“Are you sure I can convince him?” Madara asks dubiously. Hashirama nods. “Only you can convince him,” Hashirama says. Then, solemnly, “Madara, you’re our only hope.”

Konoha is an experience, and that’s just about the politest way Ine can phrase it.

In which fourteen-year-old Percy Weasley is very stressed, does not get enough sleep, and accidentally and unknowingly saves the Wizarding World because of bad aim.

my problem with the ‘harry becomes lord of 2/¾/5 ancient noble houses’ trope is so unbelievably petty because its that fic writers don’t take it to the potential extreme. like, okay, you wanna make harry the bossest of bitches i get that, i understand, i have that urge too from time to time, but c’mon, be a little more creative about it please

Five times Winona Kirk was a badass mom, and one time she realized she’d raised an equally badass son.

Anonymous asked: BT guys shower gangbang fantasy/embarassing wet dream? (yay for fishing old prompts out of the abyss! weirdass floaty dream ahoy. contain vague dream porn, stealth angst and dreamy creepiness. also probably happens either during the first half of chapter 7 or before chpt7 entirely.)

"Why're you still here, bro," Latula repeats patiently. Kankri glances up accidentally -- midriff, oh dear -- and glances away, fast. Sitting in the surf is a man with too many visible ribs and shoulders too wide for his frame, strings-and-cables musculature in stark relief through the lack of even the smallest coating of insulating flesh. He looks starving and steel-strong both and there are little chalk-white nicks of scars everywhere on him. Foam runs up to his waist; Kankri stares, thinking stupidly, he is naked. Did he decide in a fit of whimsical, ah, otherness, to take off that last bit of -- but no, there is the edge of his waistband, and Kankri turns his gaze down to the sand between his own knees, ears burning with shame at his own salacious, depraved disappointment. They want me gone, he thinks, and he knows why. This is a perfect place, a perfect moment; he's intruding.

"The point," Karkat says, balling up the cape and tossing it over one shoulder, "is that I'm curious as fuck about your horrific alien biology, but you never take off any clothes, or let me see anything, really." "Oh, man," Dave groans. "There's nothing to see, jesus."

Dave just wants to be left alone. What's the point of anything when what's broken can never be completely fixed? This is the story of Dave Strider and Karkat Vantas, on the longest journey of their lives.

This particular smuppet is sewn out of some kind of blatantly artificial orange microfiber, the nap of the plush so silky it almost feels slick. When you give it a squish the body seems more firm than his regular model, denser. Bro usually keeps his toys light, too fluffy to feel like anything but props and puppets, but this one’s pleasantly dense and heavy. You don’t think you’ll be ripping it apart as easily as the last few. And then, of course, there’s the unusual addition of a tail.

“Get out,” Karkat growls, from the top of a staircase. His voice is thick and unsteady and he reeks of that red smell, it’s pouring off him, spiking up your heartrate. Sollux takes a startled breath, then another, and crowds up against your back. “I mean it,” Karkat snarls. “I told you guys we were through, why the fuck are you here?”

“You ready?” you ask, and the most important human in the galaxy sticks her tongue out at you. Several of your organs do a giddy flip. Then the knot is tied and that’s it, you’re moirails.

Dave says, bouncing his heel on your thigh for attention, “Are you drunk? Holy shit, are you— like, are you tripping out? Did Rose just roofie you with her pretentious fuckin’ leaf water? Oh my god.” “Oh my god,” Rose repeats, and colors brilliantly across her cheeks, blood coursing bright and close under her skin.

For my Daemon AU meme; scenes and snippets from Midnight on the Demon Patrol 'verse with added daemons. -Karkat, Dave, and Dave's daemon, feeding Karkat (NSFW) -Rose and Kankri, on daemon meanings and siblinghood. -How was Bowie affected when Latula. blocked Dave's mind in the coffee shop? -Rose, Dave, Karkat, Kankri post chapter 27. -Rose, Terezi and Vriska.

Part of being your matesprit is learning how to swim. You don't know how Karkat got this far without being able to, but before the end of the night, he's going to learn if it krills you.

