In which Deadpool kidnaps Clint off a battlefield and takes him on a roadtrip. A shooting roadtrip. OK, fine. A shooting people roadtrip. Don't be so cranky about it.

He had a sniper rifle scoping the girl’s bright eyes and the guy’s smile.

Tim Drake’s snapchat is 90% him making Bruce Wayne do normal middle-class American things and filming the results.

Ever since the day he met Jack Zimmermann, Shitty has seen it as his solemn duty to aggressively love him. (He just didn't know how aggressive the love Jack needed would be.)

Written for the prompt "validation". Cullen and Krem, sparring.

Erin Gilbert is not the first straight girl Jillian Holtzmann has ever fallen for. Here’s the thing: she’s good at patterns. She’s good at identifying patterns. Holtzmann isn't a mathematician but that doesn't mean she's not great at numbers and evaluating data and drawing a conclusion. She's a goddamn genius. This shit is easy in the way that people are difficult. Erin Gilbert is not the second or even the fifth straight girl Jillian’s ever fallen for, and it’s kind of getting to be a problem, except when she sees Dr Erin Gilbert, she thinks, maybe, this woman might be a statistical outlier. Nobody can wear that much tweed and be straight, surely. And she keeps trying, hopefully, to believe that, until the Kevin Crush makes it pretty fucking clear that it’s a losing bet. No big. Jillian is used to this, after all, and it’s totally definitely not going to be a problem at all.

This was written as a meme response to the prompt “Sokka and Zuko spend the entire fic arguing about what kind of sex is socially acceptable for them to have”. Yes, it is exactly as not-right as you think it is.

The strap-on was Wade's idea in the first place.

In which Layla has a suggestion, and she, Will, and Warren finally get their collective act together.

Dick Grayson gives shitty advice on how to go undercover as a hooker. Fortunately, Steph can do better.

Why the Beforan equivalent of yourself didn't appear here, you're not sure, though you suspect it has something to do with direct and indirect transference and the extent to which each of you had contact with game code prior to this remix of the universe; the Ancestors from Alternia had vague memories of being their Beforan selves, so both versions re-instanced, but as far as you know you're the only version of Sollux Captor the game was aware of. Poor Sollux, you jeer internally, all alone in the world. If you were to quadrant yourself, you're not sure whether self-hate or self-pity would be the dominant emotion, but either way, you're getting off on it. God, you make yourself sick. You hold your bulge like you're trying to restrain it, but who the fuck are you kidding. It wraps around your fingers, both tendrils snaking and coiling harder the more you try to will them to stop, like don't-think-of-a-trunkbeast, and you rub at them distractedly because you can't stand not to. Sollux Captor, system architect of the new universe, reduced to thinking with his bulge by two copies of his ancestor being obnoxious at each other. Fuck your hot life.

A Homestuck sexy fanworks exchange.

Morgana turned away from the high, barred window and rubbed her arms, chilled and bare. Arthur was sitting in the dirty straw at the very limit of his chains, which kept him a few inches too far away to touch Merlin's limp body. Outside they were putting up the stake.

Tony Stark is twenty-one when he loses his voice. It shouldn't matter, but in a world where the first words your Soulmate says to you are marked on your skin, it can be pretty damn annoying.

Sam feels really cheated by history now.

Peter first meets Deadpool when he's nine years old, shaking in a basement somewhere and waiting to die.

dirkhal art fill for drone season 2015

"The first time Peter’s timer stops he is eleven years old. It times out in the middle of the night and wakes him up like an electric shock. The blank timer stares at him from his wrist as he yells and screams for his aunt and uncle." Spideypool AU with timers where Wade keeps getting killed and making Peter's timer go blank. By the time they meet he's pretty pissed off. This was certainly a summary with words, but they were not good ones. Based off a tumblr prompt that I cannot find anymore.

"Why don’t you ever let me see it? If you have the name already, why can’t you tell me whose it is? I thought we were best friends." Everyone gets their Name when they turn twenty-one. It isn’t their own name either. It’s the name of their Soulmate. When Wade Wilson wakes on his twenty-first birthday, he looks down at his chest and sees Peter Benjamin Parker. He stares for a moment then shrugs, gets dressed, and doesn’t think about it for another six weeks.

