#yellow plumbers

[anand07723]

Plumb247: Your Trusted Plumbing Service Across Sheffield, Lancaster, Preston, Windermere, and Kendal"

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About Plumb247:

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Conclusion:

Plumb247 is your trusted partner for all your plumbing needs across Sheffield, Lancaster, Preston, Windermere, and Kendal. With our team of experienced plumbers, 24/7 availability, and a commitment to customer satisfaction, we aim to be the go-to plumbing service in these areas. Whether you need emergency repairs, routine maintenance, or installations, Plumb247 is here to ensure that your plumbing systems are in excellent condition. Contact us today for reliable and efficient plumbing services that you can count on.

[a0723ce]

Your Trusted Emergency Plumbers Providing 24-Hour Plumbing Services Near You

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Local Presence and Accessibility:

When it comes to plumbing emergencies, time is of the essence. That's why having a local plumber nearby is crucial for prompt assistance. Plumb247 boasts a strong presence in various locations, including Blackburn, Sheffield, Lancaster, Preston, Windermere, and Kendal. No matter where you are, our team is just a call away. Simply search for "Plumbers near me" or "Plumber near me," and you'll find our dedicated professionals ready to address your plumbing needs promptly.

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At Plumb247, we specialize in emergency plumbing services, ensuring that you have access to reliable assistance when you need it the most. Our team is well-equipped to handle a wide range of urgent plumbing issues, including burst pipes, water leaks, clogged drains, and more. We take pride in our swift response times and efficient solutions, making us your trusted partner in times of plumbing emergencies.

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Plumb247 is your trusted partner for all emergency plumbing needs, offering 24-hour services, local expertise, and a commitment to quality. When you search for "Plumbers near me" or "Emergency plumber near me," you'll find our team ready to respond promptly and effectively. With a local presence in Blackburn, Sheffield, Lancaster, Preston, Windermere, and Kendal, Plumb247 is your go-to choice for reliable plumbing services. Contact us for all your plumbing needs, and experience the difference of having a dedicated and skilled team by your side.

[jackmkelly]

i can not believe its been 2 years since newsies uk cast drop. michael ahomka-lindsay & bronté barbé u changed lives

[xpastelsweetsx]

Absolutely wild for newsies most popular ship to be a blue coded character/green coded character

[walkman-cat]

detective noir katherine my beloved <3

[kariachi]

Devin Lives au fic! Finally Geilla Bohln has a Savaran Temple.

~~

It wasn’t the most impressive of temples, one had to admit. There was no grandeur, thought there was room for it to come eventually, no ornate statues or vast mosaics. Mayhaps it could have been something more if it had been more limited, had left later expansion to add shrines rather than decorate those there. But Devin, his children, his small pack, were far from the safety of the homeworld, and he had decided that ensuring their close ties with all the gods was more important than artistry.

He was going to have to make sure Keal got proper statuary and such first after the suns by way of apology, but he had no doubt they would forgive the transgression given the circumstances. There were funds available- it wasn’t hard to get donations from the Morningstars, they had founded the pack after all- but he’d felt it better to spend the money surrounding the temple with low public buildings to ensure nothing would be built in place to shade it. Allowing that would have been an even worse blasphemy, and he’d already raised the gathering area above ground just to help prevent it. Normally one would build a temple in the highest location possible, but that just wasn’t a viable option on Earth- where digging out and building in the top of a mountain required the kind of funds even the Morningstars hissed at- and was inconvenient to the dens besides.

Better to have everyone accounted for, better to ensure the top floor wouldn’t be shaded, better to stay in a convenient location. Get everything built, finally have a proper temple with a semi-proper member of the Holyfolk to manage things. Even if it wasn’t spectacular, or perfect, it was far far better than the small, scattered shrines that had been all they had before. Something you could walk around, somewhere you could set proper tributes to a wide range of specific deities without having to force them to share, or limit yourself to just your own patron.

Yes, even a plain temple was better than no temple, and Devin couldn’t help but breath easier the first time he walked through the finished building, laying dried goods on each offering platter as he went from top to bottom. The twin suns on the top floor beneath their glass-windowed dome, the platter in the ground floor gathering chamber, the rest of the major gods on the floor below, four each of the minor gods on each of the four floors that followed.

Mainil, Tivaum, Leruv, and Vernito.

Veirum, Hegae, Faunel, and Yaon.

Mendeves, Menkaves, his Leum, and Rervon.

Vulkxhen, Menrhove, Menyuve, and Jalen.

All in good order, all with the proper offering plates, all with proper offerings, all with thanks and prayers given to welcome their presence in this place. With, he would admit, a bit a bias towards the patrons of the children- again, they would understand.

Finally, their territory had a heart.

[wariodemambo]

❝ TWO TOADS. FOUR YOSHIS. EVEN STINKIN' DAISY MADE IT IN AND THEY CAN'T SHOW A LITTLE LOVE TO-A WAAAAARIO. ❞

[guplia]

Y'all I am so sorry for the lack of Ninjago posts (I don't think I've made a single post about it this month and only five reblogs or something) the mario hyperfixation has practically sucked me in so uh... someone try to bring me back here I guess lol

I don't have the heart to post this on ninjagogifs (especially when TWO ANONS have sent me asks LAST MONTH and I STILL haven't responded 😭😭😭)

(and now I'm seriously considering making a sideblog to keep all my mario stuff lol send me an ask if you like the idea so that you don't need to have your page flooded with Nintendo stuff)

[darkdragon768]

Today we're having a day dedicated to dressing up and I think that's so beautiful?

Like, there's a day where you can dress up as anyone or anything. Justified, without people judging too bad.

Of course mostly kids get into costumes but you as an adult can too? And you definitely HAVE to if you work with kids.

I think we need more days like this. Let's make this world a bit more silly and joyful.

[mydarlingclaudia]

cw : major character death, baby death, angst

Simon Riley who says he’s still married even after your death when people hit on him

Simon Riley who still wears his wedding ring and keeps yours on the same chain as his dog tags

Simon Riley who lost not only you, but the baby you were going to have the day you died

Simon Riley who keeps the nursery the same as it was when you painted it and set up the crib

Simon Riley who shows up to the pub on Fridays an hour or two later than the rest of his team because the show you used to watch all the time only airs at eight p.m. on Fridays, he hasn't missed an episode

Simon Riley who goes to you and your babies joint grave first thing each time he gets back from deployment, there's a third joint part on the tombstone for him one day

Simon Riley who keeps the house the exact same as you left it, he even unfolds and refolds your clothes and the babies when he can't sleep

Simon Riley who doesn't really talk about it, doesn't check in with your family, doesn't take Price's advice when he tells him he should take time off after your death

Simon Riley who wakes up some mornings thinking you're in the other room with your baby, only to remember you aren't

–

You met through a neighbor, your sink had broken and she had pointed you in the direction of the scary guy down the hallway who had fixed her shower last year. He was in your flat for three hours, came out a bit sweaty and with grease on his hands and shirt, but he made your sink better than it was before it started leaking and he walked back down the hall with cash in his pocket.

