“Leia, it’s fine,” a man says, and it’s not quite soothing. More entreating, and Boba wrinkles his nose, shifting slightly. His hands are cuffed behind him, and one of his captors was smart enough to steal the lockpicks from his belt. Boba hates smart enemies. “It’s not fine,” the woman says acidly. “Luke, he tried to kill us!” “Only once,” Luke says stubbornly. “And technically he was taking Han alive.”

Fox, Padmé, and a conversation about armor.

Qin Su makes her own decision.

He knew the instant the flowers went away.

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.

The general is asleep. Not his general, of course. At least not officially. But Cody still pauses at the edge of the camp, caf in hand, and watches Mace breathe for a long, long moment before he steps closer and glances around them, checking whether anything has changed in the handful of minutes he was gone.

“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!”

The press of a body sliding into the bed behind him wakes Mace from a light sleep, too alert for any real sort of surprise, and he huffs as thick arms wrap around him, shift him. “So you took my invitation after all,” he says, and there's a sound behind him, rough and amused.

“I appreciate your willingness to indulge me, Commander,” Padmé says, keeping her eyes very firmly fixed forward as Tekla works. Just because she wants to stare doesn’t mean she will.

“Well,” Kit says lightly. “This does seem to be a predicament, doesn’t it?” Pressed right up against him, gauntlets digging bruises into his almost-bare hips, Dogma squeezes his eyes tightly shut. “I'm going to kill my whole squad,” he says, perfectly certain and resigned to it.

In a sun-drowned field, Alina reaches for you with kohl-smudged hands, and the world in her eyes. Somewhere, she’s long since sketched the shape of you enough to commit it to muscle memory. Somewhere, she’s long since pressed you in between the two heaviest books she could find; breathless. There’s blood dripping from her palms.

“For as long as I can remember, a spirit has followed and assisted me,” Meng Yao said.

[“I just—“ Zuko begins, cuts himself off, opens his mouth to try again. Nothing comes out, and Sokka gives him a full-body squeeze to encourage him. “Maybe next time, you could, uh…” “Yes?” Rushing him does nothing but make him shut down, Sokka’s learned the hard way. Patience isn’t something that comes naturally, but it’s something that he’s learning, just like Zuko’s slowly learning to communicate. “Maybe next time, I want you to, uh, hold me down.”] Or, Zuko learns to use his words.

Nie Mingjue keeps trying to talk to Jin Guangyao, and Jin Guangyao doesn't know quite what to make of it. Still less did he know what to make of Nie Mingjue, of all people, being insightful about the difficulties of being a bastard son of the sect leader, recognized but never accepted. Has the world turned upside down? Maybe it had.

Wei Wuxian had been obsessed with the idea of a resonant bond ever since he first learned about it. The idea that he could one day, if he were very lucky, form an unbreakable connection to another person - a connection that generally manifested, it was said, as a mental bond that could not be severed, a tie that would keep them bound together no matter the distance. A bond that would mean he need never fear abandonment, to never need to worry about someone going out only for a little and then never coming back. It would be amazing, he thought - right up until he punched Jin Zixuan in the face for insulting his shijie and something just – Clicked.

"I had a question for the Peak Lord," says Luo Binghe, voice sweet, eyes cold. "A dialect question." If Shang Qinghua was sweating before, he's dripping fucking rivers now. He and Cucumber-bro communicate in a horrible mix of memes, internet slang, Chinglish and modern Chinese, mostly but not entirely incomprehensible for any outsider. Luo Binghe had decided it must be some hometown dialect that they shared, despite any evidence of Shen Qingqui and Shang Qinghua ever speaking to each other before they both had the shitty luck to be transmigrated, and devoted himself to learning his beloved Shizun's birth dialect. Fuck! Why was Shang Qinghua dumb enough to have made it a plot point that Luo Binghe had a god level ability to pick up languages! .... right, so he could pick up some girl's dialect and seduce her more easily, but it wasn't fair that this monogamous version of his son could still do it, okay!!

A day in the life of one happily married couple: in which Jiang Yanli dresses her husband in lingerie, ties him to the headboard, and pegs him until he comes (multiple times) and cries.

“You idiot,” Ye Baiyi chuckles at Long Xiao. “He was already panting for someone to have him like a bitch before you poisoned him. You’re doing us a favor by encouraging these two soup-for-brains to go off into the woods and fuck their feelings out.” Wen Kexing swears at Ye Baiyi, then threatens to pluck his eyebrows bald. Chengling blinks as he takes in the scene with round eyes. Long Xiao smiles, showing off his full set of adult teeth, eerily out of place in a child’s face. Zhou Zishu feels sick to his stomach; he wishes he could be drunk. Wen Kexing gets hit with fuck-or-die sex pollen on the way to Longyuan cabinet. Everything would be fine, except Zhou Zishu’s been keeping an unfortunate secret: the nails in his chest mean he can’t get hard anymore.

Kaz recruits Wylan to help infiltrate the Ice Court. Wylan is under the impression that Jesper is flirting with him—until Jesper brings up his lost true love.

