He doesn’t tell Dave why he hides his food under the futon, behind mixing equipment, inside the bricks of his desk. Why his swords are two steps from where he sleeps, and why he’s trained himself to cat nap in three hour intervals of insomniac nervousness.

The day the bus break hit the news, Eliot Spencer was in the middle of a job, taking down a dirty businessman up north of Boston.

Zelgadis is learning to live with his body.

In the wake of Lisanna's death, Mirajane readjusts her relationship to her magic — and her relationship to Erza.

The SNK characters' happy reincarnated life is rudely interrupted by kaiju marching out of the Pacific. They are 100% done with this crap.

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.

Kiza isn’t in school long before she realizes that her daddy isn’t much like other daddies, and she isn’t much like other little girls. Scenes from the lives of Sad Bee Dad and Cool Bee Daughter.

I love Krem and Bull's banter :D

Cole grows increasingly confused by gender and seeks out advice.

This is a metafic about a disabled Inquisitor and the changes the disability not only brings for them, but also for their companions, their advisors, the Inquisition as a whole, and the people of Thedas. One of my goals for this was for it to be as inclusive as possible: your Inquisitor's race and gender don't matter. Every possible class is addressed. Topics include: addiction, amputation, bigots, blindness, depression, muteness, tranquil mages, transsexuality, veterans, withdrawal.

A frog, a sorcerer, a sword, a porch, and a conversation in the dark.

THOMAS is the gladers' one hope of escaping the maze. He's also a brain in a jar.

Sansa knows, standing on the steps of the Great Sept, staring into Joffrey's triumphant eyes, the blood her father soaking the stones and all the Lannisters' beautiful promises ringing in her ears, that Starks have always been the best liars.

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

There must always be a Stark in Winterfell, or: Sansa goes home.

Yusuke isn't the only spirit detective in the world. Five AUs.

Angry, traumatized girls. Let's give them more weapons.

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

Jim has a couple different lies he likes to tell about how he got his Jolteon, depending on his audience.

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.

In which Yamamoto wanders through life smiling, joking, and terrifying bystanders. It strikes him as weird that he’s had to struggle not to kill people, that it’s been such a challenge. He’s pretty sure that for most people, not being a murderer is way easier than being one.

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.

Sanji didn't wonder why he gave himself the challenge. It didn't matter why. ‘Why’ was probably covered by one-upping the bloody swordsman, and maybe there were other reasons - stranger reasons - but that was the only one that really counted, right? It was decided. He was going to get Zoro to appreciate - no, love Sanji's food. If Sanji couldn't do it, then he wasn't a true sea-cook after all.

Cor looked out at the thirty plus Crownsguard hopefuls with a flat piercing stare. “This is Prompto Argentum,” he said, gesturing to the young blond haired teen standing next to him. “He is a part of His Highness’ retinue. If you manage to land a hit on him, you can skip Basic training and move to Advance.” Someone in the crowd snicker as the rest of them stared, skeptical. Prompto Argentum was built like a stick, just waiting for someone to snap him in half. There was no way the Marshal was serious.

Sometimes friendship means forgiveness. Sometimes friendship means calling you on your bullshit.

Jiang Yanli and Jin Guangyao knew each other, during the year they both lived at Carp Tower.

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.

Wen Ning began to go, then hesitated. “Do you need medical assistance, Sect Leader Nie? I know a little…” “Wen Qionglin.” “…yes?” “Take the child and go.” (an unexpected encounter in the aftermath of the Sun Palace)

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.

In which Lan Xichen, nearly thirteen, visits Nie Mingjue, newly appointed Sect Leader - and decide to swap brothers for a day.

Lan Xichen wished that people in Qinghe weren't so notoriously reluctant to share personal information. It was one thing not to know exactly how old someone was, or what their given name was, but entirely another thing to belatedly find out that there was a new baby in the family.

"You can't seriously be suggesting that we elect Sect Leader Yao to be Chief Cultivator!" “I don’t see the problem,” Nie Mingjue said, heroically maintaining a straight face despite the slightest curve in his eyes that indicated a man who knew exactly what the problem with his suggestion was. “According to all the stories I’ve heard him tell, Sect Leader Yao has been at the forefront of every action in the past few years, large or small - no matter where or how implausibly quickly he must have traveled to get there.”

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...

Everyone has their own theories about how Jiang Cheng, of all unlikely people, got the opportunity to become a god. They're all wrong. It started with a kind act - and a story.

