Satoru only has two eyes but it feels like he's got six. The doctor says he's blessed to have a one in a billion quirk, but there's a part of Satoru that knows he's only got a fifth of a whole. or The Prison Realm drops Gojo Satoru into the BNHA-verse and that changes things.

Sir Nighteye's quirk was a deeply useful one, with a rich history of helping solve cases, assist investigations and offer support to friends and acquaintances. It was, absolutely, not intended to be misused and abused for something like this. "Can you explain why you’ve seen fit to consort with villains?” “Consorting? I’m not-” “Okay, fine.” Mirai huffed, impatient. “Why are you fucking villains-” Hawks made a noise like a car trying to restart. This was going well. (In which Nighteye survives, inadvertently discovers a conspiracy, emotionally adopts a small child and an utter dipshit, and fights the Hero Commission in hand to hand combat...completely by accident)

Keigo has known since he was a child that his soulmate is going to hate him. He knows he is one of the unlucky few who have a mark displaying pain, instead of love. That he’s got his tragedy inked onto his body for all the world to see. Why else would he have the shape of a large hand wrapped around the base of his throat? Keigo's not expecting his soulmate to care for him, he's not expecting to end up caring for the League of Villains, and he's definitely not expecting a happy ending. He's wrong, on all accounts.

Tsunagu is just about to ask what she’s talking about, exactly, when the feathers strewn around them suddenly take flight again, rushing towards the jacket on the ground in front of them. When Tsunagu looks down to watch them convene on the crumpled garment, he is shocked to find a small child sticking his head out from underneath the collar. The boy looks as confused as Tsunagu feels. Or the one where Hawks is de-aged, secrets come to light, and Best Jeanist may or may not be planning the downfall of the Hero Commission.

If the only future path you saw was to remove a specific slice of traumatic, horrific memory from the mind of your successor, would you do it? Nana did. Yagi Toshinori lived with what he had lost, though with unease he couldn't explain. Enter Aizawa Shouta wanting more from their relationship than routines steered by unexplained fears. No-one is above reproach and it's never too late.

Aizawa didn't expect to enjoy HeroCon this year. Especially not being on a panel with All Might -- whose bright idea was that? Meeting Yagi Toshinori changes everything. He's funny. (Oh no.) He's unapologetic. (Oh no.) He's interesting. (Oh shit.)

"It's not like any of my exes ever said 'let's fuck or I'm leaving you' but...yeah. It's a factor." "You just didn't want to sleep with any of them?" "I wanted to. Or wanted to want to, I guess." *** The impact left by Hizashi's ex-boyfriend still looms, too big and too much, so he asks Shouta for a favor.

Hawks-- no, Keigo. He's Keigo at this point. He's not a hero. He is a single father, and he is fucking terrified. He's on his fucking knees in front of the League of Villains and begging, like he has no shame, because at this point he doesn’t, for them to help him. He's got his little girl, his daughter, bundled tightly to his chest, his too big headphones over her ears, as he trembles and tries to cry and can't because of his goddamn quirk. Keigo decides to get his daughter away from the Commission, by any means necessary. In the end, it goes better than he expected.

Sanji hears the explosion in the early evening. It's not very close — somewhere on the island, for sure, but not close enough to shake the house itself. He tilts his head towards it, pauses for a moment from slicing scallions, but doesn't pay it much more mind than that. Things explode all the time, around Big Mom and her family. So long as they're nowhere near him or anything important to him, Sanji does his best not to think about it. That's not his place. It becomes his problem when, five minutes later, Pudding shoulders open the door to his rooms, anger licking off her like flames. Sanji carefully places his knife to the side and turns to face her. She crowds him against the counter, glaring. "Did you know about this?" she demands in a hiss, leaning forward. “Are you in on whatever hairbrained scheme they're trying to pull off right now? Do you have fucking contact with them?" In a slightly different world, Sanji is made even more his mother's son.

It’s said that soulmate marks are gifts from the gods. Certainly, more than this has been said but, well. Luffy’s never really been one for gods or any of that stuff. Those stories are always so boring and long-winded.

