so earlier this afternoon @exoscopy and i were like "what if jgy ascended immediately to godhood when lxc stabbed him in guanyin temple, but became a god of revenge" and.....however many hours later, here we are. thread time let's roll

I wouldn't mind, Mingjue's voice echoes in his mind. If you wanted to be - with him, also. We share everything. au where mingcheng start banging during sunshot, and this fixes a lot of things. life gets more complicated, however, when nie mingjue notices his brother's feelings for his lover.

“I didn’t know Mistress Jiang’s expertise extended to medicine,” Lan Xichen commented, a little breathless from the pain of his injury. Jiang Yanli smiled up at him – kind and gentle and just a little mischievous – and suddenly he was a little more breathless than before. How had he never spent time with this remarkable woman before?

He blacks out, or something, because the next thing Varric knows he’s at his desk with Bran standing over him with a pinched look on his face. “I got a kid.” Bran’s face somehow pinches further. “Like, from a store?” Varric whacks his head against his desk. in which varric's saddled with a kid, and hawke tries not to get too attached

Wei Wuxian's messiness comes back to bite him in the ass, a thousand years later. *** "Why are vampire stories always I Want To Drink The Sexy Neck Milkshake and never two vampires texting about the passionate letter one wrote to the other in 1863 but never sent that the other just saw in the Smithsonian’s fall exhibition on Love Through the Ages and what the fuck, Claude, why didn’t you say anything" AU, but with immortal cultivators.

A very specific part of Jin Ling's Yunmeng Jiang heritage makes itself known when he comes of age. His friends help him out.

Pat’s never really had anyone do this before– the gentle, almost rhythmic smoothing as Brian makes his way across one wing and then the other, seemingly in no rush to get to the main event, so to speak. He hasn’t touched Pat’s preen oil glands at all, but apparently Pat’s body has gotten the message that preening is happening now anyway. He can feel that the feathers closest to his back are slick with oil now, already noticeably heavier than usual. Brian seems to notice this as well, as he pauses mid-sentence to let out a soft “Hmm!” when his ministrations shift again towards the center of Pat’s back.

“Tell me I’m beautiful, Lan er-gege!” “You are well aware you are beautiful,” Lan Wangji says. Wei Wuxian trips over Jiang Wanyin and sends both of them to the ground in a tangle of limbs and bruises.

Lan Zhan and Wei Ying go undercover at a fetish party.

The picture is of Wei Ying, that much is clear. It’s of a lot more of Wei Ying than Lan Zhan is used to seeing. He supposes that, technically, Wei Ying is dressed. It’s a bare technicality, since one of Wei Ying’s hands has rucked up his black tank top practically to his collarbone, showing a long expanse of abdomen and one nipple. Sweat beads on his sternum, catching the light like jewels. His other hand is--Lan Zhan feels his eyes widen, as though unable to look away from a train wreck--on his hip, one thumb tugging down the waistband of a pair of red briefs. Wei Ying is biting his lower lip and looking directly into the camera, sultry, his eyes dark and inviting. His erection is obvious, outlined against the red of the briefs and framed carefully with the hand on his hip. Lan Zhan’s brain goes wildly, screamingly blank. Or: Lan Zhan accidentally finds his best friend's OnlyFans account and has an ongoing emotional crisis.

“It’s Friday night,” Yanli says, a warm teasing note in her voice. “Shouldn’t you be doing something more fun than studying chemistry?” “What are you doing?” Wen Qing asks, stung. “You’re just hanging out in your dorm, right?” “Mm,” Yanli says, the warmth still in her voice. Wen Qing can almost imagine her stretching like a cat as she says it, one of those long dancer’s legs lifting high. It’s a hot night; maybe she’s wearing those tiny grey stretch shorts she wears when she comes right from dance class to the dining hall, barely peeking out under a long t-shirt. Wen Qing has thought about those shorts a lot.

The beginning of something

In which there’s a jewellery thief on the loose, Tang Fan plays dress up, gets a mild concussion and also a boyfriend.

