Bruce Wayne is kidnapped by Poison Ivy. Superman comes to the rescue.

Roy nodded. “I was wondering...you ever think about switching this up?” Jason’s brow furrowed. “Switching what up?” “This.” Roy’s lazy gesture looked like it might have indicated the two of them if he had bothered to lift his hand or move his wrist at all. “The little kinky thing we’re doing.” “You want to spank me?” Jason asked, smirking. Roy smiled back, half-hidden by the pillow. “There is nothing I don’t want to do to that fine ass of yours, Jaybird,” he said. “But not spanking necessarily, unless that’s what you want. There’s a lot of other stuff we could do. I guess I was just wondering if you ever thought about subbing in general. I think you might like it.” - Spoiler: He likes it.

Jazz meets her soulmate in, of all places, Park Row. Or as the locals call it, Crime Alley. Seems about right for her life, she decides as she kicks the shit out of the guy who was trying to stab him for his wallet fifteen seconds ago. Her soulmate watches her curiously, seeming unconcerned by the fuss, and takes a sip of his smoothie. Also seems about right, for her soulmate. A guy who got too nervous when necessary violence happened was not going to survive Thanksgiving in Amity Park, much less Christmas. Well, it is Gotham.

Danny’s looking at him like he’s crazy. His hair’s dried up into a mess of waves, and there’s some tomato seeds on the corner of his mouth. “You just bailed me out of jail. And you think this is a good idea?” “I don’t have bad ideas, Fenton. And like you’ve just said, I have collateral on you.” “So you’re blackmailing me into pretending to date you?” Tim shrugs. “Or you could just sign the NDA.” OR Danny's trying to recover all the shards to an entity's chalice so that it'll stop destroying the zone while tensions rise amongst his subjects- and trying to finish high school. Tim's juggling his case load, his work as CEO, and does not have time to be embroiled in a sex scandal right now. If that means he has to pretend to date a very suspicious heir to a rival company, then so be it. It's a mutually beneficial relationship. So what if Tim's becoming a little too intrigued by the illusive, powerful Phantom? So what if Danny can't stand the Justice League for leaving him to deal with all of Amity's problems when he was just 14? That's a superhero thing. And their fake boyfriend has no clue that they're a superhero.

He shouldn't be the one to explain this shit to him. It should be someone he trusts, someone who hasn't tried to fuck him up and fuck him over so many times, someone he actually likes. But he's here and he's asking Jason now and it occurs to Jason that Tim's lost so many people, maybe he really is the only one he can come to.

Tim didn't mean it, really. He misspoke, that was all, when he told Jason to fuck him. But maybe it was a bit of a happy accident, and maybe he meant it a little bit.

When Danny gets a scholarship to Gotham University, it's a chance for a new life; a chance to do everything he never could back in Amity. One of those things is exploring his sexuality with whatever willing partners come his way. He honestly didn't mean to sleep his way through most of the Wayne family. Nor did he intend to fall in love with a vigilante crime lord, but hey, that's what happens in Gotham. It's all fine until he's invited to dinner at Wayne Manor.

Darcy thinks maybe her new intern is a slut. Like–a big one. Big ol’ slut. Both metaphorically and literally, since he's 6’3” of Kansas beefcake and maybe the literal only human being alive who has a build remotely comparable to Thor's. So like, a billion steroids or secretly an alien, Darcy’s assuming.

“He’s traumatized from being brainwashed and imprisoned and can’t submit to an alpha with combat training without either having a panic attack or straight up trying to kill them,” Sam says bluntly. “He’s detoxing off illegal suppressants before we can put him on new ones. Dr. Cho was going to cycle off hers for him, but he burned through faster than we expected.” “So . . . he’s in heat, and there’s nobody around he doesn’t see as a threat?” Darcy summarizes, frowning. “Long story short, yes,” Sam confirms. “. . . and long story long?” Darcy asks skeptically, genuinely unable to help herself. He tells them. “Jesus Christ!”

Geralt doesn’t wear his courting jewelry—the medallion is apparently a witcher thing, not an omega one—and Jaskier supposes that makes sense. Geralt leads a very active life, and probably saves the jewelry for situations it won’t run the constant risk of getting ruined in. Certainly a nice set of earrings would be a lot more fragile than the plain studs he wears instead. A lot of omegas don’t wear their courting jewelry day to day, anyway, or at least not most of it. Geralt’s hardly unusual in that. It’s a bit of a shame, though, because Jaskier’d like to see him in it.

Quinlan can’t take it anymore, and if he sticks around for one more minute, he’s going to have a reaction that’s entirely inappropriate given the discussion that’s happening above his head.

