before me or with me. I should have told your father you were worth more than all the rest of them put together or made Dad send you away to convalesce, somewhere warm, where you might have lolled about, turning brown in the sun. I’ve said I’ll go to France and sew up the men who need sewing up. Cut off the parts that need cutting off. I’ve said that’s my life, my vocation, as important as Mother’s poetry, as Walter’s, as the babies Jem delivers and the columns Ken Ford writes, and it must be but now there’s murder and Christopher to contend with, a dozen mysteries at the heart of me. For it seems I’ve a heart after all, Una. It beats and beats and leaps when it oughtn’t. It will break, I know it shall.

Christopher. I’ll take a dream in lieu of a letter. A flower, out of place, in lieu of a word. Answer me if you can, Una. You can’t and I know that, but I’ll still hope, silly Di Blythe.

She put the letter in an envelope but left it unsealed and unaddressed.

Left the envelope in an otherwise empty drawer of the desk in her flat. If she didn’t return from France, well, that didn’t bear thinking about too closely. If her papers were sent back to Canada, her father would likely burn the letter rather than let her mother see it unless if gave it to Nan, thinking her twin would derive some comfort and, happily married to Jerry, the bonny wife and mother Di had not made of herself, could weather any pang it gave her.

If somehow it ended up with Christopher, he’d know how she’d once felt.

She could make that happen, writing his name across the white field of the envelope, but that was too much like a dare, and for all she was her father’s daughter, she still had her mother’s wise fear of the fey.

She’d written his name enough. She’d hope she’d come back to say it.

[asterwriter221]

I've been rewatching it and I have rekindled my undying love for Donna.

[annesoftheisland]

Anne's House of Dreams-

Chapter 16 New Year's Eve at the Light

The Green Gables folk went home after Christmas, Marilla under solemn covenant to return for a month in the spring. More snow came before New Year's, and the harbor froze over, but the gulf still was free, beyond the white, imprisoned fields. The last day of the old year was one of those bright, cold, dazzling winter days, which bombard us with their brilliancy, and command our admiration but never our love. The sky was sharp and blue; the snow diamonds sparkled insistently; the stark trees were bare and shameless, with a kind of brazen beauty; the hills shot assaulting lances of crystal. Even the shadows were sharp and stiff and clear-cut, as no proper shadows should be. Everything that was handsome seemed ten times handsomer and less attractive in the glaring splendor; and everything that was ugly seemed ten times uglier, and everything was either handsome or ugly. There was no soft blending, or kind obscurity, or elusive mistiness in that searching glitter. The only things that held their own individuality were the firs--for the fir is the tree of mystery and shadow, and yields never to the encroachments of crude radiance.

But finally the day began to realise that she was growing old. Then a certain pensiveness fell over her beauty which dimmed yet intensified it; sharp angles, glittering points, melted away into curves and enticing gleams. The white harbor put on soft grays and pinks; the far-away hills turned amethyst.

"The old year is going away beautifully," said Anne.

She and Leslie and Gilbert were on their way to the Four Winds Point, having plotted with Captain Jim to watch the New Year in at the light. The sun had set and in the southwestern sky hung Venus, glorious and golden, having drawn as near to her earth-sister as is possible for her. For the first time Anne and Gilbert saw the shadow cast by that brilliant star of evening, that faint, mysterious shadow, never seen save when there is white snow to reveal it, and then only with averted vision, vanishing when you gaze at it directly.

"It's like the spirit of a shadow, isn't it?" whispered Anne. "You can see it so plainly haunting your side when you look ahead; but when you turn and look at it--it's gone."

"I have heard that you can see the shadow of Venus only once in a lifetime, and that within a year of seeing it your life's most wonderful gift will come to you," said Leslie. But she spoke rather hardly; perhaps she thought that even the shadow of Venus could bring her no gift of life. Anne smiled in the soft twilight; she felt quite sure what the mystic shadow promised her.

They found Marshall Elliott at the lighthouse. At first Anne felt inclined to resent the intrusion of this long-haired, long-bearded eccentric into the familiar little circle. But Marshall Elliott soon proved his legitimate claim to membership in the household of Joseph. He was a witty, intelligent, well-read man, rivalling Captain Jim himself in the knack of telling a good story. They were all glad when he agreed to watch the old year out with them.

Captain Jim's small nephew Joe had come down to spend New Year's with his great-uncle, and had fallen asleep on the sofa with the First Mate curled up in a huge golden ball at his feet.

