Import

“This jade-faced master accuses ME of being a pervert and then cops a feel! Well. By all means, continue.” An exasperated tsk “You didn’t answer my question.” “Nor you mine.” Wen Kexing replied, brightly. “A’Xu. You call me a’Xu.” OR: obligatory amnesia fic where Lao Wen is thrilled to discover this stunningly beautiful stranger is his soulmate.

It’s definitely not Zhou Zishu’s fault that his Four Seasons Manor martial arts school is lacking disciples. He’s doing his best in being a strict teacher who allows for absolutely no mistakes and – alright, so maybe it’s a bit his fault. But the main reason is clearly the new Ghost & Scorpion academy that opened two streets down and seems to be a lot more popular.

“What if I were to tell you I’m a mob boss?” Wen Kexing asks, his expression neutral. Zhou Zishu pauses for a fraction of a second, considering, and it’s enough time for Wen Kexing’s face to crinkle back into his standard grin. “Really? You think I, Philanthropist Wen, could be a mob boss? How little you think of me. I’m wounded.” “If you ever do become involved with the mob, you’ve got the dramatics down for sure,” Zhou Zishu deadpans. OR: the coffee shop au + musician au we all need??

“Do you know him?” Jin Wang asks. The ringing in Zhou Zishu's ears gets louder. “No, Wangye,” he says. At Zhou Zishu’s voice, the prisoner freezes. Or: Jin Wang tries another way to get Zhou Zishu back.

5 times Wei Ying was a total disaster, plus one time she...wasn't?

With the war over and her military career in shambles, Tanya von Degurechaff has to forge a new path for herself. Fortunately, she finds an opportunity to get involved in the political scene. A safe, easy job has never been closer at hand. What could possibly go wrong?

“It’s fine that I don’t remember getting hit by a car, but hello? My wife, A-Fei? Why can’t I remember getting married?” Right. About that. (When the hospital staff will only let immediate family see Xie Yun after surgery, Zhou Fei lies and says they're married. Xie Yun thinks it's real.)

Zhou Fei is a gymnast at the top of her game, preparing for the gold-medal fight of her life. Too bad she can't stick the new routine. The new mysterious Assistant Coach seems to think that there's a way to fix it, but it's going to take a lot of going behind the coach's back (a feat made all the more difficult when the Coach is your mom). Just who is Xie Yun anyway? Why does he seem so familiar? Why does he say her name like it's been rolling off of his tongue for years? And does it have anything to do with the accident? The one she doesn't like to talk about? The one that almost ended her career?

Wei Wuxian sees his soulmate for the first time on a Thursday evening, which feels a little inauspicious, given that it’s the weird middle ground between good and bad days for most people. It’s also, he thinks, a little inauspicious to see your soulmate in your regular BDSM club, since if you’ve been going there for a certain amount of time, you’d think you’d have met them before. But no. (A modern not-that-cute meet cute where everyone goes to the same BDSM club. It's like Friends, but kinky)

Jiang Yanli is getting married. Wei Ying will be there to see it, and so will his entire family. All of his families.

Lan Zhan looks at it for a long time. His face is completely neutral, his hands folded neatly in front of him. Wei Ying is very aware that Lan Zhan’s dick is on that paper, and Wei Ying was the one who had drawn it. “Tell me,” Lan Zhan says abruptly, “what you were thinking about.” Wei Ying opens his mouth, then shuts it. His heart has jumped up to reside in his throat. Lan Zhan looks at him, then. His gaze is dark, heavy; his tongue darts out to lick his lips. “Tell me,” he says again, “what you were thinking about while you were drawing me.” (Or: Lan Zhan is a nude model for Wei Ying's figure drawing class.)

It doesn't hit Wei Ying until the third time it happens. In his defense, he's not running on all cylinders, and definitely only on four hours of sleep. So if all he's noticed about the guy sharing the elevator with him for the third time in two weeks is his hotness, who can really blame him? But now that he's looking a bit more closely, as the guy stares resolutely at the number display ticking up, he sees the telltale signs: slightly rumpled collar on an otherwise pristine outfit, bags under his eyes—not so noticeable that they are instantly apparent, but there if you look closely enough—kiss-bitten lips, and (the most damning evidence of all) a hickey blooming just under his ear. This guy is coming back from a hookup of his own.

Whatever this is, whatever exists between them, even though it is not everything, it's enough...Right? Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji have always been drawn to each other. Maybe it's attraction, maybe it's fate, but neither of them seem to have a word for it. They might have to work it out against the backdrop of a looming threat, life or death situations, and possibly have to save the entire cultivation world in the process. (originally posted as a PWP. But there is most definitely a plot now.)

