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#READ TAGS ON AO3 FOR WARNINGS

janjan-the-ninth · 3 months

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To fanfiction authors: Please learn what Dead Dove means. There has been a trend, especially will all the new people who have joined over the last few years, to tag fics which are no where close to Dead Dove as Dead Dove. Just cause the fic contains topics which aren't allowed on tiktok or which they think are bad, like Major Character Death, Violence and so one. Which exists as seperate warnings on ao3. A fic is not automatically Dead Dove just cause it deals with those topics.

The overuse of the Dead Dove tag will make the tag utterly useless in the long run and will lead to an increase of censoring from the outside as new people and everyone else will think that everything they do not like is Dead Dove and therefore bad.

#fanfiction #ao3 #dead dove do not eat #wattpad #dead dove fic #fanfic #fandoms #author #listen when i read fic about the witcher which show and games include a heavy amount of violence and torture #do not dare to tag your fic dead dove just cause a character is getting beaten up a bit and tortured #this is not what the tag is for #obviously dead dove applies differently for every fandom #but the ao3 warnings exists for a reason #ao3 etiquette

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theshadowrealmitself · 8 months

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Saw an absolutely baffling misconception on TikTok

Not sure how many people on TikTok believe in this, but at the very least the person who made the video and the people in her comment section believe this:

They think that fics on ao3 that are tagged “major character death” mean that if a character was a major character in the media they’re from and they die in the fic, then that’s what that tag is used for, regardless of that character’s role in that fic

So say it’s like,, idk,, a Gravity Falls fic and the plot surrounds a random person from town, like it’s an outsider’s pov of all the weirdness in town, and none of the main characters are really featured in the story besides a couple throwaway lines, and even tho the fic doesn’t have anything to do with Grunkle Stan, it’ll have a throwaway line mentioning that he passed away, they think the “major character death” tag would apply as he’s a major character in the show

(For people who don’t use ao3, the “major character death” tag refers to the major characters of that fic, so in this^ scenario, it would only get tagged minor character death as Grunkle Stan was a minor character of that fic, this is to help people who will want to know if the fic they’re reading is going to kill off one of the heavily featured characters in that fic)

#just. baffled.#that would be a horrible tagging system!!!#can you imagine not getting warned that main character of the fix you’re reading #who the entire fic is about #dies because they were only a minor character in the media they were from??#fandom mentioned #but #no fandom #as this is a post more about ao3 and such rather than a fandom post

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starryeyedjanai · 7 months

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what lurks beneath

kinktober prompt: double penetration in two holes lake monster eddie fic | explicit | 6k happy birthday @matchingbatbites!! 🥳

He's been dragged beneath the surface of the water once before.

Hanging out with his friends their first night back here, he felt something slither around his ankle and pull. He struggled under the water for a few moments before it let go and he swam back up.

It was pretty dark out, so he couldn't see anything under the water when he looked beneath him.

He'd been freaked out, but no one had seen anything or felt anything except for him. They thought he was making it up at first, but when he refused to get back in the water for the rest of the summer, they knew he had to have felt something.

Tommy tried to tell him it was a fish or seaweed, but Steve knows what he felt.

Something pulled him under.

He won't say it out loud to the rest of them, but he's afraid of going back in. There's something deep within him that says it's not safe.

So for the rest of the summer, he watches his friends splash around in the lake from the safety of the shore or the pier, stewing on it the entire time.

Because nothing happens to any of his friends when they're in the water.

So maybe he did overreact to something normal in the lake. Maybe he felt some seaweed on his ankle and just freaked out.

He's watched his friends for months now and nothing has happened since that night.

So it had to just be in his head, right?

That's what he's telling himself as he drives up to the lake alone, late at night, determined to prove to himself that it was nothing.

read the rest on ao3

#please read the tags/content warning in the notes on ao3!#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fic #monsterfuckery #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #janai.doc

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seamayweed · 2 months

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(fun fact: the dragon pattern in the background is from the yellow dragon banner / military flag used to inform of the king’s supervisory visit to individual garrisons; i'm going to just assume it's the one yi seong gye used too when he was still a general)

#my country the new age #my country: the new age #nam seon ho #mctna #mctna fic #seamayweed fic #seamayweed graphics #seamayweed stuff #who cares if this chapter is too niche and weird and flops - i really wanted to make a book cover/back so i did #imagining this as one of those paperbacks that have a velvety feel to them #please read the full tags and warnings on ao3 before you go in reading this self-indulgent madness

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baeshijima · 22 days

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sometimes i find it so funny when ppl dont properly tag their works for the reason of “oh, but then others won’t be able to see my work!” or “but if i tag it then it will spoil the twist!” (usually a darker or more… questionable twist, for a lack of better words) and so on. but that… that is literally the whole purpose of tagging? so that the ppl who have the tag(s) filtered because they dont want to see it just. wont.

like dw, ur work will reach ur audience one way or another bc theyre either following u, see it rbed on their dash, or they dont have it filtered; tho that will also have ppl who dont want to see it exposed to it so, for the love of god and the sake of our sanities, pls just list the warnings beforehand like it really isnt such a difficult concept to grasp ???

and bold it, especially if it is in the small text. the whole purpose is for it to be easily visible for the very reason that it can be avoided by readers who dont want to read it. idc if it ruins the aesthetic bc the lack of proper tagging ruins my already declining sanity :]

