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“The Gusu Lan dragons have failed to produce an heir in the last decade,” a dangerous accusation, should the rumors be false. He took the general’s silence as a sign to continue. “I am your solution,” Wei Ying breathed out. ⋇ ⋆ ✦ ⋆ ⋇ Wei Ying offers himself in exchange for the freedom of the Wen Remnants in a war the other branch of their clan started. The revered Gusu Lan war general takes him up on the offer and Wei Ying finds apparently nothing better to do than pine after the mated alpha (cough).

Lan disciples Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are best friends who are always touching--hugging, scenting, holding hands, sharing a bed. This is unusual, because they're both qianyuan (alphas), and are supposed to hate each other's scents. Wei Wuxian goes into rut one day during lectures, and literally anyone in Cloud Recesses could guess what happens next.

Wei Wuxian needs to get more exercise. At least, that's what Wen Qing tells him after his blood pressure reaches "accidental head injury from dizziness" levels. He agrees, with the intention of "working out" meaning a few lazy pool laps and then a stint in the sauna. That is, until he's given the ground tour of the gym by Lan Wangji, personal trainer and professional sexy man. “I’d like to join the gym. Is there a deal for a personal training package?”

He's good at rolling with things. He can roll with this too. He'll tell Shen Wei about his relationship policy, now that he knows Shen Wei is actually the "having fun" kind of person, and nobody will get hurt. It'll be fine.

Shen Yuan's first thought is, cool cool cool, glad to be fucked over by omega hormones again, never mind that he’d been ill for so long in his first life that he’d had maybe three shitty irregular heats before his body noped out of that. His second thought is: HOLY SHIT OMEGA SHEN QINGQIU IS CANON???!

Liu Qingge insists on guarding Shen Qingqiu while he's being held in the Water Prison, Shen Qingqiu goes to trial, and the Old Palace Master tries to force his hand by using a truth-finding artifact. The results aren't what anyone was expecting.

Fix-it AU diverging from canon during the second Nightless City battle. A number of people don't die, but that does not make things easy.

The window slid open with ease and Wei Ying climbed out into the tree. He would get settled somewhere and then write to Lan Zhan. They could exchange letters, until Wei Ying managed to afford a phone so they could talk. Maybe Lan Zhan could visit him. Wei Ying stole away into the night, not then aware of what else he was taking away with him. He wouldn’t know for another four months the gift Lan Zhan had given him, growing inside him. He also didn’t know that he would never get any replies back from his letters to Lan Zhan. Thirteen years after Wei Ying received no response to his letters about their son, he meets Lan Zhan again.

Testing her own seals in uncontrolled circumstances (read: in the middle of real combat) is something Shikako reserves for really deep trouble, like when another C-rank inexplicably becomes A-rank. In the Land of Hot Springs, Shikako discovers another, deeper level of trouble wherein she's willing to test other people's seals in uncontrolled circumstances (read: while trying to prevent a god of suffering and malice from crawling its way into her universe) and damn the consequences.

“And you just let your friend run off with your kid?” Lan Zhan is even closer now. Surely this is going where he thinks it is. How. What. “We trade childcare,” he explains, and his breath ghosts over Wei Ying’s lips. “Your question?” “Wanna fuck me up?” Wei Ying blurts out. “I mean. What is. Your number. So we can get coffee or something like normal people. And, also, would you possible be interested in fucking me up? Wait, sorry, that came out wrong. Would you like to crush my head between your thighs?” — Or: Wei Ying attends prenatal yoga with his sister and gets his head crushed between their yoga instructor's thighs.

There are quite a few people who would say that Wei Ying does not make a plan for anything. They see his go-with-the-flow attitude, his tendency to jump into situations with every angle only half-thought out and considered, his cocky grin when he says “I’ll figure it out when I get there” and they think: This man does not plan a single goddamn thing. This man has never come up with a plan in his life, let alone followed one to the end. [ OR: WWX boards a spaceship, takes a hostage and steals the resources he needs. None of which goes according to plan.]

