“Hey, Scott, so, I uh, there’s this amazingly hot guy and I’m uh, gonna spend the weekend with him but, you know, just to be careful, I’m sending you his picture, so if by some terrible chance my bloated corpse shows up sometime Monday, just, y’know pass this along to the authorities.” He pauses. “Uh. Kidding?” and then hangs up with a rush of air. “That is the worst voicemail in the history of voicemails,” Derek says.

You haven't ever felt bad to pail a brother or sister before, but for some reason you look down on his strange, angry, nubby-horned little face and it hurts inside you, hurts like a motherfucker. In a universe where the hemospectrum is long-abolished but never forgotten and the descendants of ancient rebels are looked to as the leaders, a tired purple-blood drowning in his drugs find a lonely mutant on the run from his bloodline, in the wrong place, for all the wrong reasons. Series

The prompt was that Bumblebee was the resident pleasure bot for the Autobots.

“Now about that gift I got you, remember how you’ve been all wistful about your concupiscent quadrants? Well I got you something to fix that.” “What,” Karkat said blankly. “Gamzee no, tell me you didn’t get me sex toys.” The good news is that it's not sextoys The bad news is that it's a person.

An AU where Wei Ying was raised by the Jin family as a courtesan.

When signs of a blackmarket organ trafficker floats up in Gotham Harbor, Jason and Tim find out that the victims had one thing in common: they both worked at a gay strip club. Determined to root out the traffickers, both decide to go undercover to solve the case. The only problem? Neither knows the other is working the case.