The summoner's journey is a long, hard path to walk. Having guardians you trust makes all the difference in the world.

Armin, Eren and Mikasa inherit a brothel. A very classy brothel, that's popular with the military. They have no idea what they're doing, but with Armin's cunning, Mikasa's ability to kick ass, and Eren's mysterious kink-discovering skills, they pull through okay. Mostly.

From snkkink. On the night of their graduation, the 104th recruits have a wild celebration and get drunk. Really drunk. None more drunk than Those Three. (And they are crazy drunks.) The last anyone sees of them, they are in full 3DMG and hurtling themselves off Wall Rose, screaming something about seeing the ocean. The next morning, the hangover is impressive, three graduates are missing, and a path of destruction leads away from Wall Rose. As for Armin, Eren and Mikasa, they wake up at the ocean. They're not sure how they got there, but getting back is one hell of an adventure. There may have been some cults founded. Armin might be an evil mastermind. And, hey, Eren can turn into a Titan. That might just be the least weird part.

When Mikasa was still young enough to be carried everywhere she went, her mother would clasp her tight and spin them in slow, gentle circles, while her father hummed a gentle tune that she would later forget. When she was six, she watched her father take her mother in his arms and swing them around the garden, their legs somehow tangling without tripping, heads thrown back in laughter, and she clapped along with the rhythm of their footsteps. And when she was nine, a boy with a knife showed her a different kind of dance altogether.

The Scouting Legion receives word of a rogue titan in the battle of Trost. They didn't know what to expect - it certainly wasn't Jaeger.

Now you must endure. Drabbles of the Inquisitor and those who follow.

The Wave Mission is a failure. Team Seven is captured. Sasuke is gone. Kakashi is next. Sakura has no choice but to be a hero.

Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no husband and bear no children. I shall wear no gowns and no jewels. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life's blood to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come. -The Sisterhood of the Night's Watch

Jason Todd isn't what Batman made him, he isn't what the Joker made him, he isn't what the League of Assassins made him, and he isn't what the Lazarus Pit made him. He's his own person and he's taking himself back, one home renovation at a time. Also he might just make friends with the people who are supposed to be his brothers while he's at it.

A collection of ficlet-like rambles and other HP-centric stuff from my tumblr. Ficlet-Ramble #1: Seventh-Year will put Your Name in GOF for a Sickle You’re a first-year who can’t cast Wingardium Leviosa yet? Whatever, sure, just pay up. There’s no way you're going to be chosen against Angelina “Can Probably Crush You With Her Thighs” Johnson, but at least you can tell all your eleven-year-old buddies that you Did A Cool Thing.

Once upon a time, Harry Potter hid for two hours from Dudley in a chemistry classroom, while a nice graduate student explained about the scientific method and interesting facts about acids. A pebble thrown into the water causes ripples. Contains, in no particular order: magic candymaking, Harry falling in love with a house, evil kitten Draco Malfoy, and Hermione attempting to apply logic to the wizarding world.

Dragon's fire is not so easily extinguished; when Zuko rediscovers a lost firebending technique, shifting flames can shift the world...

A man who binds himself with so many rules is afraid of what he will do without them. When all his righteousness is not enough and his little brother is killed by one he trusted, Nie Mingjue casts aside all restraint and principle. He travels to the Burial Mounds, his brother's corpse cradled in his arms, and kneels before the Yiling Patriarch, begging him to bring his brother back - And then he goes to seek an accounting. No matter what the cost.

The Nie sect’s ancestors were butchers; that lowly heritage is well known and widely celebrated, much to the not-entirely-concealed disdain of some of the more refined, gentlemanly sects. Butchers at home and butchers at war – everyone knows that. What’s rather less well known is that the third sect leader, colloquially known among his descendants as ‘that idiot’, rather heroically saved an imperial princess in battle and then – and this was why he was that idiot – married her. She was a proper princess, too, the true-born daughter of the emperor; other sects might see that as a good thing, since for all that cultivation sects saw themselves as being above petty things like the politics of the common folk, a princess was still a princess. The Nie did not. The reason for this was quite simple. What does a cultivation style that already incorporates an increased chance of death through anger most assuredly does not need? The blood of the eight-clawed dragon, that’s what.

Nie Huaisang meant for it to be a surprise. Learning the Song of Clarity for his brother, so that he wouldn't need to feel bad about his sworn brothers travelling all the way to Qinghe for him - it would be the perfect birthday gift. Obviously he can't just ask someone to teach him, since they would just tell his brother about it, but that's fine; Nie Huaisang knows of a place where he can sit and listen in secret - he'll just pick it up that way. Except something must have gone wrong, because he's started coughing up blood...

“It’s not wrong if you write it down,” Mo Xuanyu muttered to himself like a mantra as he scribbled down a rough explanation of what he was going to do. “If you write it down, it’s just an experiment, and that makes it okay.” That’s what they used to say back at Koi Tower, back when they were doing all those bad things. They also said that you’re supposed to try stuff out before you do the real thing, because practice makes perfect. And anyway, surely it wouldn't hurt to put the cat in the middle of the body-sacrificing array before he put himself in - the array ran on resentment, on revenge, and how much resentment could a cat possibly have?

Nie Mingjue and Baxia have always been close. Maybe a little too close. (Nie Mingjue watched as his body leaped to the side, avoiding the beast’s charge – the movements were a little jerky, he thought, and Baxia sent some frustration back that he thought might roughly translate to listen it’s a new body and I’m trying here if she were capable of speech – and then spinning around, leaping up, and then bringing him - Nie-Mingjue-the-saber, that is - down on the beast.)

And, well. He gets impatient when he’s already in pain. He’s still got fifteen minutes until the meeting is set to begin, and the chances of him slapping Mr. Smith-Harguson so hard that the man’s toupee flies off are rising exponentially by the second. Yeah, that settles it. He needs an excuse to get out of here, and he needs it fast. - for the prompt 'jason todd, lover of fake kidnappings, meets tim drake, lover of chaos', but it... got out of hand. happy pride