Zhou Zishu takes the pipe, checks that the ember is still alive, and sets it in his mouth. When he sucks the smoke into his mouth, he can only just barely perceive the pungent herbal scent of it, like passing someone in the street who had smoked hours before. But it feels the same as it always has, hot and dry in the back of his throat. He holds it in his lungs, offers the pipe to Wen Kexing. Exhales slowly through his nose. - On the road to Longyuan Pavilion.

Zishu's mind has been trained to this sort of work: to take in every meaningless detail and produce from that the truth. To assess danger and opportunity alike. Of course, this is a misuse of his talents. Kexing shouldn't concern him. He should be nothing to Zishu: just another foolish boy to mold into a useful weapon, or else to discard. But then, Zishu has seen what's really inside him, the pitiless tiger who lives in his guts. And he might be the only one who has. Kexing let the other boys off with bruises, didn't he? He is Zishu's, somehow. As much as anything has ever been. [AU timeline in which teenage runaway Wen Kexing meets career assassin Zhou Zishu and upends both their lives.]

Modern entertainment industry love story between an artist who’s also a fan of this actor and it’s really very unexpected, very sensual and heartfelt - unlike a lot of the ones I read that have the same setting, this one didn’t feel overly stuffed with unnecessary drama and shit, it’s all just very down-to-earth but romantic and honest!!

Enough time has passed. I’m going to tell you about the best thing I’ve ever done, which has resulted in: the only person I still know from high school thinking I’m a complete monster, and another person proposing to me the first day he met me. Warning for nsfw pranksmanship under the cut. Also, if you’re afraid of the mothman… welcome to the club?

As an influencer with no fewer than 17 million followers on Instagram, Wei Wuxian is pretty successful at gathering souls for Hell. When he meets Lan Wangji, who is the prettiest human he's ever seen, he knows he just has to eat his heart. Naturally, the best way to accomplish this is to pretend to be Lan Wangji's new makeup artist. Lan Wangji's new human makeup artist, please move on, nothing to see here. Now, if only Wei Wuxian could stop accidentally breathing fire in his excitement, that would be great. Lan Wangji, meanwhile, would prefer Wei Wuxian to put his forked tongue to better uses.

Todoroki Shouto has memories that he didn't make on his own, motor skills that his brain doesn't know how to parse, and a love of science and mathematics and physics that means he broke down his Quirk into its most intricate, universe-bending components at the age of seven. In one universe, he wants to become a hero. In this one, even though he doesn't want to, he might have to. (Featuring: a rapidly developing Shoutosquad, Quirk science, headcanons of all flavors, healthy and supportive sibling and sibling-like relationships, and Dadzawa.)

pretty jewelry

This is to provide a reference for writers who are unfamiliar with Chinese literary conventions or terms used in canon. Hopefully someone will find this helpful.

So in What Matters in Jane Austen, the author points out that Lizzie and Jane are constantly going off to have their own side conversations and gossip with each other, moreso than any other set of characters in Austen, and now I’ve decided a necessary feature of any modern au is Lizzie just CONSTANTLY texting Jane. Like the second any conversation ends she’s texting Jane about it. If she’s feeling particularly mean she’ll just text Jane while you’re still talking. Further thoughts- Lizzie sends a lot of short texts, Jane generally replies with one message to every 5 or 10 of Lizzie’s (but her replies always encompass everything Lizzie said). Darcy sends essay length texts and always ends with a period like some weird old person. Which brings me to the absolute devastation of Darcy sending a long ass text to Lizzie that you know he spent half an hour composing and then he paces for ten minutes waiting on her reply and when his phone beeps it’s just. “k.”

Cute clothes

It has been thirteen years since Wei Ying left Suzhou to end up in the heart of Brooklyn Chinatown, leaving behind the early Gusu spring dew, a spirit medium apprenticeship, and Lan Zhan, who used to be his… something (ex-lover? partner? light of his soul, song of his heart?) Now, he sells paper villas and burnable coins in the day, and dallies into the dreams of living souls by night. It’s all very taboo for an ex-practitioner of the death path, but there is no way anyone of his past life will magically appear one day on his doorsteps, right? Right? Who could have told? Wen Qing and Yanli hold his hands in sympathy, except that Wen Qing and Yanli are a perfect item, and cannot possibly understand the depth of his turmoils.

Now, of course, he has a whole palace full of things. Swords, jewelry, silks— artifacts to entrance the eye and ensnare the mind. He could have it full of women too, if he wished, or so Meng Mo and Sha Hualing continually inform him. A simple chest full of cheap things really should not move him as it does. But he hasn’t quite excised his nostalgic nature, has he? Else he would not be standing here, wearing someone else's skin, hoping for crumbs of affection he once enjoyed in spades.

