#yeah its a funny post but youre only sort of right

[todayisafridaynight]

NO YOU’RE SO RIGHT ABOUT THE MAJIMA STUFF THOUGH. GOD. God forbid you speak poorly about the fandom silly guy etc etc. I rt’d one post about someone being annoyed abt majima getting an insane amount of merch (especially compared to other characters- even other PLAYABLE characters) and suddenly my TL is filled with ppl taking it as a personal attack….. like?? Settle down???

My one fear is that instead of Mine content we’re just gonna get Majima Saga 2 for yk3 and rgg will call it a day. WHAT ELSE IS THERE TO SAY ABOUT THE GUY !!! GENUINELY!!!

at this rate we’re going to have a complete record of Majima’s life from birth until modern day bc you knowww they’re never gonna let the cash cow die or retire. + god I lowkey need the 3jimas to break up Now so saejima and daigo can stand on their own again (w/out being overshadowed by Majima)…. Saejima especially… I miss the days when he felt like a character………

(I may have a lot to say on the topic) (he’s a fun character but at this rate I’m getting so sick of the fandom around him)

gen is kinda funny how when there's the Monthly Critique Of Majima post on twitter the rggtwt part of the tl is flooded with majima fans being upset. its like clockwork really LOL

as for saejima, i do miss him being solo... like he's funny with majima at times, but as wack as Y4 was i still really liked his coliseum scene, and his prison adventures in Y5 were a real treat too..

[weirdmageddon]

i love these tags this person is so right

actually, can you imagine if dave was raised by B1 roxy?

i wanna get into this actually

(ok i had to spend a few hours rewriting this because IT DIDNT FUCKING SAVE AFTER FIVE HOURS OF WRITING WHEN MY COMPUTER UPDATED WHILE I WAS AFK so it would mean a lot to show this post some appreciation. i LOVEEE hearing what other people have to say)

even though these things mom does are presented in an extravagant, kitsch, jokey way, her intentions always came from a place of sincerity. she is simply Funnie

but rose reads too far into it and assumes things that aren't there, that her mother is passive-aggressively feigning interest in rose's interests simply because the things she does are so extra. "why do all of this if not to mock me"

im telling you right now if dave lived in this household he wouldn't assume antagonism, he'd go,

don’t forget who LITERALLY patented tangible jpeg artifacts as their post-scratch adult self and scattered shitty scummed up statue of liberties all over the planet. theres no way some of that overboard artful shit wasnt post-ironic / circling back around to genuine funny sincerity

dave's natural state is funny sincerity like roxy. he's had the natural capacity for this type of humor from the start and this is the direction he goes towards when he grows out of his brother's shadow by the end of the comic. dave and roxy share an earnest “so bad its good” type of humor

(lots more under the cut; the length of this meta analysis just got unwieldly with all the pictures and whatnot)

despite the alcoholism, roxy is a supportive mother. she's not the ideal guardian but hells of a lot more supportive of her kid than bro is. if she knew dave's interests she would totally indulge in them with some over the top silly goofy haha shit as a genuine gesture simply because she loves him

rose isn't too keen on it though. but she is more similar to dirk in her natural state of thinking of overthinking shit and assuming the worst, like the tags said

and yes dave got the sweet cuddly yet sometimes backhanded ouppy gene from roxy, probably even moreso lol

roxy's even said rose "sounds like girl dirk"

side tangent here, but this is something i wanna talk about.

i dont think bro should ever be in custody of children ever but if theres anyone who would be up to the task it's rose probably. i know she'd be able to keep up with him. not only does she have a defined personality (dave is more malleable and absorbs his environment like a sponge), if anyone can pick apart B1 dirk's batshit brain and probably be right on the money it's her. lil cal has been pumping patriarchal nonsense into bro's head and rose would be able to bring the fucking facts to the table without losing her own and being a living example of a badass little girl. i also don't think bro would try to force masculine roles onto rose like he did with dave, seeing as she is a girl, so she would actually have more of a leg up and get some passes that dave was never afforded. and rose wouldn't stand idly and accept any bullshit; she is no doormat. and i think this would earn bro's respect

but anyway, from this, couldn't we conclude roxy "sounds like girl dave"?

yeah okay. we havent even gotten into their penchant for funny typos or misspeaks, deliberate or otherwise

so, dave's environment

the sentiment "god you hope you can be as good as your bro at this some day" might have been genuine at the time when he idolized bro but of course he's not able to express that in any sort of sincere fashion because he's in dirk's fucking household. and this level 10 irony shit isnt doing dave any favors

his role models were the Internet and a vague idea of what Bro was like. So he built up his facade based on irony–not the literary definition of irony, as Rose might be quick to point out, but a popular concept of irony based on the idea that things that didn’t make sense actually made sense in some roundabout way. As a master of irony, Dave probably reasoned, he could see in a way other people couldn’t why a world that was scary and didn’t make sense really did make sense, and could therefore convince those people that he was superior to them. And he would wield his knowledge to maintain the appearance of superiority by calling everything ironic and pretending he didn’t care about things that didn’t make sense, and he would use walls of vaguely rhyming words to keep everyone at arm’s length so they wouldn’t discover his insecurities (source)

roxy's style is the embodiment of post-irony. being raised by mom lalonde would be like being raised by joel vinesauce ok

what can i say ….. (getting meta about this actually, hussie got these jpeg wizard wallpapers from a spyware website. link takes some time to load because internet archive)

rose is quick to read post-irony as actually being a joke/insincere, which in bro's case would be true. but i believe dave's natural instinct, outside of the influence of bro, is to read post-irony as genuine, which is exactly how mom serves it. we see this as early as act 3 from him; he understands her motives better than rose does herself:

and in act 6 intermission 2 i think it's pretty clear

but the thing is, it's always genuine from her. dave wouldn't have to second guess it because he's not one to naturally second guess someone's sincerity; that was learned due to his bro being virtually unassailable

there two types of ironies at play here:

seems like a joke, is actually genuine (roxy)

doesnt seem like a joke, is actually a joke (dirk)

you can make the argument that the second is is more psychologically destructive because it makes you question the reality of what is genuine sentiment and what isn't. dave never knew what was genuine and what was irony so he just sort of existed in this sincerity-ironic limbo and always did the opposite of what he genuinely felt on principle even if it always did originate from a genuine place.

"it just a joke bro i was just being ironic i dont actually x" is so much more trust-breaking and psychologically damaging than "wait are you being serious" / "i am being so fucking fr rn davy gravy" / "ok thats actually pretty fucking awesome. giant ass wizard statue" / "RIGHT"

how much about dave would change do you think? his character arc would be completely different for one thing, i think he'd have it good aside from mom's alcohol issues. he'd be left with the sweet and funny parts of him that we see at the end of the comic. the fake coolguy stuff is out, but this remains. this is dave in his element and we see it as early as act 1

he'd probably have no shades growing up in the lalonde residence* either cause those were given to him by bro straight out of the crater as an extension of his own cool image. and john gave dave ben stiller’s aviators for his 13th birthday to replace them so he could “spread his wings”

dave said he was wearing them for the ironies but i kind of doubt it. maybe post-irony but there was some reacharound to it being genuine because dave never put those pointy anime shades on his face again.

*though... it’s kind of hard to imagine him without his shades at all? B2 dave still got stiller’s shades from stiller himself so maybe getting them is a universal constant. i can imagine mom getting him them as a birthday gift cause shes pretty wealthy and probably could buy it out in an auction. but also itd be cool if john still gave him it as a gift

dave is actually a lot more genuine and easy to read than he lets on even when grappling with his upbringing with B1 dirk (again, see this post). this can be seen all throughout he comic but a good example is the evolution of thoughts about his interest in the preserved dead things in his room:

if B1 roxy was dave's guardian he probably WOULD have pursued paleontology because she wouldve indulged him in it and probably find it cool and worthwhile to pursue, instead of allowing dave to flounder under ironic detachment, being poisoned by irony to the point of gaslighting himself into believing he doesnt actually believe he thinks this shit is cool. even if it was indulged in this such a way; a superficially kitsch and ironic appearing presentation, it comes from a genuine place and inspires genuine interest. just read the comments.

basically, i think if B1 roxy raised dave, their relationship would have a surface level appearance of being bizarre or over-the-top but they’d have an unsaid mutual understanding that it’s completely in earnest and just build on each other's funny and absurd gestures of affection. rather than seeing it as one-upping each other, it'd more like collaboration of some silly bullshit that you take a step back and look at full and just say, "fucking incredible"

speaking of paleontology, mom had the proto-ectobiology lab. maybe they'd be able to use the equipment to appearify paradox ghost imprints of the dead shit to create paradox clones of things from the cambrian era??? sounds like a fun mother son bonding activity. and theyd actually put the sciencey shit in the household to use

oh god i know exactly the kinds of music shed listen too also growing up as a teen in the 80s. she on that (post)-punk/art rock/new wave/new romantic mtv stuff. XTC shit fr. this is a B-52S HOUSEHOLD. maybe the associates for the campy melodramatic flair. so he gets to keep the record on his shirt cause he is an enjoyer of the shit in her vinyl collection. dave would still gravitate towards musical expression and music itself but of more variety outside of just rap, with an 80s-90s, even 70s flavor due to mom’s influence. see this for perhaps a glimpse. ​she probably visited new york city a lot for business trips and because the music scene was cool as hell around that time, imports came straight from jfk airport, she probably got in on that a bit and have remnants in the form of vinyls and cassettes. in this way she could be distributing void to dave (influencing him with forgotten / presently irrelevant music). now he can REALLY rave about bands none of his friends have heard of. “hey davy grvay watcha listenin to” (he holds up vinyl cover) “omg snakefinger”

btw dave lalonde would look like this to me

[prokopetz]

In recent posts I've complained that a lot of tabletop RPGs which toss around the term "fiction first" don't actually understand what it means, and I've been asked to expand on that complaint. So:

In my experience, there are two ways that game texts which want to position themselves as "fiction first" trip themselves up, one obvious and one subtle.

The first and more obvious pitfall is treating "fiction first" as an abstract ideology. They're using "fiction first" as a synonym for "story over rules" in a way that calls back to the role-playing-versus-roll-playing discourse of the early 2000s. The trouble is, now as then, nobody can usefully explain what "story over rules" actually entails. At best, they land on a definition of "fiction first" that talks about the GM's right to ignore the rules to better serve the story, which is no kind of definition at all – it's just putting a funny hat on the Rule Zero fallacy and trying to pass it off as some sort of totalising ideology of play.

A more useful way of defining "fiction first" play is to think of it not in terms of whether you engage with the rules at all, but in terms of when they're invoked: specifically, as a question of order of operations.

Suppose, for example, that you're playing Dungeons & Dragons, and you pick up the dice and say "I attack the dragon". Some critics would claim that no actual narrative has been established – that this is simply a bare invocation of game mechanics – but in fact we can infer a great deal: your character is going to approach the dragon, navigating any inclement terrain which lies between them, and attempt to kill the dragon using the weapon they're holding in their hand. The rules are so tightly bound to a particular set of narrative circumstances that simply invoking those rules lets us work backwards to determine what the context and stakes must be for that invocation of the rules to be sensical; this, broadly speaking, is what "rules first" looks like.

Conversely, let's say that your game of Dungeons & Dragons has confronted you with a pit blocking your path, and you want to make an Athletics check to cross it. At this point the GM is probably going to stop you and say, hold up, tell us what that looks like. Are you trying to jump across it? Are you trying to climb down one wall of the pit and up the other? Are you trying to tie a rope to the halfling and toss them to the other side? In other words, before you can pick up the dice, you need to have a little sidebar with the GM to hash out what the narrative context is, and to negotiate what can be achieved and what's at stake if you mess it up; this, broadly, is what "fiction first" looks like.

At this point I know some people are thinking "wait, hold on – both of those examples were from Dungeons & Dragons; are you saying that Dungeons & Dragons is both a rules-first game and a fiction-first game?" And yeah, I am. That's the second, more subtle place where game texts that talk about "fiction first" go astray: they talk about it as though being "fiction first" or "rules first" is something which is inherent to game systems as a whole.

This is not in fact true: being "fiction first" or "rules first" is something which describes particular invocations of the rules. In practice, only very simple games spend all of their time in one mode or the other; most will switch back and forth at need. Generally, most "traditional" RPGs (i.e., the direct descendants of Dungeons & Dragons and its various imitators) tend to operate in rules-first mode in combat and fiction-first mode out of it, though this is a simplification – when and how such mode-switching occurs can be quite complex.

Like any other design pattern, "fiction first" mechanics are a tool that's well suited for some jobs, and ill suited for others. Sometimes your rules are fine-grained enough that having an explicit negotiation and stakes-setting phase would just be adding extra steps. Sometimes you're using the outputs of the rules a narrative prompt, and having to pin the context down ahead of time would defeat the purpose. Fortunately, you don't have to commit yourself to one approach or the other; as long as your text is clear about how you're assuming a given set of rules toys will be used, you can switch modes as need dictates. However, you're not going to be capable of that kind of transparency if you're thinking in terms of "this a Fiction First™ game".

(Incidentally, this is why it can be hard to talk about "fiction first" with OSR fans if you're being dogmatic about fiction-first framing being an immutable feature of particular games. Since traditional RPGs tend to observe the above-described rules-first-in-combat, fiction-first-out-of-combat division, and OSR games tend to treat actually getting into a fight as a strategic failure state, a lot of OSR games spend most of their time in fiction-first mode. If you go up to an OSR fan and insist that D&D-style games can never be fiction-first, then attempt to define "fiction first" for them and proceed to describe how they usually play, they'll quite justifiably conclude that you have your head up your ass!)

[authortelevision]

you’re mine₊˚⊹♡

words: 3,002 ✦ .ᐟ

♯┆jealous george clarke, blow jobs, degradation, slut shaming, smut

you confess to george that you used to have a fan account about chrismd but when george finds the account himself you realise how possessive george can be and how much he wants you to know you’re only his

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

hello hello !! this could technically be a part 2 to jealous george but you can also read it on its own

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

You were sitting cross-legged on George’s bed, leaning against the headboard as he stretched out beside you, scrolling through his phone. His legs brushed against yours occasionally, and though it was casual, the closeness reminded you of how much you loved being his.

