In which Ichigo and Rukia are bros, and no one gets it.

Kurama just wants to finish his nap in peace. A particularly idiotic human is making that rather hard.

Crown Prince Obito elopes with the blacksmith’s son. Madara hardly expects his day to get worse from there, but he forgot to factor in his ridiculous brother, his nephew’s cunning, and the return of a distractingly attractive sea god he’d really rather remain in his past. There's only one direction for things to go from there, and it’s definitely not up.

Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, oh my. (Or, Tobirama has a date. He will probably live to regret it.) Prequel to It’s Witchcraft.

For a prompt on my Tumblr: TOS!Sannin. Tsunade McCoy the grumpy, compassionate alcoholic with a heart of gold, Jiraiya Kirk the cocky and intelligent leader and womaniser, and finally, S'chan T'gai Orochimaru, the 'non-emotional' genius scientist with a not-so-hidden soft, gooey emotional centre.

No one in their right minds would ever expect it of him, and that’s why he’s the one best-suited to the job.

“No,” Obito says, flat and cold. It’s testament to how much she’s hardened over the last year that Hinata doesn’t even blink. She certainly doesn’t waver, feet planted firmly on the other side of the bed and eyes fixed on him. “Do you really think I would come to you if there was any other option?” she asks quietly.

“What do you mean, you’re related to the Nidaime?!” Izumo demands, hands flapping faintly like he can’t decide whether to strangle Kotetsu or flail.

“It was science,” Tobirama huffs, turning his glare on Madara. “You left your DNA all over me, Uchiha. I was hardly about to pass up the opportunity.” Obito debates clamping his hands over his ears and humming loudly. He did not need to know that in any shape or form, oh god.

No one in their right minds would ever expect it of him, and that’s why he’s the one best-suited to the job.

Aka everyone is a superhero or a sidekick or a damsel in distress in true comic style. Includes terrible hero names, almost everyone wearing spandex (Sakumo why must you be sensible and break the mold you nerd), ridiculousness, secret identity fails, and all of my favorite crack pairings. I would be sorry, but that would require a sense of shame and I misplaced mine long ago.

If this airship lasts through one more round of Fire Country, it will be a miracle, Orochimaru thinks.

Fate has always had a love-hate relationship with the members of Team 7, and Sai is just now realizing that's he's most definitely not exempt.

Maybe getting dragged all the way from Wave to Konoha won't turn out to be such torture after all.

The lights of Konoha are coming on in the dusk, like stars against the shadows, and Tobirama pauses, standing atop his brother’s carved stone face as he looks over the village. Change has touched every part of it, but at a single glance Tobirama can tell that the foundations are still there. The Will of Fire, loyalty, teamwork, sacrifice in the name of the future. Love is something large, with a thousand facets, and Tobirama only knows very few of them, but of all the world’s wonders Konoha is the easiest for him to love.

If she isn’t utterly mistaken, there's a flush rising in Orochimaru’s pale cheeks, one she only ever used to see when Jiraiya was being especially handsy during their genin days. It’s been a long time since Orochimaru got over that particular crush, and Tsunade stares at him now, at the averted eyes and rising color and aggrieved slant to his mouth, and feels glee bubbling up inside of her. “Really?” she says, delighted. “Who?”

Neji is nineteen. He’s Hokage. The House system has officially been demolished, and the key to his seal, to every Caged Bird Seal, is sitting on the desk in front of him. It feels like freedom, and maybe a little like terror.

All of this, Kakashi would like it noted, is because he has terrible friends.

Obito glances over Sakura, sprawled out on the couch painting her nails, and raises a brow. “I thought Kakashi told you to leave?” “Ha.” Sakura checks her nails, then starts applying another coat. “He has like three hundred sports channels. I'm not moving an inch.”

Edward, Tobirama, some accidental dimension travel, and questions of methodology. Plus snark.

“Oh, fuck,” Squalo says, thankfully at about a quarter of his normal volume, as he tumbles to lean against the wall beside Xanxus. “This is like with that shitty Bronco all fucking over again, don’t you fucking dare.”