#sophie’s idle chatter #this isnt for anything specific but just a general ick #esp more recently #i think this is why ive been searching through the x reader tags less and less #like yes i want to read a fic abt this chara thinking its gonna be some fluff bc they have it in tags #but then oh my !! dc/not so fluffy jumpscare like halfway through !! that wasnt tagged and/or warned in the preface !!#personally idc all that much abt dc or wtv as long as u PROPERLY TAG ur work #its not just tumblr bc ik ao3 is bad with it too but it still annoys me bc its really not that hard to just. put the warnings/tags #anywho sorry for the ramble i am sleepy and have a headache and saw smth that set me off abt the topic 🫡

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stevieschrodinger · 7 months

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Potential trigger warnings; Steve is a child, Eddie is an adult alien; Eddie essentially claims Steve as his mate (absolutely nothing sexual happens) but Steve doesn't understand this and obviously can't consent. What happens is completely culturally acceptable to Eddie and totally normal. Discussion of, basically, biologically changing Steve on Eddie's say so for Eddie's convenience; again, completely normal and culturally acceptable to Eddie. Blink and you'll miss it mention of M/Preg. I don't know how else to TW this; proceed with caution.

“Here, Commodore.”

Ek’dli-ke examines the images carefully.

“You have been awarded the choice of any single individual,” the Operator reminds them needlessly. They know. Their injured appendages still throb in their bindings. They are still unmoored; unbalanced. They were repeatedly told they should not be moving about so soon.

They don't care.

“What are they again?” they ask, almost absently. They are vaguely aware that this is a great honor; access to brand new, malleable genetic material. It doesn’t feel like it though. For everything they lost in battle, the damage done to their still healing body, nothing would feel like adequate recompense for what occurred. This feels, if anything, like a bribe.

No one had expected them to survive; that's why they had been left. Clearly they greatly underestimated Ek’dli-ke. And now their silence is being purchased with a mating. What would the galactic host's population think if they found one of their own engineered warriors had been abandoned so blithely, and not only abandoned, but left for dead after a battle of the Host's own creation.

This feels like an insult, but Ek’dli-ke will take it anyway. Their career has been ended; their title is now nothing but a platitude. Their injuries are excessive; they will never battle again. They will never mate one of their own either; not with missing limbs and hideous injuries. They would never be accepted as they are; the strange little aliens on the viewer are now their only route to reproduction.

A fact their erstwhile superiors are no doubt fully aware of.

“Humans,” the operator speaks, voice everywhere and no where. The vibrations are irritating, almost painful, on their still healing membranes. “Their people put high value on certain metals; individuals were happy to give up their young.”

“In exchange for-” they force themselves to bite it off. Keep the disgust inside. What kind of species gives away their young for inanimate objects? Barbaric. They busy themselves with absorbing the data, forcing themselves to concentrate on the purpose of their visit, “their life spans are alarmingly short.”

“Easily rectified. They are malleable on a molecular level, the potential for change is...great.”

“Offspring?”

“Largely they are culturally divided into male and female, although it is difficult to tell the difference at this age while they are clothed; should you choose a male he can be adjusted to carry for you. Now is the ideal age to begin the process. However, you should be aware that if you do choose a male, they may need more intervention while they are gravid. It wouldn’t be a problem.”

Ek’dli-ke clicks in thought. “How long until mating for offspring is appropriate?”

“Physically at least two galactic cycles, however the culture of where this particular group was collected has a legal framework in place to protect those they consider too young to give fully informed consent. Should you choose to respect that it will be closer to four cycles.”

Ek’dli-ke starts to shrug, but the pain reminds them of their injuries and they abort the motion. It makes no difference to them, “I will respect it.”

Ek’dli-ke watches the Human young move about on the viewer a little longer; they appear to be playing, chasing one another. “I would need to move amongst them.”

“Of course,” the Operator moves without moving, and Ek’dli-ke hides their discomfort. They have always found the Operators to be highly unsettling.

They are...loud. And very small. They come in an array of colors, and most have strange tufts of fur growing out the top. Their eyes are too small, their appendages too few. Ek’dli-ke has no idea what use they will have with one of these as a mate.

Never the less, the Operators coding never lies; one of these will be appropriate.

They seem to shy away from them, understandable, Ek’dli-ke cannot imagine how they would appear to them. Apparently their species had barely made it to their nearest orbiting moon; they had not known other life even existed.

They must have gotten over their surprise very quickly.

One of them approaches, only to be pulled away by a different one. A little larger. Pale, with brownish fur on top. “Don’t! Monster!” Ek’dli-ke’s translator provides. The small human thinks he is protecting the others. The little Human is accurate with their assessment; Ek’dli-ke has been called far worse than a mere monster in battle.

Ek’dli-ke makes themselves smaller. Curls up and sits, pulling their appendages in close; they are still twice the height of the largest human young, “I will not harm you,” he tells the brave one. The protector. He reaches into his dress robes, “here.” They are watched carefully by the huddled group of young.

The brave one approaches cautiously. So small and delicate. Ek’dli-ke opens the package, it is but fructose and water made into brightly colored shapes, but the Operator had assured them that the Humans react favorably to food; particularly sweet foods. The brave one takes the package; returns to the others.