“I need to tell you something,” you said, your voice hesitant as you picked at a thread on the hem of your sweater.

George glanced up at you, sensing your unease. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, exactly…” You exhaled, cheeks already heating. “It’s just… okay, you have to promise not to get mad.”

He sat up a little straighter, narrowing his eyes. “That’s not a good start. What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” you said quickly, clutching a pillow to your chest. “It’s just… it’s something kind of embarrassing. About me. And, um… Chris.”

George’s expression shifted instantly, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. “Chris?” he repeated, his voice just a bit cooler. “What about Chris?”

You winced. “So, in 2020, I, um… I had a fan account for him.”

George blinked, clearly trying to process what you’d just said. And then, he laughed. But it wasn’t his usual easy, full laugh. This one sounded slightly forced, like he was trying to play it off.

“A fan account? For Chris?” he asked, his voice rising incredulously.

“Yes!” you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I’m so embarrassed. I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

George didn’t say anything for a moment, and when you peeked up at him, his lips were pressed into a thin line.

“So, what kind of fan account are we talking here?” he asked, a little too casually. “Were you posting thirst traps of him or something?”

“What? No!” you exclaimed, horrified. “It was just, like… appreciation posts! Pictures from his games, funny things he said in his videos, that sort of stuff.”

George let out a short laugh, but there was a tightness in his jaw that you couldn’t miss. “Right. Just a harmless little crush, then?”

“It wasn’t a crush!” you said quickly, the heat in your cheeks intensifying. “It was 2020. I was bored, and Chris just happened to be… entertaining.”

“Entertaining,” George repeated, his tone flat.

You groaned, throwing the pillow at him. “Oh my god, stop making it weird!”

“I’m not the one who made it weird,” he shot back, catching the pillow but holding onto it like he needed something to fidget with. “You’re the one confessing to having a fan account for Chris of all people.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, catching the edge in his voice. “George… are you jealous?”

“Jealous?” he repeated, scoffing. “Of Chris? Don’t be ridiculous.”

But the way he tossed the pillow aside a little too forcefully and crossed his arms said otherwise.

“You are jealous,” you said, a teasing grin breaking across your face despite your embarrassment.

“I’m not jealous,” he insisted, though his gaze flicked away from yours. “It’s just… it’s Chris. The guy who leaves his gym socks all over the flat and takes 45-minute showers. That’s who you thought was worthy of a fan account?”

You laughed, leaning closer to him. “It was years ago, George. I didn’t even know you or him back then.”

“Yeah, well,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair, “if I’d known, I would’ve made sure to stop it.”

“Oh, really?” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder. “And how exactly would you have done that?”

His eyes finally met yours, and there was an ounce of something possessive in them. “By making sure you knew there were better options.”

Your breath caught for a moment before you shook your head, laughing softly. “George, it wasn’t that deep. I wasn’t in love with him or anything.”

He huffed, still looking unimpressed. “Good. Because if I have to hear one more time about how Chris is ‘underrated’ or whatever…”

“Oh my god,” you said, groaning dramatically. “I regret telling you this already.”

George’s lips twitched into a smirk, though the jealousy still lingered in his eyes. “You know, I think I should make my own fan account. Post appreciation pictures of myself and see how you like it.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning over to kiss him lightly. “I’d be your biggest fan, George. You know that.”

His smirk softened into a genuine smile as he pulled you closer. “Good. Because I don’t want to compete with Chris for your attention.”

“You’re so weird,” you said, laughing as you settled into his arms.

“And you’re mine,” he murmured, the words warming your cheeks.

Chris might’ve been entertaining once, but sitting there with George, having him kiss all over your face, you couldn’t imagine ever thinking of anyone else. That was until now.

George had been distant all day. Usually, he’d find ways to hover near you, cracking jokes or stealing bites of your food just to make you roll your eyes. But today, he barely said a word. Instead, he spent most of the day holed up in his room or deliberately avoiding you in the flat.

At first, you thought maybe he was just having an off day, everyone had them. But when he brushed past you in the hallway without so much as a glance, it started to feel deliberate.

“George?” you called after him as he walked into his room, shutting the door behind him without a word.

Your patience finally snapped. You marched down the hall, pushed open his door without knocking, and slammed it shut behind you.

“What the hell is your problem?” you demanded, arms crossed as you glared at him.

George was standing by his desk, his back to you, his shoulders stiff. When he finally turned around, there was something sharp in his eyes that made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

“You know what’s the problem?” he said, his voice low but brimming with frustration. “You. You’re the problem.”

You blinked, stunned. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He stepped closer, his jaw tight. “I found it, by the way.”

“Found what?” you asked, your confusion genuine.

“The account,” he said, his voice cold. “Your fan account. The one you swore was harmless.”

You stared at him, your heart sinking. “Wait—how did you—”

“I looked for it,” he snapped, cutting you off. “And you lied to me. All those posts, all those things you wrote about him, how much you wanted him…” His voice cracked slightly, his frustration boiling over. “And you let him flirt with you, knowing you used to feel that way.”

“George,” you said, shaking your head, “what are you talking about? I told you, it wasn’t like that—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he interrupted, his voice louder now. “You wanted to fuck him, didn’t you?” George’s voice was sharp, accusing, the words slicing through the air like a knife.

“Excuse me?” you spoke back, stunned and furious. “That’s not fair, George. I never—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he interrupted again, his tone raising, his frustration spilling over. “You can’t seriously expect me to believe you made all those posts about him, said all those things, and didn’t mean it.”

“It was years ago!” you shouted, your voice shaking with anger. “It was a stupid, meaningless thing I did when I was bored and stuck at home. I wasn’t thinking—”

“Yeah, well, I’m thinking about it now,” he shot back, stepping closer. “Thinking about the way he looks at you, the way you let him flirt with you—”

“I don’t let him do anything!” you cut him off, your face hot with frustration. “Chris was just being Chris. I didn’t take it seriously, and neither should you!”

"Oh, come on," George scoffed, shaking his head, his jaw tight. "You're telling me there's nothing left from that ‘stupid crush’? That part of you doesn't like the attention?"

“George what the fuck is wrong with you?”

He paused for a moment, his eyes scanning your face as he exhales, forcefully biting his lip, enough to leave an indent. “Wrong with me? The only thing wrong with me is the fact I thought a relationship with a slut like you would ever work out.”

Your breath caught in your throat, his words slamming into you like a physical blow. A mix of shock and rage surged through you, your body stiffening as the full weight of what he’d just said sank in.

“What the fuck did you just say?” you fought back, your voice low and trembling, your hands curling into fists at your sides.

George’s jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling as he looked at you, his face hard and unreadable. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to take it back, but then his expression hardened again, his voice cutting.

“You heard me.”

“No.” You took a step forward, your anger blazing. “Say it again, George. I dare you.”

He stayed silent, his lips pressing into a thin line as his gaze flicked away from you, like he couldn’t bear to look at the fury in your eyes.

“You’re unbelievable,” you spat, your voice breaking slightly despite your best efforts. “After everything, after all the times I’ve told you how much I care about you, this is what you think of me?”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t,” you snapped, cutting him off. “Don’t you fucking dare say you didn’t mean it. You don’t get to throw a word like that at me and act like it’s nothing.”

George finally looked at you, his eyes filled with something raw and painful that made your stomach twist. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice rough.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, George,” you shot back. “You don’t trust me. You don’t believe me when I say I don’t want Chris. And now you’re calling me a slut? What the hell is wrong with you?”

He raked a hand through his hair, frustration radiating off him in waves. “I don’t know, okay? I don’t fucking know! I just—”

“What?” you demanded, stepping even closer. “You just what? Go on, say it.”

His hands clenched at his sides, his voice rising. “I just hate the way he looks at you! The way he talks to you like he’s got a chance, like I’m not even in the fucking picture!”

You stared at him, your anger warring with confusion. “And that’s my fault? You think I encourage him?”

“I don’t know!” George burst out, his voice breaking. “I don’t know what to think anymore! I just—”

His words faltered as he looked at you, his eyes dark and stormy with emotions he didn’t know how to express.

“You just what?” you whispered, your voice quieter now but no less fierce.

He exhaled shakily, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I just— I can’t stand the thought of anyone else having you.”

You opened your mouth to respond, a mix of anger and confusion bubbling to the surface, but before you could even form a sentence, George surged forward. His lips crashed against yours, the force of it silencing any protest you might have had.

You froze for a second, startled by the suddenness of it, your mind spinning. But then his hands cupped your face, holding you in place, and the desperation in the kiss pulled you under.

It wasn’t sweet or careful—it was messy and raw, all teeth and tongue as he kissed you like he was trying to prove something. You hesitated, the weight of your unresolved argument hanging heavy, but then his hands slid to your waist, pulling you against him, and you gave in.

Your fingers fisted in the fabric of his shirt as you kissed him back, meeting his intensity with your own. It was chaotic, your breaths mingling as you stumbled together, his body pressing into yours until the edge of the bed hit the backs of your knees.

You fell back onto the mattress, George following without hesitation. His weight pinned you down as his lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, then lower, finding the soft curve of your neck. He kissed you there, the sensation sharp and hot.

His hands gripped your waist, sliding under your shirt just enough for his fingers to brush your bare skin. Every touch, every kiss felt frantic, like he was trying to erase the fight, the tension, and every trace of doubt you’d left between you.

“George…” you managed, your voice breaking as you tried to catch your breath, your fingers gripping his shoulders.

But he didn’t stop, didn’t let you finish. His lips pressed harder against your neck, his teeth biting down on your skin in a way that made you gasp.

“Don’t,” he muttered against your neck, his voice thick. “Don’t say anything right now.”

And so you didn’t. Instead, you let him keep going, the messy desperation between you spilling over as he kissed you like he needed you to understand exactly what he felt, whether or not he could find the words to say it.

George pinned your wrists to the sides of your head, his eyes blazing with a primal lust. Your arms landed on the soft sheets, your heart racing as he loomed over you, his body casting a shadow across your trembling form.

"You're mine," he growled, his voice thick with passion. "And I'm going to remind you of that."

With that, he took both your wrists in one hand, using the other to rip your shirt open, buttons flying across the room, exposing your breasts. His hands, rough and calloused, cupped your flesh, squeezing and kneading, causing you to arch your back and moan in pleasure.

"Oh, George..." you panted, your nipples hardening under his touch. "Please..."

He leaned down, his lips capturing one of your nipples, sucking and biting gently. His free hand trailed down your stomach, fingers tracing the outline of your underwear, teasing the damp fabric.

"You're so wet for me," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot on your sensitive breasts. "Tell me, who makes you feel like this?"

"You do," you whispered, your voice scratchy. "Only you, George. No one else can make me feel this way."

His hand slipped into your underwear, his fingers finding your throbbing clit, circling it and pressing down. You bucked against his touch, your hips rising off the bed, seeking more of his touch.

"That's right," he growled, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Only I can make you come like this. Only I can fuck you."

As his fingers worked, you felt your orgasm building quicker than usual, a tidal wave of pleasure threatening to consume you. Your body trembled, and you clutched at the sheets, desperate for release.

"Please, George..." you begged, your voice a mere whisper. "Make me come... I’m only yours."

George's fingers quickened their pace, his thumb pressing against your sensitivity. "Come for me, you little slut. Show me how much you want it."

The pleasure became unbearable, and with a cry, you climaxed, your body shaking every feeling of ecstasy washed over you. George's fingers continued their relentless touches, milking every last drop of pleasure from your quivering body.

As your orgasm subsided, George withdrew his hand, leaving you breathless and worthless. He stood at the edge of the bed, his eyes burning with a possessive gleam.

"Fuck, you really are desperate for someone to fuck you," he said, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Now, get on your knees, and show me how much you’re mine."

You didn't hesitate. You wanted to please him, to submit to his every desire. Slowly, you rose to your knees, your eyes locked on his, a silent promise to make him feel good.

George's cock, already hard and straining against his jeans, made your mouth water in desperation. You reached out, your fingers trembling as you unzipped his fly, eager to set it free. As his length sprang forth, you couldn't help but gasp at the sight.

"Suck it," he commanded, his voice rough. "Show me how much of a slut you are for me."

You leaned forward, your lips parting to take him in. His thick cock filled your mouth, and you moaned around it, the taste and feel of him driving you wild. George's hands gripped your hair, guiding your movements, controlling the pace.

"That's it, babygirl," he grunted, his hips thrusting gently as his tugged at your hair laced around his fingers. "Take it all, take me deep into your throat."

You obeyed, your mouth working faster as his commands spur you on, your tongue licking the slit on the top of his head, tasting his salty pre-cum. His hand moved from your hair to cradle your face in his large hand forcing you to look up at him through your eyelashes.

"You're such a good girl," he growled. "Make me come right down your throat."

You paused for a moment to take him out of your mouth letting his cock rest on your tongue. George's breathing became ragged, and you could feel his cock twitching in your mouth, a sure sign he was close to the edge. You wrapped your mouth around him once more, sucking eagerly as he thrusted aggressively into your wet mouth.

With a final, powerful motion, George came, his hot cum flooding your mouth. You swallowed proudly, savouring the taste of him. He held your head in place, his hips jerking as he emptied himself into your willing mouth.

As he withdrew, you looked up at him, your eyes shining with satisfaction as you licked your bottom lip of the last of him. George's face was that of pure love, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"You look so beautiful," he confessed, his voice husky. "You’re mine, you know that, only mine my love."

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

a/n: thank you so much to @arthurhillmastermind for all your help on this fic !!

[thewertsearch]

You produce your most spirited LAD SCRAMBLE yet, and hop up to the next GOD TIER, achieving the illustrious REVENGE OF DOCTOR RAGNAROK. All of your vitals go completely bonkers. Your MAN GRIT is off the charts. You're embarrassed for us to even know what it is. It's that gaudy.