The next time you see him is when you ask him if he knew anything about cars and if he'd mind taking a look at yours. He gets the check engine light to turn off and makes that wrong-sounding whirring sound to go back to normal, instead of cash, you offer dinner.

He didn't even think to turn you down, he wasn't due back on base for another week, he could use some company. You learned Simon wasn't a handyman or plumber, it was just an odd job he got good at, the military is where his duties lay, no wonder you hadn't seen him around much before.

After deployments, he comes over for dinner each week, then you start going out for dinner and go out to see movies and he starts to show up at your doorstep with flowers. The kiss comes first, officially dating comes second.

The longer you were together, the harder it was to be away on deployments. And you're everything Simon could ever want. Too good for him, too understanding and patient. But Simon still comes home to you, he still kisses your shoulders and lets you wash his back, he still wants to marry you.

And he does, he puts a ring on your finger that looks like the one his mom used to wear before she just took it off one day and never put it back on. He buys you a nice house with a backyard and a fireplace, plans out the whole wedding with you, he does everything right.

Pregnancy comes next, he never saw himself as a dad, but he got more and more comfortable with the idea as your pregnancy progressed. The nursery was yellow, you put a little mobile with seals and starfish and otters over the crib, Simon put the rocking chair together and painted it blue.

He held your hair back when you puked in the mornings, cooked most of the meals you ate over the nine months, did all of the massages, went to all the check-ups, even took that paternity leave he was convinced he'd never use.

He held your hand all through the delivery, your baby girl came out completely silent, one of the nurses in the room with you was new and he didn't know why she started crying at first.

He had thought he'd seen enough blood in his life for it not to really startle him the same way it did when he was a kid, but you and bleeding out being used in the same sentence put a whole new sense of terror in him. The nurses actually had him leave the room, there was only one way it could go, he knew that, but he sat in the hallway bouncing his leg like he was waiting for good news.

He drove home alone that day.

Simon spends his days waiting around now. You were really the only one for him, he knew that far too soon, but by now, he would've been picking his daughter up from her first day of school, maybe you'd even have another baby on the way. When he's not deployed, going through the motions aimlessly, he's daydreaming.

He's sad, of course he is, what else are you supposed to feel? But he doesn't cry as much as he probably should. He imagines school pictures in his wallet and hanging on the walls of your house, birthday party invitations stuck onto the fridge and date night's marked on the calendar.

He goes into the nursery sometimes, like he's waiting up with the baby, trying to get it to fall back asleep. He'll spin the mobile and sit back in the chair that he was meant to hold his daughter in and just stare at it, even after it stops moving, he stays.

Your grave is so heartbreaking to see, but it's comforting, also. That you'll always be there, you and your daughter, and one day, he'll be right next to you again.

[satyricplotter]

you have the red hood on speed dial. for information, you know? you're not part of any shady deals, but it pays to have an ear out in crime alley. not that you do your job. it's the third time this month jason has swung by your apartment to find you've called him over not to report on suspicious gang activity or some funny guy encroaching on his territory, but to... repair something. last week was your pipes. today's your AC.

"tell me something," he says, scrubbing at the filters over your sink. his sleeves are rolled up, forearms covered in suds. you pulled over a chair. to watch, mind you, not help. not that you could help much in this tiny ass kitchen. he's bent over the single sink, forehead perilously close to the perpetually slightly open cabinet. he wonders when you're gonna call him over to tighten your screws.

"something," you say, quite seriously.

jason exercises patience and throws some suds at you. you shriek like he'd held you at gunpoint anyway. "you got any yellow pages around? they still sell them. heard they've even moved to the internet. you know the internet? i know you have access to it because you asked me to rewire your modem three weeks ago."

"thank you for that, by the way." you smile bright and sweet at him. "it goes so much faster now. every single one of my freeloaders has come up to me to show me a different minecraft build since you did that. i can only hope that will translate to me getting a high rise penthouse when they all become architects."

he snorts. your freeloaders are the three children in the apartments on your floor that you've shared your wifi password with. jason had significantly improved on the system you'd been working with the minute he found out--it keeps the kids off the streets, you know? part of his responsibilities. nothing more.

"stop fucking deflecting," he says. this stain won't go out. is there mold here? he glances at the ceiling. hm. he should check next time.

you cross your leg the other way around. you're wearing shorts. it's a hot day out in gotham. summer. no AC. your skin sticks together at the thighs. he can hear it. he can almost feel it. a drop of sweat runs down his back, the phantom caress of a finger.

it's a hot day out in gotham.

he turns back to the filters.

"i just don't know what you're getting at, mr. hood," you sigh.

jason rolls his eyes. so needlessly evasive. and for what? just to keep him there.

"what i'm getting at," he says, "is why you don't call a plumber. or an electrician. or... whoever does this fucking job. some guy out there must be making their living scrubbing these things. call him, why won't you?"

"then what will you do?" you wonder curiously.

jason snaps his head towards you. looks at his helmet on your dinner table. then at you. helmet. you. his face must tell you everything he can't quite put politely, because you laugh uproariously. he shakes his head like an old man lamenting the state of the youth, even though you're probably older than him. he wonders if you know that.

"i could be out there doing serious stuff," he grumbles, just to say.

"like severing heads?" you pipe up, wagging your eyebrows.

jason huffs. "that was one time."

snickering, you stand up. "hey, don't sweat it, big man," you say, clapping his shoulder. your hand lingers there, and when you retract it, so does the heat of it. jason can almost feel its imprint. you smile up at him, hip leaning against the counter right next to him. jason thinks he might stay here forever. the grease on these filters won't give.

"i thought it was a grand entrance," you continue. "scared us all big time. made everyone put their guard up. i didn't see hide nor hair of skittish george for a week after!"

jason tongues at the inside of his mouth, trying not to seem surly and failing miserably. "i wasn't trying to scare you."