He’s inhaling his banmian in the small area where a few tables have been arranged for the crew when he remembers that he heard his phone ding earlier. He drags it out of his bag and thumbs his WeChat open, then promptly chokes on his noodles. Wang Yizhou sends Ji Li a shirtless, ambiguously horny selfie. Ji Li retaliates.

Surprisingly, Sui Zhou is the one who writes to him first. Less surprising is that Tang Fan gets involved too (they always did seem to come as a set). -- Wang Zhi, Sui Zhou, and Tang Fan do their best to express themselves via letters where verbally they couldn't.

Huaisang drags Meng Yao to the kink club. Meng Yao is not having a good time, until he is suddenly having a very good time. Turns out holding hands and eating frozen yogurt can qualify as kink if you do it right.

“Spit it out,” said Mobei Jun impatiently. “It’s just—the only, um, method of reversing this curse that I know of would be very unpleasant for you! Extremely unpleasant! You’d probably want to avoid it at all costs! So I think the best course of action would be for me to do a little more additional research to see if I can find another way that would be less, um, personally distasteful for you, my King. That is, of course, assuming that being trapped in this lowly servant’s body isn’t already too distasteful to bear?” “Tell me what your ‘method’ entails and I will make a decision,” said Mobei Jun. aka, Mobei Jun touches an object that curses he and Shang Qinghua to swap bodies.

Nina looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Just keep the gloves on, then.” “What?” Kaz blurts. Or: Kaz Brekker conquers intimacy. It's both easier and harder than he planned.

Two gremlins, their husbands, and the horrible HOA board. As long as nobody gets arrested for arson or murder, we're gonna call it a win.

Mobei-Jun’s search for Shang Qinghua had taken him to many strange places. He had quickly exhausted all more familiar locations. He had come to this last strange place not because Shang Qinghua was a strange man who knew many strange things (though he was), but because… because… it was becoming evident that if he did not seek out strange methods, he would never find Shang Qinghua if he did not wish to be found. It was becoming evident that Shang Qinghua did not wish to be found. In which Mobei-Jun becomes an accidental time-traveler and gets a second shot at his life with Shang Qinghua.

“Did you break the ward to come in?” Lan Wangji asks, point-blank. He has his sword out and pointed at Wei Wuxian, no bothering with niceties like hello I’m Lan Wangji, and you are? Wei Wuxian eyes the sword, but doesn’t react. He keeps lazing back on the roof, casually drinking his wine, as if this is the usual way he meets new people. (And maybe it is! I don’t know your life, Wei Wuxian!) Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian meet on Season 8 of The Cultivation World. Ouyang Zizhen writes the recaps.

“Don’t worry A-Cheng, this is the kind of party that expects everyone to be using fake names. It would be horribly against the rules for anyone to acknowledge who you actually are, even if they do recognise either of you. Trust me, there will be far more interesting things going on than watching Chifeng-zun and Sandu Shengshou tonight. All you have to do is play it cool, make it seem like you’re there for the same reasons as everyone else, and nobody will meet your eyes. Piece of cake!” Huaisang sounds positively chipper, which means Jiang Cheng is almost certainly going to have the worst night of his life tonight. Or: Jiang Cheng and Nie Mingjue steal a sex party

"Hi, I'm Wei Wuxian. I'm a Career Omega and this is my fourth season on the show. I like spicy food, archery and alphas who are funny. Or maybe I don't, I haven't rolled over for one yet." On-screen, Wei Wuxian winks at the audience laughter. Hot or Knot is the world's most popular reality TV show. Part dating show, part survival show, Hot or Knot is everyone's guilty pleasure - and Wei Wuxian is a fan favourite. - The Love Island/Hunger Games reality dating tv show A/B/O au

sea_salt_waves said: I've been having all these feelings lately about a human Geno falling for sexually-repressed incubus!Sid who pays sex workers to jerk off for him and has never been in a relationship before, with all kinds of insecurities and pining… ... I didn't stick to the prompt perfectly, but it was definitely my inspiration. I hope you enjoy!

In which Evgeni Malkin comes to America as one of the few omegas in pro hockey, lights up the NHL, and spends a lot of time wondering why Sidney Crosby is so damn weird.

