Dave nods. "Most of the inhabitants of this sorry rock," he confides, "cry themselves to sleep at night at the knowledge that you beat them to the incomparable prize of Dave Strider's undivided affections." There's not enough irony left in this poor depleted universe to sustain statements like that very often, so he kisses Tavros again before he can talk himself into actual sincere confession time.

Gamzee sits there all to grinning, because he gets this by now, he does: Equius says Do you want me to when he means I fucking want to so bad I can't fucking stand it, like getting all close to what he wants would make it snap like one of his motherfucking robots. Seems like, if you pity a brother with a hangup like that, about the only motherfucking thing to do is take the decisions right the fuck out of his strong hands.

In which a mutant too famous to cull is dropped like a grenade into the midst of the peace process, a foolish monarch proves himself secretly shrewd, the power of friendship functions as a force multiplier, and it is discovered that in the Great Game of espionage, the dealer does not always win.

"They're not going to bite, you know," She drawled without even turning to look at him, as she forced a sausage-like Harleybertian leg in a leg-hole. She was smirking, though, he could tell from her voice. "Or projectile venom. Hell, even vomit wouldn't get that far." Prequel to Battlefield Terra. 3 000 words of Mr. Strider meeting his newborn clonebabies for the first time. Also features Doc Lalonde.

Bro makes a show of snorting, of relaxing his stance. His heart is still in his throat. His kids, his kids, someone almost took his kids. Someone did, and the only reason they didn't get away with it has nothing to do with him, nothing, and everything with that rabid weasel who won't. Step. Off. His balls. -- Pretty much as the title says.

You're going to leave the toybox in the closet tonight, because you are fairly certain that you can ruin him six ways to Sunday without even a pair of fuzzy handcuffs to back you up, and you really don't want to give the poor guy an aneurysm or something.

Crackling quiet on the line for a second. "Are you serious?" Jake asks at last. "You've programmed that machine of yours to...?" He trails off but the question mark is audible.

Dirk laughs, presses his lips to the sweat-drenched nape of your neck, lets his teeth scrape the skin. "Don't worry, babe, I'm not going to leave you hanging. I've got something special for you. Get up."

"At first you'd thought Terezi felt a little left out of this clusterfuck of a relationship, always watching you and Karkat at each others' throats and goading each other on, but you've come to realize that she doesn't mind being a little on the sidelines. Correction: she gets off on it."

Karkat has gone really still. He opens his mouth. Closes his mouth. Opens his mouth-- "No. On second thought, no. I don't know what the fuck I was thinking when I said I would do this. I have never had even the slightest desire to do this." "Uh," John says. "Okay?"

John and Vriska wake up in bed together after a party. Can their bropalship survive in the wake of alcohol and hormones?

You lose your pale virginity to John Egbert at a Gamzee Makara party.

He wears the denim skirt because it's stiff enough at the waist to hide a lack of hips and pulls tight enough on the back when he bends over that his ass looks fantastic.

“John, when you were eleven you didn’t even know what sex was. If you did, you would not have clicked on that link for two girls one cup. Twice.” This is the straightest most bro-est make out session that ever happened. Not even a little bit of it is gay. Nope.

In which there are parties, awkwardness and orgasms.

“We are not killing her! God, do you even hear yourself?!”

Your afterlife groove thing is being visited by an underage crossdressing alien. Okay.

You have to put him in school, and if you weren't busy trying to make money to keep a roof over his head in this world where neither of you belong, you would be all about home schooling. You have to prepare him for the game. You only got eight years left.

In which Bro explains his sexuality to Dave. (No incest except for the joking kind.)

Everything is more fun when there's something at stake, right? Swinging ought to be the same.

John discovers a new and MUCH more entertaining way to fill his prankster's gambit.

When all they have left to hold onto is each other, how can they ever let go?

A lighthearted vignette wherein a young lady, away from home at a professional conference, utilizes the internet to discuss an important issue in interpersonal relationships with the young man she has been cohabiting with for several years. Files are sent, metaphors are abused, and a happy ending is guaranteed.

Since the universe knows just how terrible Karkat Vantas is, the unseen forces of fate decide to make him live with Dave Strider. Little did he know that Mr. Insufferable Prick would end up being the main reason he survived college.

First time, Movieverse!Avengers, with Tony-fucking-Steve smutty ficlet thingy. Posted as-is before I ruin it over-thinking it, well, because.