"it's 'cuz we didn't know," you explain, a smile bordering on shy dancing in your mouth. jason feels inexplicably wound up, like his body's picked up on something his mind hasn't. "hadn't met you yet."

when you move behind him, slowly, wrap your arms around his waist, jason cannot say he didn't see it coming. but it does catch him off guard. everything you do seems like it catches him off guard. the most vapid, inconsequential shit in the world suddenly has weight. a clogged pipe. a broken light switch. an empty gas canister. his presence in your life.

you press your forehead between his shoulder blades. the wet heat of your sigh sinks into his bones. he glances down at your hands hooked together by the ring and pinky fingers. do you always do this? he wants to know. he's filled with hunger.

"you're good people, hood," you mutter, cheek to his back.

jason swallows down at the water. "you don't know that."

"i know," you say. sound sure of it. the smile that unfurls against him has him squeezing the soap out of the sponge. "you fix all of my shit."

he sets everything aside. fuck these filters. you barely even move when he tries to turn around, caging him immediately against the sink with a bright grin. he should've seen this coming. you don't even care that his hands are cold and wet when he sets them above your hips, just shiver a little against him. he settles against the sink and you follow, rest your chin on his chest. jason just observes you for a moment, your bright, open face. he smooths a hand over your temple, leaves it resting on your nape. you receive the touch with eagerness that sends sparks down his spine, but he has to say the words before anything else goes down. it's just proper form. mom did say that.

in an apartment just like this, in fact.

"i don't do that because i'm good, though," he says.

you raise your eyebrows. "oh?" playful smile. he wants to eat it. he will. "why then?"

jason snorts. pinches at your eyebrow just to throw you off your game. you squeak and flail, chiding him for ruining the moment, and he takes the opportunity to grab your face in his hands and bring it close to his. you shut up mid-word, and the face you make is a little funny. he wants to keep seeing it. he will.

he speaks the next words against your mouth. "i do it because i like you."

[darkmatilda]

𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: in which one spencer’s curiosity leads to the exposure of your shared secret

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x diva!chemist reader, reference to spencer and reader getting married in vegas, the secret marriage not so secret anymore, penelope and reid being my favorite sibling duo, reader is trying to murder reid and im saying that with the straightest face imaginable, MASSIVE diva reader lore drop, oh and lowkey angsty ending

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 3.3k

𝐚/𝐧: request

“I’ve got him! I think I’ve got him…” Penelope spun halfway around in her chair, landing at her second monitor and typing rapidly, her fingers flying across the keyboard with focus. Spencer was standing right next to her, one hand resting on the desk, leaning over so he could see the results of her search. If their reasoning was correct, they had just managed to identify the unsub. But it was still too early to celebrate. “It has to be him! Thomas Murphy, 47 years old. Between 1994 and 2005 he worked as a plumber in Seattle before moving in with his now ex-wife… I’m sending you his address.”

“Thanks, Garcia,” Hotch replied.

Then the call ended — and that was it from their end. From Garcia’s office, there was nothing else they could do except stay by the phone in case they were needed again. Spencer finally straightened up and then, a bit aimlessly, dropped into the smaller chair beside his friend. Penelope was taking a deep breath and sliding her glasses off her nose to polish them with a yellow cloth patterned with flowers. He stretched out his legs and laced his fingers together over his stomach, trying to push away a certain stupid thought that had just appeared in his head.

“So…” Reid began, trying to convince himself it wasn’t too late to bite his stupid tongue. “We don’t have anything left to do. And I was thinking…”

“That you finally want me to teach you how to play video games?” Penelope offered smoothly, slipping her glasses back on.

Thrown off, Spencer furrowed his brows and wrinkled his nose. “What? N-no, that’s totally not what I meant, I was thinking more like…okay, never mind. It’s stupid.”

For the first time, his friend turned fully to face him, squinting at him suspiciously.

“I forbid you to back out now. I’m far too intrigued. So?”

He held his breath for a moment before exhaling heavily. He could’ve just said nothing. But since he already had… and since he couldn’t shake the idea from his head…

“You know, I’ve been thinking lately about how much information about specific people you’re able to find in such an impressively short amount of time…”

“Oh my goodness, you want me to stalk someone for you!”

Despite the flush on his cheeks, the look on his face was absolutely, deeply, immensely offended.

“Using the word stalking in this context is a serious misuse,” he objected, raising both hands as if shielding himself from the mere suggestion. “And you should know that, working here. Stalking refers to persistent harassment, systematic pursuit and intimidation of a person that causes them fear, anxiety, and a sense of danger — it is definitely not the same as retrieving publicly accessible information from the internet…”

Penelope rolled her eyes dramatically.

“That’s just what people say. But the answer is yes, my love, I’ll happily stalk someone for you.”

Spencer felt like he couldn’t open his mouth and actually ask her to do it out loud. Deep down, he still thought it was stupid. But maybe he gave himself away — that flicker of gratitude in his eyes in response to her readiness. Penelope clapped her hands excitedly, spinning toward the screen.

“Who’s the lucky one? Kidding, you don’t even have to tell me. I know who it is.”

He scoffed at her confidence — how could she possibly know?

 “I bet you’re wrong…” His expression fell the moment Garcia pulled up the exact name he’d intended to give her in the first place. He pressed his lips into a tight line. “Okay, yes, that’s who I meant, but it’s not what you think!”

 “Sweetie, there’s no need to explain anything to me. I get it completely, even if you don’t get it yet.”

 He opened his mouth to disagree, only to find himself stalled by his own words. Especially that second part. He stayed quiet for a long moment, turning them over in his mind. What brought him back was her next question.

 “Tell me what you want to know.”

 He shrugged, genuinely unsure.

“I don’t know. I mean, it’s not like I want any sensitive, private information or anything I couldn’t ask about myself…”

 “Mhmm, just like I thought. Ex-lovers.”

 He quickly started shaking his head.

 “No… I mean… not exactly…you’re the one who suggested—”

 “Wait, did you know she used to be a model?”

Until now sitting with his back fully pressed against the chair’s backrest, Spencer jumped up so fast he nearly smashed his nose on the computer screen. Penelope didn’t even tease him, which indicated she was just as surprised. In the heavy silence, barely blinking, they watched an ad for a lip makeup line from about ten years ago. A brand small enough that they didn’t use real celebrities, but big enough that it was…impressive.

But Spencer wasn’t silent because he was impressed. He was silent, head slightly tilted to the side and lips parted just a little, because he had just realized he had never seen—or even wondered about—how she used to look. Younger, with a different hairstyle and even a different gaze, less experienced and less relentless, but still carrying plenty of confidence. Just not as much as now.

For the record, he also had to admit she was very attractive. But that part hadn’t changed.

Penelope mouthed wow—just the movement of her lips. Or maybe she had said it out loud, but he was slightly dazed, meaning focused on something else, and only registered the movement, not the sound. Either way, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, catching herself.

