In a moment of lightheartedness, Lan Xichen proposes to Nie Mingjue that they go dare the dangerous Burial Mounds to see what the Yiling Patriarch is really doing there, and so judge for themselves whether Lan Wangji's unauthorized visit there was in fact a breach of the rules or not. What they find there - isn't what they expected.

Sandu Shengshou and Hanguang-Jun had, infamously, long since mastered the art of existing in the same space without ever acknowledging one another directly, and Wei Wuxian, having never in either of his lives met a delicate social situation he didn't blithely barrel through if it suited him, happily chattered enough to fill what might have been awkward silences in any other company. But in the end it was not Wei Wuxian who ultimately prompted the cessation of the cultivation world's coldest and most famous feud. or: The Badass Teamup of Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji

AU where NHS gathered his resources sooner so the sacrificial ritual happens when MXY is still a Jin disciple who wanted revenge on JGS and JGY. WWX wakes up amidst a bloody array in Jinlintai, and his first thought upon recognizing his surroundings is to look for Jin Ling.

Canon: The Untamed Jiang Yanli didn’t know Nie Huaisang very well. He’d been close with A-Xian and A-Cheng during their time in the Cloud Recesses, but Jiang Yanli was older and had made her own friends at the time; she’d pretended ignorance of her brothers’ and Nie Huaisang’s antics, while engaging in some (much subtler and better-hidden) antics of her own. She had remained in touch with the young women who had been her friends from the lectures right up until the Wens came to Lotus Pier. Her last letter to Ouyang Anzheng had gone out right before she and her father left for Lanling.

The last year before Jin Zixuan figures out that his father will only ever love him as an accessory to his power is also the year that he meets Luo Qingyang. For a long time, he thinks of it as the last truly happy year of his life. The Luos are a long-time family of the Jin sect. Most of them live in Lanling City, although there are a few cousins living farther out in the more rural areas. It is to these cousins that Jin Zixuan will go to learn to ride horses the year he turns eleven.

It happened like this: Jin Ling was a sect leader now, which was, and Jingyi really meant this, fucking hilarious. There were few things funnier, in his honest opinion. Because he was young, and inexperienced, and also — it had to be said — a real shithead, there was apparently some belief amongst his advisors that the best way forward, to promote the picture of a stable, mature sect leader who absolutely did not cry at the drop of a hat, was for Jin Ling to get married. - OR: Jin Ling and Jingyi get engaged. Things spiral from there.

It doesn’t come up often, and Wen Qing didn’t plan it this way, but she has slept with all of the Yunmeng siblings (separately) and she’s not even a little bit sorry about it, it was all good.

“Well, no one cares what you think!” Jin Zixun shouted, and Jin Zixuan flinched, already knowing that this was going to end in disaster. His older cousin – his father’s favorite of the lot – was mean at the best of times, and when he was angry, he was especially cruel. A kid like Jiang Cheng, barely nine, wouldn’t be able to deal with him. “You’ll never made anything of yourself, anyway; the best thing you’ll ever be is A-Xuan’s wife!”

When the Wen sect came to ask for hostages, Jiang Fengmian decided that he wasn't willing to risk Wei Wuxian getting hurt and instead sent Jiang Cheng to the indoctrination camp alone. Jiang Cheng spent his time there making friends. (“…wow,” Nie Huaisang said when Jiang Cheng finished explaining. “That’s – that’s bullshit.”)

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.

“I’m going to the Sui household,” Wang Zhi declared, taking the decision as he voiced it. He wouldn’t get any work done today. He hesitated at the threshold though. Ding Rong didn’t react in any way, always stoic no matter the order, though he had been getting more inquisitive lately. "Come." Or, if Wang Zhi had taken Ding Rong along.

The good news is that Lan Jingyi has found a mentor, friend, and constant companion through the difficulties in life. The bad news is that that’s because he’s been accidentally possessed by the Yiling Patriarch.