"Ain't he a dear little man?" said Captain Jim gloatingly. "I do love to watch a little child asleep, Mistress Blythe. It's the most beautiful sight in the world, I reckon. Joe does love to get down here for a night, because I have him sleep with me. At home he has to sleep with the other two boys, and he doesn't like it. "Why can't I sleep with father, Uncle Jim?" says he. `Everybody in the Bible slept with their fathers.' As for the questions he asks, the minister himself couldn't answer them. They fair swamp me. `Uncle Jim, if I wasn't me who'd I be?' and, `Uncle Jim, what would happen if God died?' He fired them two off at me tonight, afore he went to sleep. As for his imagination, it sails away from everything. He makes up the most remarkable yarns--and then his mother shuts him up in the closet for telling stories . And he sits down and makes up another one, and has it ready to relate to her when she lets him out. He had one for me when he come down tonight. `Uncle Jim,' says he, solemn as a tombstone, `I had a 'venture in the Glen today.' `Yes, what was it?' says I, expecting something quite startling, but nowise prepared for what I really got. `I met a wolf in the street,' says he, `a 'normous wolf with a big, red mouf and awful long teeth, Uncle Jim.' `I didn't know there was any wolves up at the Glen,' says I. `Oh, he comed there from far, far away,' says Joe, `and I fought he was going to eat me up, Uncle Jim.' `Were you scared?' says I. `No, 'cause I had a big gun,' says Joe, `and I shot the wolf dead, Uncle Jim,--solid dead--and then he went up to heaven and bit God,' says he. Well, I was fair staggered, Mistress Blythe."

The hours bloomed into mirth around the driftwood fire. Captain Jim told tales, and Marshall Elliott sang old Scotch ballads in a fine tenor voice; finally Captain Jim took down his old brown fiddle from the wall and began to play. He had a tolerable knack of fiddling, which all appreciated save the First Mate, who sprang from the sofa as if he had been shot, emitted a shriek of protest, and fled wildly up the stairs.

"Can't cultivate an ear for music in that cat nohow," said Captain Jim. "He won't stay long enough to learn to like it. When we got the organ up at the Glen church old Elder Richards bounced up from his seat the minute the organist began to play and scuttled down the aisle and out of the church at the rate of no-man's-business. It reminded me so strong of the First Mate tearing loose as soon as I begin to fiddle that I come nearer to laughing out loud in church than I ever did before or since."

There was something so infectious in the rollicking tunes which Captain Jim played that very soon Marshall Elliott's feet began to twitch. He had been a noted dancer in his youth. Presently he started up and held out his hands to Leslie. Instantly she responded. Round and round the firelit room they circled with a rhythmic grace that was wonderful. Leslie danced like one inspired; the wild, sweet abandon of the music seemed to have entered into and possessed her. Anne watched her in fascinated admiration. She had never seen her like this. All the innate richness and color and charm of her nature seemed to have broken loose and overflowed in crimson cheek and glowing eye and grace of motion. Even the aspect of Marshall Elliott, with his long beard and hair, could not spoil the picture. On the contrary, it seemed to enhance it. Marshall Elliott looked like a Viking of elder days, dancing with one of the blue-eyed, golden-haired daughters of the Northland.

"The purtiest dancing I ever saw, and I've seen some in my time," declared Captain Jim, when at last the bow fell from his tired hand. Leslie dropped into her chair, laughing, breathless.

"I love dancing," she said apart to Anne. "I haven't danced since I was sixteen--but I love it. The music seems to run through my veins like quicksilver and I forget everything--everything--except the delight of keeping time to it. There isn't any floor beneath me, or walls about me, or roof over me--I'm floating amid the stars."

Captain Jim hung his fiddle up in its place, beside a large frame enclosing several banknotes.

"Is there anybody else of your acquaintance who can afford to hang his walls with banknotes for pictures?" he asked. "There's twenty ten-dollar notes there, not worth the glass over them. They're old Bank of P. E. Island notes. Had them by me when the bank failed, and I had 'em framed and hung up, partly as a reminder not to put your trust in banks, and partly to give me a real luxurious, millionairy feeling. Hullo, Matey, don't be scared. You can come back now. The music and revelry is over for tonight. The old year has just another hour to stay with us. I've seen seventy-six New Years come in over that gulf yonder, Mistress Blythe."

"You'll see a hundred," said Marshall Elliott.

Captain Jim shook his head.

"No; and I don't want to--at least, I think I don't. Death grows friendlier as we grow older. Not that one of us really wants to die though, Marshall. Tennyson spoke truth when he said that. There's old Mrs. Wallace up at the Glen. She's had heaps of trouble all her life, poor soul, and she's lost almost everyone she cared about. She's always saying that she'll be glad when her time comes, and she doesn't want to sojourn any longer in this vale of tears. But when she takes a sick spell there's a fuss! Doctors from town, and a trained nurse, and enough medicine to kill a dog. Life may be a vale of tears, all right, but there are some folks who enjoy weeping, I reckon."

They spent the old year's last hour quietly around the fire. A few minutes before twelve Captain Jim rose and opened the door.

"We must let the New Year in," he said.