“Right. You asked about her ex-lovers.”

Spencer was immediately snapped out of his daze—meaning focus.

“I didn’t!” he protested, which, technically, was true. She had been the one to bring it up; he’d just failed to shut it down. But he didn’t want the responsibility for it sticking to him. Garcia had already gotten back to the keyboard when he went on. “I didn’t ask about her ex-lovers, that’s just your projection. Honestly, the last thing I’m interested in is her—”

“Oh, she was engaged once,” she cut in.

Reid froze.

“What happened to her fiancé?” slipped out of him before he could stop it.

Penelope gave him a sideways look, mockingly.

“Right. The last thing you’re interested in.”

“Oh, come on. You were so happy to help me stalk her, so now at least do it right and tell me what happened to her fiancé.”

 “Ouch, no need to bite. I’m trying to find out! Believe it or not, she’s my friend too and I’m also curious.” She opened some page in the browser. Suddenly, she paused, one finger hovering over the mouse. She turned slowly to Spencer. “We are disgustingly nosy, aren’t we?”

 “We…” Spencer hesitated, feeling like Garcia kind of had a point. But his curiosity won. “Maybe a little. Who isn’t. So what about the fiancé?”

 “Look, that’s them at his sister’s wedding.” All of Penelope’s moral hesitation evaporated as she showed him a photo. “I mean, the fiancé. And here they are together.”

They both went silent for a moment, judging. Eventually, Spencer gathered himself enough to form a truly eloquent, thoughtful sentence.

 “Compared to her… he kind of looks like…a loser.”

 “He lowkey looks like you,” said Penelope at almost the same time, apparently not hearing his previous comment. He gave her a look, which she ignored. His eyes went back to the screen, to the photo of them with their arms around each other, but this time he focused on the man beside her, absolutely disagreeing with his friend’s remark.

That guy looked nothing like him. Sure, he was tall, had brown eyes and a slender frame, but other than that his hair was darker. Two completely different people. As he analyzed their similarities, Garcia kept rambling.

 “You know, I’ve been out for drinks with her a few times and judging by the kind of guys who always hit on her, I was convinced her type was more…chunky guys, you know what I mean. Oh Reid, I feel bad that I found this. She never told me she was engaged, probably didn’t want to talk about it. I wonder what happened. Did they break up or… wait, you don’t think he… oh whew, haha, he’s alive and well. Look, he has a labrador now. So they broke up… WAIT!”

Penelope leaned toward the screen, her face suddenly tense. Spencer jumped in his seat.

 “What is it?”

 “Did you know she has a husband now… wait, is that the same guy…?”

A cold sweat flooded not just the back of Reid’s neck, but also his spine, ribs, and  even heels. He became cold sweat. He shook his head quickly, desperately trying to steer Garcia away from that thought.

 “You know, you were absolutely right, we shouldn’t be digging through her past like this, I’m really not comfortable with it…”

He trailed off — it was already too late. Penelope turned to him, jaw dropped in shock, eyes full of disbelief, accusation, and a clear demand for explanation.

*

Flowers and coffee.

Flowers and her favorite coffee.

That should do the trick, right?

Okay, Spencer wasn’t deluding himself—it wouldn’t. He was just hoping, really hoping, that when she inevitably decided to murder him, she’d at least do it in a not-particularly-brutal way. But seriously, if he delivered the news gently…okay, no, she’d still be furious. There was no avoiding it.

Spencer stepped into her lab after putting it off and standing outside the door for so long that the coffee he’d brought her was nearly cold. She was busy working, so she didn’t even notice as he approached, slowed, and finally stopped just behind her. A bit of her blouse was sticking out from under her lab coat—it was almost exactly the same color as the dress she’d been wearing in that photo with her ex-fiancé. Funny, that this was what he thought of right now...

“How much longer are you planning to stand there breathing down my neck?” she hissed, not showing even the slightest sign that she’d noticed him. But she had.

Startled, he stepped back half a pace. He cleared his throat—none of the twenty versions of this conversation he’d rehearsed had started like this. Think, Reid, think...

“I brought you something,” he said, just to break the strange silence that had fallen between them. They weren’t entirely alone in the room, but none of the other chemists paid them the slightest bit of attention.

The woman paused at his words, then slowly turned around, resting both hands on the counter behind her, raising an eyebrow even before she saw what he was holding. Once she did, her brows only went slightly higher.

“What’s the occasion?”

Spencer swallowed—her eye contact made him even more nervous. He couldn’t…he couldn’t just blurt out hey, I brought you flowers so you won’t kill me for the fact that I accidentally spilled to Penelope that we got drunk married in Vegas…

He decided to start vague. Then ease into the specifics.

“What’s the occasion…Well, I realized I never thanked you for last time. When I got beaten up and you…took care of me.”

Technically, he really hadn’t thanked her, so he sounded very sincere. Because he was sincere, with the small problem that this wasn’t the whole story. And because he sounded so sincere, he felt like with every word he said…her expression softened just a little more, showing not the slightest trace of suspicion.

Internally, Spencer was panicking.

He wanted her to be suspicious! He wanted her to be skeptical! He’d rather she were in a bad mood from the start, so the change that was about to happen wouldn’t be so abrupt!

A heavy feeling was crushing his chest.

“So, that’s what it’s for. Thank you.” First, he handed her the coffee, so she could set it down on the counter behind her, and then the bouquet.

Red roses—probably had some symbolic meaning, but he hadn’t cared when buying them. He just wanted them to be her favorite color and ridiculously gorgeous. 

She accepted them with an unreadable expression. The bouquet was so large she had to tilt it to one side so it wouldn’t block his face while they talked. Her head tilted slightly as well.

“Thanks accepted,” she replied with a nod.

It wasn’t a dry response. In fact, her tone was unusually soft. But also expectant.

Expecting whatever else he was about to say.

He drew a breath.

"You look…luminous, sophisticated, truly breathtaking today," he added, eyes wide from the stress, not blinking. “Penelope knows we got married.”

Her arms dropped sharply to her sides, bouquet and all, and a petal from one of the roses floated to the floor.

“Oh, I fucking knew it!” she shouted at him, punctuating it with a stomp of her heel. For his own safety, Spencer took another step back. “I knew the moment you started complimenting me. Before that, I was still holding on to the delusion that the flowers were actually out of the goodness of your heart and gratitude…”

 “...because they are out of the goodness of my heart and gratitude—”

“Shut up. Shut up, don’t you dare interrupt me or correct me right now.” She pointed a warning finger at him. But after a moment, her hand curled into a fist, and her eyelids clenched as she took a calming breath. Without opening her eyes, she ground out through clenched teeth, “How did it happen that Penelope—whom I obviously love, but who can’t keep anything a secret—found out?”