In which Zuko’s advisors won’t stop harassing him about suitable candidates for Fire Lady, and Zuko’s friends hatch an ingenious plan: pretend courtships.

“But I didn’t mean to wish him away!” Nie Huaisang cried out. “That’s really too bad,” the goblin king said, looking pleasant and humble and charming the way he always did, even in his cape of glittering gold and high-browed hat. “I wish there was something I could do for you, but the rules are the rules. You wished him away, and I took him.” Nie Huaisang wrung his hands. “You don’t understand, the last thing I said to him was that I hated him! Meng Yao, please!” “It’s Jin Guangyao,” the goblin king corrected. His smile looked a bit strained. “Listen, do you think I’m happy about this? He’s my sworn brother! I’m only doing what I have to –” “Oh, save it for Lan Xichen,” Nie Huaisang growled. “Show me the labyrinth already.” “You’re going to face the labyrinth,” the goblin king said. His voice was very polite, and yet still expressed significant doubt. “You.”

That sort of tight-curled body almost always means pain. Bly pauses at the edge of the camp, attention caught by the last campfire before the ring of sentries. A man, Human, is seated on a rock by the fire, curled in on himself with his knees drawn up, and the length of his limbs means he’s probably tall, but he’s managed to press himself down into a knot that looks strangely vulnerable. He doesn’t have a cloak, but there's a worn pack on the ground next to him, and he wouldn’t be the first intelligence officer to look a little out of place in the middle of a battalion of clones.

After a dangerous fight, Tamaki needs a... special kind of stress relief. Kirishima is more than happy to help his Senpai out, even when he has an unusual request.

“I’ll be there,” Jiang Cheng said suddenly, and Nie Mingjue blinked. “At – at the Nightless City. After you kill him, after we take the city…I’ll come find you, to make sure you’re all right.” That was stupid, he thought to himself as soon as he said it. Nie Mingjue had an entire sect, and friends, and all that – he didn’t need Jiang Cheng hounding him with his insecurities, his worries, his fear that Nie Mingjue would die, too, die and leave him behind just like all the others. Why should he be the exception? But Nie Mingjue smiled. “I look forward to seeing you then.”

Rumor had already made the entire cultivation world aware that Jiang Fengmian had found the orphaned son of Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze, and that he had taken him into his home as his ward, allowing him to become a Jiang sect disciple – treating him almost as one of the family, even. That much was known, so it didn’t come as much of a surprise when Jiang Fengmian proudly introduced him or even more proudly showed him off, praising him to the high heavens. What did come as a surprise was how little he praised his own son standing beside him, despite them being only a few days apart in age. It was as if Jiang Fengmian had simply forgotten that such a creature existed, much less that he had himself contributed to its spawning, and the constant looks of hope – invariably crushed – the child sent him made it clear that the present situation had been going on for some time. Fuck you, Nie Mingjue thought, seeing red, seeing instead Nie Huaisang in his failed saber classes, struggling so desperately to keep up with the rest even though his body wouldn’t allow for it, being told he was useless and a good-for-nothing and fit for nothing but marriage. Fuck you, Jiang Fengmian.

From Delight in Misery by nirejseki: "There was a period when da-ge’s temper was getting worse and worse, and A-Yao was doing everything he could to irritate him while pretending he’d never done anything wrong in his life, which of course irritated da-ge even more…I honestly thought one of them might try to kill the other. But then I ended up having a small fit while the two of them were bickering, and by the time I recovered they’d somehow managed to get over the worst of it.” Lan Wangji raised his eyebrows. “I think they realized that I couldn’t handle losing either of them at that time,” Lan Xichen said with a shrug, indicating clearly that the fit in question was not a subject that was open for discussion. “I’d had the abrupt realization that I really might never see you again, if not even they could locate you...it really was a surprise that Jiang Cheng turned out to be such an accomplished liar.” What did that "small fit" look like?

During his time rebuilding the Jiang sect and the Lotus Pier from the ground up, Jiang Cheng meets a lot of people. Some of them he keeps. (5+1 Jiang Cheng adopting stray cultivators after the Sunshot Campaign)

“No, I don’t want anything,” Nie Mingjue said, deeply relieved to have identified that he had not, in fact, forgotten to fill out his calendar. “I’m stuck in a time loop.” “…ah,” the guard said, looking taken aback – he must be new to Qinghe, like many of the cultivators in the army. Like Meng Yao, for that matter. “Is that…bad?” “No, it’s fantastic. I’m going back to sleep. No one is to bother me all day.”

[It’s all Mai’s fault. It was never going to work out between them at the end of the day, romantically, but Zuko will love her until the day he dies, and that love is how he gets bullied into putting it on in the first place. It’s a little square of deep red lace and ribbon that weighs next to nothing. Mai presses it into his hands with a smirk and tells him to put it on. It matches her black one, she says. Hurry up. Zuko loves this woman with every drop of blood in his body. He takes the...whatever it is and hurries up. He changes in her closet—there’s no mirror in there, but Zuko doesn’t need it. He knows what this is.] Or, Zuko explores some options.