Outside was a fine blue night. A sparkling ribbon of moonlight garlanded the gulf. Inside the bar the harbor shone like a pavement of pearl. They stood before the door and waited--Captain Jim with his ripe, full experience, Marshall Elliott in his vigorous but empty middle life, Gilbert and Anne with their precious memories and exquisite hopes, Leslie with her record of starved years and her hopeless future. The clock on the little shelf above the fireplace struck twelve.

"Welcome, New Year," said Captain Jim, bowing low as the last stroke died away. "I wish you all the best year of your lives, mates. I reckon that whatever the New Year brings us will be the best the Great Captain has for us--and somehow or other we'll all make port in a good harbor."

[ewa-jednak-chce-spac]

[thestarlightforge]

In retrospect this is one of my favorite lines from Parks & Rec 😆

[cryingatwindermerepeaks]

would you write for regressor april? caregiver of your choice, maybe she’s just having a rough day and needs comfort

Little!April x Cg!Ann - Bad Day

Word count: 1570

——————————

April had been having an awful day. Possibly, the worst one ever. She’d gotten in an argument with Andy over something stupid, she’d accidentally screwed up the filing system resulting in Leslie yelling at her and she’d forgotten to tell Ron that there was an unavoidable meeting so he was mad at her too.

She hadn’t meant to make everyone so mad today, she’d just been feeling smaller than usual recently and it was getting harder to compartmentalise certain feelings. It was clear that no one was really happy with her in the office so April ended up moping around the corridors of city hall by herself. She was definitely not supposed to be by herself while she was feeling this little but everyone she’d normally go to, Andy, Leslie, and Ron, were all mad at her and she didn’t think they’d want to look after her right now. There was one other option, an open door policy April had sworn to never, ever accept… Ann always seemed so eager to take care of her, and when Andy was little she was really good with him. Would she mind if April actually took her up on it for once? The thought of Ann’s office, safe and secluded, seemed enticing in comparison to the loud hustle and bustle of the corridors. With a desperate ache for at least a little bit of comfort, no matter the cost, April found herself reluctantly making her way to Ann’s office.

The heavy wooden door was open, it always was, and April stood nervously in the entryway. She poked her head in, anxiety increasing when she saw an older looking gentleman in a suit standing in front of Ann’s desk. They seemed to be in an important conversation and April immediately felt silly for coming here. If she just snuck out now, no one would see her,

“April!” Ann smiled, noticing the younger girl out of the corner of her eye. April froze, her eyes wide as if she’d been caught. “Did you need something?” Ann asked with a smile, both her eyes and the eyes of the other man weighed heavily on April.

“I, well,” she huffed nervously, shuffling from foot to foot and wrapping her arms around her torso. Ann’s face softened, recognising the tell-tale signs of April’s regression even though she hadn’t spent a lot of time around the younger girl when she was regressed.

“James, we can continue this conversation tomorrow. I’ve got important parks department work to help out with. Is this about the water fountains again?” Ann asked, directing her attention to April as she guided the man out of this office. April hesitated for a moment before recognising Ann’s lie and nodding.

“Water fountains. Yeah.” She agreed.

The slightly confused man gave them both a final look before Ann closed the door behind him. She turned around again to face April who’d backed herself nervously up against the wall. “April?” She hummed gently, “are you feeling small? It’s ok if you are,” she questioned, not wanting to be too presumptuous because you could never really know with April.

April scrunched up her face, clearly not pleased with the idea of admitting her regressed state to Ann of all people. Nevertheless, she nodded in admission, fiddling with her hands. Ann’s face softened. “Ok, that’s ok, thank you for telling me,” she praised. April huffed, dropping onto the floor with a pout. She tugged her knees up to her chest and pressed her chin against them, abandoning any sense of composure she’d had before. Tears began to roll down her cheeks because she was tired and everyone was mad at her and now she was here with Ann and she hated Ann!

Ann sighed softly, kneeling on the carpet next to April. “Hey, Apes, it’s alright,” she cooed. April sniffled with a scowl.

“Nuh,” she whined. Ann just shook her head, gently carding her hand through April’s hair.

“What happened, why’re you upset bubba?” April whined but reluctantly began explaining through tears how everything had gone wrong and was so bad. “That sounds like so much for you to be dealing with sweetheart,” Ann sighed gently, rubbing soft circles on April’s back. April nodded, rubbing her tears away with the sleeve of her sweater. “You know what I think might make you feel a little better?” Ann smiled playfully. April looked up, clearly not trusting that Ann could make anything feel better. “Why don’t you go look under that spare desk, see if anything peaks your interest,” she urged. April shuffled across the floor on her knees and poked her head under the desk. Very messily there was a pile of toys and blankets strewn where a chair would normally go. Some of them April recognised as Andy’s from home, others she didn’t and assumed Ann had bought for him. The thought made her chest ache weirdly but she didn’t know why. Immediately April recognised a soft toy monkey which Andy had been throwing a tantrum over a few days ago because he had sworn it had gone missing. She picked it up, rubbing the fur across her face and relishing in the comforting memory of Andy.