In highschool I wrote a story about a middle-generation of stellar travelers. Their parents were born on earth and left as children, and the middle generation will not live long enough to see their destination. They live their entire lives on the ship and I wrote about them trying to find their place in everything. They will never know blue skies and warm beaches and open fields with warm breezes. They’ll never know birdsong or crickets or frogs. They’ll never hear the rain on the roof of a dreary day. I never could find the right way to end the story. I wanted it to be a happy ending, but I didn’t know how to do it. I realize now that it was a book about me dealing with depression before I even knew it. Looking back at how blatant the projecting was, it’s obvious now. It wasn’t then. In the story, the middle-generation people are lost. They’re apathetic. They’re just a placeholder. The only job they have is to keep the ship running, have kids, and die. As the middle generation of people began becoming adults, suicide rates were skyrocketing. Crime and drug rates were jumping. This generation was completely apathetic because they felt that they had no use. In the story, a small group of people in the middle-generation create the Weather Project. They turn the ship into a terrarium. They make magnificent gardens and take the DNA of animals they took with them and recreate them and they make this cold, metal spaceship that they have to live their entire lives on into a home. They take what little they have and they break it and rearrange it into something beautiful. They take this radical idea and turn the ship into a wonderful jungle of trees and birds and sunshine. And I realize now how much it reflects my state of mind as I transitioned from a child into an adult while dealing with depression. You always hear “it gets better” and “when you’re older things will be easier” and I was so sick of waiting for it to get better. I was in the middle-generation stage. And I was sick of it. I was so sick of waiting. When I was in highschool I didn’t know how to end the story. I didn’t know how to have a happy ending. I didn’t have the life experience then to finish the story in a meaningful way. I didn’t know how to make it better for these middle-generation characters. But now that I’m older, I’m learning. That if you sit and wait for things to get better, it never will. You have to take your life and break it apart and rearrange it into something beautiful. You have to make the cold metal ship into the garden that you deserve. You have to make your own meaning. You have to plant your own garden. You have to teach yourself that being happy is not a radical idea.

“It is a well-known fact across the major leagues that one does not smack Lan Wangji’s ass.” Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes. Everyone smacks everyone’s ass in baseball. It’s how the game is played. Lan Wangji does not get to be exempt from this most sacred of baseball traditions. Wei Wuxian will make sure of that. Or, a Major League Baseball AU

The Passover Story in Memes

Under the cover of a masquerade ball, Castiel has five nights to recover the key to his people's freedom. The world has changed greatly in the six centuries since their banishment into the void, but the task isn't impossible. Unfortunately for Castiel, this is going to involve talking to people - especially the Knight Prince who has taken an interest in Castiel and his "costume" wings. (Destiel Cinderella AU)

the beginning of three musketeers is so fucking funny like this book is a comedy i swear to god like imagine you’re d’artagnan. you want to go be a musketeer so you get a recommendation letter from your dad and you hop on the doofiest looking horse in all of france to head off to paris. a weird start, but you’re all good. on the way, a rich guy makes fun of your ugly horse so you fight him. you get your ass handed to you and now you’ve been robbed. well what’s life without adventure, you think, so you sell your uglyass horse to someone who thinks a horse that ugly is pretty novel. that’s good because you used to be flat broke since again, you were robbed. now you’re walking to paris. you get there, you go to musketeer headquarters. everyone there is arguing and carrying on. three guys, one of whom insists he’s going to be a priest, are talking shit about each other. wack, you think. you meet with the head musketeer and he’s very understanding about you losing your letter. y’all chat, but you see the rich guy that insulted your horse out the window, so you run out to confront him because you’re still sore about that. on the way out, you piss off one of the musketeers that was talking shit earlier. now you have a duel set for noon. you’ve been in the city about forty five minutes at this point. on your way to confront the rich guy again you piss another musketeer off and now you have a duel for 12:30. you didn’t even catch the rich guy. this will not do, you think, and you resolve to be less annoying in the future. immediately, you piss off another musketeer by accidentally implying that he’s a slut when you were trying to be polite. now you have a duel for 12:00, 12:30, and 1:00. you show up because you’re not a little bitch, you’re just kinda stupid. it turns out all these guys are best buds and they’re each other’s seconds for the duels. y’all talk for a minute about how it’s a shame one of them is going to kill you because you’re really not so bad when you’re not being insufferable. you’re about to get on with the first duel when some cardinal’s guards, which is essentially just a rival gang, show up. you all talk smack for a bit, then you fight. the musketeers and you win the fight. you guys bonded over fighting and decide, verbally, to be best pals from then on. you all link arms and skip down the street. you’ve been in paris for maybe an hour and a half. you’re about 16 years old.