-- gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 23:45 -- GG: hey john, i thought you were going to bed early! EB: nd she kissed him full on the mouth with lots of to EB: GAH GG: :O ??? EB: damn it jade, you and your ninja windows! pretend you didn't see anything okay.

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

"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!"

Arson Clinic engages in a nerdy rap battle with Lil Cal while stagehand Karkat smokes in an alley behind the venue and hates life. Meanwhile, homeless punk John Egbert goes on a quest for a little rubber alien.... AND THEN THEY ALL ROCK.

CG: I'VE SPENT ALL AFTERMIDNIGHT PACING UP AND DOWN MY NEW BLOCK IN FRONT OF THE MIRROR. THE ONLY REASON I HAVEN'T YET PACED MY WAY TROUGH THE WHOLE SHIP IS THAT IT MAKES ME FEEL LIKE FUCKING ERIDAN. CG: WHADDYA THINK OF A CAPE? DOUCHEY, RIGHT? CT: D--> I would most strenuously advise against it. It would only obstruct the sharp lines guiding the eye to the waist of your exquisitely tailored jacket. CG: YEAH, I LIKE HOW THE JACKET CUTS SHORT RIGHT OVER THE TIGHTEST WHITE PANTS KNOWN TO TROLLKIND TOO. BE A SHAME TO HIDE THAT. CT: D--> That wasn't CT: D--> I mean CT: D--> I was merely admiring the craftsmanship. CG: YEAH, THAT KIND OF SKILL IS WORTH BEING ADMIRED. I SWEAR TO FUCK THERE'S AN ASS-LIFTING TRICK SEWN RIGHT IN. BUTT-WONDERBRA. MY TUSH IS ALREADY PRETTY GOOD USUALLY BUT DEAR LORD, *I'D* DO ME.

For PB&J: Take one part well-aged longing, one part awkwardness, two parts enthusiasm, and a dash of possessiveness. Mix well. Season to taste with the presence of a crabby moirail in the next block. Part of Miracle Child 'verse

In which Rose inadvertently starts the first inter-dimensional chapter of Stitch and Bitch, and courts Kanaya through crafts.

A genderswapped/girls in the NHL series. Possibly circling around an enormous fic about Sidney Crosby's adventures in being the first female drafted no. 1 in the NHL and also to play in a non-exhibition game, starting at about age 13 and moving to the present. Maybe I'll write it this summer, because it needs a lot of research. While that's on hold, this is mostly just girl!kaner/Tazer porn and, apparently, character stamps about playoff beards or the lack thereof.

wherein rhaegar wins the war, and jaime manages to keep his head by taking a stark for a wife; or five times jaime lannister braved his marriage and the one time he was brave for its sake

Karkat takes his time; this trick he has learned from several drill sergeants and then from being a drill sergeant, and learned well. When you're not sure what the fuck to do with a subordinate, take your time thinking it out. There is almost no way they will notice you're completely lost at sea: they'll be too busy freaking out. It's a technique he could have used more of when he was a kid. He really has no idea what to do with the guy. -- Sequel to Uniform Kink, a pesterlog/cybersex fic in which Karkat accidentally gets Equius hot under the collar with mentions of the uniform that comes with his promotion, and then decides to run with it. -- Now with Equius POV epilogue! 2000% more fluff.

"Relena was a polite, well-bred lady, and did not look at people's crotches. Even when they wore skintight spandex shorts that seemed painted on." Girl!Heero. One-sided, mostly subtexty pairings, no get-together.

"Bri-an." And Brian was yanked out of his zone, out of the passing traffic, to focus on Calls-Himself-Logan-Yeah-Right. Logan was looking skuzzier than usual tonight - a few extra piercings, his shirt ragged and ripped, and he was twitching a little, looking for trouble, looking for some extra cash. And thinking Brian could provide both. Brian looked at the twitching and tried to assess it - had he had Sugar recently? Or was this something else, just some coke or something?

The day the bus break hit the news, Eliot Spencer was in the middle of a job, taking down a dirty businessman up north of Boston.

"You weren't kidding when you said 'change of camouflage', were you? Damn, O'Conner." A fusion-verse between the Fast and the Furious series and the live-action Transformers movies.

It was kind of ironic that it had taken someone else loving Brian to turn 'not enough' into her 'happily ever after'.

She hasn’t had a partner-assisted orgasm in over a week and a half, and she is just beyond done. She wants to lie down on the cold bathroom floor and cry. Derek is starting to look like a permanently kicked puppy. “Look,” she tells him after dinner, “I love your inner self and your personality or whatever, but can I just tie you up and use your body until I come a couple times?” Derek fumbles the sudsy glass in his hand. “Awesome!” Stiles says brightly.

You try to dress nice. How do you dress nice for a sex club? You have no fucking idea. But you've got the greaser cool guy look down pretty good, and you think it works for you. You wear your tightest t-shirt. You spend like fifteen minutes in front of the bedroom mirror trying to decide which pair of jeans is the most flattering for your glutes. This is your chance.

The youngest was the fairest of all, and her name was Beauty. Beauty only came out at night.

Zelgadis is learning to live with his body.

Dragging a ten ton vault around on a giant tether was one thing; fighting alien hell beasts from another dimension was something he still didn’t think they were completely qualified for.

It's not until after he's pulled the whole thing off that Jason realizes what a stupid move it was.