Spencer raised both hands in a defensive gesture, his brain spinning and steaming, doing everything it could not to reveal the actual circumstances of how it all happened.

“By accident—really, I… let it slip,” he lied, hoping the desperation in his voice would mask the lack of truth, and that she was too angry to act as a lie detector. “Honestly, it was my fault, I’m fully aware, I’m an idiot, and I’m sorry—”

“And you really thought that some stupid flowers would make me not angry?”

“Well, flowers and coffee—”

He had to duck to avoid getting hit in the face with them.

“I thought maybe you’d be less angry!” he explained. “And don’t hit me with them, they didn’t do anything…!”

“That’s exactly why I’m hitting you, dumbass.”

But that was, in fact, the last display of such open aggression toward him. Sure, she was still furious, tense and ticking but Spencer, watching from what he considered a safe distance, felt slightly more secure.

For a moment, silence fell between them.

She leaned her lower back against the counter, arms tightly crossed over her chest.

“You know we have to do something about this, right?”

Spencer nodded, terrified that saying anything might reset their relationship to what it had been two minutes and forty-one seconds ago.

“I already know what,” she declared. “And you, as compensation for what you’ve done, are going to help me. Also, put those flowers in some water.”

Naturally, he did as he was told.

*

“This is weird.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have spilled, and we wouldn’t have to do this.”

“It’s still weird! I mean, we could’ve just politely asked her not to tell anyone. I’m almost certain she would’ve respected that…”

“Exactly—almost certain. And I want full certainty. So hush, I think she’s coming.”

Penelope stepped into the interrogation room where they’d arranged to meet her, glancing around uncertainly.

“Are we even allowed to be in here?”

Spencer gave her a reassuring—and at the same time apologetic—look, even though he wasn’t entirely sure they were allowed to be there either.

His companion didn’t even flinch.

“My dear Penelope, do you know why we wanted to see you here today?”

Garcia sat down on the opposite side of the table—right where they usually placed the people being interrogated. Though initially hesitant and reserved, she suddenly clasped her hands together with an impressively bold expression.

“As a matter of fact, I do know why you wanted to see me here,” she declared, her eyes darting between their faces. “Because even though on a daily basis you claim you don’t even like each other, you literally got married. And that’s not something normal people do. I mean—I love you two, and I’m rooting for you—but those are just the facts.”

Spencer was watching her profile as she listened to those words. He noticed she rolled her eyes at the I love you two, and I’m rooting for you part. But other than that, she didn’t seem particularly moved by what Penelope had said.

 Unlike him.

Reid had apparently needed to hear it from a third party to start actually wondering if, yeah, maybe it wasn’t entirely normal.

“I guess we’re not normal,” she said plainly, shrugging nonchalantly. Then suddenly she sighed and looked at the woman in front of her with something almost like tenderness. “Penelope, you know I love you, but I will murder you if you tell anyone. Just to be safe, I’ve prepared this.”

She reached into the front pocket of her lab coat and pulled out a document.

 “A nondisclosure agreement. Just a little incentive for you to keep quiet.”

Both Spencer and Penelope stared at her, completely baffled.

His confusion was layered with something else.

“You’re really embarrassed you married me, aren’t you?” slipped out of him.

She turned her head toward him—they locked eyes.

Garcia stood up nervously from her chair.

“Maybe I should give you two a moment—”

She was stopped with a quick hand gesture.

“I’m not embarrassed that I married you,” she said, looking at him sternly. She barely blinked. “I’m embarrassed by the circumstances. And the fact that we still haven’t dealt with it.”

“Well, if I recall correctly, it was a mutual decision.”

“A stupid decision. What were we even thinking?”

Spencer felt a strange, uncomfortable tension inside him, in her, and between them.

Penelope clearly felt it too, because she quickly pulled the document toward herself and signed it with an exaggerated flourish.

“There you go. And now I’m off. Nothing worse than getting stuck in the middle of a marital argument. Kisses!”

And just like that, she disappeared, leaving the two of them alone in the interrogation room.

For a moment, the silence was incredibly heavy. Spencer was used to silences like that. He’d conducted dozens, if not hundreds, of interrogations. But this was the first time the silence felt like his problem.

They stood across from each other on either side of the short table, which, given the size of the room, meant they were fairly close. He no longer stole uncertain glances at her profile—he stared openly now, with far too many questions about her sudden shift in how she was approaching the decision they had once made together.

“We should’ve gotten divorced right away,” she said coldly, turning her head but not her body toward him. “Then it wouldn’t have gotten so...too real.”

Too real. Spencer didn’t even get a chance to reflect on those words before she walked out of the room, leaving the two of them, him and the silence, behind. 

Too real. He didn’t understand those words, not even when he did think about them. Or rather, he understood their meaning, their connection, what they implied but he didn’t understand how they related to them.

And yet, as the next few minutes passed, he remembered that small stab of excitement when Garcia agreed to look her up for him and the other sharp pang when he stared at the photo of her with her ex fiancé and maybe, just maybe, he was finally starting to understand what the whole too real thing had meant.

[piggytfs]

(inspired by the one & only @fattystoriez, this is a prequel to Preston's 18th Birthday)

Travis had always prided himself on his ambition.

At eighteen, he already had a promising future ahead of him — a scholarship to a top university, a beautiful fiancée named Megan, and a baby boy only months away from being born. He planned to be the kind of father he never had growing up. His own father, Carl, had walked out on the family when Travis was still in diapers.

The night of his eighteenth birthday was supposed to be a celebration. Megan had planned a homecooked dinner and game night with Travis's mom and a few of their close friends. But everything changed when Carl showed up unannounced. A heavy fist thudded against the front door, and Travis was the first to answer.

It had been years since Travis had even heard his father’s name spoken, yet there Carl was, standing on the porch — he was a bald with a thick, dark beard. His huge, beachball sized gut had burst through the buttons on what must have once been a nice dress shirt, and the sour stink of beer and gas clung to him like a second skin. Travis focused on the sheer girth of the man, the way his massive belly jiggled as he drew in a ragged breath. Even his huge, hairy tits couldn't be contained by his XXL shirt.

“Travis,” Carl greeted with a gruff voice and a wide grin, exposing his yellowed teeth and exhaling the scent of cigarette smoke and fried food. “Figured I oughta be here for my boy’s big day.”

