Armin can be kind. People always tend to make the mistake of assuming that makes him nice, and he can’t help but feel that mistake clanging dissonantly in his chest as he sprints down the last living member of his squad, blade already in hand, Eren’s sloppy chewing noises behind him.

“Oh. Well, okay.” A voice rings out behind Erwin, and he freezes, despair coiling in his gut because this is the end, he’s been seen and he’ll be captured and experimented on and it’s five in the goddamn morning, who else is in the showers? He chose this time specifically because no one else is ever in the showers at five in the fucking morning. (Or: Erwin has wings and Hanji walks in on him naked.)

Sasuke discovers something about the Uchiha clan.

Honor among thieves, or something close enough.

When Mikasa was still young enough to be carried everywhere she went, her mother would clasp her tight and spin them in slow, gentle circles, while her father hummed a gentle tune that she would later forget. When she was six, she watched her father take her mother in his arms and swing them around the garden, their legs somehow tangling without tripping, heads thrown back in laughter, and she clapped along with the rhythm of their footsteps. And when she was nine, a boy with a knife showed her a different kind of dance altogether.

In the wake of Lisanna's death, Mirajane readjusts her relationship to her magic — and her relationship to Erza.

The SNK characters' happy reincarnated life is rudely interrupted by kaiju marching out of the Pacific. They are 100% done with this crap.

The Scouting Legion receives word of a rogue titan in the battle of Trost. They didn't know what to expect - it certainly wasn't Jaeger.

Yukina put her fork down and said, "I need a job."

Natasha Romanova (Avengers) & Parker (Leverage) - "That is not happening."

Tag for the Best Defense series - all the side fics

The way I saw it, I had two options for this. One is the one where Hardison is a reincarnated space prince, Eliot is the rollerblading space werewolf sent for him, and Parker is a bounty hunter and they all end up teaming up. The other is, well …

Ginny is sorted into Slytherin. It takes her seven years to figure out why.

Jupiter doesn't feel ready for the bureaucratic nightmare of getting Titus to trial, or for the weirdness of being royalty in general. Fortunately, someone's written a guide exactly suited to her new needs.

Cole likes the tavern.

Now you must endure. Drabbles of the Inquisitor and those who follow.

On deep winter nights, the Oina pass on a story of the three heroes' descent from the sacred shrine.

Cullen can't get it up and it turns out the Inquisitor doesn't want that anyway. Funny how these things work out.

Cullen struggles with his lyrium addiction. Some days are better than others. Or (if you prefer a silly summary for a not-so-silly fic): In which Cullen is suicidally depressed, Dorian is a high-functioning alcoholic, and Bull just wants them both to be happy, except when he wants to crack their heads together for being emotionally stunted idiots.

This is a metafic about a disabled Inquisitor and the changes the disability not only brings for them, but also for their companions, their advisors, the Inquisition as a whole, and the people of Thedas. One of my goals for this was for it to be as inclusive as possible: your Inquisitor's race and gender don't matter. Every possible class is addressed. Topics include: addiction, amputation, bigots, blindness, depression, muteness, tranquil mages, transsexuality, veterans, withdrawal.

"It's awkward and confusing all over, because he's not sure he should find something attractive in the way the soft light of the tavern softens Krem's cheeks. That a few dark drops of wine on his lower lip should be worth of study, or that Cullen can perfectly recall the crooked angle of his smirk when the Chargers are away. "

Flowers have meaning and, sometimes, not knowing them can be beneficial.

Cole grows increasingly confused by gender and seeks out advice.

A Doribull Story! "...and as you gripped my horns, I. Would. Conquer. You.” The Bull's words to him on the road that afternoon had wormed their way into Dorian's mind, and try as he might he can't seem to rid himself of them... - My exploration of how the in-game relationship between Dorian Pavus and The Iron Bull might have come to be, based on in-game banter and the conversions you can have with both characters. This story is very much a case of 'sex first, feelings after'.

Afterward, Dorian cannot recall what he had expected, only that it had not been this.

Iron Bull is almost certainly playing games with him. Dorian is particularly sure of this when he's been drinking.

I love Krem and Bull's banter :D

Aleksa thinks it's about time she met this hypothetical boyfriend of Jupiter's. (Aleksa's maybe at least a little bit more prepared for this meeting than Jupiter probably thinks.)

It's not until they're in freefall that it hits her. Caine Wise has no daemon. (A HDM Daemon AU where wings are made of dust, wolves make their own packs, and some pains fade with time).

Jupiter’s trying not to take it personally, but being inexplicably flinched away from is getting really, really old.

My Cousin is Dating an Alien, an essay by Moltka Bolotnikov, age 12 and ½.

Kiza isn’t in school long before she realizes that her daddy isn’t much like other daddies, and she isn’t much like other little girls. Scenes from the lives of Sad Bee Dad and Cool Bee Daughter.