Peter’s known Wade for a while now, so he can maybe see how this makes sense -- like, maybe Wade has a thing about going commando and just happened to have an old girlfriend’s panties lying around, one thing led to another…but… “And the bra?” Peter croaks.

Spider-Man comes out of the closet. Peter Parker would give anything to crawl back in.

Peter was having the worst day the author could've come up with - and that's even before he accidently killed Deadpool.

In a world where the first words your soulmate will say to you appear on your left wrist at your tenth birthday, Peter gets the short end of the stick.

75% of what people say when they're joking is true. When it comes to Jamie and Tyler's fake wedding it's more like 99.9%.

It's Sid's job as captain to match up the subs on his team with suitable Doms. It doesn't take long to figure out that the only Dom he would trust Jamie Benn's particular needs to is himself.

Tyler thought things would be different in Dallas. He just had no idea how different it could be.

Beyond that door is a boy Sid has skated with six times, and spoken to twice. He’s a year older than Sid is, and drugged out of his mind on Bonding agent.

When Taylor is old enough, her dad starts making noises about getting her a bond. He's apparently found someone who is willing to "discreetly" get her an asymmetrical bond and forge reciprocal paperwork for it. When Taylor mentions it to Sid, too excited to pull off sounding anything but, he lets slip a plaintive "No."

“Geno? Are you okay? Physically,” Sid asks, which is good, because Zhenya doesn’t think he can put into words how he’s feeling emotionally. He imagines saying, The person I’ve loved for ten years finally took me to bed last night, but it turns out he didn’t want to, and now I can read his mind. No, thank you. “Feel fine,” Zhenya answers. “Even head feel fine.” And suddenly he realizes how fucking odd that is: he was concussed, and the room is brightly lit – he should be hiding under a blanket right now. He narrows his eyes and asks, “Sid, why head feel fine? What happen to concussion?” Sid takes a halting step closer to the bed and says, “Our bond, it’s—it’s a healing bond.” “Holy mother of God,” Zhenya breathes. So. They’re definitely not breaking the bond, then.

Maybe you’re keyed up from blackflirting with Equius, maybe you’re horny because TZ has been so wrapped up in her new kismesissitude lately, but you find yourself admiring the way Roxy's short skirt rides high up the backs of those thighs. Steady on, Captor, you can’t have everybody, you tell yourself. A traitorous little voice in your head says, why not? Jegus fuck, you need to get laid.

In which an unfortunate off-caste redblood discovers he has new horrifying mutations involving mating cycles and oviposition, and unintentionally draws his unwitting violetblooded (boy?)friend into his heat during what was supposed to be a relaxing movie night. Said seadweller then does his best to help him through it, keeping him safe from all other hormone-addled pursuers through the use of deadly force. Includes a budding matespritship, one healthy moiraillegiance, depictions of highblood rage and murderous intent, the deaths of no less than three unlucky intruders, too many references to troll Princess Bride, much emotional turmoil, some treasonous plotting, an overabundance of pity, egg-laying, and unconventional lusii. You arrived at just the right moment A moment later I would have been out at sea With no way to be reached I'll leave it up to you To carry me through That's about all I can do --lyrics from Carry Me Through, by Greg Laswell

In the game of gay xenochicken there are no losers, which explains why you are currently trying to stick your hands down Sollux's pants.

The two of you pretend to ignore them for a moment longer, until you just can’t hold in the laughter anymore and both lose it. While you’re catching your breath (and maybe still nibbling on Latula’s throat), she says, “So, dudes. You want in on this pants party or what?” They both say, “Yes,” at the same time, and they’re too distracted to do more than try to elbow each other in the ribs without taking their eyes off you, and it’s pretty much the cutest thing ever.

"So, honeybee. I think I found a third for that idea you had. Well, third and fourth.” “Which idea? FUCK YOU YOU LITTLE—“ Some turd tried to sneak up and shank him from behind. Mituna nuked him into orbit, then turned his attention to Latula. “The helmsman idea.” He froze. That idea. Oh fuck. Ohhhh, FUCK. He thought she’d maybe forgotten that one.