With the monkey in her arms April felt a little bit safer. She crawled out from behind the desk. Ann was still kneeling on the floor and April crawled right up to her, her face hidden in the fur of the monkey. “Who’s this?” Ann asked, gently prying the monkey away from April’s face. April whined instinctively, immediately regretting it when she remembered how nice Ann was being to her.

“Monke’” she mumbled.

“Isn’t he a cutie?” Ann cooed.

“Nuh,” April huffed, holding the monkey out so Ann could see it properly. “Monkeys ‘an be serial killers,” she grinned. Ann laughed, ruffling April’s hair.

“So he’s an evil monkey?” April nodded affirmatively.

“Alright, monkey, I have got to get back to work. Andy usually just hangs out under the spare desk but you can be wherever you’d like.” April thought for a moment, big April would tell her to hide under the desk and pretend she didn’t care but little April did care and she didn’t want to be alone.

When Ann went back to her desk April followed behind her, sitting with her head against Ann’s knee. As she typed on her computer Ann used her spare hand to gently play with April’s hair. April fiddled with the monkey on her lap, soothed by the contact with Ann. Easing into the closeness with Ann, April began to chew on the sleeve of her sweater. Ann tutted at this movement. She opened up her desk drawer and pulled out an unused pacifier. It was purple with a bat in the middle, clearly it had been purchased specifically with April in mind. Quickly, Ann removed it from the packaging. She tugged April’s sleeve away from her mouth and wordlessly replaced it with the pacifier. Initially April scowled up at Ann but after a few seconds she melted into the new sensation and leant her head back down against Ann’s knee.

They stayed like that for a while, both soothed by the safety and silence of the office and the other’s presence, until there was a knock on Ann’s office door. Ann stood up, the loss of contact eliciting a whine from April who quickly shuffled under Ann’s desk. She poked her head out from around the wooden leg and immediately recognised Andy and Leslie’s shoes. For a moment she was hesitant to reveal herself from her hiding spot but despite the arguments of the morning April really did miss Andy and Leslie. She crawled out from under the desk, she felt a little nervous because she knew the pacifier made her look a lot smaller than she usually was. April wasn’t sure when it had happened, or why, but something about being with Ann had allowed her to feel safe. Safe enough to regress more freely than ever before.

“April!” Andy cheered, barely batting an eye at the pacifier. She reached up for him to pick her up and he obliged as he always did, scooping her into his arms and swaying her back and forth a few times. “I thought I’d lost you, you weren’t at your desk, or m, well, you’re never at your desk but you weren’t at any of the places you usually are.”

“And we never would’ve expected to find you with Ann of all people,” Leslie laughed, though the relief in finding April was evident in her voice.

“April was just feeling a bit smaller and needed some company, isn’t that right Apes?” Ann hummed, rubbing April’s back. April nodded, wrapping her arms tighter around Andy’s back and resting her head sideways against his shoulder.

“Well Ron said we didn’t have to work again, ever, actually, but Leslie said that wasn’t true, but we can have the afternoon off. I think they feel bad for yelling at you,” And explained all in one breath, “And I am too… sorry, for fighting.” April nodded tiredly against Andy’s shoulder

“It ok,” she mumbled sleepily around her pacifier. Andy smiled, kissing her forehead gently.

“Do you wanna go home and watch casper?” he asked. April nodded eagerly. She turned her face around slightly to face an and waved shyly. Ann smiled, waving back.

“Bye April,” she cooed,

“Bubye Ann,” April babbled happily.

[lovelytartt]

if i were to write an ann x leslie college au would there be anyone out there who would read it 🧍🏻‍♀️

[byneddiedingo]

Hugh Jackman and Ryan Reynolds in Deadpool & Wolverine (Shawn Levy, 2024)

Cast: Ryan Reynolds, Hugh Jackman, Emma Corrin, Matthew Macfadyen, Dafne Keen, Jon Favreau, Morena Baccarin, Rob Delaney, Leslie Uggams, Jennifer Garner, Wesley Snipes, Channing Tatum, Chris Evans, Henry Cavill, Wunmi Mosaku, Aaron Stanford, Tyler Mane, Karan Sonni, Brianna Hildebrand. Screenplay: Ryan Reynolds, Rhett Reese, Paul Wernick, Zeb Wells, Shawn Levy. Cinematography: George Richmond. Production design: Ray Chan. Film editing: Shane Reid, Dean Zimmerman. Music: Rob Simonsen. 