At the 2014 Olympics, Russia injected Zhenya with a bond blocker, same as the last two times he'd been to the games. Only this time, it brought him to his knees and left him gasping, feeling like his soul was ripped from his body. As an unbonded omega, the shot should have no effect. It should have only targeted an active bond. Unbeknownst to Zhenya, Sid collapsed on the ice at the same time.

"I think I have to get bonded," Sid said in a hollow voice, cutting off Geno's building outrage. "Wait, what?" Geno asked, mind jumping like a car on a blown tire. "To who?" "Anybody." Sid's eyes were unfocused, staring through the wall in front of him. "I don't know. I just need to bond." "That's a story," Geno scoffed. He had always thought they had good sex education in Canada, but apparently, the rumors persisted there, too. "You don't stop heat if you bond." "Heat?" Sid asked, eyes squinched up curiously. "G—I'm not. You know I'm an alpha, right?" *** Or five times Sid couldn't bond with an omega and one time he did.

Sid refuses to be jealous of something that's two and a half feet high and can't play hockey. OR: The Pittsburgh Zoo named some penguins after the Penguins, and no one will let Sid forget the one named after him has its shit together, because all his friends are assholes. Also there's pining.

The NHLOmega GroupMe isn't particularly helpful or professional, but the gossip (and the dick pics) make it worth the headache. Olli's just glad to be here.

He doesn't want to go back to the minors, or fucking get kicked out all together, so he's got to get this right. He's going to be perfect even if it kills him.

Crosby’s Biggest Secret! For years, Crosby has been famously quiet about his personal life. But now sources close to Crosby have confirmed that the secretive star has been keeping an even bigger secret than we thought! Meet the heir to his hockey throne—a son! Geno almost drops his phone.

It hits Sid first, because of course it does. He’d been talking with Phil, discussing their first power play unit, when he gets distracted by Geno’s ass in spandex. “I don’t know why everyone’s always going on and on about my ass, when you’re around. Fuck, man. It’s fucking incredible.” “Whose ass, now?” Tanger shrieks gleefully and Sid realizes with a dawning horror that— “Did I say that… out loud?”

“So I’ve noticed something,” Sid says, and Zhenya makes a face. Sid is using his Serious Captain Voice and he is using Personal Discussion Introductory Phrase No. 3. Fuck’s sake.

Jamie remembered the first time he spoke to Tyler Seguin, or rather, Jamie remembered the first time Tyler Seguin spoke to him. He hadn’t even been fully aware of the situation, sitting and waiting for their names to be called at the All-Star Game, even then he’d kept catching himself glancing at Tyler from across the room even though he hadn’t meant to. It was just that Tyler Seguin happened to the the best thing he had ever smelled in his life. “Look, I’m sure you’re nice guy and all, but I don’t really do Alphas, you know? You’re all way too demanding and stuck in your ways so I’d appreciate it if you’d stop looking at me like you’re a starving dog and I’m a steak okay?” Tyler had said.

Eight years, four months and change, and that's the moment the bond snaps into place.

Zhenya nudges Gonch with his elbow. "Who is that?" he says in urgent Russian, jabbing his glove at the now retreating zamboni. "Who?" Gonch follows the line of Zhenya's gaze, blinks when it lands on the zamboni. "What, the driver? Him?" Zhenya nods vigorously, his eyes fixed on the zamboni. Gonch stares at him for a few seconds before answering with hesitation, "That's...Sidney."

Sidney would really like to be able to draw the line at being sexually attracted to his breath mints. Or, when Sidney was forced to do a whole lot of growing up

There was a newly-uploaded picture, one that hadn’t been there yesterday. Sid tapped it open. The only lights he’d bothered turning on were the down-lights above the kitchen island. He moved closer until he was standing directly beneath them, the better to see this latest picture. It was of a newborn. Or at least, a newborn’s hand, tiny and curling around Geno’s index finger, the Love for Lokomotiv wristband he never took off distinctive and visible at the edge of the frame. There was no caption.