Ek’dli-ke watches as the small human shares them with the others before taking any for themselves. It summons an unfamiliar...fondness within Ek’dli-ke. They find themselves...charmed, by the selflessness. This Human will do well when raising young.

If they must choose one; then perhaps that one.

The Human returns, “is there more?”

Ek’dli-ke produces the second packet without question. This time they watch the small human consume a few themselves before sharing the remainder. Strange; they shove them into the same hole the noises come out of.

The brave one comes back, “what are you called?”

“Steve,” the small Human moves like he doesn’t yet fully have control over their own body. Fidgeting. Pulling at the generic white coverings they are wearing. The same as all the Humans are wearing.

“I am Ek’dli-ke.”

Steve’s face does something quite spectacular, scrunching up, before they uncertainly try, “Eddie?”

“Yes. Yes, Eddie will do. Come here.”

Steve’s skin is...surprisingly soft. Eddie pulls Steve closer, wrapping all parts of themselves gently around Steve so as not to startle them; Steve emits a noise, wriggling. It’s high pitched, irregular. Laughter, their translator implant provides; joy. Steve’s skin turns pinker, which is fascinating, and they gasp for breath, “stoppittickles!”

Ek’dli-ke goes still and Steve settles into the curve of their hold. Ek’dli-ke leans forward; tastes the skin he can reach. Steve starts wriggling again, laughing, “gross! Stoppit!”

Yes, Ek’dli-ke thinks approvingly as the knowing of Steve’s taste washes through them. It sinks deep; is accepted. Burns itself into every molecule.

Steve has a small wriggling appendage in his food and speech hole; the equivalent of a mouth, Ek’dli-ke’s translator provides again. Steve in turn touches the part of Ek’dli-ke they can reach leaving a trail of moisture behind. Ek’dli-ke shivers uncontrollably at the flavor Steve has gifted him. Steve goes limp, eyes going very very large, “oh,” he says.

Ek’dli-ke vibrates in agreement. Steve giggles again. Ek’dli-ke decides they like it.

The Operators were correct, and Steve has already returned their advances; their reaction to Ek’dli-ke’s taste is more than favorable. Steve is numbed, no doubt, if their receptors are working correctly.

If Humans even have them. Hopefully they do, Ek’dli-ke does not wish to cause Steve pain.

Ek’dli-ke brings forth his inner most limb; Steve watches wide eyed as it slithers along their skin. The two appendages Steve seems to use for touch separate into ten smaller, wriggling appendages at the end; Ek’dli-ke by passes those, just in case the next part causes harm.

He applies pressure further up; the fleshy stiff part, either side of where it bends. Steve makes a noise, but does not react unfavorably; they must have working receptors and the numbness from the first taste of their mate must be working. Ek’dli-ke watches their mark bloom on Steve’s pale skin. Steve’s body has accepted them without question; a more perfect match for mating Ek’dli-ke could not have asked for.

“What’s that?” Steve asks, rubbing at where the glittering fractals and facets now decorate a large swathe of their appendage, “pretty.”

Yes, Ek’dli-ke will take this one, a more beautiful and solid mating mark has never existed, they are certain, “it means you are mine.”

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nikki-pondtheauthor · 4 months

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Relationships: Dick Grayson & Danny Fenton, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd

Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death

Summary:

"What do you want for Christmas?" Dick paused to think for a moment, before he said, "A miracle." That's all I want for Christmas. A miracle. ... The loss of Jason Todd will forever haunt Dick's mind, guilt eating him inside and out. In his path of self-destruction, Dick finds himself stumbling into the Ghost Zone and meets a ghostly-time apprentice there.

@haunting-heroes-creative-games

#dpxdc #hauntingheroesadvent23 #haunting heroes #Dick Grayson #Angst #Grief/Mourning #fanfiction #ao3 #canonical character death #please read the tags and warning first

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frownyalfred · 1 year

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a great writing tip to overcome writer’s block I wish someone would’ve told me sooner:

go into ao3, open up a new fic, and tag your fic idea like it’s complete. add your possible characters and relationships, and then any tags you think might come up.

ao3 will suggest tags based on word choice (if I type in “Bruce Wayne” it will suggest “Bruce Wayne is…” or “Bruce Wayne’s…”) and you can use these as possible fic ideas.

you can answer some good questions too. is this fic explicit? who’s in this fic? will it be multiple chapters? is it gen or slash? both?

eventually, you’ll end up with a decent fic outline! or some new ideas. or both.

#writing tips #fics #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #archive of our own #basically go tag your fic you haven’t started yet #if you have writers block #I promise you’ll get excited for it then #another good tip is to think of any warnings for the chapter #writing things #writing #reading #reading things #fandom #tips for newbie writers #fic tips

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belovedstill · 6 months

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no one more devoted (ao3) tgcf, hualian | ~4k, major character death, angst with an unhappy ending, amnesia, ruoye doing his best

Time and time again, Hua Cheng swore that he was Xie Lian’s most devoted believer. He was right. Then, not even he remained. (aka Hua Cheng is bitten by a monster; it erases Xie Lian from his memory)

written for week 2 prompt: devotion and/or inconstancy of the @multifandommatch event, representing team angst 🌧 beautiful people from my team created bonus works for this fic! thank you to: Sapphie for the Spanish translation, CarCrash for the playlist, Dylan for the formatted pdf , and Ace for the recorded podfic ❤ my team is the best, guys 🥰

It started with absence. One day, unexpectedly, Xie Lian awoke in his Puqi shrine with no Hua Cheng next to him, no barely-legible note left on the table, and no silver butterfly to keep him company in Hua Cheng’s stead. That this hadn’t happened before wasn’t enough to make Xie Lian worried, though.