Sanji sees Zoro approach from a long-ways off. His shock of green hair is unmistakable, even in a crowd. Speaking of, the crowd parts around him naturally, like water around a boat. They give him suspicious looks as he passes, and it isn’t until Zoro is within eye-shot that Sanji realizes why. There is a bundle of feathers in his arms. “What the fuck are you holding?” Zoro winces and pulls a face. “Yeah, so, I can explain." The bundle of feathers moves and the dirt-streaked face of a child peers up at him. The jumble of feathers aren’t just feathers, Sanji realizes with a jolt. They’re wings.

Before the training camp attack—before the dorms and the close quarters and the security measures and the curfew and the living-in-his-classmates-back-pockets... Bakugou notices something. Todoroki Shouto is fucking weird. In which Bakugou plays at being an amateur detective and teams up with Izuku to completely fuck up Endeavor's whole damn day (and possibly his entire life, too.)

Sanji feels eyes on him before he even hears the footsteps, and he sighs, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the rail. He could try to run, he knows, could jump over the rail and make his escape before whoever it is is upon him, but really what would be the point? It's not like he has anywhere to escape to. A glance over his shoulder reveals one of Big Mom's Sweet Commanders, the big one with the tattoos and the scarf, and for the second time since arriving on Tottoland Sanji finds himself meeting golden eyes. The man's expression is blank, the greater part of his face hidden beneath the bulk of his scarf, but one glance at him is enough to tell this isn't going to be a friendly encounter. "Don't worry." Sanji says, leaning against the rail and bringing his cigarette to his lips, breathing deep. He blows out a cloud of smoke, not meeting the man's eyes as he looks over the lower palace, counting the lights still on in the town below. "I'm not trying to escape."

Bringing the dead back to life never seems to go quite the way it should, and when Granta's dragged back into existence by his father, he's no different. Something is wrong, and something terrible is going to happen, but Xanatos refuses to acknowledge any flaws in his grand plan to seize power. The only ones who will listen are the clone troopers, who know a thing or two about being dead. But Granta's being torn between the father he's worshipped his whole life and the clone troopers who keep twisting him up into knots, and the only thing that can give is him.

Obi-Wan Kenobi, Dark Lord of the Sith, takes a hostage. If he wanted it to go smoothly, he probably shouldn't have picked Feral, no matter how much of a pain Maul is.

Granta Omega fully intended to die on Korriban, and he did. Then he woke up again. It's getting to be an unfortunate theme.

Nathaniel Wesninski is six years old when his first soulmate mark comes in.

this is what it looks like when your grandfather loves you but your whole family's emotionally constipated. (except for your uncle, but that might just be all the tea he drinks.)

How Sokka learned to shut up and be nice, and also learn a little bit more about Zuko than he wanted to.

[“Are you dead?” Are the first words that come out of Zuko’s mouth. Lu Ten winces. He’s barely adjusted to the idea himself, but he still wasn’t expecting Zuko to reach that conclusion so fast. He can’t lie to him. He nods. “I am.” “But you’re real.” “Yeah. Real dead.” He tries for a joke but Zuko bursts into tears instead.] Or, Lu Ten makes a promise, Lu Ten dies. Lu Ten comes back.

“About that… does the hospital have a copy machine?” Hitoshi chooses that moment to peak over Shouta’s shoulder, undoubtedly giving Tsukauchi a full view of his bloodied face. Unintentionally, he also gives Shouta the perfect opportunity to watch shock, understanding, and sheer resignation flash through the detective’s eyes. “You’re not telling me that you found another child on the way to the hospital with the first one,” Tsukauchi says. “I did not find another child on the way to the hospital with the first one,” Shouta lies. OR A story of two rooftops, two kids, and one extremely long night.

Obi-Wan stared at the newcomer standing tense in the corner. Dark smoke curled around the other padawan’s boot like the tail of a lothcat. With a huff, Obi-Wan disengaged his own lightsaber and clipped it to his belt, bowing in greeting. “Hello, Padawan Antilles.” OR Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi makes a friend and the universe changes for the better.

There's a Jedi standing on the landing platform, entirely unmoving, and he’s been there for almost ten minutes now.