Remember when I described the God Tiers as 'less silly' than the Echeladder's levels?

...yeah. I should have known that wasn't going to last long.

You put forth your best LASS SCAMPER of all time, and clear another sweet GOD TIER, the nigh-unattainable SAYONARA KANSAS.

For Jade, these tiers are essentially meaningless now. She's the First Guardian of Earth, and wields powers far greater than the paltry parlor tricks of an ascended Sburb Player.

Jade's not a God Tier - She's a god.

Nobody should ever mess with you. Not even me.

And Hussie knows it.

You don't get boondollars anymore. That shit is for babies now. Instead, you are finally ready to have your first ACHIEVEMENT BADGE sewn on to your KIDDIE CAMPER HANDYSASH! You each receive the badge GIFT OF GAB, enabling you to engage in simple, direct dialogue with others, without requiring any gimmicks to facilitate communication. You don't need to type through a chat client, or talk to a sprite, or traverse through a memory in a dream bubble, or wander around in an interactive game environment, or any of that stuff. You seriously never thought you would live to see this achievement unlocked. It almost feels like cheating.

Getting a little sick of that restriction, eh, Hussie?

Sufficiently advanced Players are allowed to break the rules of the comic, a concept which is brimming with potential. Next thing you know, they'll be picking up objects without a Sylladex, naming their children before they're thirteen, or violating the sanctity of the alpha timeline wait what was that last one

A verbal conversation, with no Pesterchum handles in sight. This really does feel like a milestone, and it's incredibly funny (and on-brand) that we needed a Prestige Class to unlock it.

Also... this is decidedly not a three-millisecond journey. Just how long are they stuck here?

JADE: im not sure! JADE: some sort of limbo dimension between the two walls i guess JADE: like a realm with unusual spatial properties we have to cross through

Jade, for her part, is not aware of the metacanonical implications of this little trip. I think it was Scratch who first told her about the Fourth Wall, and it's clear he made a few tactical omissions concerning its true nature.

JOHN: we escaped the scratch? JOHN: like, we still exist and everything? JADE: yes! JADE: we still totally exist john JOHN: ok, just making sure. JOHN: i still felt pretty existy, but you never know.

A pertinent question, considering where they are.

Technically, they might be more real than they were before, since they've left the fictional medium(!) of their reality.

JOHN: i mean, we crashed through that giant window you magically made with witch powers to escape the scratch, so we can keep existing, right? JADE: yes JADE: i didnt make it with witch powers though, i captchalogued it hours ago because karkat told me to…

Wait, but wasn't it Future Jade who told Karkat to do that?

It certainly sounds like it was - and the current, post-session Jade should already be older than any 'future' Jade who talked to Karkat during the session.

By now, Jade should know why she arranged for herself to grab the Wall - but she's acting like she only did it because Karkat told her to. Maybe I'm just misinterpreting what she's saying.

JOHN: did you at least make it huge with witch powers? JADE: i did make it huge with witch powers! JOHN: so i guess that's what witch powers do, is make things huge? JADE: they also make things small JOHN: right, like you did with all those planets. JADE: yup JADE: also JADE: witch powers can teleport things, and fling things around through space at very high velocities JADE: all sorts of stuff! JADE: but to be honest, im not sure how much of that is attributable to inheriting becs abilities…

All of it, actually.

The only thing Bec didn't do was fling an object around at a high velocity...

...until you remember he did this, which absolutely counts.

So far, nothing Jade's done has been through her God Tier abilities. She's so powerful that her status as the Witch of Space is completely, utterly superfluous.

[softlypaintedseafoam]

you are love itself (君は愛そのものだ)

synopsis. his skin is dotted in stardust.

pairing. portgas d. ace x f!reader

word count. 1.3k | masterlist

content warning. reader is coded black (written ambiguously. anyone can read), established relationship, childhood friends, love as worship, love as a choice, reader has established devil fruit powers

reblogs & interactions appreciated.

a repost from another account and a sort of filler post for anybody who wants something not event-related. i love this fic so much i wanted it to be on this blog too. may you get a kick out of reading it if you haven't before!

Everything is made of stardust; the stars that made Ace are simply visible to the eye.

They couldn’t be contained in the depths of his body like the rest of the world’s inhabitants. It’s scattered all across his skin in a beautiful display, matching the skies they fell from. Isn’t that something? You brush a hand against warm skin in awe. It’s all right there. The stars themselves rest upon his skin, how beautiful is that? How could anyone want someone like that dead?

When you were children, Ace told you he would bring you the moon.

What do you need the moon for when you’ve been touching the stars since you were 10?

Straddling his lap, you can’t help laughing as you think you’d been fighting a losing battle from the start. From the beginning, you’d been drawn to Ace and his stars and you wanted to follow where they’d go for the rest of your life.

“What’s so funny?” Ace murmurs into your shoulder.

“I think I was born to love you.” It is the only plausible conclusion for you to reach after 10 years of loving the same person. For the half of your life you’ve known him, you’ve chosen Ace from day one. You will continue to choose him for the rest of the life you have. You chose to chase him all around Mt. Corvo, you chose to be his friend, you chose to join his crew and your heart chose him even if your head had been slow to realize. “We don’t need to find the One Piece,” you murmur as you lead a trail of kisses from his shoulder to Ace’s cheek. “I already have everything the world has to offer right here.”

You feel Ace stiffen beneath you before he laughs sheepishly, “I think you need to have your eyes checked if you think that.”

“Hey,” you lean back so you can see his face. Your brows are furrowed sternly but your eyes sparkle with mischief and your lips stretch into a challenging grin. “I have better eyes than you, I can see the soul.”

Ace snorts but his voice is light and as warm as the smile painting his face, “souls of the dead, yeah.” Smiles suit Ace more than the frowns that were once commonplace when you were younger.

“That still counts,” you protest with a chuckle. He doesn’t have to believe he’s worthy of it, you’ll tell Ace all the same. You cup his face in your hands and enjoy the vibration of his mellifluous laughter under your fingers tips as you squeeze his cheeks. “There’s a lot you can learn about this sort of stuff when you can see the dead.” How the soul carries its wounds even after death. How the soul carries the essence of everything that makes something itself. How love can carry on beyond the grave.

You’ve seen it countless times by now in your truthfully short time of being a power holder.

The spirit of a man who wanted a few berries to leave as a surprise his husband could stumble upon to brighten his day.

An elderly woman dancing in the town square, seemingly alone following the steps she took with her lost love long ago. Unbeknownst to her, however, her love danced with all the same as they did once a long time ago.

Pods of orcas full of members past and present, refusing to part from their birth pod even in death.

How beautiful it is, a love like that.

Even while deceased, they choose to remain by their beloved all the same.

Whenever it is Ace’s time, he’ll take his stars with him and they will rest on his skin just as they did when he was alive. But I’ll make sure you’re so happy you won’t want to stay, you vowed when you partook of the sea’s cursed fruit. You carry this vow even now. Ace will die a happy death but more importantly, he will live a long and mirthful life.

(You can tell for as sure as your eyes are dry; the urge to cry and scream in mourning and warning nonexistent. Still it’s your heart’s desire that you go first so you don’t ever have to risk the day you know death will come for Portgas D. Ace.)

“You know what I think,” you cease your pinching, letting your lax thumbs stroke his face. Dark eyes look up at you like you’re a dream and gold like sunlight rests in your chest. It’s light yet heavy and even if your heart is calm, its rhythmic beating tells you something precious. And he’s so, so precious. “I think that when people move on, they’re reborn as someone else. Then they get to live life all over again. And one day, that’s gonna happen to us.”

Then you’ll cease to be the 'you’ you have been and so will he.

Maybe that time, you’ll be raised in separate seas and there will be no trio of brothers you’ll latch onto. Maybe he’ll be born somewhere in Paradise but I’ll be from the West Blue. Or maybe he’ll be a fishman. Or a giant!

Maybe next time, Ace will be a short girl with firey auburn hair and chocolate brown eyes with the disposition to match. Or he’ll be a scarred and gruff dragon moray eel fishman who is an overt romantic.

Maybe next time his stars will follow him as the marker that ties him to his previous life. Then you’ll recognize him the moment you see him. But even if I don’t, I’ll love you then too. You don’t need reminders of who he was to make you want him again.

Whatever the outcome may be, you will embrace it wholly.

“Whenever that happens, I’m gonna find you and I’m going to love you all over again. You can be a girl or a giant or a fishman.” Or maybe he’ll be the tiny human and you’ll be the giant. It will be nice being taller than Ace for once, you tell him as much with a laugh. There’s a spot of wetness at the corner of his eyes that you wipe away instinctively. “Or… maybe this world runs in one big loop and we get to be us again but that time we get to make different choices. Do the stuff we didn’t do last time. But regardless of all the different things I might end up doing, the one thing that is gonna stay the same is that I’ll choose you all over again.”

There’s a pause before Ace ducks from your gaze with a wet laugh, forehead pressed against your shoulder again. The unmistakeable feel of warm droplets subsequently follow. “Thatch must be cutting onions,” he chuckles weakly. “Sorry.”

“Dummy,” you wrap your arms around his shoulders and inhale his scent. There’s a natural sweetness to it you can’t explain; it’s sweet but there is a peppery kick. It’s been that way since the first day you met him. I love him, I love him, I love him. The sentiment echoes throughout your entire being. “it’s okay to cry.”

“Would you really want me again?” His voice is soft and unsure like a young bird who doesn’t know if it can trust its wings.

Who else would I want?

Why would I want anyone else?

I’ve known you for 10 years, Ace. There’s nothing about you I don’t want.

“Over and over again,” you kiss his temple once, twice and then a third time before you lift his head and kiss the corners of his eyes. “It’s you and no one else.”

A noise of surprise escapes you when Ace’s lips press against your own but you relax a beat later, humming tenderly. You relish every sensation, how his arms wrap around you tight and how his fingers gently dig into your back. The taste of salt on your lips is akin to the ocean and your heartbeat reverberates throughout your chest.

Yes, it’s telling you something precious.

[girlpash]

another faberry fic rec post!

so I got an ask yesterday, asking me the question I've been waiting months for someone to finally say to me in an anonymous forum, so I'd have the weak excuse to do this: a faberry fic rec post!

I've been straight up addicted to faberry fics for about six months now. and yeah, the year is 2025 and YEAH, I'm in my 30s. whatever??? some of us have late in life gay awakenings. (for the record I do have a wife but that's not the point.)

anyway, below the cut are a lot of my top favorite fics that I've read so far - but incomplete and non-definitive, because the list was getting toooo long. that said, if anyone were like "omg beth this is so great please share 100 more fics that you recommend" I would probably do that. my job, who I abandoned two hours earlier than I should have today to compile this, will not thank you, but I will.

anyway, I'll either keep this list updated if I find anymore I really want to add or maybe create a second post and link it here if it gets too long. we'll see!

June 16, 2025 update: I was going to make a follow-up fic rec master post, and then the post was so long that tumblr wouldn't let me post it lol. so instead I made a faberry fic rec blog oops. enjoy!

★ faberryfic

★★★★★

I'll Be by stix04

Can Quinn pretend to be in love with Rachel just to get out of Lima? Can Rachel pretend to love Quinn so she's not so lonely in New York? And what happens when both girls realize they're no longer pretending?

This fic is fucking INSANE (affectionate). It's one that, for me at least, I had to get a ways into before I learned its language. It's just so unique and the way the characters were written is sooo...deranged? (lmao!) But it was constantly laugh out loud funny, the angst was very much believable and bearable, and more than anything, and most importantly, - it was able to capture the ooey gooey faberry feelings. You know what I'm talking about with that? Some fics just have it, you know what I mean? They just wrap around your heart and squeeze. This one does that. And at the same time, it was just soooo silly goofy ridiculous stupid - and perfect. Kind of a masterpiece tbh.

★★★★★

Comfort of Love by ForForever19

More than a decade after the death of Tony Stark, a blonde teenager walks into a diner looking for a cheeseburger, and finds more than she expected. OR Faberry in the MCU. Sort of.

Do not, I repeat do not let the summary for this one put you off, in case you are averse to crossovers or the MCU or both. For one thing, ForForever19 is a master of the crossover and can make anything work seamlessly, it's actually SHOCKING. And for another, the MCU is more of the backdrop for this Faberry story. It's so good, it's stupid. I loved the Quinn and Rachel characters in this one - it was the sort of story I never wanted to leave. Some might quirk an eyebrow at their age difference, but I think the story justified it. It's difficult for me to say more without giving gifts of the fic away so just know that this is one of my favorites and give it a chance.

★★★★★

these strange steps by thememoriesfire

Rachel, bottoming out completely, is doing a show in Vegas and, as a distraction from her life, gets dragged to a strip club by Puck. She hasn't seen Quinn in 8 years. This isn't how she wanted them to see each other again. Warning: D/s overtones.

There are some stories that reach further than other fics, that are trying to tell a different story than one of two girls who fall in love, and this is one of them. The author says in a note that this is more a character story than a relationship story and that’s certainly true. It’s beautiful and painful and cathartic, much more than being just a romance. But it’s perfect for exactly what it is.

★★★★★

this is me trying by ForForever19

'Lena takes steps forward, eyes searching for a free seat near the back, but it seems she's not the only one with that idea. There is a blonde woman sitting very stiffly right in the back, and Lena imagines that's what she's about to look like once she takes her seat. Which she does, two seats over from the woman. Then she waits. Listens and learns.' OR Lena and Quinn, an adoption scandal, heartbreak, and the foreign concept of actually trying to be happy.

Oh my god, whaaattt, another ForForever19 crossover fic?? No way!! Okay so, disclaimer with this one is that Supergirl is definitely more than just a backdrop in this story - it's half the story, as half the story is about Kara and Lena. But like, who doesn't love Supercorp! Anyway, if you do, read this. The craziest thing is, my favorite part of this story isn't even Faberry, because while I did love them (as well as the Supercorp of it all), my favorite part was actually Quinn and Lena's relationship! It was so incredibly beautiful. I wrote in my notes for this fic "I ached every moment they were together, and when they weren’t, I just wanted them to go back." So, well, yeah - open yourself up to possibilities, I say! This one might just blow your mind.