What unsettled him was this:

The absence went on for days with not a whisper of explanation.

He could not reach the other gods to ask whether they knew something about it.

When he entered Hua Cheng’s spiritual communication array, his voice was met with startled, tense silence, and then he was forcibly shut out. Further attempts were blocked.

After the last one, he hurriedly pulled a set of dice from his sleeves, shook them in the palm of his hand, and threw them on the table. They landed on single dots.

With bated breath, he waited.

Hua Cheng did not appear.

He hurried to the Ghost City, but there, too, Hua Cheng was absent.

The overheard gossip said that some peculiar life-devouring monster encroaching the realms had appeared a while ago and had stirred trouble in Hua Cheng’s territory, even dared to attack the Lord himself, and so the Lord chased after it to teach it a lesson it surely wouldn’t forget.

Just as Xie Lian was becoming more and more worried, the ghosts rejoiced - the City’s Lord had returned!

Hua Cheng strode through the streets towards his manor with a dangerous expression, a fading bite mark on the palm of his hand; without a command, all the ghosts immediately scattered to the sidelines, making way.

Xie Lian breathed a sigh of relief and hurried over, falling into step beside him. He had just parted his lips to ask what had happened, to offer help, when—

“Scram,” Hua Cheng snarled towards him, with only a passing look that froze Xie Lian in his step. There, and then it was gone; Hua Cheng’s pace never even faltered.

It was a single word, a short glance, but in that fleeting moment, Xie Lian understood. The absence, the lonely days, the rejection—

Hua Cheng did not know who Xie Lian was.

The thing about life-devouring monsters was that they fed on the life essence of the living. Ghosts, however, were not alive anymore; the most life they had to offer existed in the source of their most precious memories which most of them had long forgotten, anyway. If such a monster were to attack a ghost, all they would manage to do was sample a feeble memory or two, then perish from hunger if they didn’t look for another prey.

Hua Cheng was not a low-level ghost, however; the most a bite from that monster could do was temporarily lock his memory away.

Hoping that interacting with him would speed up the recovery of Hua Cheng’s memory, Xie Lian decided to show up wherever he got wind of the ghost king’s whereabouts. The mere sight of him seemed to agitate Hua Cheng to the point of reaching for his sabre, though—and for the first time since they had met, Xie Lian tasted the bitterness of being seen as distrustful.

Was it surprising, though? In Hua Cheng’s eyes, Xie Lian was now an unknown cultivator poking his nose where it didn’t belong. He had always been suspicious of anybody who wasn’t Xie Lian; now, he had nobody to trust at all.

With a heavy heart but a resolved mind, Xie Lian returned to the Puqi village and decided to wait.

The bite’s side effects would go away soon.

The first time Xie Lian noticed something about himself was amiss, he was in the middle of sending home a low-level ghost who had escaped into the mortal realm to stir some trouble. The day seemed ordinary and Xie Lian’s borrowed spiritual powers weren’t depleted just yet; however, right as he was reciting the last words of the send-off, a flash of overwhelming, restraining darkness took over his eyes, sudden and long enough to break his concentration.

When he came to, the building was vacant, the ghost had escaped, and he was hunched over on the floor, arms braced against the ground. His heart was racing with exertion.

What… happened?

Did something attack…? Was something hiding, was somebody in there?

When Xie Lian, trembling and covered in cooling sweat, looked around and examined the surroundings with a careful eye, there was nobody there.

Don’t worry.

“I’m not worried, San—”

He broke off his words again and covered it up with a small cough. He patted his wrist. “I’m not worried, Ruoye. You don’t need to worry, either.”

The ghost had still escaped, though.

Ah, what a mess, Xie Lian thought, carefully keeping his words internal as he got back on his still-shaking feet. That’s alright, that’s alright. It can’t be helped. I’ll fix this right away.

But finding the little ghost took no less than three days, and during that time, it wreaked havoc all around the village, spoiling merchants’ produce, turning large patches of soil barren, contaminating the nearby stream… Not only that, but it also sucked some of the locals’ cattle dry of their blood, leaving behind only carcasses and people’s uncertainty about their nearest future.

The people from the village had prayed in his little shrine in the past, asking for favours, small and big alike. Even when Xie Lian could not grant most of them, the people would come back. This time, no struggling local showed up with requests for help even in such dire times.

Had they finally decided I wasn’t dependable? Xie Lian wondered with a sigh on his way back to the Puqi shrine. He hadn’t waited for the villagers to come and ask for his assistance—the ghost’s actions had been his fault in the first place, after all—and he had drained nearly all his remaining spiritual powers to fix the mess until mere crumbs remained. He could not help the spoiled produce, the dead cattle, nor the crops that had already suffered, but he managed to purify the source of the waters and urge unaffected plants to bear fruits much sooner.

It’s just my luck that this happened when San Lang is unavailable, he thought. That ghost wouldn’t have dared bother the villagers if Hua Cheng had been around. His powers wouldn’t be almost gone now, either.