Well, shit, Nie Huaisang thought, even as he comforted Jin Rusong, petting the toddler’s back to try to get him to calm down. What do I do now?

It's finally time for Nie Mingjue to give Nie Huaisang the Sex Talk. Pity no one ever thought to give one to Nie Mingjue.

“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.

It was a beautiful field, constantly blooming with purple flowers. No weather in the human realm could stop them, and only the gods' mercy can save any human affected by them. Well, that and a demon's 'mercy' would work too. OR Sex Pollen Field Affects Local Peak Lord, Half-Demon Protagonist Lends A Helping Pillar!! Done for LQG Fuck or Die Fest (2019)!

Nie Mingjue has had a very shitty week. His brother concocts an elaborate scheme to help him relax.

“Sometimes when Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu make love-” Shang Qinghua thinks of the right way to phrase it, drawing on his extensive experience- “Shen Qingqiu’s heavenly pillar descends to Luo Binghe’s ravine, if you understand me,” he says, moving his eyebrows in a way that is meant to convey deep meaning. Mobei-Jun does not make an expression of understanding, but he’s watching Shang Qinghua very, very closely. “Shang Qinghua,” he says. “You want to be inside me?”

What sort of servitude ceremony was this? — In which Shang Qinghua didn't leave.

Sure, getting fucked by tentacles was a rare, once in two lifetimes kind of experience. But honestly, once you went demon dick there's no going back. OR Shang Qinghua (and Shen Qingqiu) gets tentacle-fucked but Shang Qinghua is still helplessly horny for a certain ice demon.

“Hey,” Lao Nie protested mildly. “Who’s the father here, me or you?” “If a-die wants a new wife, little uncle will find one that isn’t inclined to kill him.” That sounded like a recitation. “Then what’s even the point,” Lao Nie grumbled, and reached out to ruffle his son’s hair, enjoying how Nie Mingjue yelped when he did, glaring up at him with offended dignity.

“He will know we are faking.” Mobei-jun says. “We’re sharing a room, how will he know?” “He has the room on the other side of the wall. We will have to share the bed.”

Shang Qinghua had not always been the most original author out there. If there was a bandwagon to jump on that could please his readers and put more money into his account so he could eat a bit less in the way of cheap instant noodles and a bit more in the way of slightly less cheap instant noodles, he was first in line to jump on it. There was a particular trend that had just started to become popular when he started his novel, and he was all too happy to run with it, adding his own twists to it as was necessary or convenient. If he had known that it would lead to this particular situation—! Well, okay, he probably would have written it in, as a future death held down by a shirtless Mobei Jun sounded infinitely more appealing than starving to death in his dismal little apartment. But at least he would have known what he was signing up for!

“My lady,” the midwife said. “Congratulations. You have a daughter.” Madame Jin shook her head. “I need a son,” she said. “My lady –” “I’m not doing that again,” Madame Jin said, her voice getting stronger. “I need a son.” “But –” She looked at her loyal maid, who inclined her head. A knife flashed. “Congratulations, my lady,” her maid said, pushing aside the midwife’s body with her foot. “You have a son.” Madame Jin smiled.

Shang Qinghua got hit with a sex pollen, and he knows his king won't save him. Cucumber-bro doesn't take pity on him; he calls Mobei-Jun, assured that Mobei-Jun won't let Shang Qinghua die.

JIANG CHENG: I’m passing the phone to someone who once did a cannonball into the lake before ever learning how to swim and puked up water for a week.

“What is that?” Thire asks, wrinkling his nose as Fox marches past him. He immediately turns to open a window. Fox snorts, lifting a boot to kick Thorn where he’s sprawled out on the couch. Thorn groans, but raises his head, and Fox jerks his head at him. “A Jedi,” he answers, and Thorn freezes, eyes widening.

fucked up if true! @fuitpodcast A podcast about organized crime, cults, and other legally questionable things! Also featuring: an improbable number of references to the power of friendship, a cat (alleged), and occasional expert interviews! Updates on a schedule known only to the people who make the academic calendar. Hosted by Enma (@10gravities) and Tsuna (twitterless and proud) academic racoon in a trenchcoat @getyerproblems Do they know they’re being recorded? Tsuna and Enma have a podcast. The fandom has a few theories, and a LOT of questions.

[“Okay, but listen,” Zuko says. “I’m listening.” “Did you forget about the capitalist scam happening tomorrow?” He asks. “You know, patron saint of shitty teddy bears and pretending that a few flowers makes up for being emotionally constipated the rest of the year?” Zuko shrugs. “Not like I lied.” “Sounds kind of like you lied.” “He said couple,” Zuko points out, “We are a couple. A couple of people who want a discount.”] Or, Zuko and Sokka work the system.

Prompt: We keep hearing little bits about the Nie bros dad, but what about their moms?

prompt: The junior generation is full of girls

Prompt: NMJ and JGY spend an entire banquet on the same page and in perfect agreement on something - and that something is that the random, minor sect leader's daughter that is CLEARLY trying to get with LXC is Not Good Enough For Him and they both need to make sure the OTHER doesn't accidentally maim and/or poison her throughout the night.