Wei Changze and Cangse Sanren don’t die. Some things change. Some things don’t. ~ It's a beautiful day in Cloud Recesses and you are a horrible guest disciple.

“He’s so beautiful,” Lan Zhan says, tongue loosened by the weed. Besides, Mianmian’s room is his safe space. He can say what he likes here, so he does. “I want to know what his mouth tastes like. I want him to put his mouth on my—” “No, no, no, no,” Jin Zixuan says, making an X with his arms. “For the love of Christ, keep it PG-13, please.” — In which Lan Zhan gets high, slides into Wei Ying's DMs, and somehow ends up having the harmonica played to him at 2am in the morning.

soft, domestic friends-to-lovers modern/celebrity au ft. musician jiang cheng & artist nie huaisang

A shadow falls over the mountaintop just as the first droid drops down onto the rocks above Fives.

Nyx wakes up on an alien world, the imprint of the Ring of the Lucii burned into his finger. It's still not the weirdest thing that's happened to him in the last twenty-four hours.

When he rejoins the Order in the middle of the Clone Wars, all Ferus wants is to help as many people as possible. An emergency mission lands him in control of the 501st before he even has time to catch his balance, though, and the disappearance of the Chancellor means there's no time to waste. The galaxy's Deep Core is a treacherous maze of deadly planets and old traps, and fighting their way through is the sort of thing that would push Ferus to his limits, even without a squad of clones to protect at the same time.

Only a few years after being Knighted, one of Feemor's missions takes a turn for the worse. He's saved from certain death by a Mandalorian in black and red armor, a Mandalorian who just happens to be looking for the same long-lost artefact that Feemor is after. With Feemor injured, they have to work together to find it, but that's just the start of the trouble.

“Be careful,” Jon says, though Nico likely doesn’t need the reminder. “If the Sith Lord notices—” “Then he’d best not,” Nico says, and vanishes with a ripple of light. A moment later, the door opens, then shuts again, and Knol snorts. “Fancy tricks, all of you,” she says, amused, and takes the hand Jon offers her. “Says the woman who eats fire,” Jon says. “With the Force.”

“I'm not going to stay with the ship,” Anakin says, outraged. Savage closes his eyes, not quite praying for patience, but—reaching for it, certainly. Having a padawan has been good for his self-control in ways Savage hasn’t even wanted to consider too closely.

Getting flung five years into the past is pretty much a miracle. Crash-landing on the weirdest Jedi Master he's ever had the misfortune to meet is a lot more like one extended headache for Rex, especially when he also has to contend with a brand new Force sensitivity, old friends, a Force spirit wearing a familiar face, Sith Lords, ruthless cloners, and the looming shadow of a coming war. Maybe it really would have been easier to make like Obi-Wan and find a nice, sandy planet to bury himself on.

“You have to take her to the crèche, Antilles,” Nico says sternly. Jon doesn’t clutch at the little Togruta girl, doesn’t bury her in his robes and hide her away from Nico's judgmental stare, doesn’t pick her up and run with her. Personally, he thinks it’s an admirable show of self-restraint, but given the downturn of Nico's mustache, he doesn’t agree.

Jon Antilles has spent most of the war keeping his head down and staying out of the fighting. But when he and Fay find evidence of a new bioweapon going to production on a Separatist planet, they move to destroy it rather than let it be deployed against the clone armies. Dooku's presence is an unexpected complication, and rather than break cover, Jon lets himself be captured and thrown in the Count's personal dungeon. He's not the only one there, however. Rex and his men have also been captured, and they're not about to trust a stranger in their midst. Jon has to pick between keeping out of the war the way he has been or rescuing the clones, blowing his cover and losing the freedom he's fought so hard for.

“We’re getting a commander?” a loud voice asks, delighted as it carries through the trees.

Fox, Padmé, and a conversation about armor.

Tup gathers his courage, leans in. With a flicker of humor, Mace dips his head to meet him, taking the kiss without hesitation. Behind them, someone chokes.