That was fair, however; Xie Lian had gone centuries without an ounce of spiritual power and managed to survive, living the life of a mortal. This time, he could do it, too.

Just as he thought it, one of his legs grew numb and he lost his balance, then stumbled on the even path and fell straight into the thorny sideroad bushes. He tried to get up, but his arms turned weak to the point of numbness. Any struggle on his part made the rough thorns and nimble twigs tangle with his limbs further.

Ruoye loosened around his wrist and brushed against his skin, but as it uncurled, thorns scraped against it and it retreated with a shudder instead, disrupting a lone butterfly perched nearby.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, don’t worry,” Xie Lian murmured, stroking Ruoye’s trembling body with his thumb. “Just my luck, ah, I’m getting up, see?”

He didn’t regain control of his limbs until long after the sun had set.

As he entered the Puqi shrine, there next to the empty offerings table, leaning against the wall, stood—

“San—!”

He immediately clamped his lips shut. Hua Cheng’s appearance was of the red-clad youth he had met a long time ago. Did he remember? One look at his face told Xie Lian everything he needed to know.

On Hua Cheng’s face, there was a strained, fake smile.

“Daozhang,” he said, his voice as pleasant and smooth as ever, “I believe you have something of mine.”

Xie Lian’s heart sank. His face, however, showed no signs of upset.

Amiably, he asked, “Pray tell, what could it be?”

If Hua Cheng remembered even just a bit of him, even just their first meeting, be it on Mount Yujun or on the Zhongyuan Festival, that fateful ox cart ride among the reds of sunset and maple leaves, he would surely use this moment to tease, so free-spirited he was. But Hua Cheng simply pushed himself away from the wall and approached him, slowly—on guard—and paused several long steps away from him.

“That thing on your neck,” he said with a nod. Xie Lian’s hand instinctively flew to the cursed shackle hidden underneath the white bandage, but Hua Cheng’s eyes flicked to something resting lower. “Where would Daozhang come across something as rare as this?”

Cursed shackles could be considered rare, but Xie Lian knew already that it wasn’t what Hua Cheng was asking about. He looked down and let his hand fall to the ring resting underneath his robes. As his fingers brushed against the delicate chain on the way down, Hua Cheng’s mouth tensed.

“Yes,” he said. “This.”

Xie Lian took a small breath and gently pulled out the ring, letting it rest in the palm of his hand. The dying, flickering candlelight reflected in the smooth edges of the diamond. “It was a gift.”

“From whom.”

It wasn’t a question. The voice still held the impression of politeness, but it sounded sharper.

Still, could Xie Lian ever leave any of Hua Cheng’s honest questions unanswered? He lowered his eyes.

“From you.”

Hua Cheng arched his brow. “Whatever reason.”

“I don’t know. I woke up with it around my neck.”

Oh, his luck… Of course, it had to sound this way—wasn’t that just so convenient? ‘I didn’t steal your special steamed bun, I just so happened to have an identical one in my pocket!’, ‘I didn’t shatter this vase, I turned around for just a moment and when I looked back, it was already in pieces!’. Xie Lian wouldn’t have believed his words himself, either.

“That’s a curious thing to just appear out of the blue in Daozhang’s hands,” Hua Cheng said. He titled his head. “In any case, if it was truly given by me, I have a request.”

For a moment, Xie Lian’s heart stopped.

Please, don’t—

“I ask Daozhang to return it to me.”

Despite the wrappings around his neck, Xie Lian’s skin there felt cold without the steady presence of the delicate chain. Only when it was gone did he realise just how comforting the weight of the crystal ring had been when it used to rest against his heart.

Of course, he gave it back—a ghost’s ashes were a precious thing, meant to be kept safe, protected against dangers lest they be harmed. That Hua Cheng no longer believed him secure, as temporarily as it would be (please, be temporary; please remember), was a different weight that grew heavier and heavier on his shoulders the longer he ruminated on it, but—in the end, it made perfect sense. Had he refused to return the ring, it would only have worsened Hua Cheng’s opinion of him. It was best to part with this treasure.

Once Hua Cheng’s memories returned, he would perhaps see the ring again; that, he chose to believe.

….Please, remember soon.

The days slowly passed by. With nothing to do and nobody to talk to, Xie Lian busied himself with strolling the nearby villages and forests, picking up junk that looked perfectly useful for his little shrine, and foraging the morsels growing between the grasses.

The shrine seemed even more abandoned than before he first moved into it. Everything Hua Cheng had not touched broke or fell apart completely within days of their last meeting.

The stove was too damp to light a fire. When he would try to start a fire outside, any embers would die on a sudden gust of wind or trickle of rain. With nobody to be mindful of feeding properly, Xie Lian simply gave up and munched on the mushrooms, roots, and berries raw. In the past, no matter how bad the food poisoning, it was still easier to handle than hunger, and his cultivator body worked through the side effects faster than a mere mortal’s.

This time, though, when it came, he got inexplicably ill.

Hot. Unbearable. Ache. Cold. Empty. Too full. No more. Is that—swords? Sharp, no—

Wet cloth on his forehead.

San Lang? San Lang—

“Sa… La…?” he mumbled deliriously.

No reply. The cloth disappeared. Silence, then a resounding splash!, near-soundless faraway flutter, water droplets falling into a water bin, wet rag dragged on the floor, and silence, and—

Cool, heavy wet fabric dragged against his arm, then shoulder, then cheek, and slumped heavily on his brow.

