In which the Sage of Six Paths decides he doesn’t like the ending, and Tobirama gets dragged along to fix things. The outcome is most definitely not what he expected.

He cannot help but compare himself to the swords that hang on the wall, silver and pale and edged with red, kept in sheathes until they're needed to kill. (At five years old he takes a needle and inks red into his own skin, sharp slashes like the cut of a knife on each cheek, and it’s the first time Uchiha Tajima ever looks at him and smiles.)

Tobirama comes down to breakfast on the first day of classes to find the Great Hall full of snickering, his husband conspicuously absent, and his brother face-down in his eggs.

When Tobirama returns with the drinks, Madara glances up, flushes slightly at the sight of him, and tries valiantly, if pathetically, “Do you drink milk? It certainly did your body good.” It takes effort not to throw the tray at him.

“No,” Tobirama says again, though he already has a sneaking, sinking suspicion that he’s going to lose this argument, as he does the vast majority of his arguments with Mito. Then, because sometimes the only way to undermine Mito's crazy is to match it, he adds, “If one of us is Batman, the other has to be Robin, and I look terrible in pixie boots.”

A super-cracky modern!AU where Akatsuki is a group of quasi-reformed terrorists and former suicide squad now (nominally) on the side of the angels, saving the planet their own way. Mostly accidentally. Or through recycling. (That's entirely Obito's fault.)

“Are you sure I can convince him?” Madara asks dubiously. Hashirama nods. “Only you can convince him,” Hashirama says. Then, solemnly, “Madara, you’re our only hope.”

Tobirama doesn’t give a damn about gender roles and gender-assigned clothing. Madara really, really doesn’t mind. (Or, Tobirama in thigh-highs and heels. Madara's a fan.)

In which Tobirama is sort of Obi-Wan, Madara is Anakin but not quite, and Obito and Kakashi don’t quite fit the roles of Asajj Ventress and Luke Skywalker but try their best regardless.

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.

For this ask on my Tumblr: IM IMAGINING THE WRITING THING AS MADATOBI NOW?? IMAGINE!! secret letters between enemy clans. tiny stick figure drawings of hashirama doing something stupid. instructions for a new jutsu. the possibilities are ENDLESS (Aka that soulmate AU where if you write something on your skin it also shows on the other’s.)

Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, oh my. (Or, Tobirama has a date. He will probably live to regret it.) Prequel to It’s Witchcraft.

The separate steps along divergent paths don’t change the fact that the destination remains the same.

For a prompt from the lovely Holly: The Free! anime featuring Tobirama as a swimmer, with a water addiction like Haruka - and the same penchant for undressing at the first sight of water. Cue Madara blushing and flailing, while Tobirama gives zero shits.

“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.

Aka everyone is a superhero or a sidekick or a damsel in distress in true comic style. Includes terrible hero names, almost everyone wearing spandex (Sakumo why must you be sensible and break the mold you nerd), ridiculousness, secret identity fails, and all of my favorite crack pairings. I would be sorry, but that would require a sense of shame and I misplaced mine long ago.

“You sure you want to do this?” Tōka asks, doesn’t let her gaze waver from the mercenary with a gun to her cousin’s head. Her own are completely steady, and she doesn’t miss a step as she turns, following the woman’s retreat deeper into the cave. “Sorry, Tōka,” Mito says, and the tone is light but there's a look in her eyes that Tōka is fairly sure is rueful. “I'm too pretty to stay in prison for the rest of my life."

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.

Tobirama follows Hashirama to the river with a thousand points of light burning in his head. He leaves with one as all he can see, a bonfire, a conflagration. Uchiha Madara sets a match to his life with the simple fact of his existence, and in his wake Tobirama is left standing in a field of ashes.

"Oh," Izuna said -- delicately, while studiously reading his folder, "I'm afraid we need someone with a ... strong personality for Naohime." "Why's that?" Hashirama replied, just as painfully polite. The daimyo's mediator kept watching them and scratching little pointy words in his notebook. "Because if your man doesn't prove that he's dangerous and has the personality to use it on her if she pushes him, it's going to turn abusive," Madara drawled. Hashirama stared at him for a blank second. The daimyo's envoy stopped writing; even his stone-faced Aburame bodyguard arched her eyebrows over her darkened spectacles. Tobirama stretched out across the table without another word to take back one of the folders Izuna had spread around him. -- The daimyo is over the whole Uchiha/Senju war. They're going to become one people if they know what's good for them. Madara hates it enough without having to marry a woman too.