For as long as he could remember, Liu Qingge held three irrefutable, absolute, unquestionable truths close to his heart. For better or for worse, life found a way to make him question every single one of them.

The plan, so far, is going well. Better than Lan Wangji could have hoped. Rather than feeling any relief, it makes him nervous. With a final look over his shoulder, he determines that the coast is clear. Silently, Lan Wangji eases the door open and slips inside. The room on the other side is small. At one end is a desk, laden with papers, a dim table lamp washing the room in weak yellow light, throwing deep shadows into the corners. At the other end is a bed: utilitarian and gray. Lan Wangji creeps forward, drawing the hilt of his lightsaber from its sheath, a tendril of unease snaking through him. As he draws nearer, his suspicions are confirmed: the bed is empty. “Are you here to kill me, gege?”

20-year-old Wei Ying runs into three kids who ask him to fix a time machine. Only he hasn’t invented time travel yet, so they take him to their future, where there’s time travel and all sorts of technological advances. It’s a future Wei Ying enjoys way more than his own, especially since it has Lan Zhan, who is Sizhui’s hot dad. Working on his dream project is a dream until Wei Ying grows attached to this family and isn’t even sure if he can leave them when he knows, eventually, he must. Meet the Robinsons!AU

Accepted wisdom says a beta is not physically capable of keeping up with an omega in heat. Wei Wuxian dares Lan Wangji to attempt the impossible.

Shen Yuan was finally old enough to play in the bamboo forests of his father's Qing Jing peak unsupervised. Who knew that he would stumble upon a little demon prince in the process? One thing led to another and, before he knew it, a marriage contract was made. Now they only had to take care not to give Shen Yuan's father a reason to terminate the contract before they were old enough to marry.

A childhood engagement does not make Wei Wuxian any less obsessed with Lan Wangji. — "Admit it," Wei Wuxian says cheerfully, "this is your dream. Shut up with your fiance in your favorite place, no supervision, just you and me, able to do whatever we want." Wei Wuxian walks his fingers up the sleeve of Lan Wangji's robe. "Able to tell me to do whatever you want." He's slouched down so he can stare up at Lan Wangji through his eyelashes. "What do you want me to do, Lan Zhan?" "Sit properly," Lan Wangji says, removing Wei Wuxian's hand from his shoulder and placing it decisively on the table in front of him. "Copy your lines." Wei Wuxian sits up straight. For a little while, he copies his lines. But he's not happy about it! Lan Wangji says, "When you have finished, I will show you my favorite place in Cloud Recesses."

The kid’s barely out of the car when his parents speed off, kicking up a cloud of dirt that drifts into Wei Ying’s summer charge’s hair. It’s almost funny, but only almost. The kid’s a scrawny thing, more scowl than person. He hefts his bag and says snottily, “I’m Mo Xuanyu, and I’m here as punishment.” "Gotcha!" Wei Ying says brightly. “And what did you do that’s so bad you have to spend all summer on our little farm?” An even bigger scowl. It’s threatening to take over his entire body. It’s cute. “I told the truth.” “Mm, and what’s that?” Mo Xuanyu juts his jaw. Thirteen-year-olds are funny. “I’m gay. And if you don’t like it, you can go fuck yourself.” — Or:Wei Ying's farm always has room for one more.

“I’m not here to help you with your work,” said Lan Zhan, injecting frost into his voice to deter any further attempts at charm. “I’ll be focusing on my research.” Wei Ying cocked his head. “Research?” he said. “Mm. I’m a cultivation researcher, not a department employee. I’m reconstructing the ancient musical cultivation techniques of the Lan clan.” ___ Lan Zhan’s new liaison at the Caiyi Municipal Cultivation Department is an enigma – ridiculously talented, yet somehow content with mopping up spiritual pests for barely above minimum wage. Wei Ying is slapdash and irresponsible, and Lan Zhan doesn’t like him at all… but then he meets A-Yuan, who loves music and longs for a piano his father can’t afford. Forced into cautious friendship by a four-year-old's music lessons, Lan Zhan soon realises Wei Ying is more than he seems. The single father is a man of many secrets – including, perhaps, the key to Lan Zhan's life's work. And in the meantime, the background resentment in Caiyi Town is rising to dangerous levels…

A Guide to Some of the Best Queer Asian Shows The guide includes show’s basic summary; main genres/tropes/themes and the official streaming link! You can find some content warnings in the notes of this post. Shows are listed by countries, numbered by the order I recommend watching in, not by rating. The list will get updated regularly.