With difficulty, he opened his blurry eyes.

Ruoye wiggled slightly back and forth on his skin. Through the friction, a cooler part of Ruoye’s fabric briefly brought a shade of relief.

There was no one else in the shrine.

On the day Xie Lian realised his body refused to lift him from the straw mat, he had to admit that something was very wrong. This had never happened unprompted. In the past, being unable to move his body was caused by any number of unpleasant things—being stabbed and stabbed and stabbed, buried and impaled to the bottom of the coffin, trampled by horses and soldiers alike—but never without a reason. Last night, the most exertion he had gone through had been trying to fix the crumbling wooden beam and a broken wall in the shrine, with no great results anyway.

Hua Cheng’s painting of the shrine god had fallen together with the wall. Of course, he had to fix it.

“Ruoye,” Xie Lian breathed, and the band of white silk uncurled from around his wrist, “help me up? I need just a little pull.”

Ruoye did. With one end still wrapped around Xie Lian’s wrist, it flew deeper into the room and tugged, but only Xie Lian’s arm moved; the rest of him stayed lying.

“A bit more.”

Even when Ruoye curled around Xie Lian’s shoulders and pulled him up til his upper body sat propped up, his head rolled lifelessly to the side.

His eyes fell towards the shrine—he was supposed to continue working on the wall today—when he noticed the painting he had put aside last night.

His pupils shrank.

In the body of the painting, there was a large, ragged hole, impaled through a crumbled shard of the rotten-through wooden beam. It must have broken during the night and fallen apart while he was unconscious.

“No…”

No no no…

His ears started ringing,

If Hua Cheng had been there, he’d definitely have soothed him and said that it was just a painting—Gege, I’ll paint you another one, it’s nothing to be upset about. I’ll give you an even better one this time. Look, I’ll do it right away—

But he wasn’t there. He hadn’t been there for over a month now and it wasn’t—it wasn’t getting easier.

“I’ll fix it,” Xie Lian mumbled to nobody in particular, eyes blurring as he kept them fixed on the last keepsake of San Lang he had in this realm. “I’ll fix it.”

Xie Lian was a patient man, the most patient man—had to learn to be patient over the centuries of his life. He didn’t mind time passing. But this—oh, this was truly too cruel.

He didn’t even notice that Ruoye had gently put him back on the straw mat, his eyes unseeing. All he felt was the white band leaving his body and heard it rustle in the air as it chased some kind of fluttering insect around the room.

A feeling of gaping loneliness filled Xie Lian’s heart. He wanted somebody to— he wished that San Lang would—

He swallowed down the tightness in his throat and closed his eyes.

Staying away this time was really too painful.

…But maybe—as long as he didn’t cause trouble and didn’t make himself known…—maybe he didn’t have to stay away…?

The Ghost City was as loud and chaotic as he remembered it. All around him, the red streets were full of shouting ghostly merchants with their stands full of inhuman produce and peculiar trinkets, but Xie Lian didn’t pay them any mind. His sights were on the Gambler’s Den.

With a sturdy stick in hand to help his balance, he walked through the streets. The crowds wouldn’t disperse and only grew thicker the closer he got to the place in the city he remembered. Fatigue crawled up his legs and arms and he stumbled once—twice—thrice, before Ruoye tapped at his wrist, tightened, and pulled in a direction that was less populated.

Alright, alright, Xie Lian thought with resignation, and let the little spirit guide him away to rest. Only for a moment.

Now that he was here, impatience coursed through his veins. Hua Cheng was probably there, lounging behind the red curtains, half-heartedly listening to the gamblers’ bets and offers and finding their miserable attempts at winning amusing. If he was truly there, Xie Lian could just hide in the crowd and simply take a look, just a glance would be enough. He’d make sure he wasn’t noticed—after all, it wasn’t hard to do at all; these days, no one seemed to pay him any mind.

The little side path Ruoye led him into was deserted enough for Xie Lian to sit down and have a rest, but his companion kept tugging on his wrist and leading him further away. Putting most of his weight on the stick in his hand, Xie Lian followed—

—until, all of a sudden, Ruoye jerked in his hold, froze in the air, and started frantically tugging him in the opposite direction.

Xie Lian frowned and finally looked up. “What is it? Ruoye, what did you—”

But the rest of the question died on his tongue.

Before him, was the Qiandeng Temple of the Ghost City, its doors open and the name of the place which used to be engraved into the stones paving the path towards it—destroyed.

The inside of it was deathly dark, but in the dim, smoky red of the Ghost City lights, Xie Lian noticed—and knew immediately it to be true—the building was completely empty.

Where scrolls upon scrolls of practice lines he wrote himself used to cover the jaded bureau, there was nothing.

Where endless offerings and an incense burner used to be laid out on the altar, there was nothing.

Where thousands of lights used to blanket every corner of the building in golden warmth, there was nothing.

The little air that was stuck in Xie Lian’s chest left his lungs as if it were his very last breath.

This was the temple Hua Cheng had built himself and showed him, bashfully, all that time ago. This was the temple which he had sworn would worship Xie Lian, his god— what god, what god ?— no matter how ‘dirty’ and ‘unworthy’ the place of its location was. This was the temple in which Hua Cheng had lit three thousand lanterns in his name and, lovingly, sent them up into the heavens.

