If it had been left up to him, Brian never would have told the band that he’s trans. But it’s not really up to him anymore, and now they all have to deal with it.

or : In Which Dave Strider Is An Asexual Transsexual Off To Room With His Best Internet Friend John Egbert, Who Is Initially Unaware Of Dave’s Trans Status, While They Both Attend Western Washington University. Co-Starring Rose Lalonde As Dave’s Nosy And Also Identical And Cisexual Lesbian Twin Sister, And Karkat Vantas And Sollux Captor As Particularly Irritating Suite Mates. Featuring All The Trolls As Humans, Jade And Jake As John’s Gun Wielding Genius Cousins, And Dirk “Bro” Strider As The Hardest Character To Write. Also Includes Stupid Pranks, Second Hand Details, A Handful Of Sexuality Crisises, A Number Of Awkward Crushes Of Varying Levels Of Platonic, Flirting With Varying Levels Of Success, Instances Of Sloppy Makeouts, One Polyamorous Relationship, A Handful Of Lesbians, More Bullshit Than True Facts, And A Summary That Is Apparently Too Long.

Non-Sburb AU. Bro Strider has to raise a kid with gender dysphoria. Trying not to screw Dave up permanently is hard, and nobody understands.

Karkat Vantas, despite numerous protests, has just joined Alternia High's Gay-Straight Alliance. Shenanigans ensue.

--Looking for full day/evening sitter. 2 twin boys age 4. Must have exp. w/werewolves. Must be human. No pedophiles. No teenage girls. Pay negotiable. --

“I don’t know what you’ve heard but I’m really not into bondage on a first date,” Clint sneered. “You could at least buy me dinner or something.” He grinned, baring his teeth like a snarl. The smiley ones didn’t really like it when he was a smart ass, and maybe he could provoke the guy into making a mistake. The suit didn’t react beyond a twitch at the corner of his mouth. He shut the door behind him and approached, setting the stack of files down on the table.

A one-shot collection for my aged-up Killugon fics from now on!

You remember the first time you really realized you were fucked up. You were five. First year of kindergarten, miserable as all fuck. The teacher told the boys to line up on one side of the room and the girls on the other. You don't even remember why. You just remember the result.

Tsuna doesn't know how he dies for good, only that he still has regrets when he does. When he wakes up, he's in the body of Sawada Nana, mother of a 2 year old Tsuna, and those regrets become tenfold. He's drowning in the implications, when an Arcobaleno appears on his doorstep, and the future becomes infinite possibility.

A collection of short stories depicting new versions of old myths. OR: What happens to Icarus after he fell, Hermes and Hestia meddle and save humanity, and Hades would just like a nap.

Trisha and Van's first child, Edith, was born a beautiful, healthy girl. The only problem? Ed knew he was a boy.

Clarus claims that he can handle raising an infant Gladio on his own. Regis is certain that he no longer feels the bruise of an empty house without Aulea. They're both wrong. A little story about Clarus and Regis finding love, raising kids, and dealing with the unexpected news that Noctis may be the chosen king of legend.

Figuring out that the second daughter of the Jiang clan was, in fact, their son and heir - if you look at it by Qinghe standards - when no one else in Yunmeng had yet figured it out caused Nie Mingjue enough of a headache, and it must have given him a bit of a reputation for sticking his nose into other people's business. That must be the reason that Jiang Cheng would come to him of all people after the fall of the Lotus Pier, hand a little too low down on his stomach for the problem to be food poisoning, to ask for advice - or maybe it was only that he had nobody else to turn to.

“Are you a cultivator?” “No,” she says, steadily. “This one doesn’t possess the core for it.” She pauses and raises her eyes to his, so boldly he finds it a little startling. “I believe that I can be of use to the Jiang sect in spite of that, and I have brought a gift to prove it. May I show you?” Fully intrigued now, Jiang Cheng nods. The girl unslings the bundle from her back, unties a couple of straps, and unrolls it on the floor in a smooth motion. Jiang Cheng is on his feet before he even consciously realizes it’s happened, and the reaction murmurs out through the hall. There, on a blanket that belongs on the back of a horse, are five Wen cultivator swords, offered to him by a girl who looks like the word “bumpkin” was invented specifically for her. What the fuck. “Where did you get those?” he asks, instead of asking “What the fuck?” out loud, because that would be unbecoming of his status as sect leader. The girl meets his eyes again, lifts her chin, and says simply, “I killed the men who carried them.” Or: Fan Dingxiang cultivates the swole path. Jiang Cheng doesn't know how to handle that.