“Soon, padawan,” Qui-Gon says, and Obi-Wan doesn’t appreciate the amusement in his voice at all, but his disgruntled look doesn’t win him anything except a raised brow and the calmly bemused glance that always makes Master Windu eye Qui-Gon’s hair like he’s about to pull on it.

There's a moment of absolute silence as Fives and Echo trade startled glances, Rex gapes at Obi-Wan, and Kix and Jesse freeze, eyes widening. Then, deliberately, awkwardly, Rex clears his throat, face about four shades redder than it was a moment ago. “General, you—you know Quinlan?” No wonder they made it out of the smuggler’s mansion in one piece. Obi-Wan breathes in through his nose, lets it out, and then says, “Very well, yes. Quinlan Vos, I thought you were dead, and instead you were—were—playing hooker to a crime lord!”

When the massacre of the Tusken Raider village is uncovered, Anakin is recalled to Coruscant to face the Council's inquiry into his actions. Agen Kolar takes his place leading the 501st in a treacherous assault on forces trying to conquer Champala, but no one is happy with Anakin's sudden removal, his padawan and Torrent Company least of all. With little support in a campaign that's rapidly spiraling out of control and strange happenings starting to plague the battalion, Agen is in over his head, and Champala's oceans are more than deep enough to drown them all at the first misstep.

Feral gets kidnapped by a Jedi Master. It's the best thing that's ever happened to him. Aka how Plo Koon’s foray into Sith-napping saved the galaxy, featuring galactic road-trips, daring expeditions into Sith strongholds, plenty of soul-searching, pirates, the Death Watch, senators with big blasters, more pirates, and three brothers who weren’t prepared for any of it.

A week after an attack that nearly killed him and his son, Jaster Mereel finds Mostross dead on a battlefield. His killer is a Jedi, grievously wounded, who Jaster takes into his care. By Mandalorian tradition, Jon Antilles owes him a life-debt, and Jaster is cunning enough not to let such a thing slip away. It's meant to be an entirely political arrangement. It doesn't stay that way for long.

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.

Her daughter is five years old when Ursa realises what she and Ozai have been doing to their children. By each choosing one to bestow with their approval, they’re pitting them against one another. Perhaps Ozai is doing it on purpose, but Ursa isn’t. She resolves to heal the damage she has done. In which Ursa tries to be a better parent to Azula, and it doesn’t change very much. And then, quite abruptly, it changes everything.

Zuko's soul marks have been regularly burned away since before he knew what they meant. He knows that he cannot be loyal to his father and his nation while also being loyal to a soul family, so he doesn't look for them. Unfortunately, that means that he doesn't know when he's found them.

High Sage Kenji blesses Fire Prince Zuko with the resilience of the reed, who bends in the wind and never breaks. When he is done, Fire Prince Ozai narrows his eyes, seemingly displeased by this blessing. But Kenji does not speak for himself; he is only a vessel. * The newly-crowned Fire Lord Ozai offers his firstborn son to service in the temple. This turns out to be a catastrophic mistake.

“You want me to what,” Lan Qiren said. “Be the father of my child,” Cangse Sanren said. Simply and straightforwardly, as if that were just a thing people said.

The light overhead isn't from Minion island's overcast sky but instead a steel plated ceiling shining down fluorescence, glass and plastic bottles rattling on shelves against the walls. Everywhere there's monitors and familiar machinery and the distinct tang of antiseptic, sharp beyond the memory sense of blood and snow. For half a second Law looks at it all very blankly and thinks, What The Hell. Is he dreaming. Is he hallucinating. Is he just plain dead. His sight-line completes the rotation of this impossibility to fall upon speckled jeans and a long sweeping coat. And the man standing in front of Law has the blankest expression Law's ever seen. And the man standing in front of Law has Law's father's face. Underneath Law's blood-slicked fingers, Cora-san's pulse shudders. (This is a story where the past and the present collide. Wherein thirteen year old Trafalgar Law and twenty-six year old Rocinante tumble sideways through time-space via the blue desperation of a newly eaten devil fruit, from Minion island to a future distant. Right, unwittingly, onto the submarine deck of a another Law shortly after Doflamingo’s fall.)

