migraines

The Quest of Erebor as it might have been.Billa Baggins is not your average burglar- or, perhaps, a burglar at all. That remains to be seen. Thorin resents this little female's habit of gaining a foothold wherever she lands. Even in his heart.A retelling/reinvention of A Hobbit's Tale, beginning with Thorin's arrival at Bag End. Through the Reclaiming of Erebor, and beyond! WARNING: Ridiculous length, extreme drama, and non-canon moments galore. Written and edited by the Ladies Juno and Loki.

Having seen what the world comes in the thirty-eight years after the Second Battle of Hogwarts Godric Gyrffindor heads back in time to set things right for not only the school, the world but also his own family line as well as the lines of the other Founders.

"Take me away," Stiles breathes when Peter opens his door. He's soaked through, heavy rain drumming against the stiff line of his shoulders, mud cached up his pants, his arms, teeth-clacking, bone-clinking shivers wracking harshly through him. He feels cracked open, desperate, hollow, and there's a tight, blistering ache in the back of his throat begging him to cry, to spill out all his secrets, his terror, his misery. "Alpha," he murmurs, crumbling, nearly whisked away by the harsh winds, and Peter's eyes go molten, from ice to lava in a split second, the liquid magma in those irises so entrancing that Stiles, roughly, helplessly, raggedly, repeats what can only be a benediction, "Alpha." Peter growls, rough and low, and drags him inside, shutting the door behind him a little gentler than he'd expect, but then, Peter is always doing things gentler than he'd expect. He fucking drowned him gentler than he would've expected, and isn't that just... his life in a nutshell. [Or: Peter is protective and violent, Stiles is fucked up but surviving, and they elope to canada to see the northern lights.]

Harry has spent the last two years in semi-exile from the wizarding world after bitter arguments with the Ministry and his best friends. Now the Ministry summons him back, since they can’t run the school without the cooperation of Dumbledore’s portrait—and Dumbledore will only talk to Harry. Draco, summoned to talk to Snape’s portrait at the same time, meets a Harry he hasn’t expected, one who’s going to request something strange from him, and perhaps require more than that.

“Do I really get to have you?” [Edward] asked eventually, in a near-whisper. “Do we really get to have this?” “Until our hearts stop,” Oswald promised. “And maybe even longer. After all, this is Gotham.” Edward shivered, likely thinking of the recent resurrections. “I wouldn't want to come back different,” he insisted, heartrendingly anxious. “I wouldn't want to forget.” “I would find you again,” Oswald said with dreadful, determined certainty. “I would tear this city down brick by brick if that's what it would take.”

"When the sun catches him at the right angle, his shadow twists until it looks almost like there is a nine-tailed fox, trotting at his heels."

You are home alone in your very first apartment.Perhaps you shouldn't have, Gotham is full of dangerous and horny people. . . The series features your hot an steamy adventures withGotham's most wanted and dangerous. . . Will they love you? Or try to kill you? *** UPDATES RANDOMLY ***

After Garrett Jacob Hobbs, Will can't reconcile Abigail's death. He's done - with all of it. He needs to escape, to return to the only place he has ever felt safe and wanted. That place ends up being a sleepy town on the other side of the Chesapeake Bay, where he spent one summer as a child, exchanging riddles and letters with his dearest friend: the Shadow Man.

That night, sleep comes quickly. [Alice] falls faster than she ever has before. She lands hard in a clump of tall grass, the wind knocked out of her. Struggling to her feet, she finds that she is neither too small, nor too tall—just right, in fact. She's barefoot, still in her night-dress, and all is quiet and still in the Underland dusk. She spots a broken-down windmill in the distance and begins to walk. When she finally rounds the crumbling structure, one hand lifting a shred of broken sail in order to duck under it, she can see that the tea party is just where she left it. But only one guest is there.

Second fic for Nygmobblepot Week, Prompt: 'Fluff'. When the power in Ed's apartment goes out, Ed and Oz partake in some candlelit riddles. The prize? Winner gets the bed.

It's very frustrating, really, the way none of the rest of them seem to grasp it. Tarrant is forever catching onto things before others. It's simply his way, his habitual attention to detail, or maybe what they all call madness—such a limiting descriptor, though it's the only word upon which everyone can agree—has something to do with it. His eyes are made for catching fleeting, flitting things. And, of course, catching the obvious. One cannot read the prophecy without noting this: the Jabberwock-slayer is a he.