Travis barely managed to keep his disgust hidden as he frowned at the obese, raunchy man. Even after being told about his father’s betrayal, Travis liked to fantasize about who Carl actually was. As a kid, he imagined his dad was a police officer, or an astronaut. He liked to pretend Carl's job had been why he couldn't stick around, but the man standing in front of him looked more like a stereotype of a dirty plumber than anything else.

The truth was hard to come to terms with. Travis stared at the bloated man as his huge gut bounced and sloshed with lard, unable to be contained by his useless shirt. His father was nothing like the man Travis planned to become. This man was an obese, bald loser with hygiene issues and an a smoking addiction.

Still, something in Carl’s intense gaze made Travis's stomach twist. He could hear it gurgling.

Travis needed to hear Carl's side of the story, so he quickly stepped onto the porch and closed the front door behind him with a quiet thud. The air was thick with unspoken tension, and the meaty stench of a fart seemed to orbit around the massive man he struggled to view as his father. "Mom isn't going to allow you inside, but you drove here, right? We can go to the diner together. I'll at least hear you out."

The pickup truck the two squeezed into seemed to amplify all the smells, like belches and farts were embedded into the old leather cushions. The thick girth of Carl pressed against Travis, shoving the slender teen against the car door as he found himself literally stuck between a rock and a very fat place. Travis was able to notice that they had a similar eye color and the same dark, curly brown hair. Only, Travis still had it on his head, and Carl had it around his chubby, sagging face. The similarities ended there: an athletic jock and an obese slob driving in silence.

Once they arrived at the diner and received their orders, they passed the first few minutes with awkward small talk. Carl barely touched his towering stack of maple drenched pancakes, watching Travis intently. Travis found himself eating eagerly, as if he hasn’t already eaten the breakfast his mother had cooked only a half hour ago. Finally, as the meal wound down, Carl leaned in, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers up Travis’s spine. The musk of his father rolled over him in a thick wave. “You ever wonder why I left, boy?”

Travis swallowed hard. He was so close to finally having an answer, but opening up about his feelings was a daunting task. He had always longed for a father, but was it worth it to stoop this low? “I figured you just didn’t care enough to stay.”

Carl chuckled, his fat gut pressed against the table and making it shake, but there was no humor in the sound. “Not exactly. You see, men in our family… we got a curse. A blessing, really. But it don’t matter how hard you fight it, how much you wanna be different. It’s in your blood.”

Travis frowned, having to clear his throat as his voice began to take on the same hoarse quality as his father's. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Carl pulled something from his pocket—a grease stained, crumpled old photograph. Travis hesitated before taking it. The man in the image was almost unrecognizable, but the longer he stared, the more it all started to make sense. It was Carl in the photo, younger, leaner, and with a striking resemblance to Travis himself. It was shocking to see how much a human's body could change over the years.

“That was me at eighteen,” Carl said, his hand rubbing circles on his engorged, hairy belly. It was jutting out from his dress shirt like a hairy beachball, begging to be worshipped. “Before it happened.”

Travis scoffed, about to throw the photo the ground when a sharp pain twisted in his gut. He doubled over, a cold sweat breaking out across his body as he started to tremble. The gurgling was back again, a tightness in his stomach that made him feel like he needed to pass gas.

“What the—?” The words died in his throat as heat surged through his limbs. His fingers were shaking, his vision blurred. And his muscles, once lean and toned, tingled—then they began to soften. Like someone was pumping him full of dough. His chest felt itchy before the firm definition of his pecs sank into soft, pliant flesh. Dark curls of hair started to poke through his skin. It didn’t take long before the front of his shirt was stretched by a pair of saggy man boobs. Travis’s arms thickened, his lean biceps swallowed by layers of fat.

And that was only the beginning.

He gasped as his stomach pushed outward, stretching his shirt until the fabric groaned and began to tear at the seams. Rolls upon rolls of flesh surged forth, his abs dissolving beneath an avalanche of lard. Every trace of his old physique was being swallowed by a body that began to look increasingly like Carl's. His thighs ballooned, pressing against each other. His once-taut ass was spread out and sagging against the chair beneath him. Travis felt his asshole twitching between his swampy crack. His fat ass cheeks jiggled as he squeezed out a hot, sputtering fart against his will.

PRFFFFFFFFFFFFT!

The smell came next, and it was noxious. A deep, pungent musk seemed to ooze from his pores—thick, sour, inescapable. He reeked of body odor, stale sweat, and something heavier, something rotten.

“No—No, this isn’t—” His voice was deeper now, rougher, his breath coming in ragged, phlegmy wheezes. His vision cleared just enough to catch his reflection in the diner window—a bloated, thirty plus slob stared back at Travis. His sharp jaw had disappeared beneath jowls, his youthful face buried beneath a double chin and stubble. Sweat had soaked through his now ruined dress shirt. The flimsy fabric clung to his hairy gut for dear life. His belly looked even larger than Carl’s.

The buttons didn't take long to start flying off.

Travis stank. And worse—he was getting used to it. He breathed in deep, his shrinking cock twitching as it rubbed against his soft, fat body.

Carl laughed, clapping Travis on the shoulder. “Ain’t no fightin’ it, son. We were meant for this life. Me, my daddy before me, and now you.”

Travis wanted to scream, to fight, but his body was betraying him. A deep rumble built in his gut before he let out a thick, meaty belch. The sheer release sent shudders of disgusting pleasure through him. His cock—once proud and athletic—twitched beneath his huge gut, crushed under his fat pad. He tried to cling to his identity, but his memories of the old Travis were fading fast. He wasn't strong enough to stop himself from burping and farting them all out,

PRFFFFFFFFFT! BELCH.

Megan. His unborn son. His future.

All of it—

Gone.

A new hunger replaced the old ambitions. The thought of responsibility, of fatherhood, of discipline, felt foreign to the hog now. A greasy, gluttonous craving overtook everything else. His stomach gurgled loudly, demanding more. Without thinking, he reached for the pancakes Carl was ignoring, shoveling sugary bites into his mouth, moaning at the taste. His nub of a cock leaked pre down his fat leg. He was so happy he couldn't help but jiggle for his Daddy.

Carl leaned back, grinning as he squeezed and played with his own gut. “That’s my boy.”

As Travis sat there, gorging himself and flaunting his size, his past life faded into a distant haze. He wasn’t meant to be a father. He wasn’t meant to amount to anything of note. "Oh, Daddy. Thank you." He was only meant for this—to be a lazy, filthy slob with no worries beyond when his Daddy would provide his next meal. The two of them were now bonded for life, and the old Travis disappeared without a trace.

And the best part?

He was absolutely in love.