In which Tim is the Witch, Jason was supposed to be the debt but turns out to be Red Hood, and there are shenanigans because life isn't that great when your mom was Janet Drake. A series in which fairytales collide to make life awkward and horrible. (Tim the witch, Jason as Rapunzel turned witch-hunter, and more to be added along the way.)

Her clothes ripple away into blue skin, she keeps her eyes on his face as it does. She sees the shock and doesn’t bother waiting for the disgust. She smiles. “What’s wrong baby?” She asks as innocently as she can. “Don’t you think I’m pretty now?” “Beautiful.” He breathes in reverent Vietnamese.

In the wake of Lisanna's death, Mirajane readjusts her relationship to her magic — and her relationship to Erza.

The SNK characters' happy reincarnated life is rudely interrupted by kaiju marching out of the Pacific. They are 100% done with this crap.

The Scouting Legion receives word of a rogue titan in the battle of Trost. They didn't know what to expect - it certainly wasn't Jaeger.

Yukina put her fork down and said, "I need a job."

Kiza isn’t in school long before she realizes that her daddy isn’t much like other daddies, and she isn’t much like other little girls. Scenes from the lives of Sad Bee Dad and Cool Bee Daughter.

Cullen struggles with his lyrium addiction. Some days are better than others. Or (if you prefer a silly summary for a not-so-silly fic): In which Cullen is suicidally depressed, Dorian is a high-functioning alcoholic, and Bull just wants them both to be happy, except when he wants to crack their heads together for being emotionally stunted idiots.

This is a metafic about a disabled Inquisitor and the changes the disability not only brings for them, but also for their companions, their advisors, the Inquisition as a whole, and the people of Thedas. One of my goals for this was for it to be as inclusive as possible: your Inquisitor's race and gender don't matter. Every possible class is addressed. Topics include: addiction, amputation, bigots, blindness, depression, muteness, tranquil mages, transsexuality, veterans, withdrawal.

"It's awkward and confusing all over, because he's not sure he should find something attractive in the way the soft light of the tavern softens Krem's cheeks. That a few dark drops of wine on his lower lip should be worth of study, or that Cullen can perfectly recall the crooked angle of his smirk when the Chargers are away. "

Flowers have meaning and, sometimes, not knowing them can be beneficial.

Cole grows increasingly confused by gender and seeks out advice.

A Doribull Story! "...and as you gripped my horns, I. Would. Conquer. You.” The Bull's words to him on the road that afternoon had wormed their way into Dorian's mind, and try as he might he can't seem to rid himself of them... - My exploration of how the in-game relationship between Dorian Pavus and The Iron Bull might have come to be, based on in-game banter and the conversions you can have with both characters. This story is very much a case of 'sex first, feelings after'.

Cullen can't get it up and it turns out the Inquisitor doesn't want that anyway. Funny how these things work out.

Afterward, Dorian cannot recall what he had expected, only that it had not been this.

I love Krem and Bull's banter :D

Jupiter’s trying not to take it personally, but being inexplicably flinched away from is getting really, really old.

Aleksa thinks it's about time she met this hypothetical boyfriend of Jupiter's. (Aleksa's maybe at least a little bit more prepared for this meeting than Jupiter probably thinks.)

It's not until they're in freefall that it hits her. Caine Wise has no daemon. (A HDM Daemon AU where wings are made of dust, wolves make their own packs, and some pains fade with time).

My Cousin is Dating an Alien, an essay by Moltka Bolotnikov, age 12 and ½.

“Small package of murder, huh?” He laughs. “I knew they’d tell you that.” “It’s the best compliment I’ve ever gotten.” “I’m sure I can think of better ones.”

Iron Bull is almost certainly playing games with him. Dorian is particularly sure of this when he's been drinking.

THOMAS is the gladers' one hope of escaping the maze. He's also a brain in a jar.

Dagna makes Harding a present. Dagna has no concept of reasonable scope.

Okay, team, let's go steal the Earth.

The slow love song of Josephine Montilyet and Cassandra Pentaghast, on the side of running the Inquisition and saving the world. Each story is standalone but they might be best when read together.

A frog, a sorcerer, a sword, a porch, and a conversation in the dark.

Sansa knows, standing on the steps of the Great Sept, staring into Joffrey's triumphant eyes, the blood her father soaking the stones and all the Lannisters' beautiful promises ringing in her ears, that Starks have always been the best liars.

He keeps the aqun-asala powder in a jar on his dressing table. Every three months he spoons some of it into a mug and mixes it into the water with his finger. It's supposed to be tasteless, but when he swallows it down it lingers on his tongue, affects the taste of anything else he eats for the next couple days, mutes everything. He gets a kick outta eating spicy shit all lackadaisically and offering it to people, and acting surprised when it burns their mouths. (When he explains it to Sera, after she's stopped crying and threatening to stab him with one of his own horns, she thinks it's hilarious — tries to talk him into letting her have enough to prank people, actually. He knows exactly how much is left in the jar though, and he's not sure he's ever gonna get more... so she has to make do with sitting next to him and watching.) "So it keeps you from losing it, huh?" she asks, glaring down into her empty flagon like she doesn't know where the beer got off to. "No squishy pffff—" she puffs up her cheeks and sets the flagon down, curving her hands into a circle and then moving them apart, "—for the qunari pokers?"