“You really are good at that,” Dylan says, echoing his thoughts. “Good at what, exactly?” Chris says, lifting one finger to his mouth and licking it, which makes Dylan’s eyelashes flutter. “All of it,” Dylan sighs. “All of it. All the parts.”

In which John has a lingerie fetish. Written for the kink meme.

TT: Sometimes I've gotta go round her up from some godforsaken cranny of the abyss. Drag her tipsy ass home, tuck her back in. A few instances of Dirk taking care of Roxy while she's half-awake on Derse.

There are some things you have to do as a friendleader, and some you have to do as a friend. Sometimes, it's the same thing.

Aradia had always thought seadwellers were all nasty, ruthless, terrible monsters who abused their place on the hemospectrum. After an encounter with the Heiress herself, she realizes that maybe not all seadwellers are bad after all.

Karkat is all for cultural exchanges and trying to see each others point of view, but there is such a thing as going too damned far.

Teasing can be frustrating, but it will all be worth it in the end - right?

Or A Brief Sketch Of An Ideal Outcome For An Entirely Fictional And Deeply But Unnecessarily Disturbed Relationship Dedicated To Certain Individuals Who Even When Figuratively Armed With Vessels Of Water And Saccharine Coatings Cannot Take A Hint

When Gamzee takes it up a notch in his attempts to court Dave into being his kismesis, Dave decides he can't just ignore it any more. Cue lengthy Karkat Vantas rants and awkward teenage boy fumblings. Slightly aged up AU where everyone is one big, dysfunctional family on the meteor while they wait out their three years.

Dave can't talk dirty without making a fool of himself; to no one's surprise, Karkat is a screamer; and in summary, Dave and Karkat are terrible people to room next to.

"You've got no fucking clue which end is up about this kind of thing, do you?" Karkat asks, almost gently. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have gone off on you. You're such a huge bitch it's easy to forget you weren't hatched like this."

Dave was…off since he’d seen the alternate teenage version of his bro in person. For the most part he seemed okay, and Karkat couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was that was off about him, but there was something.

Feed a cold, starve a fever, and in the case of an ennui-filled Terezi Pyrope just quadruple caloric intake.

Stiles doesn't notice the constant buzzing in his head until it's gone.

This isn't a thing Equius does; surrendering to impulses is for other people. He has always been one to measure, to strategize, to rein himself in as best he can. It was a necessity. Even his liaisons to satisfy the drones were more matters of negotiation and restraint than unbridled passion, adequate but not exceptional. But as Strider follows him out of the hangar and down the corridor, it's all Equius can do not to turn on him, not to attack him right there, not to pin him to the wall with hands around his throat and knee between his thighs.

Equius agrees to bet on a robot fight. Dirk is gambling on what happens afterward.

Choose lasagna as good first meal for boy humans (1) and boy trolls (1) to show you can overcome this cooking thing. Feel impugned when Rose suggests you would both eat popcorn between two slices of bread and call it a day. Advise her you only did that the once.

"They just watch," John says, kicking the mop bucket into the broom closet after a hard day's asteroid-cleaning. "I guess chores are like a spectator sport for trolls? It's pretty weird! But... that's trolls for you!"

Your name is JOHN EGBERT and you’ve just turned 21. It was pretty much the Best Birthday Ever, except for that awkward 10 minutes in the middle, but you got through that and everyone passed out in a properly drunken stupor. Inspired by The Finer Details of Gay Cluckbeast by clumsyoctopus. You wake up to someone kissing you.

Good girls go to heaven, but the bad girls dress up Mr. Ampora on Saturday nights. In which Rose knows she must be disturbed.

Dave and Terezi do a shitty sidequest and experience the Dark Nak of their Soul.

“Holy shit,” you whisper. Dave joins you at the window. There are no stars left in the sky. Nothing but blackness and a faint soap bubble sheen. “Is that a dream bubble?” Dave says. And then it swallows you.

See, okay, you are the best of housemates. It is definitely you. You don’t even fuck with his goddamn color-coded shit in the fridge and you absolutely do not go anywhere the fuck near his color-coded toothbrush major arcana in the bathroom. For the most part you kind of stand over here and let his weirdness just kind of handle itself. You have, however, reached your limit for this particular style and model of bullshit and so you bang on his door and when he sort-of grunts in response you bang on it again and then you try the knob and hey, check that shit out, it’s not locked. ...Wow, he looks like ass.

Not all dreams are good memories for Tavros.

"and you never guessed/the one you loved best/to draw always drew/pictures of you/undressed." A fairly plotless accumulation of pornographic pennings, courtesy of one Dave Strider.