★★★★★

Didn't See It Coming by ForForever19

After a devastating breakup, Quinn turns to Rachel in need of a friend, and ends up with so much more. - "If, one day, someone asks me how it all started; I'll have to say it was a granola bar that finally did me in."

This one is an absolute epic. It's a monster of a fic, but it's wonderful. To be honest, there was a lot of darkness in this story, but throughout it all, Quinn and Rachel had this deep and profound love for each other that held so strong, and it was so so lovely to read. And even the background characters felt really special in this story - Hiram and LeRoy, and Santana and Brittany. I'll also note, this fic has a song used in this fic that I became obsessed with after, and is one of my top-played songs now lmao. And every time I listen to it, I think about the specific scene from this fic!! So good.

★★★★★

I've Been Trying to Reach You by thememoriesfire

After falling pregnant in sophomore year, Quinn Fabray plummets from the top of the teen hierarchy at McKinley High to the very bottom. In an effort to give her a chance to start over, her parents transfer her to Carmel, a private school in the area with a blossoming arts program. It's supposed to be a new beginning, but what she doesn't count on is immediately becoming enemies with the most popular girl in school: Rachel Berry, co-captain of Vocal Adrenaline.

Sometimes you read a fic over six months ago and you can't remember the specifics anymore of what you loved about it. And that's okay! I still remember loving it. It still goes on this list. And to the top of my re-read list since I've forgotten everything about it apparently. Yay!

★★★★★

Never Asked To Feel Your Halo by BattleKitten

The thing was, neither of them wanted this-whatever it was, but since when did the Universe care about what Rachel or Quinn wanted? Their cards had been dealt the moment they'd entered that shower together. Now it came down to how well they played them.

This was one of the first Faberry fics I read, and it kind of took over my life when I did lmao. My wife was really concerned actually! Anyway, haters will say that Faberry is too toxic in this fic. I don't know! Maybe so! Personally I loved it. This fic also did this really specific thing that I love, which might honestly be why I love it so much, best described by this bit I wrote in my notes for it: “I loved how much stupid ridiculous attention every little detail got. Every brush of a hand sent them into a frenzy that would last a whole chapter.” There's also an incomplete sequel, so while this one is technically complete, it's also lowkey not so...proceed with caution, if that sort of thing matters to you? (*warning that there’s some transphobic language used in this fic a few times, in a “making fun of rachel” scenario*)

★★★★★

Temporary Love by ForForever19

'As far as first impressions go, Quinn Fabray would definitely sell part of her soul for a do-over.'

God, this story is so good, but so angsty. Long and heartbreaking and painful and so so so good. And painful! Did I mention painful? But seriously, it's a beautiful story, and, spoiler alert, it has a happy ending. But I think like 2/3 of the story is spent in a state of distress, if I'm gonna be honest lmao. But you know, as Taylor Swift would say - sad, beautiful, tragic love affair with a happy ending, or whatever.

★★★★★

Whenever You're Ready by ForForever19

'If anyone were to ask Quinn Fabray just what she was thinking, she'd be unable to answer. She wasn't thinking, maybe, because even she can't bring herself to rationalise just what possesses her to kidnap someone else's children. God. She's pretty sure she's just committed a felony.'

Oh, I love this fic so much, and I think about it all the time. This awoken something in me. I think that I think about it a lot because it made me want more of this very specific genre of both Quinn and Rachel being moms, and then meeting and falling in love. I just, ooooh, that's so good. I also love when an author nails writing kids, and the kids in this fic are soooo cute. It's such a good time all around, I loved it.

★★★★★

a first glance feeling on new york time by overnights

“I never doubted that you’d end up here,” Quinn says. “In New York. On Broadway. I always knew you’d be the one to make it out of Lima.” “You did too,” Rachel points out. “I wasn’t ever a given, though,” Quinn says quietly. “You were always the sure thing.”

"fairly quinntrospective" reads one of the tags on this fic, and well, yes. And I love Quinn soooo much, just so so so so much, and this author wrote her so beautifully. And I loved how full her world felt in this fic. This story was just so wonderful at the details. Not overbearing but just RICH. And Quinn's love for Rachel was just, oooh baby - good stuff. Reading this story made me feel like I was floating on a cloud as I read it and existed in its world. So beautiful.

★★★★★

Enough To Believe by ForForever19

Years after Shelby ups and disappears from Lima with Beth, a blonde girl shows up on Rachel and Quinn's doorstep, armed with a lot of questions, and very familiar cheekbones.

Okay, disclaimer that this one is an established relationship story, but I just loooove a Beth story so much. And teenage Beth at that! Who I am imagining in my head as Kathryn Newton and it’s perfect. This story was so sweet and warm and compelling and just niiceeeee, I loved it. I loved Beth, I loved Quinn and Rachel’s relationship. I loved all the complexities of their fucked up little family. It’s not an especially long story and it only covers like two days of time but the world feels so full and I felt so immersed in it.

★★★★★

A Matter of Timing by ForForever19

'If anyone were to ask Rachel Berry how or when it happens, she probably wouldn't be able to say. The why is much, much easier. It's Quinn. There's really no other explanation needed.'

Absolutely wonderful, painful, beautiful, tragic, angsty, mess of a story, which I loved. It was not warm feelings ooey gooey faberry - it was a pure and true angst. But it was written so so well. A story of unrequited love, and well, the title says it best - a matter of timing. It was so painful to read, and it hurt so much, but it made sense, which matters. If you're looking for or okay with something that's gonna hurt you, but you're gonna like it - this is the fic for you.

★★★★★

Past Mistakes by InvisMeg

Rachel makes a wish and finds herself in a place she never thought she'd be again. Now she's she reliving her senior year, trying to fix everything that went wrong and trying to find what she's been missing in her life.

Here's the thing, I love time travel soooo much!! So so so very much. I'll read any time travel Fabery fic you put in front of me. (Truly any one. Do it. Right now. Give me a Faberry time travel fic to read, I dare you.) But not all time travel fics are created equal, and this is one of my favorites. I love when they have a little mission that they're going back for, something to fight for, something to change. This one does that well. It was just an all around good time and a great concept - a great story to tell. YAY TIME TRAVEL!

★★★★★

Stays in Vegas by gayerfurtherfaster

Ten years after high school, Quinn and Rachel wake up after a one night stand only to find out they can't remember some very important events from the night before.

I loved this. It was so well-written and funny and cute. And just overall a fun story!! A little bit The Hangover-esque trying to retrace their steps from the night before. And this wonderful chemistry and immediate spark between them that makes their relationship fun and interesting. Just a super cute story that I really enjoyed!

★★★★★

Nineteen by ForForever19

Quinn Fabray has eighteen tattoos, and Rachel is on a mission to discover every single one.

This one is a quickie, but it's so good and so sweet! It's short, but it's still sort of a slow-burn almost. It's a slow and beautiful unfurling. A slow-building intimacy.

★★★★★

celebrate the art of dreaming by gayerfurtherfaste

What happens when your two best friends become something more?

A biiiiig disclaimer here! This is not a Faberry fic, but it is a throuple fic where two-thirds of the throuple is Faberry! That is not for everyone! It is for me! If you are like me, and a throuple fic is for you, then read this fic! If it is not for you, then carry on! Good day!!

★★★★★

take these broken wings by celaenos

Begins in Season one and follows Quinn through her life should she have chosen to keep Beth, realize she is queer, and fall in love with Rachel Berry. The main romantic relationship will be Faberry, with a bit of Hevans and Brittana, but apart from Faberry it will be very heavy on friendship and Quinn&Beth oriented.

This is a beautiful and thoughtful series of fics. It's very sweet and done really interestingly with each fic being from a different character's POV. It starts in high school, then moves us to New York and college, and - it has one of my favorite things - Quinn as a mom! To Beth! Who we love!! Yay Beth!!

★★★★★

dear your name here by thememoriesfire

Future AU; Quinn and Rachel meet up again in college.

A fun fact about this fic is that it's the first Faberry fic I ever read. A second fun fact about this fic is that by "read" I mean that my wife read it out loud to me while we were on a roadtrip and I was driving. Twice! Two different roadtrips! Over a year and a half apart! So this seems like a good fic to end this list on. Maybe one day I'll read this fic with my own two eyes instead of my wife reading it out loud to me in a car. Not today though!

★★★★★

[anon-188]

salt, sweat, + sex wax

pairing: jj x f!reader | genre: smut | wc: 1.7k

summary: salt, sweat, and pineapple sex wax—jj maybank’s signature scent. oh, and the reason why you ended up on your knees for him.

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), kook!reader (light), oral sex (m!receiving), semi-public oral sex, fwb dynamic, surf wax kink (sort of?), praise, strong language, brief alcohol mention. all characters are 18+!

a/n: this is my first post for jj!!! i hope you like it <3

It was one of the hottest days of the summer—no breeze, no clouds, just an unrelenting sun. The kind that made the whole island feel slower, stickier. Like it was melting from the inside out.

You’d just gotten back from your annual family trip. The one you tried to dodge every year and never could. No matter how hard you pushed, your parents called it “nonnegotiable.”

So you went. Wore the linen. Smiled on cue. Sat through brunches with bottomless mimosas and mindless small talk. Laughed when it was expected, even when nothing was funny.

But it was over now. Done. The trip cut short for some business deal—typical. Either way you were back on Kildare Island.

Your feet hit the sand, anklet catching the light, sunglasses already in place. You wore a white bikini top, tied in a bow behind your neck, with tiny gold accents that matched the jewelry layered at your collarbone. Your shorts were denim, frayed just enough to look careless but still expensive. 

A towel hung loosely over your shoulder, more for accessory than necessity. The designer beach bag at your side was stuffed with all the usual suspects—sunscreen, lip gloss, and a few things you didn’t need but brought anyway.

You were meeting your friends, just like you promised. Playing the part. Just like you always had.

But then you saw him.

He was coming up from the shoreline, surfboard tucked under his arm. Sun on his shoulders. Saltwater dripping from his hair.

JJ Maybank.

Your stomach clenched—tight, aching. Not from nerves. This wasn’t the flutter of something innocent. It was need. A familiar pull that had been simmering just under your skin since the second you left.

It’d been weeks.

Which meant too long without his hands, his mouth, that cocky voice right in your ear.

You told yourself to walk away, to meet up with your friends like you said you would.

But you didn’t.

Couldn’t.

You walked up to him slowly, the sand hot beneath your feet. He was a little ways off from the rest of the crowd, where the beach thinned out and no one else had bothered to spread. It was quieter here, more open. Like he picked it on purpose.

Sliding your sunglasses off, you tucked them into your bag, eyes dragging over him now without the barrier.

The sun hit just right as you approached, catching on the messy fall of his dirty blonde hair. He had a towel slung around his neck, the ends hanging loose and brushing against his chest every time he moved.

His skin was golden, tan in a way that only came from living out here year-round, and his muscles flexed slightly as he adjusted his board in the sand like he didn’t feel you watching.

“Hey,” you said, soft, like a question more than a greeting.

JJ barely looked at you, still adjusting the angle of his board.

“Thought you said another week,” he said flatly, like he couldn’t be bothered to care either way.

“Yeah, well. I’m back early,” you replied, voice a little tighter now.

He nodded once. No smile. Just that and nothing else.

You glanced over your shoulder, checking for your friends—just in case—but they were nowhere in sight.

Then you heard it—low, offhand, but it landed like a hook.

“You need somethin’, princess?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the way he said it, then slowly turned your eyes back to him.

“Just saw you out there, that’s all,” you said, keeping your tone neutral.

After a beat, you nodded toward the Twinkie parked a little further back, its busted paint and sun-faded curtains impossible to miss. “You by yourself?”

His gaze finally lifted, sharp and unreadable.

“Yeah. Why?”

He said it like he didn’t know what you wanted. Like he hadn’t been the one texting you drunk two nights ago, or looking at you like that before you left. He always did this—played sour when you went too long without talking or fucking.

You almost turned around. Almost left him standing there in the heat with his board and whatever ego trip he was on today.

Your phone started vibrating in your back pocket. Once. Then again.

It was your friends—you didn’t have to check. You already knew. They were probably wondering where you were, why you hadn’t met them like you said you would.

You meant to leave it at that. You did.

But then JJ licked his bottom lip—slow, distracted—and you remembered exactly how his mouth tasted, and everything it could do.

Your stomach flipped again, tighter this time. That pull you thought you could bury suddenly louder, impossible to ignore.

The towel hit the sand first, followed by your bag, both forgotten the moment you stepped in close.

You curled your fingers into the fabric around his neck, and kissed him hard. No warning, no lead-in. Just mouth on mouth, teeth catching slightly, and the salt still lingering on his lips. 

You moved his hands to your waist, then lower, guiding one toward the top of your shorts until his fingers skimmed the edge. 

That got him.

He groaned into your mouth, his tone suddenly a hell of a lot different than it was a minute ago.

“Twinkie,” he muttered between kisses, voice rougher now, needier. “Go.”

You didn’t stop kissing him, but you did start walking—backward—letting him steer you across the sand. His hands stayed greedy, hungry.

When your shoulder blades hit metal, you barely noticed. He fumbled with the driver’s-side handle, swung the door open, and tossed his towel over it, all without letting his mouth leave yours.

He nudged your hips toward the open seat, trying to shuffle you into the space between him and the car, but you didn’t move. Your feet stayed planted in the warm sand.

His hands tightened on your waist as he tried again. “Come on,” he said against your mouth. He was smiling now, faintly, that tilt to his lips that always came right before he got exactly what he wanted.

But you hummed low in your throat, shaking your head just enough to tell him no.

Then your lips dropped to his jaw, down his neck, across his collarbone. He tasted like sun and salt and sweat, like he’d been out there for hours, soaked in heat and ocean. You breathed him in deeper—and then it hit you, soft and sudden. Something sweet.

Pineapple sex wax. His favorite.

The scent was unmistakable, that trace of surfboard wax still clinging to his chest and the edges of his ribs. 