“Sect Leader Lan,” he said. “Please help me.” Lan Qiren stared down at him in horror, quickly crouching to pull Nie Mingjue up again. “Me? You can’t be serious!” “It has to be you,” Nie Mingjue said. “Sect Leader Lan, please. Please. It can’t be Wen Ruohan. It can’t.”

In one galaxy, the novel was never read. In another, it starts a landslide. Or what happens when the Mandalorians learn that the Jedi are exactly what most of them look for in a partner.

Bitty is in Annie’s, bent over his textbooks and wondering, not for the first time, why he decided to take French as a language (oh yes, it’s because so many old recipes are written in French, he’s going abroad there to study food history, can’t wait for the summer; half of fall and then winter semester until he goes, but that doesn’t help him now does it) , when he hears someone clear their throat. “Excuse me, is this seat taken?” Oh boy. Eric doesn’t even bother lifting up his head. “Sorry, not a girl and not interested.”

It becomes the Question—the one every vod is talking about from the bridge of the Negotiator to her dark bowels where the laundry rooms churn and chug along: who takes care of the General? -- In which Obi-Wan is touch starved and his men take notice.

Fox was no stranger to being used as a subject for Palpatine's experiments and Sith rituals. But when Palpatine decided to test out a mysterious artifact on Fox, the results were beyond what anyone could have anticipated.

The clones were supposed to be identical soldiers, flawless and efficient products. Instead, they were friction, disorientation, nonconformity. Or, As Kafer writes, ‘Disability too often serves as the agreed upon limit to our projected futures.’ This is me imagining different.

Ever since he’d come out to his devout Roman Catholic family, Johnny had been told he was going to Hell. Seeing Simon “Ghost” Riley on his knees in front of him, looking like Lust incarnate, has him thinking Hell suits him far better than Heaven anyway. His blonde hair catches the fluorescents like a halo, and Johnny now knows exactly what the legends meant when they said the devil has angelic eyes. OR: Johnny needs proof that the aphrodisiac drug sample they're retrieving is real, so he tests it the only way he can with the resources he has: on himself. It's real, alright - he figures that out pretty quick.

5 times and places Neil Josten squirting was an inconvenience (but didn't kill the mood).

Five times Tim Drake gained an unrequited soul bond and the one time he didn't.

“I want you to bitch me.” Tim reacted to the word so strongly he nearly fell off his chair. “Kon you- you can't say that!” It wasn't a word one should bring up in polite company, Tim had learned early on. Kon rolled his eyes emphatically. “Fine. I want you to help me transition my dynamic into one that more closely resembles how I feel inside. Happy?”

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.

And, well. He gets impatient when he’s already in pain. He’s still got fifteen minutes until the meeting is set to begin, and the chances of him slapping Mr. Smith-Harguson so hard that the man’s toupee flies off are rising exponentially by the second. Yeah, that settles it. He needs an excuse to get out of here, and he needs it fast. - for the prompt 'jason todd, lover of fake kidnappings, meets tim drake, lover of chaos', but it... got out of hand. happy pride

“Hey, I do I... Do I know you?” Danny asks, a hand coming up to brush something off Tim’s cheek. “No,” Tim says. “We haven’t met.” “Oh, no, I do.” Danny says, and he smiles, teeth white and sharp. “You’re that guy who rearranged my guts!” Rearranged his- Tim glances at the knotted scars on the boy’s abdomen. He can see the shine and shadow of haphazard stitches that weren’t meant to hold forever, that tore and healed over. His- This- “WHAT!?” Nightwing shouts, equal parts confused and delighted. Tim’s fucked. OR Danny Fenton's been in GIW captivity for 4 months. Tim Drake gets kidnapped by the GIW one Tuesday evening in May. Considering how many of the Bats and the Birds have died and come back to life, it was only a matter of time for some people interested in the afterlife to come poking around. The detectives can't seem to uncover any information about the mysterious white vans, however. And they keep losing the mysterious boy who seems to be the one person in Gotham to know anything at all.

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.