Raucous, rude, and raunchy, Deadpool & Wolverine holds nothing sacred, even the production companies that made it, as the irrepressible Deadpool (Ryan Reynolds) teams up with the grouchy Wolverine (Hugh Jackman) to take on the Time Variance Authority, represented by Mr. Paradox (Matthew Macfadyen), and Cassandra Nova (Emma Corrin) in the Void and elsewhere. You might wonder how Deadpool could team with Wolverine since the latter died in James Mangold's 2017 film Logan. It involves traveling through the multiverse and encountering all the various Wolverines that exist in other timelines, including one known as The Cavillrine, a cameo by Henry Cavill. The Wolverine Deadpool chooses turns out to be the worst Wolverine, someone reviled in his own universe for bringing about the deaths of all the other X-Men. The arc of Wolverine's story in the movie turns out to be a quest for redemption. The multiverse trope itself gets lampooned by treating its actors as moving through their roles as if through other universes than the one they inhabit, the Marvel Universe. So there are allusions to Jackman's career as a performer in musicals and to Reynolds's older films like The Proposal (Anne Fletcher, 2009) and Van Wilder (Walt Becker, 2002). Chris Evans's appearance in the film is also a bit of role-switching. Deadpool at first thinks he's Steve Rogers, aka Captain America, until he reveals himself as Johnny Storm, aka Human Torch, the earlier Marvel role Evans played in Fantastic Four (Tim Story, 2005). Evans's brief performance in Deadpool & Wolverine includes one of the funniest speeches in the film, a foul-mouthed diatribe about Cassandra that's so good it gets repeated in the end credits. Thoroughly mindless and thoroughly entertaining, Deadpool & Wolverine is the superhero movie to end all superhero movies. Well, we can dream, can't we?

[trintastic]

⭑ 1980’s names!

name master list ☀️ this list consists of (fem) names that were majorly popular during the 1980s. i will most likely be making a similar post to this eventually including sur names, if you have any suggestions you think would fit well in this list please lmk!

feminine

A ; amanda, ashley, amber, amy, angela, april, alicia, allison, alexandra, alexis, alyssa, anne, annie, angelica, angel, angeline, ana, audrey, aubrey, autumn

B ; brittany, britney, brittney, britanny, brandy, brandi, bianca, brooke, beth, brenda, barbara, bridget, bonnie, bonnabel

C ; christina, cristina, crystina, cristinna, christine, courtney, crystal, cindy, cyndi, cassandra, chelsea, catherine, cynthia, carrie, caitlin, caitlyn, cait, casey, candace, christy, colleen, carolyn, caroline, cassie, carla, claudia

D ; diana, dana, dawn, desiree, divine, destini, destiny, deanna, dominique, deborah, danielle, debbie

E ; elizabeth, emily, erin, eren, erika, erica, ebony, evangeline, elsie

F ; fallon, felicia, fern, francine, franchesca, faye, farrah, felicity, fiona, fiora, flora, freya, frey, frida, fatima, florence, frances

G ; gemma, gwen, gwenny, gabrielle, gabriella, gen, genevieve, genette, genesis, gem, georgina, giana, ginny, giselle, gina

H ; hannah, hazel, harriet, heather, hallie, hayley, hailey, holly, hope

I ; isley, ivy, imogen, isla

J ; jess, jessica, jessy, jessie, jessyca, jen, jenny, jenni, jennifer, jacqueline, jackie, jill, joanna, jaclyn, jaime, jamie, jordan, jordy, jordyn, jass, jas, jasmine, jasmin, jazz, jazzmin, jazzmine, jenna, jade, jayde

K ; krystal, kim, kym, kimberly, kymberly, katherine, kathryn, kathy, kat, katheryne, krystina, krys, kryssie, krissie, kristen, krysten, kristyn, katie, kate, kaitlyn, kaitlin, kathleen, katrina, kelsey, kara, kendra, kelly, kelli, kari, kourtney

L ; lydia, lindsey, lindsay, laura, lauren, loren, lauryn, latoya, leslie, les, lesley, leah, linda, lynda, laury, laurie, laurey, lori, latasha, liv, leigh-anne, lacey, lacy, laci

M ; maria, mariah, moriah, melissa, melyssa, michelle, michele, mychelle, mary, marie, monica, monyca, megan, meghan, megyn, megin, melanie, misty, margaret, molly, morgan, monique, miranda, melinda, marissa, meredith, merida, meagan, mallory

N ; nicole, nichole, nycole, nicol, natalie, natalia, nat, natasha, nancy, nina

O ; octavia, odette, odessa, olivia

P ; perrie, priscilla, patricia, pamela, payton, paige, paisley

Q ; quinn, quinnie, quinni, quincy, queenie, quen

R ; rachel, rachael, rachyl, rebecca, rebecka, rebekah, renee, reneé, regina

S ; sara, sarah, steph, stef, stefanie, stephanie, stefani, stephani, samantha, sam, shannon, sharon, stacey, stacie, staci, stacy, susan, susanne, susanna, sandra, sabrina, sheena, shauna