BBC sound effects

Welcome to the Yellowstone sound library, where you can immerse yourself in the aural landscape of America's first national park. The files available here were recorded in the park and are in the public domain.

"In a cultivation world where every other innocuous meadow contained enough sex pollen to give the entire population hay-fever, cultivators had been forced to give up on ideals of total purity. While they still valued chastity, realists resigned themselves to fucking in the field due to mischance at least once. And given these circumstances, said cultivators generally felt that one’s first experience with sex might as well be a good one, and occur in a controlled, safe environment. Cultivators also lived long lives: the choice of spouses to share them with was a serious matter, which couldn’t be rushed simply for the sake of being over-nice about virginity. So, upon coming of age, a disciple was encouraged to offer themself up to someone for a ritual first night. The individual they chose could decline the honour, but unless one had a strong extenuating excuse, doing so was considered quite rude (and also resulted in a serious loss of face for the youth in question)." The governor of Jinlan asks Luo Binghe to claim his reward for saving the city. Luo Binghe only wants the things every rising young cultivator is entitled to.

“My girlfriend broke up with me, and now there’s no one to tie me up and have their wicked way with me, so I’m just wasting away, Lan Zhan!” This is mostly true, but Wei Ying’s only saying it to embarrass Lan Zhan into dropping it. “Hm,” says Lan Zhan again, and does not drop it. Instead, he steps into the room. Wei Ying stares at him. “What, are you offering? You want to put me down, Lan Zhan?” He drapes himself back on the bed as suggestively as he can. “Is that what you need?” …Clearly, gay chicken is not the correct tactic.

In life, there was the proper course of doing things, and there was Wei Wuxian’s way of doing things. Trouble being, there was little overlap between the two. When Wei Wuxian’s life is placed in danger due to an attack from a demonic beast, Lan Wangji offers to help him: by means of dual cultivation. This will not change their relationship in any way...or will it?

Lan Zhan is a rope top. Wei Ying is a sensation play top and a sub. They work it out.