What if Kaz asked Jesper to help him get over his touch aversion, so he could be with Inej?

Agen Kolar is many things, but prepared to play babysitter for a repentant Sith is definitely not among them. However, Vader holds the keys to a conspiracy that could bring down the Jedi, and in light of that, Agen has to make allowances. (Anakin Skywalker just wants another chance. One more chance to make the right choices this time around, and save the galaxy he once destroyed. And if a weird, surly Zabrak Jedi Master with a penchant for punching people and a talent for finding trouble can help him, he'll take it.)

“You scored very highly—” “As fuckin’ usual.” “—but your interpersonal skills are still unbelievably low. If you are going to be a pro hero you need to be capable of working on a team—sometimes even one composed of people you don’t like.” Aizawa seemed to have roused himself from the edge of sleep long enough to impart this wisdom to Blasty. “Whatever. Just tell me what I’m doing.” Bakugou didn’t seem very moved. Mina thought one might need a backhoe to achieve such a thing. Aizawa zipped himself up in his sleeping bag. “Go around the classroom and give everyone an honest compliment.”

“Would you fuck off already?” Bakugou’s voice rang out over the sounds of the party, prompting several members of 1A to look over in concern. Izuku bit his lip and joined them, peering around Uraraka’s shoulder where she sat beside him on the couch. Iida frowned and stood, ready to step in before Bakugou could start a fight. “Hey, man, no need to yell, we were just—” “You were just being a fucking creep. She’s obviously not fucking interested, jackass.” Izuku blinked

“Are you sure about this?” Jon asks a little warily.

“He hasn’t noticed yet, has he?” the little Chalactan girl asks cheerfully, pulling herself up to sit on the table. Myles, currently face-down on the wood and despairing of every moment he’s spent devoting his life and honor to an idiot, groans loudly.

“I cannot believe you,” Jaster says, muffled where his face is buried in his hands. “One week of leave and this—this—this is how you come back?” Myles weighs whether he should be ashamed of himself, considers that last time Jaster got himself kidnapped because he pissed off a culty group of guardians around an ancient shrine, and promptly decides he regrets nothing. “I was only the Sith Emperor for three days before true love’s kiss broke the spell, it was fine.”

Slice of life, only the lives are Ed Elric's and Roy Mustang's. Politics. Violence. Stupidity. A lot of animals. True love(?). And of course like 4 separate instances of fake dating

“I thought it was supposed to be warm on this planet,” Ahsoka says, pulling her jacket a little tighter around her shoulders.

This whole thing had started back in their first year in the league, when Alex had dragged Sydney out drinking with what looked like every Russian in New York City after one of their million joint press-and-photo-shoot events. Everyone wanted a piece of the first two women to play in the NHL, and if they could take a piece of both of them at the same time, so much the better.

Sid’s gotten pretty used to total strangers asking him what he’s trying to prove, or telling him he wasn’t raised right, and they always expect it to bother him. He doesn’t tell them he hears much, much worse on the ice. When shit gets even worse than usual—when a ref calls him a brat when he’s arguing a call, when another team’s goon tries to put him on his knees five times a game—he sits on the bench and presses down on his chest protector, feeling the shape of the captain’s ring on its chain around his neck, until he doesn’t feel like throwing up anymore. Sid’s never had a dom, not even for a night, but he has his team, and that’s enough. That’s more than enough.

Five minutes later, he sits back on his bed, pillow clutched triumphantly in his hands. Patrick is splayed out across his own bed, breathing hard with his hair curling out in five different directions. Jonny smugly clicks the television off with the remote, and then tosses the pillow next to him so he can climb under the sheets. Patrick sits up after a minute, tucks his hand under his chin and abruptly swipes his hand out into a point, straight at Jonny, with a glare. Jonny blinks, and then Patrick translates. It figures the first thing Jonny’d learn in sign language is 'fuck you'.