Nothing was left. Everything was gone.

Ruoye tugged at his arm more forcefully.

This time, he let it lead him away.

He’ll remember, he whispered to himself in his thoughts as he took step after numb step away from what used to be a miraculous divine shrine. Soon, he will.

…he will.

In the end, when he tried to sneak into the Gambler’s Den, the same ghosts that usually welcomed him as their lord’s cherished guest sensed him from a mile away and raised an alarm for a suspicious cultivator trespassing on Ghost Realm.

With the light of a single curious silver butterfly flickering in and out of the corner of his eye, he fled.

Hua Cheng didn’t show up again.

Xie Lian had heard in the past stories about gods forgotten. For many centuries, he had believed himself to be one of them.

He’d never wondered back then why he was still around - weren’t forgotten gods supposed to disappear from the world like dispersed ghosts? What kept him there, more or less alive, coming back and coming back and coming back, still strong enough to keep going even at his weakest?

He knew the answer now—now, that his mortal body was clearly giving out, any leftover or borrowed spiritual powers gone as if they had never been there.

It had all been thanks to Hua Cheng.

How could a single person—a single soul, a single ghost—keep a god alive all those years?

San Lang could.

It was true what people said; one really didn’t know what they had until it was gone.

Xie Lian faded out on a cold autumn night, collapsed against a tree on the outskirts of the nearby forest, an almost empty bag of scraps he’d managed to find that day abandoned on the ground next to him. Under his last breaths, he kept whispering soothing nothings to Ruoye; the silk band quivered under his numb fingertips, tightening, uncurling, shifting and wrapping around his whole body, as if to embrace, as if to support.

As if to keep him together.

It’s alright, Xie Lian thought to his only companion when he could no longer speak, it’s alright. I’ve existed long enough.

The world grew quiet, numb, then blurry as Xie Lian’s senses gave out one after the other. As the night lost any remaining colours, his eyes burned with achingly bright blurred-out silver lights rapidly dancing in his dying vision.

How beautiful, was his last thought, unconscious, delirious as the smallest of the lights fluttered close to his face, distraught, almost brushing against his forehead. Thank goodness for San Lang.

If I only could—

Then, it all went dark, and Xie Lian’s soul dimmed until he was no more.

The silver butterfly found no surface to perch on; as a sudden tremble overtook the world, it shattered into a thousand specks of dust.

There once was a god; a kind god, a merciful god, the only god that mattered. A beloved god.

A forgotten god.

A god who was remembered, but remembered too late.

And there was a believer; a powerful ghost, unyielding, devoted, always searching, always waiting.

They had met once, at the beginning of their lives, and then once more, when fate crossed their paths again. Ominous powers, long since destroyed and made an example of, meddled in fate’s plans and forced the god’s and the ghost’s paths apart, parting them forever.

If his god were to disappear, the ghost had always planned to leave the world with him. After all, without the god, there was no purpose, no meaning, no life.

…But as there was no banquet in the world that didn’t come to an end, there also was no separation that lasted for eternity.

And so, against his deepest wish to disperse into nothingness—in anguish, in penance, in shame—the ghost held onto the hope in his still heart and waited for his god to come back.

He’s still waiting to this day. They say he uses millions of disguises to walk the world in search of his beloved. The disguises have nothing in common. Some are children, some are men, some are women. Some look rich, some poor.

If you want to spot the real face of the ghost, look for a band of white silk wrapped around his wrist. Don’t approach - both the master and the silk are stained with the blood and resentment of those who have wronged the one they’re looking for. Just let them pass, and search, and wait.

And if the god ever comes back—

Why would he come back? Please, come back.

—tell them.

#multifandommatch #mfmteamangst #tgcf #tgcf fic #hualian #i recommend reading this on ao3 as there are more tags/warnings #crossposting to tumblr took a moment this time!#angst #angst with no happy ending #major character death #my writing #m

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nostalgia-tblr · 1 month

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WELP, I have finished another that MCU Medieval Adultery AU that I've been going on about recently. It's a bit niche I suppose but someone out there is bound to be thrilled that such a thing now exists, and me and that person are now married on the astral plane. Possibly.

Anywho, AU!Thor has gone off to war and left AU!Loki in charge of the castle and his AU wife. You have three guesses about what happens next and if you need more than two of them I'll be shocked.

Title: Fair Alfrida (AO3) Fandom: Thor (Movies) Rating: Explicit Pairing: Loki/OFC Wordcount: ~6500 Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Anglo-Saxon Period, Royalty, Consort Queens, Adultery, Betrayal, Sibling Rivalry, Loki Is Not A Good Bro, Jealousy, Seduction, Sexual Content, Manipulation, Lust, Not A Romance Fic, Dark-ish, Period-Typical Sexism, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, The OC Is Not The POV Character, Additional Warnings In Author's Note Summary/Snippet: Alfrida has always held a certain fascination for Loki simply because she is Thor’s, and the thought of somehow taking her from his brother has provided a pleasant distraction on occasion – idle speculation for a never-idle mind to play with, nothing more. At least at first.