Pete Buttigieg is just a faggot. It's very important to me that younger queers understand this: to the people who you're trying to be more respectable for when you say things like neopronouns set the trans movement back or you're why the cishets don't accept us or including [aces/bi people with the 'wrong kind' of partners/non-binary people/kinksters/non-passing trans ppl/furries/polyam people] just hurts us, can't you wait until we get all our rights before we talk about some of yours? -- to those people? Pete Buttigieg is just a fag. On Sunday at Pride Northwest, some kids -- late teens, early 20s -- asked what our button I survived Reagan for this? meant. All of the queer adults at the tables making up our ad hoc counter looked at each other and sighed a little. Emet and another adult started to explain the way that the Reagan Administration handled -- or didn't handle -- the beginning of the AIDS crisis. How many people died. How much we were ignored. The Ashes Action. The Time Magazine article which explicitly blamed bisexual men for passing the pandemic to the cishet community, playing on all the worst stereotypical bullshit. The way that even when the CDC started paying attention, they were so focused on gay men that they ignored AIDS in the lesbian community, leading to the "women don't get AIDS, they just die from it" poster. And so on. I finished counting out change and passed the last Bear Pride raised fist pin over to a bear a little older than me, then turned my head and interjected, "they didn't care until it started infecting more than just the fags." I turned my head back and handed him his change. He laughed bitterly and said, "remember when they called it 'gay cancer?'" That what I need you to understand. The people for whom you are folding yourself into smaller and smaller boxes will never see you as anything but a freak. A queer. A dyke. A tranny. A fag. Never. These are people who will stand by and let you wither away and die alone, gasping for breath in a cinderblock room, and not even claim your ashes, and they will say you deserve it, because of your lifestyle. If they speak of you at all it will be by the wrong name, with the pictures you hate the most. They will curse at your lover, throw him out of the home you shared, and steal the gift you gave last Christmas to throw it in the trash just so he can't have it and they'll say Jesus loves you! while they do it. They'll feel good and righteous and blessed and holy and pure for doing it. And for them, you spit in the eye of your sister. For them, you disavow your sibling. For their sake, you trim away bits of your heart and lace yourself up tight. Never too loud. Never too queer. Never inconvenient or embarrassing, never asking for too much. Pete Buttigieg is what happens when your Boomer dad turns out gay. Middle America. Parents still married. Suburban-sprouted. Valedictorian. Harvard-educated. Rhodes Scholarship. Military service. More power to him: I hope he and Chasten are very happy together. Genuinely, I do. You couldn't create a more respectable gay if you grew one in a lab run by concerned voter focus groups. But Pete Buttigieg? Is just a fag. That's the part you don't seem to get: when they abandoned us, they abandoned all of us. Rock Hudson was a beloved movie star and even personally friendly with that horrid pair of ambitious jackals. Nancy Reagan refused to help him get into the only place in the world that could treat him at the time, and he died. ... But I need you to understand that if Pete Buttigieg is just a fag, if that human embodiment of a Wonder Bread, mayo and Oscar Meyer bologna sandwich is not respectable enough for them -- and he's not -- then the rest of us have absolutely no hope of measuring up. Not even if we trim away every colorful, beautiful piece of our community, not even if the Sisters Of Perpetual Indulgence vanish into the ether, not even if we sacrifice the five elements of vogue on the altar of white supremacist cishet middle-class conformity: we can't trim ourselves down to something they'll accept. The only other option is radical acceptance of our queer selves. The only other option is solidarity. The only other option is for fats and femme queens and drags and kinksters and queers and zine writers and sex workers and furries and addicts and kids and the ones who can look us in the eye and see all of us to say we're here, we're queer, get used to it just the way we did 30 years ago. It's revolutionary, complete and total acceptance of our entire community, not just the ones the cishets can pretend to be comfortable with as long as we don't challenge them too much, or it's conceding the shoreline inch by inch to the rising waters of fascism until we've got nowhere left to stand and some of us start drowning. That's it. Either it's all of us or it's none of us, because if we leave the answer up to the Reagans of the world and all the people who enabled him in the name of lower taxes and Democrats who wring their hands, weeping oh I don't agree with it but we'll lose the election if we fight it right now, the answer is none of us.

most neil moments of all time collection: calling kevin a deadweight has been and immediately running way "whatd you do, run here?" "walked. 😐" you know, i get it telling bee the rest of the team is mental... baby girl look in the mirror getting a pair of nice new boots from andrew and immediately imagining what it would be like to kick his face in upending a glass of water on the floor and then throwing it at aaron paying a bus boy $100 to knock him out being told to keep his phone on and immediately turning it off after hanging up shoving andrews hand up his shirt in front of like half a dozen people learning andrew is afraid of heights and being like well if it makes you feel better it's more likely you'll die in a car accident than a plane crash :)

i bought my idiot sons a new toy because they are my darling princes who deserve only the finest dangly feathers on sticks and tomas is as always being a chill lad about it but kaspar has absolutely lost his fucking mind. utterly convinced that some sort of unkillable demon bird has entered his home. the man has gone full liam neeson re: the dangly feathers. i wiggle the stick a bit and he goes totally black in the eyes, hisses, growls, acrobatic fuckin pirouettes off the handle this cat. absolutely twisted with terrible rage when the beast (cannot emphasize enough: some feathers on a string) does not stay dead. van helsing energy. this cat would fully be performing the monologue from the end of Moby Dick if he knew what English was. i eventually hid the toy because I was growing to fear what my boy had become and he scanned the fuckin skies for it for at least ten minutes, which is twenty times longer than I thought his memory even lasted. this is a beast who will SCREAM for cuddles and insist on being kissed forty-seven times on his tiny head before even considering letting you get some work done but also, to each generation a Slayer is born, APPARENTLY