He sits back, deliberately putting distance between you despite the part of your brain that wishes he wouldn't. "Okay. Freakout over? Good. Now how about some small words and short sentences to work out exactly what the fuck is wrong with you." You sniffle. "Yes. Good. Opening a constructive dialogue in order to put the oppressive apparatus into language so it can be engaged—" "Less theory, more practice," Karkat says.

Chapter 6: Sollux/Karkat, nook worship

"Vantas, you lucky bastard," Straterrorist Reikar says, shaking her head. "Going to see that pilot of yours?" You grin. "Only chance I'm going to have for the next sweep, so we better get our duty to the Mother done while we can."

"Okay," you say, your mouth dry, "okay. What the fuck is this supposed to be?" Bro smirks at you from the couch. "Dessert," he says. His eyes glow through the douchebag shades he took off some kid you guys ate last month. He pets John's hair absently and John does nothing, a puppet whose strings aren't getting pulled. "Can't tell me you don't want him, kiddo."

You'd thought your master's hive was grand, but it's nothing compared to the Imperial Palace. The building rears up before you, sweeping arches and high towers, black stone ornamented with garnet-colored tile. The banners snapping in the wind are brighter, though, a red so bright it looks unnatural: the banners of the Scarlet Emperor, newly risen, the first of his blood since the Signless Sunderer tore down the old empire and built the new one a thousand sweeps ago. Every noble in the Empire is coming to the Capital tonight, bringing gifts to demonstrate their allegiance and beg the new Emperor's favor. Your master is bringing you.

Your superiors think you are the best possible agent for the tough cases, and if they don't quite understand why you have, at your young age, enough skills for any two trolls—well. You tell yourselves that of course most people aren't clever enough to figure you out, and you try to be more smug than furious.

K'rkat burst into Sievereth's weyr, the bronze stretched out lazy and well-fed, oh Faranth's egg no. "Jade!" he screamed, startling the dragon. "Get out! And you, big lump, get up! Up and flying! Why are you still here?!" Jade came out of her corridor, rubbing her eyes. No doubt she'd spent all night bowed over her work table again and hadn't even eaten. "Oh, why are you yelling," she said around a yawn, "it's... not even mid-day yet!" "Yeah, by minutes!" Argh. No. No time. "Jade -- Bowith is bleeding her prey, and so is Kulirath."

You've been... you don't know, study buddies, something stupid like that, for most of spring semester.

Remember the first time Kanaya cut Karkat's hair?

"What gives?" he says then, as he shrugs his way out of the gi and you watch the changing shadows under his collarbone. "Some chump at this party still has a turtleneck on." "Yeah, well, some asshole around here doesn't know how to shut up and let himself be spoiled," you say. "Get in the goddamn tub, Strider."

Steve didn't know you could go to college to study movies.

plotless pointless, not quite full blown first time smut, Renly centric character bit

Brienne looks like the perfect portrait of a knight, kneeling in supplication before her lady.

A super-cracky modern!AU where Akatsuki is a group of quasi-reformed terrorists and former suicide squad now (nominally) on the side of the angels, saving the planet their own way. Mostly accidentally. Or through recycling. (That's entirely Obito's fault.)

The common folk whisper about the Council of Kings and Queens that rules over Westeros. They whisper that they are the Seven reborn.

When Tyrion neglects to impregnate Sansa with the heir to Winterfell, Tywin decides to take matters into his own hands. But Sansa is no longer a little Northern dove; she is a Lannister with nothing left to lose.

Five lives Arya Stark had with Gendry Waters, and the one that she didn't. Or, (This is how she meets a man with a mop of black hair and eyes the colour of the seas who is quiet and strong and tall where she is loud and brash and small.)

Jackson has long since admitted that he likes being pushed around. (or: five times jackson whittemore takes it like a pro, because he likes to.)

The Leverage crew run into a new friend, find some buried treasure, and fight some Nazis. It's a pretty good day.

My MCU fanart. And to challenge myself, I'm writing a ficlet to go with every single piece.