The bard is an omega, young and pretty but poorly received by the tavern crowd. He smells like a stray, is barely older than a pup, and isn’t very good at his work. Geralt isn't interested in him besides that, but for some unfathomable reason the other is interested in him. He lets the bard follow him mostly just because getting rid of him would be more annoying, and maybe because he pities him a bit. But it's not going to be that interesting a job, he's already sure. There's no harm in letting a human hang around. Of course, then they get kidnapped by vengeful elves. So . . . fuck.

“You’re sharing a room?” Yennefer says, eyebrows raising. Hm. There’s a surprise. She’d have expected Geralt to want privacy and Jaskier to end up staying up all night and up some farmgirl’s skirt. “It’s cheaper,” Jaskier says. “Or it’s a habit. I don’t know. What do you care?” “I’m just surprised,” Yennefer says. “I thought you two weren’t having sex.” Geralt chokes on his ale.

Jaskier’s just debating how much trouble he’s actually in when Geralt, marvelously, talks them out of it. After that, well . . . Jaskier still wants to eat him very badly, but he supposes it’d be a bit ungrateful of him. Geralt isn’t very impressed with the song he writes for him, unfortunately—which, rude—but doesn’t try to run off and leave him either, so . . . Well, Jaskier’s a bit smitten. A delicious-smelling witcher who can talk his way out of being murdered is very impressive. And he always has wanted a pet.

“You wouldn’t say no to a woman with bread in her skirt, would you?” the bard says.

Jaskier falls in love with a witcher. It’s a bad idea, of course, but he falls in love with a lot of bad ideas.

“What will happen to me now?” Anakin asks much later, voice very quiet as they make brief, fleeting eye contact in front of Qui-Gon’s blazing pyre. Obi-Wan doesn’t have an answer for him. ----- “I swear to you, Anakin Skywalker, no one is going to own you while I breathe,” she tells him fiercely.

"Superboy will be staying at Mount Justice for now," Bruce says. He doesn't look at Clark as he says it. Clark doesn't look at him either. ". . . Mount Justice is a cave," Captain Marvel says, clearly even more bewildered. "And Superboy is solar-powered. Isn't that kind of . . . I don't know . . . mean?" "'Mean'?" Clark repeats in disbelief before he can think better of it.

“Repeat that,” Tim says slowly. Kon gives him a defensive look. “I panicked, okay?” he repeats. “And ‘panicking’ meant you decided to kidnap . . . how many kids, exactly?”

"Crap!" the food truck worker shrieks in alarm. "Don't hurt him, Superman, he's just a kid!" Clark . . . pauses, then looks up from the kid that he is currently pinning into the street as said kid struggles underneath him. "'Hurt him'?" he asks in reflexive confusion, and then realizes how batting a teenager around like a person-shaped cat toy and pinning him to the street hard enough to crack it probably actually looks to an outside observer. . . . um. Whoops. "Um," he starts awkwardly, and then the kid slips his pin while he's distracted and throws his arms around his neck with a gleeful laugh and a bright grin. "Dad!" he crows triumphantly, and hugs Clark harder than literally anyone has ever hugged him before.

“I need you,” Tucker blurts immediately as he bursts into the living room where he left Kon half an hour ago. Or maybe two hours ago. Hopefully not more than three . . . ? “Like in a sexy way?” Kon asks, sounding halfheartedly hopeful as he looks up from his position draped across the couch with one of Tucker’s mom’s blander gossip magazines, where he’s clearly been bored out of his mind. Tucker will make that up to him later, definitely, but right now– “Like in a rogue attack way,” he says, and Kon makes a face.

Look, the Batman may be an eldritch inhuman cryptid, but he still needs an emotional support sidekick, and Tim Drake still doesn't have any consistent adult supervision in his life. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ A cryptid!Batman AU where Superman has explained to newly-cloned Superboy that the Batman is a terrifying eldritch horror given human(-ish) form and Superboy is therefore under the impression that Robin is going to be into weird shit like being brought damning evidence and deadly criminals and dangerous problems to solve and will appreciate being slightly stalked. The Bat-cryptids stalk everybody, right? So it’s like their love language, Superboy figures as he’s collecting a bunch of random shiny trinkets to leave out for Robin like he thinks he's a magpie or a crow or something, and maybe also some nice pebbles to cover the penguin angle just in case. Just stuff he might like to decorate the cryptid-nest Superboy is assuming he has with. Superboy is fully correct about Robin appreciating the weird shit and shiny trinkets and being reciprocally stalked, actually, but now Tim has to figure out how to explain that he's actually just a normal human teenager who just decided that his local protection spirit needed an emotional support sidekick before it could get corrupted into a local vengeance spirit. Though he does like the shinies, please don’t assume this means he doesn’t like the shinies or wants a normal relationship with, god forbid, boundaries about not stalking each other or whatever.

"There's no point in killing Superboy," Match says reasonably. "It's not like you'd care if he died." "The Agenda thinks I wouldn't care if Superboy died?" Superman asks incredulously, just staring at him. "Why, because he's a clone?" "Because I reported back my interactions with you when I was pretending to be him," Match corrects, puzzled by the vehemence of the response. "And also the lack thereof." "What?" Superman says, still just staring.