“Small package of murder, huh?” He laughs. “I knew they’d tell you that.” “It’s the best compliment I’ve ever gotten.” “I’m sure I can think of better ones.”

Harding isn't quite sure what to make of Dagna, but she's not one to back down from a mystery--or a challenge.

A missing scene fic (spoilerific) between Captain Tsing & Jupiter Jones before she goes back to Earth, because I know I wasn't the only one who was sitting in the theater thinking "Stinger Apini, WHAT ARE YOU DOING, LETTING YOUR DAUGHTER EXIT THE SCENE LIKE THAT?"

In which people with floofy pauldrons like Cullen should probably not stand so close to the woman waving around a lit candle on the end of a board.

Dagna makes Harding a present. Dagna has no concept of reasonable scope.

THOMAS is the gladers' one hope of escaping the maze. He's also a brain in a jar.

Okay, team, let's go steal the Earth.

The slow love song of Josephine Montilyet and Cassandra Pentaghast, on the side of running the Inquisition and saving the world. Each story is standalone but they might be best when read together.

A frog, a sorcerer, a sword, a porch, and a conversation in the dark.

Sansa knows, standing on the steps of the Great Sept, staring into Joffrey's triumphant eyes, the blood her father soaking the stones and all the Lannisters' beautiful promises ringing in her ears, that Starks have always been the best liars.

What if, when Petunia Dursley found a little boy on her front doorstep, she took him in? Not into the cupboard under the stairs, not into a twisted childhood of tarnished worth and neglect—what if she took him in? Petunia was jealous, selfish and vicious. We will not pretend she wasn’t. She looked at that boy on her doorstep and thought about her Dudders, barely a month older than this boy. She looked at his eyes and her stomach turned over and over. (Severus Snape saved Harry’s life for his eyes. Let’s have Petunia save it despite them). Let’s tell a story where Petunia Dursley found a baby boy on her doorstep and hated his eyes—she hated them. She took him in and fed him and changed him and got him his shots, and she hated his eyes up until the day she looked at the boy and saw her nephew, not her sister’s shadow. When Harry was two and Vernon Dursley bought Dudley a toy car and Harry a fast food meal with a toy with parts he could choke on Petunia packed her things and got a divorce.

The Wave Mission is a failure. Team Seven is captured. Sasuke is gone. Kakashi is next. Sakura has no choice but to be a hero.

When Petunia Dursley refused to take Harry in she forfeited his birthright protection, so Dumbledore took the baby to the safest place he knew: Hogwarts. The applicable staff (mostly just… not Snape) took Harry in on a rotating schedule as he grew from baby to toddler to child. They traded extra credit for babysitting among the older students, and Harry grew up knowing a few dozen different laps that were safe and warm to nap in. This was a Harry who grew up among books, among old transient walls and learned professors. They gave Binns night duty sometimes, and let him talk young Harry to sleep. This was a Harry whose world changed, on principle, daily. The stairs moved. The walls became doors. You had to keep your eyes open–you had to pay attention. So he did. He grew up in a school. Knowledge was power, but knowledge was also joy. This was his sanctuary. There was magic in his world from birth.

He keeps the aqun-asala powder in a jar on his dressing table. Every three months he spoons some of it into a mug and mixes it into the water with his finger. It's supposed to be tasteless, but when he swallows it down it lingers on his tongue, affects the taste of anything else he eats for the next couple days, mutes everything. He gets a kick outta eating spicy shit all lackadaisically and offering it to people, and acting surprised when it burns their mouths. (When he explains it to Sera, after she's stopped crying and threatening to stab him with one of his own horns, she thinks it's hilarious — tries to talk him into letting her have enough to prank people, actually. He knows exactly how much is left in the jar though, and he's not sure he's ever gonna get more... so she has to make do with sitting next to him and watching.) "So it keeps you from losing it, huh?" she asks, glaring down into her empty flagon like she doesn't know where the beer got off to. "No squishy pffff—" she puffs up her cheeks and sets the flagon down, curving her hands into a circle and then moving them apart, "—for the qunari pokers?"

Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no husband and bear no children. I shall wear no gowns and no jewels. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life's blood to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come. -The Sisterhood of the Night's Watch

Two very different people fall in love with a boy called death. Finding each other is chance. Falling for each other isn’t. This is their story. (Or in which Nico is Death with a capital D, Annabeth is a serial killer, and Percy is the poor schmuck who falls for both of them.)

The Avengers discover that there are fans who write explicit RPF fic about them. Some of them are very confused. Some are proud. Some don't understand why everyone writes the pairings who aren't together but hardly anyone writes the couple who actually is together. Much silliness ensues.

There must always be a Stark in Winterfell, or: Sansa goes home.