God, you’d missed it. 

He always used too much of it. Sticky sweet in a way that shouldn’t have made your mouth water but did.

Your lips kept moving down his abdomen until your mouth traced the cut lines low on his stomach. His breath left him in a shaky rush, one hand bracing hard on the van’s doorframe as you sank to your knees in the patchy shade of the Twinkie. 

He looked wrecked already. Flushed. Jaw tight. Eyes locked on your mouth like it was a promise you were about to make good on.

JJ let out a quiet laugh, dry and strained. “You really wanna do this here, pretty?”

You didn’t answer.

Your hands slid to his hips, fingers slipping under the damp waistband of his shorts. You pulled just enough to free him, and he hissed softly through his teeth as the warm air hit his skin.

He was already half-hard, and it only took a few passes before he thickened in your hand—heavy and hot. The way he filled your grip made your own breath stutter, a quiet ache building between your legs as you watched the way he reacted. 

Then your mouth followed.

The moment your lips wrapped around him, JJ groaned—his voice barely holding together.

“Shit.”

His head tipped back, breath leaving him in one rough exhale. 

Your tongue traced along the underside of him, the taste hitting your mouth—heady and sharp, with that lingering sweetness you’d nearly forgotten. You moaned softly around him, the sound swallowed by your lips. 

Above you, his abs tensed hard, every muscle twitching as he watched your mouth work him over.

You kept going.

Sucking him deeper, taking your time, feeling him throb in your mouth with every pass of your tongue. Your eyes flicked up, and when they met his, the look on his face nearly made you moan again.

Brows pinched. Chest rising fast. Lips parted as he let out a broken sound. He tried to hold it in but failed—beautifully.

JJ gritted out another curse, your name tangled somewhere in it, like it burned on the way out. Like he’d almost come just from that.

And then your phone vibrated again in your pocket.

Once. Then again. And again.

You ignored it.

Didn’t hesitate. Didn’t falter. Just hummed softly around him, the sound teasing along every nerve he had. You let your mouth drag over him like you already knew exactly how close he was. Because you did.

“Jesus, just like that—don’t stop—“

His breath went sharp. One hand pressed harder against the doorframe, the other immediately wrapping in your hair. His thighs tensed tight on either side of you.

“Fuck. That mouth—” His voice cracked on the last word, and he looked down at you with wide, glazed eyes. “Pretty, I’m—”

The rest broke apart on a groan, long and hoarse, as he came in your mouth. You swallowed, eyes still on him, the warmth of it settling low in your stomach. His body sagged in front of you, head leaned back, chest heaving.

Then he was pulling you up, fast, hands finding your arms and dragging you to your feet. He kissed you hard, open-mouthed and messy, tasting himself on your lips.

He barely got his own shorts pulled up, just enough to tuck himself back in before he was on you again. His hands didn’t stop moving—palming your breasts, pushing into the front of your shorts, fingers curving into you with no patience at all.

“C'mon,” he said into your mouth. And this time, it wasn’t an ask.

He grabbed your waist, pushing you toward the back of the Twinkie, steps quick and uneven in the sand. He only let the kiss break for a second, just long enough to watch you climb in first.

As soon as the door slammed shut behind him, it was all skin on skin, your top long gone, his mouth everywhere. Nothing else mattered—not the heat, not the sand, not even the people who might walk by.

And while he never said it outright, every roll of his hips did:

Welcome back, princess.

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[deathworlders-of-e24]

Thomas, Engineer

Part 3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You know I could have guessed it, but you guys are way better at this than me,” Thomas said, running a hand through his curly brown hair.

“That is only natural, as our programming and design allow for rapid reflex and dexterous manipulation of our extremities,” Sixer said.

Thomas had invited the Padrino back to his quarters for an impromptu fighting game tournament. Sixer and Mace both attended, as well as one of the Galley named Odis, another of the engineers, and of course Roomba was there, though he was having difficulty handling the controller since it was about as big as he was.

Odis and Roomba had already been knocked out, the Galley by elimination and Roomba by… technical knockout, so it was just Thomas and Sixer left. Mace had winner.

“I refuse to lose, especially not while I’m wearing my lucky shirt,” Thomas said. Odis snorted, but the Padrino spun their heads to face him.

“Human Thomas, please explain how the apparel you are wearing will enhance your performance in this competition,” Mace asked, his synthetic voice as unchanging as always.

“Does the apparel provide some sort of stimulant to your body that will change the outcome of this match?” Sixer accused.

“No, nothing like that, it’s just lucky,” Thomas said.

“Please explain,” Mace pressed.

“Gimme a sec, round three is starting, I got this,” Thomas assured himself.

The game was human designed, an indie title called Galactic Brawl! It was your typical fighting game, but it was making the rounds on Earth due to it using characters similar to GAIL member species locked in mortal combat. The humans had assured the intergalactic market that it wasn’t in anyway meant to be detrimental to universal relationships, but to expose humans to other species in a fun and interesting way that younger humans would enjoy. Plus it made the other species look ‘very cool’, which the GAIL members were assured was a good thing.

The players were 1 win a piece, so this would be the tie breaker. Naturally the players had chosen their own race for the game, something Odis and Thomas thought was quite funny, although the characters were caricatures of the real thing. Very buffed up, with bigger action hero muscles and such.

Buttons were mashed, triggers were pulled, combos were pulled off, and Sixer had him on the ropes. But then Thomas got the BRAWL POWER meter all the way up and executed his ultimate move flawlessly, and came out with the win.

“Yes! I told you, lucky shirt!” Thomas cheered, Odis laughed so hard he fell over, and the Padrino sat there looking as dumbfounded as they could without actual faces.

“Please explain,” they said in unison.

“The shirt?” Thomas pulled the hem of the shirt down so they all could see its glory, a ratty old gray Tee with the sleeves cut off. It had smudged names all over both the front and back. “I got it at this punk concert right before I went into the academy, got all the band members to sign it for me after the show! Good show, too, they came into the crowd while they were still playing, and…”

“Easy, humy, just tell us why the shirt is lucky,” Odis said, tossing back some chips.

“Right, yeah. So I wore this shirt for every test, quiz, and exam I ever got during my training, aced all of them with flying colors. Scored me both a guy’s and a girl’s number on the same day, that was cool, and I was wearing it when I applied for my post on the Noah,” Thomas explained. “Bad things do not happen when I’m wearing the lucky shirt.”

“Yeah, they’re not gonna get that,” Odis said smirking.

“Human Thomas, explain this luck phenomenon,” Sixer requested.

“See?” Odis said. “The humans have this thing, they call it ‘being superstitious’, it’s something the humies believe controls the universe.”

“Explain,” requested Mace.

“Okay, so there’s, like, good luck, where good things will happen if you have it, or bad luck, where bad things happen,” Thomas said, trying to explain. “Think of it this way. It’s like little random acts turn out in your favor if you have good luck, like finding money on the ground or it’s pizza day in the cafeteria.”

“And bad luck breaks your mom’s back or something, right?” asked Odis, laughing.

“Yeah, if you step on a crack in the road or something,” Thomas said. “Or breaking a mirror gets your seven years bad luck.”

“You humies believe the most ridiculous things,” Odis said.

“There are acts that can accumulate negative impacts to your existence?” Mace asked.

“Totally man, tons of them. Like last week, I was having lunch in the mess hall, spilled salt everywhere!”

“And this entails what?” Sixer asked.

“Well it’s supposed to invite enmity and future problems, but I threw some over my left shoulder, so it was fine.”

“You humans are so gullible,” Odis said. “This is why we came to earth so often to mess with you.”

“Tell that to the shirt man,” Thomas said.

“So the garment has… accumulated ‘good luck’, therefore you remain in a sustained field of positive chaos,” Sixer said.

“I guess, yeah,” Thomas said. He’d never heard it described that way before, it was probably the most scientifically accurate portrayal of ‘luck’ he’d ever heard.

“You two are not gonna make sense of this, it’s an illogical belief from a less evolved lifeform,” Odis said. “Next thing you know, the kid is going to tell you he doesn’t walk under ladders or let black cats cross his path.”

“First off, I love all cats,” Thomas said indignantly, “secondly, how do you know so much about earth superstitions?”

“Earth movies. You think you can keep the Galley in the dark? We’ve been sneaking onto Earth for generations.”

“Riiight,” Thomas said.

“Beep.”

[Reminder: engineering staff are to head to the WARP core at 1900 hours for new maintenance procedures]

“Oh, man, is it that time already? We better head out,” Thomas said, zipping up his jumpsuit over his lucky shirt. “Thanks Roomba, I totally forgot the time.”

“Beep.”

[Acknowledgments: you’re welcome]

“Smarter every day, good for you buddy. Alright, come on guys, let’s get to the core before Chief Nivan sticks us on plumbing duty,” Thomas clapped his hands together, ushering everyone out of the room.

“Human Thomas, if we may make a request, may we continue to observe you? This ‘lucky shirt’ phenomenon may lead to some observational data previously unknown to us,” Sixer said.

“Sure guys, whatever you need.”

“You’re not gonna get any data,” Odis chided. “The kid is just going to confuse you both.”

“Regardless, we will continue to observe,” Mace said.

The group made their way to the lifts, Odis still grumbling about how stupid the idea of a lucky shirt was, lucky anything really, the whole time. Thomas tried to explain, saying there were tons of lucky objects on Earth, like the rabbit’s foot.

“You mutilate another lifeform for its appendage just to positively charge your own chaos?” Mace asked, surprised.

“That seems counterproductive to what you have described as Karma,” Sixer said.

“Yeah, that wasn’t great, admittedly. Ancient Earthlings weren’t great at critical thinking yet. These days we have synthetic feet, so that doesn’t happen anymore, I don’t think. I got one on my keys, see?” Thomas pulled a key ring out of his pocket and showed off the foot.

“Double luck today,” he said, smiling.

“Fascinating,” the Padrino said in unison.

“Weird,” said Odis.

“Beep.”

[Request: game pad, please?]

Thomas stuffed his keys back in place and pulled the pad out, giving it to the tiny droid on his bag. Roomba had recently started a new game, having earned the highest score possible on PAC-MAN a few cycles previously. Now he’d moved on to Galaga, another port Thomas had made.

“Beep.”

[Information available]

“Hmm?” Thomas looked at Roomba in his bag.

“Beep.”

[Statement: this new game is stimulating]

“Oh my god you’re so freaking cute Roomba,”Thomas gushed. The little droid was getting smarter by the day thanks to the cognitive upgrade the Padrino had given him. He was ‘talking’ in more complex sentences and could ask for more stuff as he wanted it, Thomas was overjoyed!

They stepped off the lift onto the Core deck, where the fuel was stored, as well as where the WARP core was kept. The thing always looked like a captured star to Thomas, suspended in the air by antigravity struts, a shining ball of orange and red fire behind the dozen or so walls of safety fields keeping the room from being vaporized. Chief engineer Nivan was already waiting for them, pouring over a data pad with another maintenance officer. The room itself was vast, lit by the core, at least the size of the cargo bay on the other side of the ship. Rows of control consoles lined the walls, as well as data screens and input terminals.

Thomas dropped his bag by the door and put Roomba on his shoulder where the little robot looped himself around the cord the human had sown into his jumpsuit for the little guy. Roomba muted the game pad but continued playing.

“Hey chief,” Thomas called out. “We’re here for that briefing on the new core terminal procedures like you asked.”

“Yes, thank you Human Thomas,” Nivan said, two of his four spindly arms waving in acknowledgment. Chief Nivan was a Zilont, whose species had no actual set amount of limbs. Some had 2 arms and legs like humans, some had up to 8 of each. Nivan himself had 4 arms, 3 legs, and his torso moved and bent around like rubber, since he had no spine. The species moved via a series of gas bladders, reminding Thomas of this uncomfortable movie he’d seen where a clown made a person out of balloon tubes. But Chief Nivan was an upstanding guy in his opinion, never pushed work onto his subordinates and tried to be as helpful around the engineering deck as possible. Thomas thought he was a cool boss to work for.

“Lets get started”, Nivan said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chief Nivan got them working, showing them how the new terminals worked, and how to input commands into the core controls in case of emergencies. The Padrino picked it up while he was explaining it, but Odis and Thomas needed a demonstration. Thomas watched as Nivan’s odd balloon-esque tentacle limbs punched in commands, taking note of each key he hit.

“Got it?” Nivan asked. Thomas sometimes had a hard time gauging his emotions, what with the beak and all, but he thought the Zilont looked a little tired.

“I think so, yeah. You okay Chief?” Thomas asked. “Need me to grab you some salt water or something?”

“No, thank you Human Thomas. We’re getting run ragged down here. Odds and ends keep disappearing, tools and spare parts, and just yesterday somebody claimed they had their locker ransacked.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, and the maintenance crew is already out of sorts. This is just adding fuel to the-”

The entire room shook violently.

Chief Nivan was cut off by a series of small electrical explosions from the wall of terminals behind him, throwing him a ways away. Thomas threw his arms up to shield his face, making sure to cover Roomba as well. The floor beneath their feet rocked, the entire ship seemingly to jerk several meters to the side. The lights blew out, raining sparks down around the crews working in the core room. Over a fourth of the crew in there were thrown to the side or into a wall at the sudden shift. The walls groaned and creaked at the rapid change, and Thomas saw something that stopped his blood cold. The safety fields holding back the core’s fire were flickering off one by one.

“EVERYONE OUT RIGHT NOW!!!” Thomas yelled, rushing to Nivan. He grabbed two of his four arms and started hauling him towards the door.

“Twins! What the hell happened?!” He questioned, looking to the two Padrino.

“Ships systems registered a local star released a wave of energetic ions creating a solar storm. Detecting multiple failed systems, including-”

“THE CORE YEAH I KNOW!” Thomas cut him off. “We have to get the hell outta here now! Is anyone else in here?”

“Multiple life signs detected. In approximately 3 minutes the last containment field will fail and the core will vaporize everything in this room.”

Thomas set Nivan down outside the safety doors.