T ; trina, tiff, tiffany, tifany, tifaney, tiffaney, tiffani, tara, tracey, tracy, traci, tina, teresa, theresa, tara, tonya, tamara, tabitha, tasha, tammy, tamika, taylor

U ; unqiue

V ; vera, veronica, vanessa, victoria, vic, vickey, valerie, val

W ; willow, whitney, whit

X ; xandra

Y ; yasmine, yessica, yazzmin, yazzmine, yasmin

Z ; zara, zarley, zarlee, zarli, zarhlee. zoey, zoe

[speaksleazy]

⚠︎ ⟮ NPTs ⟯ ... Murder_drones.mp3 ⟩ Cyn

﹫ ❲ Requested by anonymous ❳

「 NAMES 」

Cyn / Sin, Cynthia / Sinthia, Doily / Doilie¹, Marnierre², Salem, Marianne, Marie Anne, Lady, Doll / Dolly / Dollie, Cutlerie³, Sweetie, Belle, Bow, Lacy / Lacie / Lace, Ribbon, Sash, Felicity, Lolita, Teacup, Porcelain / Porcelynn, Silver, Delilah, Velvet / Velvette, Paisley / Paislie, Creepie, Leslie, Rose / Rosie, Pearl, Opal, Filistata⁴, Dear / Dearie, Ciel, Jacqueline / Jacquelynne², Curtsy, Embroiderie⁵, Boudreaux², Envy, Violynne⁶

¹ After doilies. ² French. ³ After cutlery. ⁴ A kind of arachnid. ⁵ After embroidery. ⁶ After violins.

「 PRONOUNS 」

Che/Cher/Cherie, Fem/Femme, Goth/Gothic, Maid/Maids, Sweet/Sweeties, Solve/Solvers, Wyrm/Wyrms, Eldritch/Eldritchs, See/Seer, Fabric/Fabrics, Sh3/H3r, Dear/Dearie, Error/404, 404/404s, Glitch/Glitches, Tick/Tock, Sh_/H_r, X/Xs, Stitch/Stitches,🪞/🪞s, 🥂/🥂s, ☕/☕s, ⚠️/⚠️s, ⚠︎/⚠︎s

「 TITLES 」

The Lady / Gentleman of the mansion / manor, The absolute solver of fabrics, ( Prn ) with a golden stare, The most elegant robot / drone / android, His / N's little sister, The sweetest / cutest / most adorable younger sister, The little girl / ( Label ) with a dark secret, ( Prn ) with a dark secret, ( Prn ) who is attending the gala, ( Prn ) who is hosting a tea party, ( Prn) who is playing with ( prn ) dolls, ( Prn ) eldritch form

[galactickle]

Plus One Chapter 1

Jean-Ralphio Saperstein x reader

Summary: You have been secretly dating Jean-Ralphio for a while… How will the parks department take it when you bring him to Leslie and Ben's wedding?

SMUT

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Masterlist

A/N: this is not canon compliant

The SnakeHole Lounge was nearly empty when Leslie dragged you and April in. It was only 10pm after all. She propped April near the front door and pulled you to the side to help blow up balloons. 

“Faster Y/N! We're behind schedule!” Leslie urged in between large gulps of air. 

“I can only breathe so fast,” you sighed, continuing the balloon. 

“I don't want to do this,” April complained from behind you. 

“Too bad! Y/N! Catch!” Leslie threw a streamer towards you.

When you and Leslie finished setting up, April pulled you next to her to help greet guests. Some people had already arrived, mostly regular patrons who had no idea who April was or that Leslie was throwing this party. You glanced at your phone screen, 11:00, people should start showing up now, you hoped. 

Your prayers came true as Andy strolled through the door, greeting April with a bow and a kiss to the back of her hand. “M’lady.”

April giggled, yes, giggled , in response. 

“Y/N,” Andy continues with a nod.

“Andy,” you greet him as he passes.

Tom is the next to arrive, dragging along his lanky dork of a friend Jean-Ralphio. 

“Happy Birthday April!” Tom exclaims. placing his gift on the table beside her. He moves in for a hug but April backs away from him. “Okay…” he holds up his hands, “Y/N, looking lovely as ever,” Tom flirts with you. 

You flip him off in response. He was used to it, same as you were used to his flirting. Both gestures meant nothing to the two of you anymore.

“You wanna come home with me?” you hear Jean-Ralphio whisper to April, you roll your eyes.

“Ew, no,” April replies, pushing him back. 

He looks at you, “Keep walking,” you say, pushing him past the two of you.

The rest of the guests come quickly after that, and you and April are set free to roam the party. You sit down at the bar and order a drink. You feel someone slide into the seat next to you. Turning, you put on a smile thinking it's Leslie or Ann maybe, but instead your smile instantly drops. 

