Andrew’s learned to like cake, he’s learned to like oysters, and he’s learned to like Steven.

This was not his bedroom; this was definitely not his apartment. It was a single room, with a small table across from the bed and a fireplace on the back wall. When he looked out the window, he could see evergreen trees and the chatty bird who wanted everyone to know what his plans for the day were. The walls and floor were plain wood, and a small painting of a tree hung on the wall. At the end of the bed—which was not Brian’s normal bed—Pat looked about two minutes away from an anxiety attack. Mentally, Brian gave Pat a pass for what he would usually consider an overreaction. “Are we,” Brian started, then tried again: “Is this—?” Pat nodded, holding out a small yellow pouch with a parsnip drawn on the front and an open letter addressed to Brian.

Modern AU: Nie Huaisang is at University, studying business (as is his duty) rather than Fine Arts (his passion). He is also, however, moonlighting as a photographic artist anonymously posting a series of high-end erotic self portraits, under the nom de guerre of FanBoy, in which his face is never visible. He's posting porn online, basically. But it's none of your trashy amateur shit - it's GORGEOUS. Nie Mingjue has a certain "type" (the details of which he chooses very carefully not to reflect upon) and as such he very swiftly becomes the number one fan of this mysterious photographer/model. Identity porn and actual porn and angst and more porn ensue.

Yizhou moves to Beijing. Ji Li helps him adjust.

There was no way the old contract Jiang Cheng found arranging a marriage between the direct disciples of the Nie and Jiang sects was, as Jiang Cheng insisted, the way to solve the problem of the Yiling Patriarch - if only because there was no way the Nie sect would agree to it. Except - they did. And now they're coming to discuss terms. With Lan Wangji as the official chaperone.

His was a boutique-y set-up, the sixth branch of Cultivation, a fairly successful local corporation, tucked away in between the hills of their city. Song Lan owns a plant shop and takes care of all things living. A reincarnation AU.

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

Sid didn’t introduce himself in the hallway, and he certainly doesn’t assume that people know who he is. So it would only be polite to thank Malkin again, this time more personally. He could write him a letter. An email? No, a letter.

He’d known how some of the men are with younglings—known from Waxer and Boil how sharply those attachments can form with little ones. Hell, the men were raised to be protective, so much so that Obi-Wan has often wondered if their protective drive was not written into their very atoms, some intrinsic part of their DNA. It wasn’t something Obi-Wan had ever questioned. He’d thought he had understood the scope of it. In reality, he hadn’t understood a thing. Not until Kamino. Or: Not all that dive from cliffs make a running head start. Sometimes, the Fall is only a natural progression.