“Okay, Mace, you call them out! Sixer, Odis, and I will go get them. MOVE!” Thomas ordered while he rushed up and over one of the hanging walkways. Odis didn’t have time to argue with him, Mace was in the doorway and Sixer was already on the move as well.

“SQUAL!” Odis yelled before getting in gear. Thomas didn’t need a translator for that one. Odis was Galley, and they were generally self centered. Not today.

Thomas must’ve moved 6 crew out of the core room in those first 2 minutes. He saw a third Padrino in the door now, a new unit he hadn’t met yet, talking to Mace and trying to contain the core. Thomas didn’t stop. Whether they bought more time or not, he wasn’t about to leave this room while anyone was still in it, not while time was still on the clock.

Finally the three minutes were almost up. The safety field was down to its last wall. Only a thin blue screen of light stood between them and obliteration. Thomas grabbed the last crewman on his side, a Zilgrat about half his size and started running back towards the door. From what Mace had said, it was just the space ferret and that should be it. Thomas looked over at the others.

Odis’s foot was caught in the railing.

The crewman he’d been sent to get had been thrown down to Sixer who was rushing him outside.

“There are only seconds left, Human Thomas! We must seal the door immediately.”

Thomas looked from the door to Odis.

He ran to the door.

Dropped the Zilgrat at the robot’s feet.

And sprinted towards the Galley.

His lungs hurt. His muscles ached. It was getting hot in the room, each layer missing from the security wall allowing more heat to escape containment.

Thomas jumped up the stairs to Odis.

“Sorry man!” He said as he grabbed the little gray alien’s leg and yanked. The foot dislodged with a sick crunch and Odis howled, high pitched and clutched at his leg.

Thomas had been counting. No time left. The Galley man didn’t weigh much.

Damn.

He really wanted to keep playing games with these guys.

Thomas took Roomba from his shoulder and shoved the little droid into the Galley’s chest before hurling them both over the railing towards the safety of the blast doors. He actually threw them so far and so hard they struck Mace and forced the whole bunch out into the hall.

“SHUT THE DOORS NOW!” Thomas ordered. The Padrino unit he hadn’t met yet, and now probably wouldn’t, hit the release, and the doors slammed shut as the last field lost power.

Thomas threw himself behind a console as vaporized plasma filled the room. The temperature must’ve leapt by several hundred degrees…

For about 3 seconds.

Then the safety fields sprung back to life, holding back the fire. Thomas sucked in oxygen as the ship’s automatic air filters kicked in, sucking the heat out of the room. Emergency coolers clicked on, rapidly suppressing the temperature fluctuations. His skin hurt, and he caught a vague whiff of burning hair.

The console he’d hid behind seemed to shield him from the sheer worst of it, but Thomas would be very glad to get to Med Bay in the next few minutes. Everything burned. Finally shock and lack of clean oxygen let him pass out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thomas awoke to the sound of Odis and the Padrino… were they yelling?

“I’m telling you,” Odis was saying to someone in a nurse uniform, “if you cut that shirt off him, I will personally teach you how the Galley get even…”

Shirt? What shirt?

Ohhhh.

Thomas started laughing softly, on his bed in the med bay, covered in burn gel.

“I told you guys…” he said hoarsely, “it’s a lucky shirt.”

“Kid!” Odis was standing next to him, leg in a cast. “Kid what the hell were you thinking? Why didn’t you just leave??!”

“Human Thomas, we are please you have not expired,” Sixer said.

“Agreed,” Mace said.

“Thanks guys,” Thomas coughed. “Sorry about the leg, dude, there wasn’t time…”

“My leg? Kid you just got cooked and you’re worried about my leg?” Odis looked at him in disbelief. “You humies are so freaking weird, you should’ve just left me there.”

“Nah… I had that. It’s my lucky day, remember?”

Roomba was sitting on the side table next to his bed. He was holding the game pad, but it wasn’t on.

“Beep.”

[Information Request]

“What’s up buddy? You okay? Sorry I threw you,” Thomas said.

“Beep.”

[Is your unit going to be repaired?]

“Yeah buddy, I’ll be okay. Just got a little too hot in there for a second.”

“Beep.”

[Statement: Unit Thomas is required to be repaired, or ability to complete task {hang out together} will be incomplete]

“Yeah, I love you too buddy,” Thomas said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A quick 2 cycle stint in a regen-pod got Thomas back on his feet and the worst of his burns treated, though he was significantly more tan than he was before. He’d had a short meeting with the captain and first officer, both of whom said something to the effect of ‘what is it with you humans, throwing yourselves into danger?’

He was on his way to the Padrino now, they’d taken Roomba and his main translator for repairs, and to see if they could finally retrace that weird signal he’d heard the other cycle. Since he was told by both the doctors and Odis to focus or rest and recovery, he’d agreed to them babysitting. The spare device in his ear was itchy. He’d be happy to have his back.

When the lift opened, there was Odis the Galley. His cast had been replaced with a prosthetic boot. Thomas stepped in. The doors closed and Odis cleared his throat.

“Listen kid,” the little gray alien started, “that was a real decent thing you did back there the other cycle.”

Thomas looked down at him and shrugged.

“I’m not gonna say it wasn’t a big deal,” Thomas said, “I definitely thought I was gonna die in there. It just didn’t need to be all of us, is all.”

Thomas rummaged around in his pocket and pulled out his keys. He slid the rabbits foot off the ring and held it out to the Galley.

“Here. I think we both need some luck on this ship right now. Have it.”

Odis looked from him to the foot.

“…you sure kid? Didn’t that thing save your life?” Odis said, his usual smirk coming back a little.

“Nah, the shirt saved my life. Plus I feel like I owe you a foot, yeah?”

Odis laughed, shoulders shaking. He took the rabbits foot and stuck it in his pocket.

“Lucky severed animal feet huh? You humies are such deathworlders it’s not even funny.”

“Then why are you laughing, close encounters?”

The lift erupted in laughing fits from the both of them as they made their way down to engineering.

On the engineering deck, the Padrino, along with the small unit known as Roomba, watched the pair leave the lift.

“The human should have expired in the core room,” said Sixer.

“Agreed,” said Mace.

“But he did not,” said Sixer.

“A good thing, yes,” said Mace.

“Beep.”

[Statement: agreed, this is a good thing. New observations can be made now. And new games can be played still]

“Agreed,” said the Padrino in unison.

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Spring Bean

Debut: Plants vs. Zombies 2

People just don't call their tall and skinny friends "String Bean" anymore, like they used to. I have never witnessed that happen, but I think they used to. Similarly, people just don't call their green and coiled friends "Spring Bean" yet, like they're going to. We all have that friend!

I never thought much about Spring Bean. Then recently, I decided to think about Spring Bean. Hmm... heh. Yeah. Spring Bean is funny! I like this bean. And Spring Bean is cute! Chili Bean is funny because it farts, Sun Bean is funny because its face is weird, and Laser Bean is not funny OR cute and I really dislike looking at it, especially its teeth and gums. I like to look at Spring Bean! Nothing wrong with this bean.

Spring Bean usually looks like he has no idea what's going on, but then once in a while he gets a bit Cheeky! If a zombie is near, he will flatten all funny-like, and then SPROING them away. This is very useful in some levels of Pirate Seas, where the pesky Swashbuckler Zombies can be launched into the ocean as quickly as they enter the playing field! An insta-kill plant, specializing in a particularly annoying zombie that skips over most of the lawn? Sounds quite useful indeed! And it's REUSABLE? I love recycling! What's the catch?

Well, not to sound like a meanie beanie, but Spring Bean is not actually very good whatsoever most of the time. I gassed him up back there- any self-respecting bean needs a fart joke- but Spring Bean kind of sucks! If he was a quirky thematic level element in a vegetable-based platformer, he would be perfect. But alas!

Everything I have said about Spring Bean is true! He is the perfect counter for Swashbuckler Zombies, instantly kills them, and can perform his ability multiple times. He can even launch regular zombies into nearby water! But the thing is, that's basically it. Spring Bean has One use in One world, and not even the entirety of that world. When Imp Cannons get introduced shortly after, Spring Bean is quickly overwhelmed, only able to launch one zombie at a time. After each launch, the darn guy goes to sleep, and is easily eaten by any other zombies that appear in the meantime! I like to Take A Break too, but if some bad guys were trying to eat my flesh, I don't think I would be able to feel very restful! To be honest!

In this game about plants fighting zombies, Spring Bean is not a plant that is good at fighting zombies, but here I am writing a post about him, so it should come as no surprise that I like Spring Bean. He does what he does. He does it well Sometimes. I would like it if he was more useful overall, of course- I can use my friend Kernel-pult as a primary attacker in any level I please- but a sort of pathetic little thing like this is so endearing to me! Some people on the internet get attached to pathetic middle-aged men, I get attached to a pathetic Bean. This is genuinely really cool of me!

I am not just going to provide my own opinion on this post, though. That would be biased. Let's hear the thoughts of someone who knows Spring Bean very closely... his older brother, Sun Bean! Sun Bean dearly loves his bean brothers, even though the almanac indicates that he thinks Spring Bean is "just plain lazy" and finds him "exasperating". I think that's fair. I've not once seen any other bean snooze, after all!

I quite like this Spring Bean plush. It's so cute! Spring Bean is already cute, but this off-model one is even cuter, looking so inquisitive about something up and to the right. Some kind of butterfly it's never seen before, but it's not that into entomology, so it's not EXTREMELY impressed, just rapt with mild-to-adequate curiosity. Be more like this bean in your everyday life, taking in the joys of the world! If you take this advice to heart, you will genuinely be able to say that Spring Bean from Plants Vs. Zombies 2 changed your life.

[hawthorne-swift-enthusiasttt]

Unit 919 as obscure google fonts!!!

Hi please don't ask me what this is i don't even know lmao

Anah:

Um yeah so I think both of these fonts just go along with her vibe tbh. Sweet, timid, and a bit prim!

Mahir:

Any fantasy-looking fonts match with him honestly. I found a TON that reminded me of him but I think these two sum him up pretty well.

Cadence:

I kind of like the idea of a handwriting-esque font with her. It's just the vibes I guess. But the first one sort of looks mesmerizing in itself (imo) so it works with her.

Hawthorne:

Hawthorne is basically all the bold fonts lmao. I really think these picks are self-explanatory. Just look at him. He screams BIG BOLD FONT lol.

Morrigan:

I feel like I could have put more effort into hers and relate it to Wunder or something but I like these ones enough so 🤷‍♀ She gives a hand-written vibe about her as well.

Arch:

Sorry for the grainy-ass quality and tiny image but I feel like Arch has a sophisticated yet humble and chill vibe about him (that makes zero sense I'm aware but I was struggling on him ok)

Lam:

I tried to find a regal-looking font for her. Idk if this does her justice but its sort of intricate and mysterious so I think it matches.

Thaddea:

So similarly to Hawthorne, she screams bold in-your-face font. Also can I just take this moment to talk about Thaddea like she's so badass omg I love her <33

Francis:

Ummm I'm really not confident about this one but it's giving fancy menu and Francis is all about food right???? Idk I could do better but I couldn't find anything so whatever :')

BONUS STUFF:

Okay so I found some bonus fonts that I really liked and gave such nevermoor energy so I'm including them.

Nevermoor Christmas:

This one is sooooo battle of christmas eve. Especially the Yule Queen. I kid you not when I first read these books the first thing that came to mind when reading about the Yule Queen was this font. It might be a problem that I have a vast knowledge of random fonts that I relate to my interests but whatever ok I'm only human

Jack:

These have Jack written all over them. Any variation of Cinzel works for him, and Cormorant is similar as well. I think these are quite sophisticated but also stand out. They have a specific flair about them that I just associate with Jack. Super trash explanation I know but at the end of the day all of these literally just come down to vibes.

Hotel Deucalion:

Anyone else think this one is so Hotel Deucalion-ish??? Or at least Jupiter-ish. Like it's fancy but welcoming.

Anyway dudes that's the end of the post hope you liked it. It's funny cause I always say I'm gonna do something productive with Nevermoor content like writing a fic or something but most of the time I just end up with shit like this. Like girl. You are supposed to be making stuff like fanart and fanfic and headcanons why are you doing a Nevermoor post about google FONTS???? lmao

[pianostarinwonderland]

maybe skully isnt dead 🤯 [half copium half srs]

listen. ik ive been on copium for a while. ik we all are, ive seen twitter, tumblr, and everyone’s tags on my posts when they reblog

BUT PLS HEAR ME OUT. IM SO SERIOUS RN WHEN I SAY: if u wanna be technical about it, if u wanna stretch it out somehow, you can argue that the game never outright states that skully is dead, only that the skully we met was from hundreds of years ago.

“but mamsir pianostarinwonderland, how in the fuck can that be???? we HEARD that invisible kiss” LET ME COOKKKKKK 🔥🔥🔥 I SWEAR EVERYONE, I AM COOKING U JUST HAVE TO HEAR ME OUUUUUUUUUUUUUT— knocked out

Ok serious time, let me mansplain to you all the possibility of Skully being alive

Establishing first of all, Twst has kept Skully's nature vague

Simply put: we don't know if Skully is human. In his live 2D, Skully's ears are completely covered. Even in his illustration, we can barely see his ears. It's an interesting design choice. However, in his chibi (which wasn't revealed until Episode 5), we can see his ears aren't shaped like a fae, but are round like that of a human.

However, it's pretty hard to think he's human either, when we consider his "moshi, ne moshi" greeting in Episode 1 and its connection to the supernatural. Voiced, to be noted. Exactly what kind of creature he could be is currently unknown, but because this part was voiced, it's something we need to pay attention to at the very least.

In regards to his mortality, the only clue we're really given is Skully himself saying that he may never meet us except through Halloween, which implies a lifespan similar to a human or something similar. But Skully doesn't know how far into the future that the cast is from. Heck, does he even know of his nature?

Now, addressing that invisible kiss...

I feel like this is the main thing that told all of us that Skully is long gone. Heck, if you catch me in my right mind, I might just tell you that yeah, that should be enough proof that Skully is dead! Little signs from the dead such can manifest in similar ways to what Jamil and Leona sensed: hearing a kiss and feeling a kiss on your hand.