#my fic #it's not tagged as 'thor & loki' because thor's barely in it and also i am silently protesting the lack of a 'vs' to go with & and /#because this is very much 'thor vs loki' rather than 'thor & loki' and ao3 is failing me with its lack of options #anyway read the tags and the author's note and so on as i will not be responding to complaints about what happens in this fic #'don't like don't read' as they say. and don't leave loki alone with your wife either.#No Archive Warnings Apply though

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incorrect-fanfiction-quotes · 9 months

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Midoriya: *startles at the knock at his door*

Momo: Is this a bad time, Midoriya? I wanted to let you know that whatever I might be doing that’s causing you stress—

Midoriya: No! You’re fine, I promise, it’s just…

Momo: Can I come in?

Midoriya: NO, no, you can’t. It—this is a bad time.

Momo: Oh! Right, sorry, when can we talk—?

Shinsou, muffled by duct tape: *groans*

Midoriya: …

Momo: … *takes her phone out*

Midoriya: Wait! I promise there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for this! Don’t call the cops! Or Mr. Aizawa!

Momo, talking into her phone: Todoroki, your boyfriend is doing something I am not qualified to deal with.

#fanfiction #incorrect quotes #read on ao3 #ao3 link #mha #my hero academia #izuku midoriya #momo yaoyorozu #shinsou hitoshi #todoroki shouto #tododeku #lots of non-permanent death in this series #be warned #read the tags #all that jazz #and even though the link is titled new session #(it does that sometimes and idk why)#it should still take you to the fic

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zombie-honeymoon · 10 months

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Honeymoon at the Clown Motel Chapter Seven: My, What Cute Feet You Have

Summary: Hidan and Kakuzu deal with the aftermath of the events that happened at the Clown Motel as they try to get their lives back to normal.

“Your friends are here, Hidan,” Kakuzu said from where he stood in the bedroom doorway adjusting the tie around his neck. Hidan was still laying in bed, eyes closed and to anyone else he would look like he was sound asleep, but Kakuzu knew him well enough to know he wasn’t asleep, not even close. There was a plate of half eaten breakfast in the bed with him and when Kakuzu saw it he sighed and made his way over to take the plate. “You’re not going to finish this, are you?” Cracking one eye open, Hidan shook his head. “No. And I don’t want to fucking see anyone, either. It’s too damn early. Besides, I don’t want anyone seeing me like this.” Kakuzu knew what Hidan meant by that, and it had nothing to do with him still being in bed. “Too bad, you’re going to see us,” Itachi said as he and Kisame made their way into the room. Hidan groaned, turning over so his back was to all of them. “We’re already here. It would be very impolite to make us leave now,” Kisame said. “Hidan, be nice,” Kakuzu warned, straightening the sleeves on his burgundy colored dress shirt. “You know that I have to go back into the office today. Would you really rather be here alone?” “What?!” Hidan sat up, eyes wide as he finally took in that Kakuzu was dressed, and dressed for the office. “That’s today?”

#kakuhida #kakuzu #hidan #itachi #kisame #read the tags and warnings on ao3 please #please enjoy!

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ssreeder · 3 months

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I started reading this like 4 days ago, time has blurred together. I have not slept over 5 and a half hours of sleep in that time, I had to get up at 6 for something and was going 'just one more chapter' several times until it was 2am. The only thing that I can think about is LIAB, I am quickly losing my sanity to Zukka and the prison camp. I came here for a fun time, a good time and the sheer amount of angst that I had heard this had. And, I was certainly not lied to.

I am the type of person to read hard core angst. Impaling, torture , doesn't even phase me anymore (bit concerning but ignore that), I have taken to the blank word document to get that sinking, queasy feeling when the angst gets really hard core. First few chapters of this had me captivated and then Zuko came into it, *Chefs kiss*

I can't read long fics because I don't have the attention span, but for this I make an exception, also if you read it all in like 4 days the attention span doesn't have time to run out! I am on the 3 part, chapter 2 and I actively plan to binge read it tonight. Do I have school in the morning? Yes. Am I still going to stay up until 1 in the morning reading this and make up for my lack of sleep with caffeine? Also yes.

I really hope that Jet dies in this, I hope that he has a really anti-climatic death as well, like he falls off a slightly too high ledge. NO ONE and I mean NO ONE gets to separate MY GAYS LIKE THAT BECAUSE HE JUST HAD TO TELL FONG THAT ZUKO WAS AT THE BLOODY CAMP!

and the Forest Lesbians, may they live forever in the local folk lore about two witches that lived the forest and used the power of being gay to cure people.

thank you for writing this, it has really made me happy reading this even though my favourite gays are getting traumatised (more traumatised than usual for Zuko). I have only been reading this, my friends are concerned about me since I don't think I have willingly left the house in... *looks down at fingers, realises I don't have enough fingers to count this* umm... too long!

*holds your hands* how are you doing friend??

your ask had me both nervous and excited haha & the greatest thing about responding to this a few days late is that you’ve probably finished it by now haha. I feel sorry for your sleep schedule but I also don’t feel bad haha <3

I’m glad LIAB met your expectations in the angst, it’s probably one of the more angsty/ darker zukka fics & it’s probably going to get worse lol. (Not for zukka specifically, everyone gets to join this time) But you’ll see… if I can hold your attention until the end haha.

as for your Jet thoughts I’m sure you found out what happened to him by now ;) <3

thanks for this amazing ask seriously you’re great & you deserve to get yourself a treat for taking the time to send me this haha YOURE AWESOMEEEEEE