"This was the best birthday yet, Daddy. Yer gonna have to let me repay ya." Maybe the other diner guests should have been shocked to see the obese, filthy father and son began to fondle and play with one another in public. Their huge bellies met across the table and rubbed together as they moaned. It seemed that Travis had some latent magic of his own, the same blood curse his father warned him about. The hornier Travis got, the more the diner begun to heat up. And the more the guests became hotter and hornier and hungrier, too.

Travis heard the clothes ripping as men swelled to epic proportions.

And he heard the grunting sound of pig-like men shoveling food down their throats.

From a visiting businessman to the diner's very own chef, no man was safe from the magic that Carl and Travis unleashed.

And Travis was too busy sucking on his Daddy's fat tits to notice.

[neonghostlights]

Leaky Pipes

A/N: a repost from my old blog. This one is one of my favorites.

Plumber!Eddie Munson X f!Reader

Warnings: unprotected piv, fluff, 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI

The knock on the front door had you jumping up from your seat. You smoothed the front of your sundress down, white with little yellow flowers. Your husband's favorite.

You took one deep breath, peeking into the mirror that hung by the doorway to make sure you were still put together. You quickly wiped at the lipstick smeared on the side of your mouth from when your husband had kissed you before he left the house earlier.

You opened the door to find the local plumber with his red metal toolbox clutched tightly between his hands. He had his dark curls pulled back into a low bun. His collared work shirt has the name Eddie on an ironed patch on his chest.

You didn’t know plumbers could be that cute.

“Hello, ma’am. I’m here to fix your pipes,” he said with a small smirk as you bit your lips and looked him up and down all the way from his steel toe boots to his big brown eyes.

“S-sure. Come in,” you said as he stepped aside for him to enter, fiddling with the ring on your left hand.

He let out a low whistle when he saw the inside of your home.

“Your husband must really love you to get you a house like this,” he commented.

“I guess,” you said shyly, twiddling with your hands in front of you.

Eddie hummed in response as he watched you.

“Kitchen’s this way,” you said, gesturing for him to follow you.

Eddie whistled as he climbed under your kitchen sink where the leak was. He laid on his back, his head completely disappeared inside the cabinet.

You eyed the way he laid with his feet pressed against the floor. From this angle you could see the bulge straining in his pants from where he was worked up already.

He really did look good.

And it gave you an idea.

You slowly back away, the flesh of your ass meeting the kitchen table. You slowly hiked yourself up to sit on it. Praying that it wouldn’t collapse underneath you.

When the table proved to be steady you slowly parted your legs slightly. The air met your pantiless cunt, making you shiver slightly in anticipation.

Your sundress hiked up your thighs, giving Eddie the perfect view if he would just look up.

“You been a plumber for long?” You ask sweetly.

“Not long. Actually just started,” you hear him answer without looking at you.

“What was that?” You asked.

He lifted his head to answer you again, just to be met with the sight of you exposed for him.

His eyes went wide as his hands froze on whatever he was working on.

The wrench clatters to the ground as he pulls himself out from under the sink. Instead of standing, he pushes himself to his knees.

You thought you were in charge of this, that you would call the shots. But all of that went out the window as you watched Eddie crawl towards you on all fours. His eyes never leave the place between your legs.

He looked up with you with blown pupils. His eyes were almost completely black with lust.

He took a finger, dragging it through your folds slowly. When he collected enough, he held it up in front of the both of you, your slick covering his long fingers, glistening under the lights.

He tsked. “Looks like you sprung another leak, baby? You want me to fix that?”

You nodded quickly, wanting him to hurry up and touch you again.

Instead of touching you like you wanted, he stuck his fingers in his mouth, licking off your wetness with a moan.

Your pussy clenched at the sight, his moan sending shockwaves straight through you without him even touching you.

He lowered his head slowly, teasing you. Some of his loose curls tickled the inside of your bare thighs.

“Stop teasing me,” you begged before he licked a big stripe up your pussy. Your hips jolted forward, pushing towards his face more.

His fingers dug into your hips, pulling your ass forward till you were nearly off the table. You gripped onto the sids tightly, holding on for the ride. Eddie attacked your pussy with his mouth, moaning from your taste.

“Taste so good, baby,” he muttered into your skin. “This what you do? Hm? Wait for your husband to leave for work so you can fuck the plumber?”

You couldn’t help the sly smile that grew across your face. You knew the answer he wanted to hear. But it would be so fun to give him the opposite.

“All the time,” you said with a grin, trying to hide the laugh in your voice.

Eddie looked up at you, pausing his descent back to where you needed him. He looked up at you, his eyes dark. His mouth set in a grim line.

It happened so fast you didn’t have the chance to see it coming. A quick slap followed by the burning pain right on your clit. You gasped, moving your hips closer to him again instead of pulling away. You were nearly falling off the table now. More than you had been before.

Eddie stood quickly, wasting no time wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling you up. He marched quickly, carrying you to your bedroom and throwing you down on top of the covers.

He stood over you, making sure you watched him as he pulled his pants down under his ass, revealing just enough of him to do what he wanted to do.

His hands latched onto your ankles, dragging you to the end of the bed and spreading you wide. He glanced at your face, a silent check in. You nodded your head slightly. He pushed the bottom of your dress up to your waist while he pulled down the top for your tits to spill out. Eddie hummed in approval as he ran a thumb over your peaked nipples.

He positioned your ass right on the edge of the mattress, lifting your ankles and placing them on his shoulders. He rubbed your leg softly in circles, pressing a quick kiss to your right ankle. It was tender, until he was pushing into you. You moaned, arching your back.

“Fuck,” Eddie groaned before pulling out and pushing back in until his balls were flush against your skin.

The sound of wet slapping filled the room as Eddie pounded into you, abandoning the grip on one of your legs to work your clit.

You felt like you were leaving your body and taking Eddie with you.

The burning desire in your gut grew with the intensity of it all. It felt like your body was on fire as he fucked in to harder. Your body shifting up the bed with each of his thrusts.

“Harder. Please,” you moaned, doing your best to rock your hips back to him.

“You feel so good. You always feel so good. You’re fucking mine,” Eddie babbled as he picked up his pace. You gripped the wrist of the hand that was working your clit.

His hair fell completely out of the bun, framing his face wildly.

You always came so quick when you and him did this.

“Eddie,” you whimpered. “I’m gonna…”

“Fuck. Me too, baby. Fucking come for me,” he said through is teeth, his body straining as he tried not to blow before you.

The thread inside of you snapped. Your back pushed off the bed without warning as you said his name over and over until you were hoarse. You pulsed around him, squeezing him tightly as he stilled, spilling inside of you.

