People make assumptions, and they write fairytales. But in the real world, even in Glee world, there is no such thing as a hero, as Prince Charming. Damsels in distress have to rescue themselves, and there can never be such a thing as a happy ending, because either life goes on, or everyone dies. Kurt is just trying get as close as he can.

about a reverse little mermaid

It was an accident.

The youngest was the fairest of all, and her name was Beauty. Beauty only came out at night.

Allison is the first person he sees when he gets back.

There’s a kind of clarity that reminds you why you’re completely fucked. Sakura's team is clueless. It would just figure.

She's the extractor, not that she looks it. Most people walk on by her without realizing that she can–and will make their lives agony beyond their imagining to get what she wants. She comes in looking like little more than a florist's daughter: low necked shirt, mesh, a short skirt and a bundle of flowers wrapped up. Her gloves are long and made of thick leather which the poison can't quite get through. She plucks a hybrid rose and examines it a moment. Let the prisoner think a geisha has come to him; she's had training in that manner as well. Unlike Sakura who wore her heart on her sleeve, Ino could be the honeypot, the poison thorn.

A musing on the social and legal construction of childhood in hidden villages. Downbeat and philosophical.

"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."

Sanji is carefully placing a cherry on top of the ice cream, his hands nimble, soft, almost—gentle. But all Zoro sees is the way the hems of his pants are still soaked in blood from an earlier skirmish with a marine ship, red seeping into the cracks on the floorboard, spattering across the kitchen floor in a slow drip, drip, drip. Zoro stares, fascinated. He can’t bring himself to look away. (Or, Zoro and Sanji—terrible monsters, in love)

Love is a weapon brought to bear. Love is blood spilled without remorse, and a kiss that’s so sweet they can ignore the taste of copper underneath.

Yamamoto is really rather zen about life and death in pursuit of his duty. Gokudera, not so much.

Tsuna's been losing time nearly ever since he's met Reborn, with a voice whispering in his ear, and something taking control of him whenever he's shot with one of his tutor's special bullets. It gets worse before it gets better. (Or: That one in which Hyper Dying Will Tsuna isn't quite what he seems to be, at first glance.)

A what if, of a what if... What if the Vongola Tenth Generation were to be raised by Uchiha Madara and Senju Tobirama? Well, for one thing they don't even bother with pretending to be nice people. For another, Madara is born into the Hibari family. Yes. Madara. Also yes. Those Hibari.

“Shh,” Kakashi breathes against his lips, and there's a look in his eyes that he gets on the very worst missions, in the middle of a battle, when there's nothing left in him of restraint or anything beyond instinct and act-react. “You’re safe, Shisui. And I'm going to fix it.”

Meng Shi doesn't quite know what she saw, but she knows this much. Something is wrong with her son.

Baxia takes the shape of a woman with the body of a tiger and three heads, each more horrifying than the next. Huaisang is standing between her and his brother. Wings of ink and ash unfurl behind him as the white-throated needletail dissolves into nothing from Huaisang’s right flank and [defend] activates. “What do you want?” he asks. Shouts, really, through the screaming of the desert wind and the never-ending hum of Baxia’s energy. You know what I want, she says with three voices all at once. You know what I want, delicious one, pretty one. Jewel-snake, ink demon, fiend. - in which a sacrifice is made.

When old sect leader Nie dies, the Wen sect attacks and annexes Qinghe Nie, with the two heirs of the Nie sect taken to be raised as Wen Ruohan's wards - and more besides, in Nie Mingjue's case. Nie Huaisang spends a lot of time thinking about that.

Obi-Wan went over thirty years without a heat. It was hardly unusual or unexpected. Everyone knew omega reproductive systems were finicky. Omegas were incredibly fertile while in heat. Nature had, perhaps, compensated for the situation by ensuring they only went into heat when...conditions were correct. OR, the Dark Side AU where the Empire is already in power, the Jedi are long gone, and Obi-Wan Kenobi ends up leading an army to wipe out the Emperor's enemies. Things get more complicated when he goes into heat.

The Force speaks in mysterious ways. A young Leia Organa listens. Unfortunately, she doesn't quite know what she's hearing. This changes things.

“Bring me the Joker’s head on a platter,” Jason says, and he doesn’t mean anything by it, not really. It’s the kind of thing he jokes about when he’s overwhelmed, and he’s overwhelmed by Tim a lot. Tim’s intensity makes Jason turn flippant, makes him counterweigh the seriousness with comments about his own torture and death, like that will somehow lighten the mood. Jason says all kinds of things, for all kinds of reasons. He doesn’t expect anyone to listen.

Xanatos has never met a single more infuriating man.