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian escape the burning of the Lotus Pier, but they're not alone: along with them, they bring three of their youngest shidi, little children who can't contribute and are only a burden - and who sometimes see (and say) too much. (“– and then shixiong put me down and told me to go back,” he said, crying bitter tears. “He said to tell you that you have to – that someone has to avenge –” “That idiot,” Wei Wuxian said, his lips were numb. “The Wens – they have Wen Zhuliu there! Doesn’t he know what they’ll do to him..!”)

Every once in a while, not often, people who know them well will say that Nie Mingjue lets Nie Huaisang walk all over him. That isn't quite right.

“You just killed him,” Nie Huaisang said dumbly. When the battle at Langya was done, Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang had gone looking for Meng Yao together – Nie Huaisang's brother had been positively seething at how Jin Guangshan pretended he had never received his letter of recommendation, mumbling threats under his breath – and eventually Nie Mingjue had consented to allow Nie Huaisang to go one way while he went another. Nie Huaisang had found Meng Yao first. He was starting to wish he hadn’t.

The Lotus Pier always loved the bright spirits of the world, the free and unrestrained; she held them cupped in her hand like birds, ready to fly away, to go where their whim takes them, to return because they loved her. Her cultivators reflected that, shining bright, standing against the world and attempting the impossible. But they were only humans, their lives short and too easily cut shorter; when the invading armies came to the Pier, she tried her best to help her people – help them fight, help them flee – but the enemy was already invited inside her gates. There was nothing she could do. (and then she woke up again)

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.)

“You are never allowed to do this again,” Jiang Cheng’s mother said, her voice harsh in the way that means she was scared, because she hated being scared. “Never again, you hear me?” “I hear you, a-niang,” Jiang Cheng said. “Did it live?” “Yes, of course it lived,” Madame Yu snapped. “You’re the one that nearly died! You can’t – death-sharing is a rare gift, A-Cheng, but you can’t use it too often, you hear me? Every time you use it, your own life gets shorter. You must never do it again. And you mustn’t tell anyone else about it! No one at all! Swear to me!” “I swear,” he said. “No one at all.”

The healers said it was trauma. Perhaps he was too young, or too sensitive; perhaps it was only that it had happened in such a way, at such an impressionable time – in any event, Lan Wangji’s reactions to his mother’s death had gone well beyond the normal signs of grief and turned into something much more severe. After some intense discussion, it was agreed that he should be temporarily sent to live as a guest in another sect to see if he would benefit from the change of scenery. From not being around the place where he was drowning in the memories of his mother. They sent him to the Jiang Sect.

It was Wei Wuxian’s idea, of course. Jiang Yanli’s big didi was brilliant and talented beyond measure, as reckless and impertinent in his thoughts as he was in every other way, just as her little didi was earnest and soft-hearted and dutiful, the outlines of the serious man he’d become when he grew up just barely visible underneath the baby fat that still lingered in his cheeks. It was Wei Wuxian’s idea, but it was Jiang Cheng that made Jiang Yanli decide to use it.

“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?

By everyone’s agreement (except his own), Wen Ning was the sect leader. Of course, practically speaking, Nie Mingjue actually ran everything; he was the one with the experience in it, after all, and he claimed he was no good at teaching, which was the other thing they generally did. Other than, you know, the whole...fierce corpse thing.

prompt: The junior generation is full of girls

Prompt: We keep hearing little bits about the Nie bros dad, but what about their moms?

The first time Jin Guangshan mentioned it, Jin Guangyao felt a great surge of relief – at last, he thought. At last someone else that isn’t me notices it!

And then Furiosa has a Citadel. Not just a Citadel, but all the people inside it - the Wretched, the War Boys, the Milk Mothers, the Wives, the two remaining Vuvalini… and Immortan Joe's men. That last group are first in her thoughts. The threat there is most obvious.

His hands shook as he pulled out the small box from where he’d hidden it in the back of his desk drawer. Just a tenday ago, Seventeen had come to Coruscant so he could be present when the Bill was signed, and he’d wordlessly pressed the box into Cody’s hand when they’d had a moment alone. He hadn’t opened it until today. Sitting in the box were three pairs of earrings: one blue, one purple, and one pink. He looked at them, confirmed his current thought pattern, and took out the blue ones. He put them both in and could feel himself relax immediately. He thought about putting the others in his pocket just in case, but ultimately left them on his desk. After so long as “he,” it would probably take a while until anything else felt safe. ----- “Every day you're seeing our existence debated. Transgender people are so very real.” - Elliot Page, TIME Magazine (March 2021)

Ponds is wandering the halls of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, on his way to a meeting with his general, when he finds a crying youngling. He’s clutching his hands close to himself and Ponds abruptly remembers a mission with General Vos, who had an eerily similar reaction to a set of manacles. Ponds can’t help but kneel in front of the kid and offer him his pair of brand new gloves.