(unfortunately i'm not in my right mind so you're getting my dumb reasons why i'm arguing for otherwise)

However, if Skully is gone, I find it interesting that this is the way they decide to show it. We already know from the very first Halloween event that ghosts can manifest all year round in Night Raven College due to the high concentration of magical power in the area. Outside of that, they cannot be seen. If they really wanted to confirm with the audience that Skully is a ghost, they could have had him appear as such at the end, when they all returned to Night Raven College.

But they chose a scenario where people can draw a lot of conclusions from it: Is their senses getting fucked over as they wake up? Are they still reeling from the magic of the book? (though rationally, we know that Leona is not one to be easily stunned, so the first question is at the very least easy to dismiss)

I've also seen some people theorize that he's using invisibility magic during the invisible kiss scene. And well, while I find that funny, it makes me wonder if he could be some other kind of spirit that's not dead. Like an undead of some sort, which the residents of Halloween Town are. Heck, Azul's card line about Skully talks about how he seems to fit right at home with the Halloween Town residents. Again, we don't know Skully's true nature, but the possibility of him being a species that can turn invisible is interesting.

Moving on, we have what Dire Crowley stated about Skully

At the end of the event, Crowley tells us that he found Skully’s portrait while rummaging through the storage and shows it to us and the 11 boys who went inside the book

What he tells us is that Skully J. Graves is a NRC graduate from hundreds of years ago, before Crowley was Headmage. Note that he only was appointed for the position 100 years ago; the Skully we met is at least from around 200 years ago. During his NRC years, Skully got to share Halloween to NRC. It was a hit, and when he graduated, he spread Halloween all over the world in his travels.

I'd like to take a little detour first to discuss something that's been weighing on my mind: Some people have thought that Crowley is lying to us when he speaks about Skully and his achievements, but... I don't see why he would lie. For one, there is a decent chance that Crowley might not have gotten to see Skully. Even if he did, it's even more unsure if he was involved in Skully's affairs.

However, there's one main reason why I do think that Skully got to live a fulfilling life instead of facing an overblot that killed him or some other tragedy. I'd like to dedicate a longer post to this matter, but to make it concise, I think through Skully, Twst is starting to establish something new regarding their history. I think that historical teachings, folktales and stories, and rumors that are well-known tend to be lies or twisted truths. Whereas those that are obscure and not known are actually what occurred. Skully is called the King of Halloween who's done so much to spread the holiday to the world, yet not even NRC students, who should be the first to know considering that Skully is an alumna, know of him. Although there may be other reasons why that's the case, I like to think that at the very least, Skully's obscurity indicates that he did live the life he wanted and succeeded in working for a future that generations after him can enjoy.

Anyway, that actually isn't the main point of this section of the post, but I kind of want to air that out first. The main point is that Crowley only really said that Skully is a former NRC student from hundreds of years ago who traveled around the world to spread Halloween. But he never told us where he was buried or whether he saw his ghost roaming NRC. He never said anything about Skully being dead.

He probably said the hundreds of years ago bit, carrying the assumption that of course, Skully may have passed away. But we have to remember that we have long-living species in Twisted Wonderland. Fae that were students 200 years ago are very likely to be alive now. Crowley himself is a long-living creature, having been Headmage for 100 years. I think with that in mind, it's important for him to emphasize that Skully's gone if he really is. But he never mentioned it. Therefore, there is a good chance that Skully might just be somewhere else. That or Crowley just doesn't give a fuck where his alumni go, and I might be thinking too deeply about the absence of certain words. Honestly, that's a pretty good chance too.

Lastly, we have the scene where Jack Skellington gets shot down but survives it

Here's where it gets a bit more into speculation, but you're going to have to hear me out.

In the movie, Jack Skellington gets shot down by the military for impersonating Santa Claus. When the Halloween Townspeople watched it, they all despaired, and the mayor started declaring to all that Jack has been blown to smithereens and proclaimed him dead.

But that's not what happened: we find Jack landing on an angel's statue, alive and definitely not blown to smithereens.

And considering that Skully is still very much twisted from Jack Skellington... do you think the writers are pulling a similar move? Making us think that he's dead, just as the townspeople thought he was dead, only for us to learn eventually that he's alive.

This of course depends on what happens eventually in the sequel. From the way things are proceeding, what happened in the Lost in the Book with TNBC is events prior to the movie, and we could very well have the sequel be set during the movie events. (If you ask me, I kind of doubt that actually. I feel like Skellington got inspired by Skully's love for Halloween, enough to stay true to his identity as the Pumpkin King, which would mean the movie wouldn't happen the way we know it. So if anything, I feel like TNBC 2 would focus less on the actual movie and more on the side games where Oogie takes over Halloween Town and even kidnaps Santa and other people, but I admit, that's a stretch, especially considering that we will get Santa giving Halloween Town a taste of Christmas)

Of course, this post is really just to let some of my copium out. Rn, it's still safe to assume that yea, Skully's dead. And though I am coping hard for Skully to be alive, with the way Twst treats the dead, it's not exactly a bad thing. Ghosts continue to stay in NRC like they're living people. They honor the dead, and let the dead live among them. And even if he is in the afterlife and not stuck in the mortal plane, I have faith that Skully did live a fulfilling life that may have been forgotten but clearly changed the world. :'D

[rvlse]

HI HI HIII!

Sooo Ive seen your first post and heard you're a new writer. So far Ive read the ES Bumblebee and its so cute!

Anywhooo, could you do Perceptor x reader? (Can be Cyberverse or MTMTE) Nsfw >:3

First of all, I am SO SORRY this took so long! I'm not going to lie, I barely know anything about Perceptor, so I had to do some research before writing this 😭

Hopefully I wrote this the way you wanted me to omg

Anyways...

(CV PERCEPTOR X READER)

WORD COUNT: 1924

WARNINGS: NSFW of course and kind of non-con? But not really?

You sat in the Ark’s lounge, stabilizers crossed, sipping something that probably wasn’t good for your pipes. This week had been a complete rollercoaster. Perceptor had been avoiding you like he didn’t know you - as if he couldn’t care less about you. 

It was funny, really, because these sort of things always happen to you. 

You were a former Decepticon. You’d only joined the Autobots about a month ago, but you felt like you had a pretty good reputation so far. Of course, being new meant there would be bots who would hate you no matter what you did, but you could handle that. 

Perceptor had actually been one of the first to break the ice with you. 

Naturally, if Perceptor thought something was safe, then so did everybody else. Within two weeks, almost every bot on the Ark was comfortable with you, enough to even call you a friend. 

But now, Perceptor just… distanced himself from you. It was annoying, really. Every time he saw you enter a room, he’d excuse himself and coop up in his laboratory. It confused you. The two of you had been so close.

Slamming your glass of mystery juice on the table in front of you, you decided you’ve had enough. Enough of Perceptor’s slag.

You stormed out of the lounge, anger flaring up your systems. How could he just abandon you like that? It wasn’t fair. You were going to teach him a lesson. One him and his body would remember.

The route to his lab was short and sweet. Turn right, left, go straight, destination on your right. You raised your servos to push open the heavy double doors… and then hesitated.

What would you even say when you saw him? Hey, I miss you, let’s frag? You shook your head and took a deep breath. Keep it simple.

You shoved the metal doors open, revealing Perceptor’s humongous laboratory, which was (to no one’s surprise) pristine and organized, no mishap in sight. 

And, of course, there was Perceptor, faceplates buried in a data pad.

At the sound of his doors being opened, though, he looked up. Upon realizing it was you that came inside his lab, he furrowed his brows and swallowed. Odd.

“Y/N? Is there something you need?” he questioned you, setting down his tablet.

You frowned at him, taking several steps closer to the scientist. 

“Yeah. You,” you spat out, blunt as ever. You’d been working on putting your Decepticon roots behind you, but they were really starting to show right now.

Perceptor’s optics practically exploded, and his jaw dropped in shock.

“Excuse me?” He spluttered, his monotone voice actually showing emotion for once. 

“You fragging heard me,” you growled as you stood threateningly in front of the mech. Two of your digits found themselves on Perceptor’s chassis, and you glared daggers at his face while those two digits walked slowly down his body.

Perceptor wasn’t much of a fighter. Everyone knew that. There wasn’t much he could do against you, and everyone knew that, too. 

So, he backed up, one pede after the other, servos up in the air. That didn’t stop you, though. You walked with him, forcing him against his lab’s wall, all the while your digits sliding down his frame.

“What are you so afraid of, Percy?” you mumbled, your tone low. 

“Scared I’m gonna hurt you?” you sneered.

Perceptor’s optics flashed down to the servo - your servo dragging down his front. He was panicking. Your digits were so, so close to where he wanted them to be. 

Truth was, he wanted you. Nobody knew. He didn’t and hadn’t planned on telling anyone, either. His work was too important. 

At a loss for words, he pushed himself against the wall as much as he could, and shook his helm no in response to your question. He’d never been in this situation before. What was he supposed to do?

You just scowled at him as your digits finally reached their destination. You groped his interface plate, making the mech jerk up in pleasure.

“Wha- what are you doing?” he managed to get out through gritted denta.

“I seriously wanna give you head right now,” you muttered, optic ridges furrowed as you continued to glare up at him.

At your statement, Perceptor could've sworn he’d blown a gasket. You wanted to give him what? Slag, it wasn't as if he was against it. 

But before he could even open his intake, you were already on your knees, servos pressed to his thighs.

“I don't think what you're doing is necessary-” 

Click.

His interface panel sprung open, his faceplates practically bleeding blue as his already pressurized spike emerged from its casing. He couldn't hide his arousal now.

“Y-Y/N- Please reconsider-” he didn't get to finish his sentence, his words replaced by a strained, held back moan as your lips touched his member.

You didn't give him any room to breathe, immediately going for the kill as you shoved his spike down your throat.

At the invigorating sensation, Perceptor’s servos couldn't help themselves but to reach for your helm as he let out another stifled whimper. You wasted no time, sucking and squeezing your mouth on him. 

“Y/N-” he groaned as you continued, his servos clenched on the top of your helm.

“Why are you doing- ah- this?” he tried to speak, finding that the sensations he was receiving were too strong.

You didn’t reply, mainly because you had a spike lodged in your throat, but also because it was embarrassing to admit you had a major crush on a bot while giving said bot questionably good head. It was kind of obvious, and giving how smart Perceptor was, he already knew.

Suddenly, you felt the mech jerk in your intake, and you knew he was close. You hadn't expected him to last long.

“P-please..” you heard him mumble.

Unintentionally, he started humping your face, pleasure building up in his tank. He gave one more final jerk, and then you felt his liquids fill your intake as he cried out in ecstasy.

You swallowed without hesitation, the salty yet sweet juices leaving an aftertaste on your tongue.

You removed yourself from his spike and sat back, licking your lips as you watched his face. He was panting, a complete mess.

“Y/N…” he started, looking down at you in awe.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” you spat out, your glare returning.

Perceptor’s jaw opened and closed. He was still so dizzy with pleasure he couldn't exactly grasp reality. And then it clicked in his processor. He hadn't meant to make you feel like you were being avoided. 

“I…” he took a deep breath. Admitting this could go one of two ways.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I shouldn't have avoided you,” he apologized.

“The reason being… I am compelled by you, Y/N. I always have been, from the moment we met. However, my emotions often got in the way of my experiments and studies, therefore I felt there was no other choice but to… distance myself from you.” He concluded, a deep blue blush on his faceplates. He knew you reciprocated his feelings, but voicing his own out loud felt rather embarrassing.

Your optics widened and your optic ridges furrowed. Was he fragging serious? He was scared of his feelings? You sighed and rose to your pedes.

“Okay. Make it up to me.” You replied.

Perceptor blinked at you.

“I’m sorry…?” he gawked.

You remained deadpan, servos on your hips.

“Make it up to me, Perceptor. Show me how much I compel you,” you demanded, still glaring at him.

He was at a complete loss for words. No doubt he knew exactly how to please you; most of his studies were literally about cybertronian anatomy. He'd done some research. He just didn't know where to start. 

Sensing his hesitation, you decided to help him out. 

Grabbing his servo, you gently moved it so he was holding your waist. 

He watched you with curious optics, clearly nervous.

“A-are you sure-”

“One hundred percent.” you cut him off.

Swallowing, he obliged to your will, and brought his other servo to your waist as well. Taking a deep breath, he slowly backed you up, letting your backstrut press against his work table. Within seconds, you were lifted atop of it, and without further hesitation, Perceptor took a calculated risk and pressed his lips against yours. You immediately kissed him back, although he didn't really know what to do with his mouth.

His servos roamed your frame, traveling from your shoulders to your aft. You let a whine out into his intake, letting him know he was doing a decent job.

Motivated by your sounds, he broke from the kiss to focus on getting your interface panel open. You let out another moan as you felt his digits toy with your lower half, your panel sliding open at his teasing prompts.

After taking a long look at your drenched valve, Perceptor took two digits, tested the waters, and then slid them inside you.

You let out another groan, throwing your helm back as he explored your depths.

He stretched you out, curling and unfurling his fingers, spreading and pushing against your walls. Unbeknownst to you, he knew exactly which points to hit. Exactly how to make you arch and desperately grip the table for stability.

You already felt a knot of pleasure building up in your tanks. You normally lasted a slag ton longer than this, so to say he was amazing was an insulting understatement.

And then, just before you could start to see stars, Perceptor pulled his digits out.

All pleasure fading away, you whined when you felt him pull back.

“What’re you-” you started, only to be cut off by the scientist.

“I don't want to overwhelm you by having you cum twice,” he stated simply.

In confusion, you opened your intake to protest, but before you could, his spike was pressed up against your valve. Frag.

You immediately shut your mouth, swallowed, and sat back. Sure, he was big in your mouth, but you hadn't thought about how he would feel inside you. 

Perceptor watched your expression, waiting for permission to enter you, and you nodded in response. You hadn't wanted something more than you did right now in your entire onlining. 