C told Omoi to smile, but even thinking about that is exhausting.

“Fuck, you too?” is the first thing Zabuza says to him after a solid five years apart.

Ameyuri and Zabuza get locked in a closet. It's maybe not an entirely terrible thing.

“He’s hot, isn't he?” Izuna asks, stealing one of Tobirama’s pens. Entirely distracted by his thoughts, Tobirama grunts in agreement, then realizes exactly what he was confirming and snaps his head up to glare at Izuna. Izuna just laughs in his face, and Tobirama groans and presses a hand over his eyes.

“What is that,” Obito says flatly. “It is a cactus,” Gaara says, like that’s the only question here. Deftly, with an air of ceremony, he sets the pot in Obito's hands, and then tells him, “It reminded me of you.”

Zabuza's got a thing for vicious, especially when it comes wrapped up in a cute package.

Xanxus’s Sky-born intuition is a rough, ragged thing, more given to acute paranoia than any helpful impulses, but he has it. He’s always had it, even when he chooses to ignore it, but some moments it gets harder to push it down, shut it out, focus on logic and reason instead of that little voice screaming in the back of his thoughts. Not Vongola Hyper Intuition, but bad enough on a normal day. Worse, now. So much worse. His instincts are going fucking nuts, and Xanxus can't even begin to figure out why.

Ichigo's found his Sky. Things are just...a little turbulent while everyone adjusts.

“I just want to go home,” he tells Nagato, and hates that he sounds so very much like the crybaby child Kakashi always calls him. Nagato's expression twists, grief and sympathy all wrapped up and tangled together. He catches Obito's bandaged face in his hands, leans in to touch their foreheads together, and it’s closer to anyone than Obito has been in years. “I know,” Nagato says, hoarse. “I know, Obito. But we can save everyone we love, we can save the world. All it takes is our sacrifice. And someday, when we’ve put everything to rights, we can go back. We can live in a good world with everyone we care for, and know that we’ll never lose them to war. Isn't that worth it?”

That’s a nice face, Genma thinks. A hell of a nice face. And the biceps that are as big around as Genma's head are nothing to sneeze at, either. “Genma,” Aoba starts, a warning in his voice, but in the same moment the bigger Swordsman laughs again, leaning down, and instantly three of the genin swarm him. He boosts them up, then rises easily, like the weight of three genin is nothing at all, and Genma watches them laugh and cling to his shoulders, his arms, and licks his lips. “Genma,” Aoba says, and that’s his judgey and horrified tone.

“Are those even practical?” Iruka hisses, unable to tear his eyes away from his mission partner.

Obito gets one look at the firefighter taking off his coat and almost drops his end of the gurney on his foot.

Kurama! Kurama, go right to baa-chan! Get to her or I'm going to smack you, believe it! “Ha,” Kurama mutters under his breath, and deliberately turns away from the hospital, heading for the market instead. “You're not in the driver’s seat right now, brat. Let’s see how you like it.” Kurama! Kurama, don’t you do anything— “Sorry, can't hear you,” Kurama says smugly, and drowns out Naruto's voice from his inner world with all the spite of twenty-three years spent watching his host shovel down a truly nauseating amount of ramen each day.

“Why does the paper say you're dating?” Dick asks, waving the Sunday edition in Bruce's face. Bruce doesn’t let his expression so much as twitch. Dick can sense blood in the water the same way a shark can, and he knows Bruce far too well. “Does it?” he asks mildly.

Adrift in a strange universe, Marc gets hired to take out a Jedi general. He agrees, even knowing it won't be an easy mission. What he doesn't expect is the interference of one Commander Cody, which throws him into a tailspin and sets off a cascade of events that absolutely no one could have predicted. At least Khonshu is having one hell of a time.

There’s a child hiding behind his robes. Mace looks down, brow rising like a warning flare, but doesn’t move. Leia looks back, all big, innocent brown eyes and perfect guilelessness, and pulls a fold of brown cloth over her head as she practically stuffs herself under his chair.