“Hey sweetcheeks,” Jean-Ralphio leans an arm on the back of you chair, “How about I buy you a drink?” 

“Do you even have any money?” you scoff, Tom talks a lot, and Jean-Ralphio and his life is one of Tom's favorite subjects. Just then the bartender sets down your drink, you slide the money over to him and thank him, getting up to find somewhere else to enjoy your drink. 

“Oh c’mon… don't be like that,” Jean-Ralphio complained, his fluffy dark curls bouncing as he raced after you. 

The truth was, you didn't dislike Jean-Ralphio like the rest of the parks department did, I mean sure, you found him irresponsible and stupid and even a little selfish, but there was something about him…

“Y/N!” Your name snapped you out of your thoughts, looking up to see Donna in a VIP section, “Come in,” she gestured to the velvet rope that separated her and her crew from the rest of the party. You unhook the rope and step through, Jean-Ralphio quickly tried to follow you, but Donna was quicker, “Uh-uh, not you, Saperstien,” she stared him down, which he quickly looked away from, skittering off.

Later that night you found Jean-Ralphio with his arm around April, assuming this was against April's will, your pace quickened to get to them. Then you saw Andy on the other side of April, which made your head tilt in confusion. You approached cautiously, hoping to just eavesdrop for a moment but Jean-Ralphio’s eyes were quick to find you. “Hey sweetheart, sorry but I’m taken now,” he smiles cockily at you, you roll your eyes focusing on April, who is staring down Andy.

“Okay, well I’m out of here,” Andy stands to leave, wishing you good luck when he passes.

“What the hell April?” you rush to sit where Andy was just moments before.

“What? Are you jealous?” Jean-Ralphio questions.

“Fuck off,” you and April say to him at the same time. He seems taken aback by it but leaves nonetheless.

“What's going on?” you grab both of April's hands in yours, genuinely concerned.

“I don't know… I overheard Ann flirting with Andy and I wanted to get back at him.. I guess,” she confesses.

“April…” you start.

“I know, I know.”

“Jean-Ralphio? Really? You couldn't find a better option?” you joke. April laughs in response. You couldn't help but poke fun at everyone’s hatred for the guy.

~°✷°~~°✷°~~°✷°~~°✷°~~°✷°~~°✷°~~°✷°~~°✷°~~°✷°~~°✷°~

You hadn't seen Jean-Ralphio since that night at the Snakehole, and unfortunately you were headed there again. Since Tom was launching his new alcohol Snakejuice. 

“Y/Nnnnn!” Leslie called from the dancefloor when she spotted you, stumbling over, dragging Ann behind her.

“Are you drunk already?” you asked, eyeing the two as they cling to each other.

“Noooo,” you gave them a knowing look, “Maybe,” Leslie sighed, “But you have to try Snakejuice, its soooo good.” She grabs your arm, pulling you to the bar and pouring you a glass.

You take the glass willingly and take a sip, it is surprisingly tasty, but strong. You nodded, taking a second sip. “It's good.”

“No, it’s amazingggg!”

“I’m glad you guys like it,” Tom walks up, his tall, dorky shadow following him.

“I’m sure that’s not the only thing you’ll like tonight,” Jean-Ralphio sidles up next to you.

“Ew,” you mumble, but you can’t control the heat that rises up your neck, was the alcohol already hitting you? “Tom, how much alcohol is in this stuff?”

“I don’t know man!” he replied, before seeing someone else and rushing off to catch them. No wonder Leslie and Ann were so wasted. 

You turn your head to see Jean-Ralphio still sitting in the seat next to you, smiling giddily. He opens his mouth to say something, but Leslie was pushing a new glass into your hand and Ann was dragging you to the dancefloor with them before you knew it. You downed the glass and began dancing with the girls, although you couldn’t help but look back and see Jean-Ralphio still sitting there watching. The heat rose to your cheeks, and turned back to Leslie and Ann. The two didn’t notice your distracted state, how you kept an eye on the man all night. They were too busy fighting over who knows what. 

Eventually they both stormed off, leaving you in the middle of the dancefloor alone. Though that didn’t last for long. Long fingers gripped you hips from behind, and you turned to slap the guy, but when your eyes met the big brown ones of none other than Jean-Ralphio, you lost all your gusto. Instead you turned back around, grinding your hips down on his, which caused him to grip you tighter. You continued your motions for the rest of the song before glancing around, hoping nobody from your work had seen your weakness. 

When you had determined no one had seen you, you spun around in Jean-Ralphio's arms, leaning up and whispering in his ear, “How about we get out of here?”

Jean-Ralphio thought he could cum in his pants right there, but held his arousal in, nodding frantically.

“Meet me outside in 5 minutes,” you whisper again, turning and rushing off to give an excuse for leaving.