You both stayed still for a second, catching your breath and thinking about what just happened. Eddie squeezed your thighs as he lowered your legs off of his shoulders.

“You okay, baby?” He asked you, still breathing heavily from his exertion.

“I’m great,” you panted with a smile. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replied, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips.

Eddie pulled out of you slowly. Both of your releases dripped out of you and onto the bed.

Eddie climbed up the bed, reaching into his nightstand and digging around. He slipped his ring back on his finger, flexing his hand once it was on.

You looked at him with a raised eyebrow as you crawled up beside him and laid your head on his chest.

“Felt weird not having it on,” he admitted. “Next time we do this I’m just gonna leave it on.”

You laughed, trailing a finger along the skin of his arm. He pulled you in tightly beside him.

“Maybe next time I can be the plumber,” you said with a wink, picturing the same scenario with the roles reversed.

Eddie laughed, probably already imagining your next role playing adventure. Your husband's imagination was an endless void. Who knew what he would come up with next.

“Hey,” you said, sitting up in your shared bed. “How about you use those tools in there to actually fix the leak under the sink?”

Eddie rolled his eyes lightheartedly and slapped the flesh of your ass with his free hand. “Yes, dear.”

[mad-hatter-memes]

Weird Duolingo Sentences

A collection of dialogue prompts of the more off-kilter sentences from the app "Duolingo". Feel free to adjust quotes as necessary.

"He says he is a model, but really, he is a priest."

"I still hear the voices."

"I don't love you, I only love mayonnaise."

"Where can we hide the bodies?"

"Look, [Name]! You don't have pants on!"

"He informed the jury that he was "too pretty to go to jail.""

"There is your wife, with a man, behind the restaurant."

"There's a problem, he wants to come with his cow."

"That is not water, it is yellow."

"Did you come to kill us?"

"I thought it was an apple store, but they only sold computers."

"This blonde man has stupid ideas."

"I'm getting electrocuted! And I like it!"

"There is a hand coming out of the toilet."

"Love is blind, but the neighbors ain't.'

"Do fish drink water?"

"There is somebody's head in the fridge."

"We got divorced, because my cat was too cute."

"Are we studying the fish? Or is the fish studying us?"

"Who is more attractive, Snoopy or Yoda?"

"If you are kind, you will get a lemon."

"Are two half brothers one brother?"

"What do we say to the god of death?"

"I want to live in your shoes, so I can be with you every step of the way."

"Eat my crepes, I didn't poison them."

"Why are you taking your shirt off?"

"One day, you'll wake up and wonder where your life has gone."

"My relationships generally end because of me."

"This person says he is a wizard, but I don't believe him."

"Why are you afraid of plumbers?"

"I'm the one who killed him, but I'll never confess!"

"My students learn slowly, cows are more intelligent!"

"You have shoes and you're going to give them to me."

"I laughed because you looked like an angry crocodile."

"What is tea? What is water? Who am I?"

"They're coming in through the windows!"

"What were you doing with my boyfriend?"

"Our food hasn't killed anybody yet!"

[dietplant1]

THE IDOL'S ASSISTANT AU IS HERE!

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Welcome to the Idol's Assistant AU, or SMG4:IA-AU for short! Here, all basic information will be shared, and the post is put under its own tag for easy access. If you wanna learn about my silly little AU, check out the QnA below!

Q: What IS the Idol's Assistant AU?

A: The IA-AU is my own take on a possible redemption arc for Mr. Puzzles as well as speculation for what the future holds, taking place in the aftermath of Mr. Puzzles being released from the facility and finding a job as an assistant. He's a bit of a shell of who he used to be-- drowning in guilt, on probation indefinitely, and awkwardly maneuvering social situations with his coworkers-- But he has the support of his bubbly employer to keep him going. If only he didn't have that pesky plumber bothering him each step of the way...

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Q: Who are all the other characters on the poster?

A: Those are all of Mr. Puzzles' coworkers and his boss! We have--

Kotone: The TV head in the background, Puzzles' boss, and the idol in the title! Kotone is a fun and hyper jpop idol heavily based off of popular characters like Hatsune Miku. She was originally created by an inventor to entertain rich nobles, but after many years she has made it her goal to make as many smiles as she can. Sure, she's a bit naive and seen as crazy for hiring a 'lunatic' like Puzzles, but she bets her wires that he is full of potential!

Passionfruit: The girl with the space buns, and the designer behind all of Kotone's costumes! She's a bit clumsy and awkward and doesn't really know how to feel about Puzzles, however she is willing to give him a chance thanks to Kotone's confidence in him. Passion and Puzzles have to work together often, anyways, since Passion has to tell him whenever she needs more supplies.

Raven: The yellow-eyed cat and the security guard of the studio! Raven acts as the protector of all employees present and, while being the biggest skeptic of Mr. Puzzles initially, soon puts him under her scope as well and ensures he doesn't overwork himself too much. She's also Kotone's bodyguard at all events and is her wife. Lesbians ✨

Nimbus Cloud: The cloud guy on the far left, and Kotone's choreographer! He's sort of in the middle between Raven and Passionfruit on the skepticism scale, and also acts a sassy voice of reason that brings Mr. Puzzles back to reality. The two men clash at times due to similar yet different attitudes, however their bond becomes one of the strongest within the music studio. Kotone's official social medias are a two person project between them.

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Q: Are SMG4 and his friends involved at all?

A: Yes! Mr. Puzzles is forced to encounter them both individually and as a group multiple times. Whether it be when he's out running errands or accompanying Kotone to an event, he simply can't seem to avoid the crew for more than a week or two. It only gets worse whenever he notices that Mario has begun to follow him and attempt to strike conversations with him. Mr. Puzzles has no idea why he's being so friendly when it used to be an on sight brawl before, with his frustrations building further as he begins to enjoy their run-ins with each other.

Another important thing to note is that Kotone eventually gets a gig at the Showgrounds for a small music festival SMG4 decided to host. That is when the crew learns about Mr. Puzzles' job, and it is the first time he has entered the Showgrounds in years. He hates every single second of it and yet he bites his tongue because Kotone is a huge SMG4 fangirl, meaning her dreams are coming true. He will gladly allow the pointed stares of SMG4 and Co. if it means that the first person to truly give him a chance is happy.

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Q: Do I smell Marware?

A: Yes. Yes you do. This bad boy has Marware and Bowuigi and SMG34 all in one neat n' gay package.

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Q: What if I have a question and it isn't on here?

A: You can ask questions in my ask box, or comment here! I'd love to answer any questions anyone may have!