The wedding’s going to be tonight, presumably so no one involved has time to get cold feet, which gives Geralt just enough time to clean up and get the dirt off his armor and overthink every tiny little detail of this arrangement.

“That,” Quinlan says, faintly frazzled, “is not how the Force works.”

The armor is just making Jaster colder.

Despite the council's objections, Qui-Gon takes a new and promising padawan before Feemor is a made a Knight. Left adrift after failing his Trials, with nothing to do but wait and try to adjust to his new situation, Feemor makes the trip back to his homeworld, only to stumble over a strange old lightsaber in an ancient Mandalorian keep. Tarre Vizsla has spent a long time waiting for a Jedi to take up his blade again, but even with the Darksaber finally out of Mandalorian hands, the Mandalorian civil war is spiraling rapidly out of control. As a former Mand'alor, Tarre has an obligation to his people - one that Feemor is going to have to fulfill in his place.

“Those are some thick gloves you're wearing,” Quinlan observes, light. “And here I thought the weather was actually behaving today.”

“You're not very good at this, are you,” Fox says flatly. It has only passing resemblance to a question.

It’s probably a bad sign that Cad Bane, of all people, is judging his life choices.

Neil thinks sex with someone you care deeply about is great. But sometimes, something else is just more interesting, you know? Five times Neil gets distracted from sex and one time Andrew does.

Xanatos has never met a single more infuriating man.

He’s been trying this new thing where he lets himself have what he wants without over-analyzing every little thing or what his desires say about him as a person. If he wants to spend a day literally doing nothing but reading young adult dystopian novels, that’s fine. If he wants to ride out to the country and sit on the side of a dirt road next to a cornfield, that’s fine. If he wants to spend an hour teasing himself before he jacks off, that’s fine. It’s also fine if he wants to go two months without touching himself. It doesn’t make him weird. He’s been taking each day as it comes and learning about himself, learning that he’s different from what everyone thinks of as Jason Todd. Different from what he thought was Jason Todd.

A little shift at the end of In the Hand of the Goddess might set Thom on a different path ...

Everyone is whispering that a Jedi saved the Mand'alor’s aide.

Things are better in the valley.

“Guess it is true what they say,” Boil mutters behind him. “The Grey Wardens really will take anyone.” Despite his red-rimmed eyes, Fives grins. “Looks like the set up to a punchline. If two mages and an elf walk into a tavern…” - When the battle of Ostagar goes sour, Cody grabs what brothers he can and escapes into the Wilds. Trouble of an unexpected sort is waiting for them there.

It was an exciting day for Luffy when he met a rather unusual looking fellow at the port.

This is so not Hawks's day. Rumi is getting antsy with his stalling, frowning as the faint light that filters up to them puts a gleam in her eye. Hawks needs a plan fast, and one that will convince the League he's at least tried to play their side when they inevitably show up to see him and Rumi wrecking the absolute shit out of their pet monster. "Okay," Hawks says, "This is gonna sound real weird, but I need you to punch me in the face. It's for - " CRACK!

Itachi and Madara massacre the clan, but they miss one member. Obito, loyal Konoha ANBU and disowned Uchiha, suddenly finds himself out of the organization that’s been his life for eight years and raising a traumatized, orphaned child. Kakashi helps. Or watches and plays the smartass, it’s a bit of a tossup.

It’s been a long time since Gojou Satoru last celebrated his birthday. Or, Gojou gets surprised by his cute students and has a revelation. Resting his arm on the table, Satoru props his chin up, watching the kids bickering between themselves. They’re filled with such innocence, despite being sorcerers, and maybe Ijichi is right— Satoru should let them enjoy their youth where they can. He’d never had that himself, as the target of assassins from the moment of his birth. “Oh, almost forgot!” Nobara says, grabbing a paper bag from the worktop and dropping it in front of Satoru. “We also got you this.” Satoru raises his eyebrow and grins. “You got me a paper bag? How wonderful!”

For most people, dying and waking up in your eight-year-old body is a second chance at life. For Dabi, it is a chance to make his shitty father’s life a living hell. Or: Dabi sucks at this whole time travelling thing. In his defence though, there’s really not much a kid can do in the grand scheme of things… or so he thought.

Morrigan isn't sure what to make of the newest companion.

packing up camp for the morning, or, how to bother alistair

Cody doesn't write the mission briefs for his health, you know.

“It has to be earth,” a voice says, insistent, and A'Sharad pauses before he can round the corner, faintly surprised.

The door slams closed again the second Fox clears the threshold. The street crowd has largely fallen back into its normal rhythm, everyone moved on from the disruption. Which just leaves Fox, and the kid. Great.

At first, Zoro thinks Nami's just hungover.