The problem is that you’re at the mercy of a useless, outmoded, ass-backwards mess of a biological process. The drones are gone. They’re never coming again. But your body sure thinks they are. It was— You wouldn’t say it was fine, but it was at least tolerable for a while. Realistically speaking, there was always a reasonable (ninety-nine percent) chance that you’d be culled the first time you tried to supply the drones with a pail, and you’ve been bracing yourself to deal with this since you pupated, for fuck’s sake. It feels like a kick to the shame gloves when your body betrays you and decides, whoops, no, it’s time to be all about filling pails for the glory of the empire.

In which Dirk has hell of computer issues/plays matchmaker, Calliope is revealed to be a big ol' pervert, and it's implied that the future of entertainment is a heavily edited version of an incredibly shitty fanfiction featuring hot unicorn on wizard action/violence. Also there's animes.

Your name is Dave Strider and your universe is DEAD. You have to find a safe place for your nubby-horned, alien companion in the DEPTHS OF SPACE. Under normal circumstances, you would be deader than your old universe, but you're no longer a MERE HUMAN, having ascended to god tier. The troll has not, but it helps that you hitch a ride on a FANCY SPACESHIP. All you need to do is find your MISSING FRIENDS and you are golden. >>AU after the scratch. USS Enterprise [UE] began texting turntechGodhead [TG] at ??? UE: Hello. This is Captain James T. Kirk of the starship USS Enterprise. We are on a peaceful mission of exploration. UE: My communications officer picked up an odd signal from this location. Can we offer any assistance? --Now with FANART--

The Golden Ending for SBurb has been realized and thanks to some careful time jimmying, everyone's ended up in the same timeline and the same present. Including the Trolls. Which can be a little, uh, complicated. Started out as wondering about a family of Striders that included Davesprite and Lil Hal and Alpha Dave, ended up expanding into a massive and strange thing of beauty. Includes an homage to Asukerian's one armed Davesprite with her gracious permission. These are written in whatever order we want but we promise to make sure they're put in mostly chronological order here on the series hub. (mostly because Time Shenanigans) CANON COMPLIANT UP TO THE GIGAPAUSE.

They managed to win the game somehow. He's not really sure of the details, but it's not all it's cracked up to be. He's stuck in an unfamiliar body with a thirteen year old little brother who's terrified of him. Somehow, he is sure this is his fault.

Inuzuri, 78th District of the Rukongai, is dry, featureless, and hot, filled with thieves and murderers. It's probably just about the closest someone can get to Purgatory while still keeping to Soul Society. Fitting, Obito thinks wryly, that this is where he woke up.

“You stole my secretary.” Or: how Tam Fox joined Team Batgirl.

Care and fucking of your lispy bipolar nerd.

Sollux is invited to 'tentacle night' by his kismesis Roxy. He's a little confused when she shows up with more tentacles than him.

Sollux just wanted a tattoo. He came out of it with ten piercings and a threesome.

This is a mixfill of two prompts! Prompt 1: Jane/Equius - She's a classy blue heiress, he's probably resilient enough to survive surprise dominatrix mode, it could work. Prompt 2: Sharp dressed man, Equius Zahhak Gold watch, diamond ring I ain't missin' not a single thing And cufflinks, stick pin When I step out I'm gonna do you in They come runnin' just as fast as they can 'Cause every girl crazy 'bout a sharp dressed man Equius Zahhak in some very nice clothes, getting undressed later by an interested party and preferably ridden hard to be put away wet. Possibly even at the party in some secluded alcove. C'mon, you know that the boy would be fiiiiiine in a tailored suit. And then it exploded on me and turned into an actual fic, god damn it. Stay tuned.

In which Karkat frets about everything and is definitely not avoiding his moirail.

A refugee ship from a dying planet crash lands on the Southern Continent during the Ninth Pass. Can a handful of troll kids and a former Empress carve out a Hold and Weyr for themselves without giving too many hidebound Holders heart attacks?

This was really, really not normal behavior for Gerard - not for real, normal Gerard, and it was even a little abrupt for the imaginary Gerard who lived in Frank's head and came out during his Special Alone Times with his dick.

yeah, they're dysfunctional, traumatized, and occasionally murderous, but they're a family, and sometimes they even act like it. the term 'Bat-Family' does sound an awful lot like a mirror to 'Crime-Family'.

“If you shower my couch with love and affection, I might actually kill you.” Or: how Tim Drake buys a house, rebuilds his life, and accidentally falls in love.