“A truly exciting development here in District 12. Let’s see who will be the other brave tribute traveling to the Capitol this year.” She simply grabbed the first slip she encountered and walked back to the podium. Neil didn’t even have time to wish for his own safety when she read the name. “Neil Josten.” A simple The Hunger Games AU because apparently the Foxes haven't suffered enough already.

„Darling?“ Andrew calls, still out of sight, and that gets Neil’s attention. Except for some very rare, very soft moments Andrew only uses pet names to be sarcastic. „Yes love?“ Neil retaliates in the same, slightly mocking tone. Andrew comes into sight, with an unusual mischievous glint in his eyes. „How much do you think you can horrify a whole bunch of conservative homophobes?“ or: What is a professional actor as a fiancé good for, if you can't terrorize your distant (and close) relatives with him?

Neil works three low paying, dead-end jobs and makes just enough money to afford a room to sleep in and to keep himself from starving. He has no prospects, no hope, no future. That all changes when a chance encounter results in a job offer that he can't ignore. The job? Pretending to be professional exy player Andrew Minyard's boyfriend.

Neil Josten stares at the large building in front of him, his mouth twisted into a small frown. Yesterday, Browning had handed him a manila folder containing his new name, his new life. Included in that file had been a note, the same slightly crumpled note he’s holding in his hand now, with the name of his new employer. Foxhole Aquarium. Ask for David Wymack.

Sin settles later than most. It’s not until Mary dies that she finally does settle. Neil looks away from the car, dazzled by firelight and the sense memory of her daemon breaking apart, and finds silvery speckled fur with jet-black points and reddish eyes the same colour as Nathaniel Wesninski’s hair. Just like that, he knows she won’t shift again.

Hizashi is spiralling; his hero career is on the brink of collapse, no radio station will give him a shot and he isn’t sure how much more he can take. When people start turning up beaten half to death, they lead him to an underground quirk fighting ring. Could it be the big break he needs to save his career or will the mysterious Referee show him something better?

“No one told me what prayers to recite,” Johnny forces out, trying to summon the well of anger that usually burns within him when he enters the church. “‘Spose they’re not used to trussin’ up somethin’ that can talk back.” Father Simon says nothing, his footsteps echoing out on the stone; growing louder as he approaches. “I can baa for ya if that’d make it more familiar,” he spits, some remnant of himself flaring and he strains his arms, struggling in vain against the ropes binding his wrists. He follows the hem of his robe as he circles him; his keen eyes heavy as they study the sigils on his skin until he finally comes to a stop behind him. He’s not even to see his death. Johnny curses himself as only now does grief come at being denied a final look into his eyes. Even now, you can’t help but chase sin.

“I dunno,” Hizashi shrugged. “He’s clearly not the worst guy in the world, considering who he goes after.” “I heard he’s pretty brutal,” he pointed out, not disagreeing. “Some of those people deserved brutal,” he said and decided to push a little more. “Did you hear about his last victim? That pharmaceutical director using experimental drugs on his son?” “Daughter,” Shouta corrected mindlessly before stiffening. Hizashi grinned. Gotcha.

A series to follow Apollo, Midnighter, Slade and Jason pucking and fucking. Follow Apollo, Midnighter, Jason Todd, Slade Wilson, Mark Grayson, and Dick Grayson through the world of this lovely hockey AU. A world where all the hockey fandom tropes meet DC! Goalie nesting, winner's room, kneeling, poaching... if we can dream it up, it'll be here!

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.

“I didn’t realize,” Dick’s voice startles Jason, but he doesn’t loosen his grip on Tim. When he looks up, Dick is staring at them with wide eyes. “That you two were...uh.” It hits Jason then, what the position they’re in might look like from Dick’s point of view. His restraining hold on Tim, and Tim’s now submissive posture, curled up against his chest, probably look to an outsider like a comforting embrace between two people who are much more acquainted than they actually are. His face flushes, but he doesn’t bother to correct Dick’s misunderstanding.

Talia meant for Jason to realize that Tim had no business being Robin, that he needed to be removed from the position. Jason watched the videos over and over.

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.

"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.

"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.