The mech lifted his servos to your waist to gently position you where he wanted you, and then he slowly pushed in.

My Primus, that felt good.

He fit you perfectly. 

Perceptor mumbled something, a mix of moans and words, but you were too high on ecstasy to understand him. The scientist thrusted in and out of you, each time hitting that one spot over and over again. In no time, your optics were in the back of your helm and you could've sworn Perceptor had never done this before. 

You were so close to screaming his name so loud every bot on the Ark would know exactly what was going on. That fantasy was cut short, though, as the mech captured your lips in another clumsy kiss.

“Perceptor-” you mumbled against his lips.

“I- I love you,” you confessed absentmindedly. You couldn't even think straight right now.

And, just like a truck, your high hit you. Your walls clenched on his length, and apparently that was all Perceptor needed to follow your lead.

The both of you panted, absolutely exhausted, but the scientist still had one more thing to say.

“I love you, too, Y/N.”

If you made it here I appreciate you for reading this. Stay strong and you can achieve anything you put your mind to, I'm proud of you <3

[lucygxybaird]

drabble prompt! reader is a school teacher who needs help setting up her one room schoolhouse. billy gets teased because how could an outlaw be so whipped for somebody so kind??? an opposites attract sorta thing :) anyways its the first day of school and he brings her an apple to set on her desk andmaybe a new pack of chalk super sweet and thoughtful!! ily sm and ur writing 💜

ahhh oh my goodness cute cute cute!! <3 thank you, I love you too <3 <3

Billy nibbles on his lower lip as he stands in Tunstall’s general store, studying the bin of apples in front of him. He wants to bring you the perfect one — the reddest, the shiniest, the biggest, hopefully the sweetest. After a moment of further consideration, he picks one up, taking it up to the register and paying for it, along with a length of ribbon and a packet of chalk. 

When he goes back outside, he tucks the apple and the chalk safely in one of his saddlebags, where a clutch of wildflowers are sticking out of the leather pocket. He ties them together with the ribbon, a satisfied — and slightly anxious — smile coming to his face. It’s important to him that you have a good day, and if he’s able to be a part of that, well…all for the better. 

He mounts up, careful not to jostle the little bouquet or bruise the apple, hoping none of the pieces of chalk will break on the way. Turning his horse toward the edge of town, where you have your little schoolhouse, he finds himself imagining your face when you see him, when he offers you his little gifts. He knows you well enough to be sure you’ll light up like he’s given you diamonds and gold. It’s just the sort of person you are, to appreciate everything people do for you, no matter how small. You have the purest heart of just about anyone Billy’s ever met, which makes you perfect for your job. 

“Who are those for, Billy?” 

Charlie’s voice pulls Billy out of his thoughts, which truthfully have meandered from your sweet nature to your sweet face, and he glances up to find Charlie grinning at him, nodding at the flowers poking out of his saddle bag. 

“Uh…” His face immediately starts to get hot, and though he ducks his head to hide his spreading blush, he knows it’s useless. 

“Your little schoolteacher again, huh?” Charlie’s grin widens. 

“Well…” Billy chuckles nervously. “Yeah. It’s the first day of school, y’know. I just, uh…wanted to give her a little somethin’.” 

He knows Charlie of all people won’t tease him too badly, but the rest of the boys seem to live for ribbing him every time he says he’s going to see you. He can’t help it if there’s something about you that makes his gentlemanly side — he takes comfort in knowing that’s what his mother would call it, at least — take over, even if you rarely actually ask him for help. 

All you have to do is mention the little stove warming your schoolroom is running low on firewood, or a fence around your little garden at home is falling down, or even that you’re hungry for a roast chicken — and before he knows it, Billy finds himself chopping a log in two, hammering in a fence post, stoking the coals to get them warm enough to cook dinner. He can’t help it. It’s like he’s addicted to seeing you smile up at him, your eyes gleaming with gratitude, as if he’s completed some Herculean task for you. The way you beam and grasp his arm, saying, “Aren’t you sweet?” sends a sweeter warmth surging through his veins than any glass of whiskey ever could. 

Not that he would ever admit that to anyone except you. 

Once, when he’d asked what was so goddamn funny — if he remembers right, it was after he’d mentioned he had brought a pretty lace handkerchief, also from Tunstall’s store — George Coe had only laughed harder, shaking his head. 

“Aww, Kid, we don’t mean anything by it…it’s sweet, really!” He’d chuckled again. “I dunno, it’s just — I never expected to see you wrapped around a girl’s finger like this. Especially not one who is so…”

Billy remembers frowning, ready to defend you if George said anything unkind. “Who’s so what?”

George had held up his hands in a defensive posture. “Hey, nothin’. She’s just so…well, y’know, sweet. It’s like a stray cat having a pet sparrow.”

He hadn’t liked that comparison. It had made him feel like there was a possibility he could hurt you, which he would never do. Sometimes, when he thinks about you as he’s drifting off at night, it occurs to him this might be love. He wants to be the one to make you happy, to take care of you. 

Maybe it’s because of his past that he’s so dedicated to this. Everyone he knows, even his friends like George and Charlie, look at him and see an outlaw — a leader, too, maybe, a brother in arms, but an outlaw all the same. Not you. All you see is Billy, your friend, your protector, your…well, not lover, quite yet, because the two of you have only kissed and cuddled on your bed. But it means the same thing, at least to him.

“See ya, Billy,” Charlie is saying, leaning over to pat him playfully on the shoulder as the two of you approach the schoolhouse. “Tell her I said hi, alright?”

“Sure.” 

Charlie keeps going, down the road out of town that leads to where the Regulators are staying, but Billy reins his horse in and jumps down, tying the reins to the hitching post. He tugs the little bouquet out of his saddle bag, tucking the chalk and the apple into his pocket. Billy mounts the front porch in one leap, knocking lightly on the door before poking his head in.

You look up from where you’re wiping down your desk with furniture polish. At once, you’re beaming at him, tossing the rag down and hurrying down the aisle between the desks. “Billy!” You stop as you see the flowers in his hand, smiling up at him. “Who are those for?”

He knows you aren’t playing around, asking him that question. You’d never assume that they’re for you, even though he’s been bringing you little gifts for going on a year now.

“For you, of course,” Billy says, offering them to you, and you giggle as you take them, inhaling their sweet perfume. “That’s not all.”

You look up at him, the hues of the wildflowers paling in comparison to your eyes. “Oh, Billy, you didn’t have to—”

“I know,” he says. “I know, I just wanted to, is all. C’mere.” 

He leads you back toward your desk, fishing the chalk from his pocket first, and then setting the apple on the freshly polished desk. You laugh again at the sight of the apple, and Billy grins, pleased that he’s made you happy. 

“An apple for my favorite teacher,” he says, rewarded with another giggle. “And I figured you always need chalk.”

“I do,” you confirm, and you reach up to wind your arms around his neck. “Thank you.”

He leans in to kiss you, and he sighs softly against your lips as he feels you melt into him, his hands finding your waist. “I’m glad you like ’em,” he says, when you finally break apart. “You know I’m crazy about you, don’t’cha?” 

You hide your face against his shoulder, and he just smiles, tightening his embrace around your waist. “I know,” you murmur. “I’m…I’m crazy about you, too.”

When you peek up at him, surveying him shyly from underneath your eyelashes, he smiles at you again. “Yeah?”

You nod, twin roses of color blooming on your cheeks. Billy bends his head to press his lips to each on in turn. You huff out a soft laugh, taking up one of his hands and lacing your fingers through his. “Will you come see me when class lets out?” you ask. “I wanna make you dinner.”

He smiles. “You don’t have—”

“I know,” you say, and you smile back at him. “I know, I just want to, is all. Will you come?”

“As if I’ll pass up the chance to see you,” he says. “I’ll be here as soon as you ring the bell.” 

He kisses you again, and the way you hold onto him makes warmth rush over him like he’s bathing in sunshine, starting from the top of his head and going to the soles of his feet. Three words rise to his lips, but he stamps them against your mouth instead of saying them out-loud. Not yet. He can hear kids starting to arrive, their bright voices filling the yard, and he knows you have work to do. 

“I’ll see you later, baby,” he says, and you nod, leaning up to kiss his cheek. 

Before he goes, he gives the kids a turn around the yard on his horse, managing to fit two or three in the saddle at a time. He knows you don’t mind, because you’re standing on the front porch, smiling at him in a way that makes him think — maybe — there was a certain phrase woven into your kiss, too.

He supposes he’ll find out after the bell rings. 

[changingplumbob]

How will the Yorks react to my plan to host a bachelorette challenge?

Deanna - Potential bachelorette Joey - Deanna's aromantic yet allosexual older brother Artemisia - Deanna's younger sister, has the evil trait Devin - 2 time Starlight Accolade winner for her acting career and Deanna's older sister Luna - Devin's wife, Deanna's sister in law Aaron - Deanna's pa (father) Calista - Deanna's ma (mother) Alfred & Rilian Villareal - Deanna's nephews

Joey: I assume you all know why I have gathered you here this evening

Artemisia: You contracted a WTD

Joey: What? No, we don't have the mods

Aaron: Look if you got someone pregnant we don't need all these theatrics

Devin: Excuse me pa? We always need theatrics

Joey: I didn't get anyone pregnant. This isn't about me, it's about Deanna

Deanna: Very funny

Joey: The watcher and I have decided you should star in a bachelorette challenge

Luna: Oh I love watching those! They're so romantic

Devin: Oh can I host? Please let me host!

Aaron: Cara your sister hasn't said yes to it

Joey: Let me give you my pitch. Tartosa is a perfect background for love. We invite a dozen or so ladies to come and get to know you Deanna, really know you. I think it could be a happily ever after for you

Deanna: I have university Joey

Devin: You have time between terms right? Oh please say yes De, my friend Norah would love to come help direct

Deanna: Aren't these things normally rather straight coded

Joey: In some dimensions, yes. But we live in a great world where homophobia is next to non existent

Devin: Except for Luna's dad, but he's not here now so its fine

Alfred & Rilian: RIP Jacques

Luna: *laughing* Wait- When did they learn to do that?

Artemisia: Ahhhh, Joey was talking

Joey: The point is we, the watcher and I, are bound to be able to find some women or non binary individuals who fit your tastes De. And we can get some family based challenges for them to compete in for extra time with you. Or get other celebrities or local businesses to feature

Calista: Oh we should ask the owners of Postres de Alegría! Maybe then I'll actually be able to get some of their pastries when I show up

Aaron: Tesoro you know if you want the raspberry tart you have to get there before midday. They can't not sell just because you might feel like a treat after your shift

Joey: If not Bob could help out, or he might know some people in Brindleton Bay who have niche interests we could use for a challenge or two

Aaron: I don't know that I like the idea of one of my bambina's pixel parts being on TV

Deanna: Yeah I second that opinion

Joey: We won't actually show any nudity, relax. Now Devin you can be host but I will obviously need to talk to any other watchers. Our watcher thinks it would be fun if they had some input about what skills their contestants would work on. If they don't she'll still need to know like orientations and official stuff

Luna: *sighs* Now you believe in multiple watchers?

Aaron: Joey has just always been rather devout

Deanna: I guess I am single...

Joey: You are

Deanna: And I'm definitely over Paris

Joey: Yes

Deanna: Reece will have to be allowed to do something or he'll pout

Joey: I can sort something. So, will you do it?

Deanna: Sure. I mean who doesn't want true love right?

I'm going to do it *internal screaming*! I'm going to start working on an intro post and some graphics so people know what the submissions need. Submissions will be open until Christmas but I'll push it out a week if needed. Ideally I would love to have households of six at a time, so I'll put slots up in groups of six as people show interest. I don't want to start off with 12 or 18 etc slots if I'll only get four sims. I'm realising a lot of my planning will need to know how many sims there are so I'll be opening up soon to help my brain.

Introductions, hosted by Devin, won't begin until mid January when most people are back from New Years holidays. So yeah, I was actually so nervous writing this all out, I need to calm down. Here's some basic Deanna info I'll put elsewhere to get the cogs in brains turning. This third child of an Italian family is studying physics with hopes of being an engineer but her main aspiration in life is Mansion Baron. She's a lesbian but I checked in game and sims with that orientation are able to flirt/form romantic attachments to non-binary people as well as cis or trans females.

[saintzweig]

pls make a fic on patrick hovering over reader while they’re trying to study. intentionally distracting and disturbing them for an ounce of attention !!

funny you ask for this because i'm supposed to be studying for my midterms. THIS IS GNA BE MY LAST POST I NEED TO STUDY (crucify me if you see me post).

patrick visiting stanford after months on tour, desperate to see and feel you to make up for the times he had to settle for phone sex. unfortunately for him, he picked the wrong time because its your exams week and you have too much on your plate. he lays on your bed, sighing out loud numerous times and groaning for your attention to which you only rolled your eyes. he couldn't take it anymore and walked over to where you sat by your desk, placing his hands on your shoulder and crouching down so his lips are right next to your ear.

"can't you take a break? it'll be quick, i promise" his hands trail down to grope your chest, making your breath hitch. his warm breath on your skin and his large hands feeling you made you clench your thighs, which of course didn't go unnoticed.

"can't pat, i have to study or i'll fail" you huffed, trying to ignore the ache between your legs.

he chuckled, "you're not gonna fail by giving your boyfriend, who you haven't seen for months, atleast five minutes of attention" moving down slightly to attach his lips to your neck, leaving trails of sloppy kisses.

"i'm gonna fail if i don't study" his hands are now under your shirt, feeling your stiff nipples.

"then i'll help you, yeah?" he pull his hands out to grab the stack of flashcards on your desk before pulling you up and dragging you to the bed. he sits down and pulls you down to your knees, right between his legs.

now your mouth is around his cock, gagging while he reads you questions– if you get an answer right, you get to kiss the tip and if you get an answer wrong, he gets to push your head down.

you passed the exams, which he arrogantly took all credit for but you can't say that he didn't help. he's definitely expecting some sort of reward for helping you as if he was the one that took the test :)