In which a case of early-morning mistaken identity goes very, very right.

Bucky spends part of his recovery in a collection of hoodies and baggy pajama pants, writing explicit fanfiction on AO3 and Tumblr.

The 'verse in which Steve used to be a sex worker, Steve and Bucky have always been polyamorous bisexuals, the Barbershop Quartet OT4 is an actual open-poly quartet, and Steve cycles through all the Avengers (except you, Tony.)

Rose said later that "I was really fucking bored" was insufficient explanation or indeed justification for the First Triennial Human/Troll Flashstepping Competition. (Now with a tiny sequel!)

If Bro had smiled, even once...

Davepetasprite takes up an old hobby in a new medium.

"I got you this." He sets a tiny box on the table between you and nudges it in your direction with psionics. You stare at it. It's the right size to hold a human-style commitment-designation ring, which you sometimes think would be a cool thing to have but as far as you know he's never been interested in. "For those times when I'm being a jackass and you need to snap me out of it." A little smile, a hint of the smug asslord creeping back in around the edges of the apologetic matesprit. "Or when you just want a shortcut to getting my attention."

He leers. "Princess." Your spine stiffens. "It's Empress now." "Is that the motherfucking truth," he says coolly. "You takin' up everything my fine fin-sister had?" He levers himself up out of his throne, and up, and up, and your fins flare out defensively but you stand your ground. He's huge, a towering hulk of corded muscle and bone trophies and wild hair. But you grew up with Gl'bgolyb. It takes more than sheer size to intimidate you. "Everyfin worth having," you retort.

Wherein, Having Beaten A Game, All Players Are Taken Back To The Same, Worst Available Universe, With Species Changes To Match For Those Who Did Not Match Beforehand. In short: You're all trolls now, welcome to Alternia.

"I need to—" you can't, you can't say it with Mituna there. "It's my mutation," you say instead. "There are complications." "Okay, dude, open the door," Latula says. The knob rattles, and you miss whatever Mituna says next. "Yeah, I know, but he's still one of us. We can't just let him suffer, you know?" (Kankri misses a social outing. Some of his friends come to check up on him.)

"Whatever nasty ideas I just gave you, go for it. I'm your kinky alien sex toy for the night or whatever," and with Terezi looming over you and Karkat's big hands on you that's suddenly a seriously, intensely possible thing. You are having a vision of the future and it involves a lot of troll junk.

You are being the best boyfriend right now, right, and you're not even appropriating that word because you're only using it in your head instead of saying it out loud where Kankri could get upset. And it better be worth it, because you are so uncomfortable.

Honestly you don't give two shits what the kid looks like. Your audience will go for it even if you get someone who got beaten half to death with the troll ugly stick. The picture loads. You're going to make so much alien fetish money you're going to have to hire somebody to build a swimming pool on the roof, just so you can fill it with sleazy intergalactic flesh trade dollars and roll around in it like an asshole.

"If you're hitting on me, queue's to your left," Dave replies, and then he looks. The man has nice arms. Solid shoulders, strong biceps. Baby face still, baby-blue eyes in the white strobe lights and friendly dimples. Someone got him with funny cat-whiskers paint that's just subtle enough to tickle Dave's funny bone, but with a body like that he's got to be at least twenty. "What, no!" The man blushes so hard Dave can see his face darken even through the flashing lighting and dim of the dance floor. He actually honest-to-God flails his hands, what a dork. "I just -- argh, and you totally know that, don't you?" -- Anonymous asked: Dave/Naruto, hooking up at a house party (papabrostrider is to blame for this one)

The sensible thing would be to get out of here and revert to plan "avoid everyone until we're through this bubble." You've seen how scary-violent trolls can get. On the other hand, Karkat. You've been increasingly aware of your own Karkat as a potential makeouts friend for months now, which might be just a lack of other options who aren't a) your ex, b) your sister, c) dating your sister, d) the Mayor, or e) COMPLETELY PSYCHO, but despite the poor reasoning it's still a thing. Your Karkat has seemed pretty oblivious. Evil Karkat, though....