Two tickets to a circus never used, a little boy forgotten, and a chance meeting. Of such things are legends made.

Building a pack, one messed-up set of dynamics at a time. Post S2, slow-build Sterek, Stiles-centric, multiple POV fics. Jossed by early s3 Jeff Davis reveals and extending into a future fic. Bamf!Sheriff, magic!Stiles, ambiguous!Peter, and all the drama Beacon Hills can provide. Warnings for shifting and poly relationships, meta and all the literary and film nerdery that being around Stiles would involve. Also, general warnings for any and all characters undergoing: gore/medical trauma, PTSD, grief, angst, angst, angst (did I mention angst), pining, identity issues, sexuality crises, violence of magical and non-magical sources, homework from Harris, college applications (the HORROR) and general WTF IS MY LIFE kinds of reflections. Sunnydale Beacon Hills is like that.

"Commander Spock, we have located your son," the Vulcan lady on the screen says, which would be great, except Jim can tell by the look on Spock's face that he's never heard of this kid before in his life. "If it is expedient, the child will be sent to join you on the Enterprise within the week."

Genma is a very good assassin. He takes a job, takes a life, comes home, repeats. Then one day a stray genin shows up on his doorstep. And then another. Lonely assassin? Not so much. Try resident shinobi den mother. [In which Genma is a (very manly) mother hen, his apartment attracts strays, and all of his (bastard) friends are quite amused.]

Through various means, Iron Bull and Dorian become the fathers of two baby girls. Dorian struggles with how to knit his family with his House, with the Magisterium, and how to give his girls the life they deserve. Bull learns to be more than just a caretaker. And this is all before the war.

Just your every day modern street gang of ragamuffins.

Wherein, Having Beaten A Game, All Players Are Taken Back To The Same, Worst Available Universe, With Species Changes To Match For Those Who Did Not Match Beforehand. In short: You're all trolls now, welcome to Alternia.

The Atlantis expedition has been lost for three years. SG-1 goes to find them, and arrives just a little too late.

“If you shower my couch with love and affection, I might actually kill you.” Or: how Tim Drake buys a house, rebuilds his life, and accidentally falls in love.

Beyond that door is a boy Sid has skated with six times, and spoken to twice. He’s a year older than Sid is, and drugged out of his mind on Bonding agent.

in which the Stark sisters don't completely understand each other, but are locked, loaded, and playing Littlefinger for all he's worth.

This is an exploration of the Sense8 universe in 8 (of course!) installments. The stories focus on very different character constellations, vary a lot in tone and focus, and they don't necessarily all take place in the same verse/timeline. But they do focus on 8 sensations or feelings that seem to be at the core of this story about friendship and family.

The one where the Talia Hale is the sister of Morticia Addams and the Hales are a little kookier than they were in the show. Also, you know. Alive. This is Derek's story.

Felix Brenner and the Cluster.

Sid's hair is a thing. It's her thing, and she's always a girl even when she's a hockey player.

Hawks takes baby steps backwards, getting closer and closer to the door, as everyone continues to get loud and look at eachother for answers. Well, almost everybody; Dabi is watching him limp away with an unimpressed expression. “Those are torture wounds,” Shigaraki points out, crossing his arms and leveling Hawks with a dead-eyed stare. “How do you even know what torture wounds look like?” Hawks throws back as he continues to plan his escape. Shigaraki looks at him with raised eyebrows until Hawks looks away again, feeling like an idiot. These people are villains, he knows that (but its so easy to forget-). “Right, fuck.” Hawks flicks him a two fingered salute before turning tail like the coward he feels like and making for the door. He doesn't get more than four feet before Dabi grabs him by one of his wings and yanks him back.

“Come with me,” Jango says. Blue-grey eyes narrow, head listing towards the side. “Why?” the teen asks wearily. “Because you’ll die here,” Jango states bluntly. You’ll die here, he thinks, and I’ll go off and die somewhere out there. “Ha,” the teen puffs a caustic laugh. “Okay.” “Okay,” he repeats.