You found Donna in her usual VIP spot and chatted for a few minutes, before yawning falsely and claiming you were ‘so bored you might go home’. Donna offered to send one of her boytoys with you but you politely declined. 

Out front Jean-Ralphio paced under a streetlight, he had already called a cab for you and was just waiting anxiously for you to meet him. For a moment, he thought you might have been pranking him and thought of returning to the party, but then again, you were too hot for him to miss this opportunity. 

“Jean-Ralphio!” you called softly from the side of the building, gesturing for him to come closer. He followed your lead and did.

“Hey, I almost thought you wouldn’t come-” he starts.

“SHhhh,” you hush him, not wanting anyone outside to see or hear you with him. You pull him close as a cab rolls up. 

“Oh, this is us!” he rushed over to the cab opening the door in a wide gesture. You follow, but as you’re about to duck into the cab, you notice another cab pulling up and see none other than Ben Wyatt quickly rushing to the cab, you catch his eye and you have a silent exchange, an agreement.

You climb into the cab, pulling Jean-Ralphio in after you.

“Where to?” the cabbie asks.

You give him your address and he takes off down the road, your apartment was only a little more than 5 minutes away. But man, did Jean-Ralphio utilize those 5 minutes. He drew a hand up your thigh, causing you to look at him. When you did, you got caught in his eyes again, giving him opportune time to lean in and smash his mouth into yours. He was in no way graceful, hands roaming your body, and gripping your tits roughly. But you can’t say you didn’t enjoy every second of it. You were almost too caught up in him to notice the cab pull up to your apartment. You handed the cabbie some cash, and exited the car, dragging Jean-Ralphio, up the walkway to your apartment building. You fumble with your keys for a second, before opening the door and heading up the stairs, Jean-Ralphio right on your heels. You feel his hands run up and down your torso as you fumble with your keys once again to get into your apartment. When the door opens, you’re pulling him in and pushing him towards the bedroom. 

The backs of his knees hit the bed and he falls backwards, you climbing on top of him hungrily. You rip off his jacket and shirt, discarding them somewhere in the room, and rid yourself of your dress. The sight of you causes Jean-Ralphio to pause for a moment, then with newfound vigor, he rolls you over so that he is on top. He slowly kisses down your body, paying homage to every part. But eventually you get impatient and sit up to tug on his belt, trying to remove it. He gets the message and returns to your mouth, as you finally get the belt undone and slide his pants down. He messes with the clasp of your bra before you help him and remove it yourself. You lift your hips as he helps you out of your underwear, leaving you completely bare in front of him. He stops to stare once again. Which you find endearing and incredibly attractive, so you push yourself up to lock your lips with his again. Reaching into his boxers to grab his length, you pump him a few times in your hand. He groans in response.

You push his boxers down and lean back, lining him up with your entrance. He runs the head of his cock along your folds, teasing you slightly, before pushing into you all the way. You moan at the feeling of fullness. He sets a reckless pace, which makes him a withering mess in no time. “Stop,” you tell him. He does, though he stays inside of you. “I want to be on top,” he moans loudly at your admission. 

He rolls over, pulling himself up into a sitting position against your headboard. You straddle his waist and slowly sink back down on his cock. He moans again, “ Fuck , you’re amazing.” You set a slow pace, which has him grasping at the bedsheets beside him. As you move up and down slowly, your hands tangle in his gorgeous curls. He ruts his hips lightly as you tug on his curls, pulling another moan out of him. He begins to suck on your neck, which has you feeling more eager to get off. You increase your speed, and he leans his head back in response, mouth agape. “I’m- fuck , I’m gonna cum,” he moans.

“Not yet,” you chide. Rolling your hips in a different pattern, which causes your clit to rub against his pubic bone deliciously. You were so close. You rub your clit harder against him, and let out a deep moan. “Fuck, Jean-Ralphio,” you lean down and rub your clit with your first two fingers, continuing to ride him, which pushes you over then edge, “ Shit ,” you scream as you cum. You ride out your high before lifting off of him, and grabbing his cock in your hand to pump him firmly until his seed spreads all over your hand, Jean-Ralphio moaning loudly. 

“Holy shit,” he whispers as you roll off of him and head into the ensuite bathroom to wash your hand. When you return, you tug on an oversized sleep shirt and some underwear, climbing under the covers. “You’re amazing,” Jean-Ralphio says again, rolling over to look at you, you just smile and kiss the tip of his nose, letting sleep overcome you. 

The next morning when you woke, you were hazy, looking around you saw the clothes thrown about the room and didn’t think much of it. Turning in your bed, however, you were met with Jean-Ralphio, clad in only his underwear, spread across the sheets. “Shit,” you whisper to yourself, getting up and rushing to the bathroom. You toss some cold water in your face and look at yourself in the mirror. How could you do this to yourself?