Sid’s standing in the hotel hallway, already in sweats and a t-shirt. “Hi G,” he says, already pushing past Geno to walk into his hotel room. “I couldn’t sleep so I thought we could watch TV or something.”

Sidney looks from Flower's arm to their handcuffs to the little nest on the floor where he assumes Kris slept. There's a giant, empty champagne bottle on the table in front of the couch, he's pretty sure the same glitter that was on Kris's face is also on his jeans, and his head still aches. "Okay," he says loudly, "I know I'm kind of stating the obvious here, but what the hell happened last night?"

Malkin’s table stays until closing time, still lingering over that bottle of Beluga when Sid comes out of the kitchen to start his nightly closing routine. He goes through the same checklist of jobs he does every night after the kitchen closes but before the bar does, tries to keep his mind on the tasks at hand, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t notice Malkin’s gaze tracking his movements, if he pretended that he can’t feel the heat of Malkin’s eyes on him as he moves around behind the bar. Sid tells himself to keep his head down, but when he does look up, just to test his theory, Malkin doesn’t even bother to look away, just holds Sid’s gaze, direct and unblinking with just the tiniest hint of a smile. The thing is, Sid’s notoriously bad at this stuff. He’s never had any working gaydar that he’s aware of, and he’s been wrong – very wrong – about this kind of thing probably more often, in his life, than he’s been right. So he assures himself this is just another one of those occasions where he’s definitely reading something incorrectly, imagining things, because there’s no way the captain of the Pittsburgh Penguins is, whatever – checking him out. That would be ridiculous.

They met by accident, fate, Geno always says, three years ago.

Geno keeps the mental door closed to his teammates in the summer, at least when he can help it; he doesn’t always check in like Sid does. They have other ways of doing that, text and email and social media, and now is the time when they’re supposed to have a break from each other. Geno likes having his head to himself. It’s good for him to get it in order for the next season.

A fill for this prompt I saw on tumblr: plot bunny: hockey player of your choice comes out to his team/comes out to his new team/has always been out but is generally quiet about it. his team is cautiously supportive of his sexuality. they are, however, astonished and outraged to learn that dudes do not often consider their out teammate a catch.

"No," Beau says sternly. "Geno, I am not wearing that." "Boss's order!" Geno says gleefully. "Is Paul Martin jersey. Ginger d-man, very handsome. You like!" Beau takes the jersey and pulls it over his head reluctantly. He very much regrets accidentally telling Geno that he has a serious weakness for muscular redheads.

This time yesterday, Jamie was picking Tyler up from the airport. It's been six hours since Nill called her and said, "Hey, looks like you're in town, can you come in today?" and five since Jordie texted help I have a wardrobe emergency. Half the notifications on Tyler's phone are Snapchats from Brownie, presumably 50/50 dogs and blurry dick pics. This is Tyler's life.

AU: Sidney Crosby is a foster kid growing up in Nova Scotia. Geno Malkin is a Russian transplant. They play hockey. And also have sex. I claim to know very little about the junior hockey league and even less about Canadian Childrens Aid Services.

Dylan doesn’t know whose idea it was to put hockey players in lingerie, but he kind of wants to send them a thank-you card.

"My friends call me Nicke," Backström—no, Nickie—finally said. His voice was very quiet, and Sasha found himself automatically leaning in to catch it, lowering his own volume to match. "Okay, Nickie!" he whisper-yelled, grinning widely. "I like this! Nickie is good nickname, hah, nickname, get it, Nickie?" Nickie clearly got it, but he didn't deign to laugh, or even smile. Sasha vowed to be funnier, the next time he tried to make a joke.

“What is it that you do, Omega Malkin?” Sid says eventually, tired of the guessing game. Apparently, he’s asked a controversial question. There’s a tension in the air. Mrs. Malkin starts giving a very particular look to her son and Omega Malkin shifts in his seat and straightens his spine like he’s gearing up for a fight. “Hockey,” Omega Malkin says evenly. Sid’s fork slips from his grip and clatters against his plate. He looks up and across the table at Omega Malkin. -- or; Sidney Crosby is an unbonded werewolf. So is Evgeni Malkin.