In which Scott notices Derek and Stiles, gets very confused, and tries to be a good friend.

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

It's the job of the captain to pick the crew, and the duty of the first mate to test them for worthiness. How Zoro came to accept each of the straw hats as nakama.

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.

"Yes, this isn't all that interesting anymore," Sanji agreed with a longing look at the corridor down which the beautiful girls had fled with their stuffed alligator. "My beautiful Nami-swan should be docking the Merry in that hidden harbour right about now. I hope she didn't suffer too dreadfully from my absence." "Do they even know where we are?" "No." "Good. That'll give us time to go and meet them at the docks rather than see them tumbling through that door any second now. I don't want Luffy anywhere near this place."

Luffy, challenge, really big maze, treasure if he wins, death if he loses. Are any more explanations required?

Yamamoto and Gokudera have lunch together every Saturday. Tsuna can't decide if this is a good thing or just the cause of more ridiculous problems.

In which Tsuna’s the Corpse Whisperer. (Or: In the months he spends at the Varia Compound at Timoteo’s behest, Tsuna manages to stumble across enough forgotten dead bodies to fill entire cemeteries. And everyone is terribly amused. Except, y’know, for him.)

“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.

“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.

Nami's nakama were certifiable. Loony-bin material, every last one of them.

Adele has some questions about Xander and Xiang's relationship.

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

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.

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.

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

“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.”

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.

Whatever the hell Yuri had been expected when he finally got around to joining the pig and Victor in the hot springs, it sure as f*** hadn’t been the humongous red dragon tattooed on the pig’s back. (or: that one in Yuri goes on a journey to figure out why something about Yuuri, the Katsuki family and Hasetsu as a whole seems… Very… Strange. There’s no way in hell Katsudon’s in the yakuza. Right?)

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.

Based on a kinkmeme prompt: "Ardyn pretends to be Noct to get info out of/lead astray/etc the Chocobros. Except Ardyn is thousands of years old and doesn't know how to talk like a 20 y/o slacker. He's too verbose, he uses old slang people haven't used in centuries, he smiles too much, he guesses their romantic attachments wrong..."

“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.

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.

The thing that most people who are not sect leaders fail to understand is that being a sect leader is hard. It’s not the countless duties and obligations, or the crushing weight of responsibility, or even the hours of meetings spent trying not to fall asleep as some stupid merchant who’s never experienced any hardship in his entire overly-fed life drones on and on about how Lanling Jin should compensate him because a stray fierce corpse scared him and made him spill his tea. Or something. It’s that sometimes, despite being a sect leader, there’s still nothing Jin Ling can do to help people. In which Jin Ling turns to masked vigilantism as a way to more effectively help people. Somehow it doesn't all end in disaster.

Sandu Shengshou and Hanguang-Jun had, infamously, long since mastered the art of existing in the same space without ever acknowledging one another directly, and Wei Wuxian, having never in either of his lives met a delicate social situation he didn't blithely barrel through if it suited him, happily chattered enough to fill what might have been awkward silences in any other company. But in the end it was not Wei Wuxian who ultimately prompted the cessation of the cultivation world's coldest and most famous feud. or: The Badass Teamup of Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji

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!”

“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.

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.

“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.

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

“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.

“You scored very highly—” “As fuckin’ usual.” “—but your interpersonal skills are still unbelievably low. If you are going to be a pro hero you need to be capable of working on a team—sometimes even one composed of people you don’t like.” Aizawa seemed to have roused himself from the edge of sleep long enough to impart this wisdom to Blasty. “Whatever. Just tell me what I’m doing.” Bakugou didn’t seem very moved. Mina thought one might need a backhoe to achieve such a thing. Aizawa zipped himself up in his sleeping bag. “Go around the classroom and give everyone an honest compliment.”

“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.”

“Oh my God, shut up Danny, you went to play for the Habs, you don’t know my pain.” Or, Claude Giroux gets traded to the Penguins.

She puts the number into her phone as Phil's friend. Phil has a lot of friends, more than Amanda knows. For all that the media shits on him, he's easy to like away from the camera. He's always meeting up with old buddies during the summer to shoot the shit and grill out in someone's backyard. This guy could be anybody, really, except for Bozie, because Amanda already has Bozie's number in her phone.