“Soon, padawan,” Qui-Gon says, and Obi-Wan doesn’t appreciate the amusement in his voice at all, but his disgruntled look doesn’t win him anything except a raised brow and the calmly bemused glance that always makes Master Windu eye Qui-Gon’s hair like he’s about to pull on it.

A shadow falls over the mountaintop just as the first droid drops down onto the rocks above Fives.

Nyx wakes up on an alien world, the imprint of the Ring of the Lucii burned into his finger. It's still not the weirdest thing that's happened to him in the last twenty-four hours.

Only a few years after being Knighted, one of Feemor's missions takes a turn for the worse. He's saved from certain death by a Mandalorian in black and red armor, a Mandalorian who just happens to be looking for the same long-lost artefact that Feemor is after. With Feemor injured, they have to work together to find it, but that's just the start of the trouble.

“I'm not going to stay with the ship,” Anakin says, outraged. Savage closes his eyes, not quite praying for patience, but—reaching for it, certainly. Having a padawan has been good for his self-control in ways Savage hasn’t even wanted to consider too closely.

Getting flung five years into the past is pretty much a miracle. Crash-landing on the weirdest Jedi Master he's ever had the misfortune to meet is a lot more like one extended headache for Rex, especially when he also has to contend with a brand new Force sensitivity, old friends, a Force spirit wearing a familiar face, Sith Lords, ruthless cloners, and the looming shadow of a coming war. Maybe it really would have been easier to make like Obi-Wan and find a nice, sandy planet to bury himself on.

Jon Antilles has spent most of the war keeping his head down and staying out of the fighting. But when he and Fay find evidence of a new bioweapon going to production on a Separatist planet, they move to destroy it rather than let it be deployed against the clone armies. Dooku's presence is an unexpected complication, and rather than break cover, Jon lets himself be captured and thrown in the Count's personal dungeon. He's not the only one there, however. Rex and his men have also been captured, and they're not about to trust a stranger in their midst. Jon has to pick between keeping out of the war the way he has been or rescuing the clones, blowing his cover and losing the freedom he's fought so hard for.

Tup gathers his courage, leans in. With a flicker of humor, Mace dips his head to meet him, taking the kiss without hesitation. Behind them, someone chokes.

There's a moment of absolute silence as Fives and Echo trade startled glances, Rex gapes at Obi-Wan, and Kix and Jesse freeze, eyes widening. Then, deliberately, awkwardly, Rex clears his throat, face about four shades redder than it was a moment ago. “General, you—you know Quinlan?” No wonder they made it out of the smuggler’s mansion in one piece. Obi-Wan breathes in through his nose, lets it out, and then says, “Very well, yes. Quinlan Vos, I thought you were dead, and instead you were—were—playing hooker to a crime lord!”

Feral gets kidnapped by a Jedi Master. It's the best thing that's ever happened to him. Aka how Plo Koon’s foray into Sith-napping saved the galaxy, featuring galactic road-trips, daring expeditions into Sith strongholds, plenty of soul-searching, pirates, the Death Watch, senators with big blasters, more pirates, and three brothers who weren’t prepared for any of it.

“He hasn’t noticed yet, has he?” the little Chalactan girl asks cheerfully, pulling herself up to sit on the table. Myles, currently face-down on the wood and despairing of every moment he’s spent devoting his life and honor to an idiot, groans loudly.

Agen Kolar is many things, but prepared to play babysitter for a repentant Sith is definitely not among them. However, Vader holds the keys to a conspiracy that could bring down the Jedi, and in light of that, Agen has to make allowances. (Anakin Skywalker just wants another chance. One more chance to make the right choices this time around, and save the galaxy he once destroyed. And if a weird, surly Zabrak Jedi Master with a penchant for punching people and a talent for finding trouble can help him, he'll take it.)

“I cannot believe you,” Jaster says, muffled where his face is buried in his hands. “One week of leave and this—this—this is how you come back?” Myles weighs whether he should be ashamed of himself, considers that last time Jaster got himself kidnapped because he pissed off a culty group of guardians around an ancient shrine, and promptly decides he regrets nothing. “I was only the Sith Emperor for three days before true love’s kiss broke the spell, it was fine.”