#nighthunt gone wrong | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sherylhooper · 3 months

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There's a reason that even tho my country and my people push very hard to have us included in Europe, and discard everything that make us similar to Asia, I don't count myself as just European but more Asian, because our country is moatly located in Asia and also because the Silk Road and other Asian coutries' culture is very similar to us. That's the conversation for another time tho but when someone reads this, I want them to know that foreigners may call us white because of our skin color (even tho my ethnicity is very diverse 😒) but they still always count us as Asians because we aren't white and European enough for them.

What I want to say with that is that as much as I like that damnei, and especially MXTX books became popular, western people with their idiotic ideas make my skin crawl.

Unpopular opinion here but Wen remnants weren't innocent just because they haven't done what Wen Ruohan did. If someone doesn't something horrible, doesn't make them innocent and good. This is why I can't stand western people. Someone made a tiktok about how horrible Jiang Cheng was for leading the siege against Wei Wuxian and how horrible he was and how heroic WWX is and I wanted to make something very very clear.

MXTX herself very clearly wrote during Sunshot campaign that "no Wen took Sunshot Campaign seriously". Here it doesn't say that every Wen, besides Wen Qing and Wen Ning and Wen Qing's branch, took Sunshot Campaign seriously. No, she very clearly wrote what she wrote. People assume way too much that Wen Qing couldn't leave Wen Ruohan's side. I'm sorry but yes, yes, she could, She could've taken Wen Ning with her, gone to Lan Xichen or Nie Mingjiu and given up as a prisoner, but she didn't.

The fact very much remains: neither she, nor Wen Ning or others gave up on Wen Rouhan. They clearly expected him to win (and he was very much winning before WWX turned up with undead army and turned the tides.).

Now I want to address another thing and it's called POW, i.e. what Wen Remnants were.

The phrase, Prisoner of War for the first time, has been used in 1610 but the idea of losing side of war being "either slaughtered of enslaved" has been there since ancient times: Romans, Greeks, Turk Sejuks, Turk Ottomans, Persians, Arabs, Mongols, Chinese, Japanese, etc. They all have taken people from losing side of war as prisoners.

Now I want to adress what these POW were used as - "Typically, victors made little distinction between enemy combatants and enemy civilians, although they were more likely to spare women and children. Sometimes the purpose of a battle, if not a war, was to capture women, a practixe known as raptio."

My people were part of raptio many times, as our enemies captured women from my country because they were beautiful and they wanted to "verbessern" (improve) their blood and bred them for that purpose as disgusting as it sounds, this is a very reason why many foreign leaders in history, especially in Asia, had my people as grandmas or mothers, most of the time unwillingly and my people also took their own life before that kind of fate would befall on them too.

That was what happened to women prisoners after war most of the time, as for men, they were used to work manually almost every time for their captors.

Now, as much as Jin Guangshan and Jin Zixun make me very very angry, (not because how they acted against Wens but because they were simply disgusting people) they weren't wrong to take Wen Remnants in and make them work manually till they died (what could be argued that Jin Zixun was wrong in following that bat and capturing and impriaoning WN and his group during nighthunt). If everything WWX acting the way he acted was abnormal. He literally stole and freed them and went to the enemy's side.

Here is where I want people reading this to forget their western opinions and Geneva Convention (which was created in 1949 AFTER two world wars.). I know that most of them and their countries have never been to war in near history (USA involvement in Afghanistan, in Iraq, in iran, in many other countries doesn't count and neither does WW1 and WW2), have never had their people expeciance genoc!de so I want them to shut their mouth and listen to us, who have had wars at the hands oppressors and colonizators for more than 2000 years, yes two thousand years, who have experienced genoc!de multiple times. Even nowdays 20% of my country is occupied by our oppressors and we had 2 wars in last 32 years also at the hands of them. In 1992-1993 and in 1998 my people experienced ethnic cleansing alongside with our allies at the hands of Russians. And last war we had was in 2008, which I remember very well and it was hardly a war and more likely bombing the civilians!

Keep that in mind that I actually was in Jiang Cheng's shoes and understand that I also have a sibling. If, God above forbid, my sibling after what happened to us, got up, defected and went to Russians side, I'd kill that traitor with my own two fucking hands!!

Does people even understand what kind of bullshit they are speaking when they say that WWX was actually not wrong to take "innocent" Wens' side? There was no such thing as innocent people there!! They were elders, sure, but you can't make me believe that if they were younger they wouldn't fight in that war or that WRH wouldn't force them to fight. Did anyone from Wen Remnants say "oh, Wen Ruohan was such a bad person, we weren't actually on his side even tho we never defected during the war but just because we have done nothing against others, we are innocent". That doesn't work like that. They couldn't have been innocent when they stayed by WRH's side in the war!! At best, they simply were indifferent in it! They alao profited from war. Funding, medicine, etc have to come from somewhere, right?

Now I want to adress Wen Ning and Wen Qing and why I don't particulary care about them. Wen Qing was a healer, we have to understand that today's medical ethics that was created by Thomas Percival, is different from what physicians thought was correct in antient times, especially in ancient China.

"The traditional Chinese medical ethics emphasized heavily on physician's morality and set high standarts for medical practice. To summarie the ideas in these historical works, the phyaicians nuat rescue every like without any preconditions."

At that time there was no such thing as patient's automony. For that reason we can't fault WQ when she performed the golden core transplatation. She just did what WWX asked her.

There'a one thing that I'm gonna argue tho. When WQ and WN saved Jiang Cheng from other Wens, WQ told WWX that their debt from now on was null and void.

So when people say that Jiang Cheng should've always be in debt with her, is actually not correct. I also want to argue that she trully only cared for her brother. When she fell on her knees in front of WWX, she only wanted him to save Wen Ning. Nowhere did she say "oh, Jin clan is treating my branch so horrible, we all want to save ourselves. Help me save them."

Now about Wen Ning. He is a guy who has no other personality than just being m nice. He helped JC and WWX after Jiang Sect annihilation and that was also because he was nice. He is just a nice guy, nothing more, nothing less. He just exists to be "just nice guy".

I can't seem to force myself to care about him.

Someone on above mentioned tiktok commented and I quote:

"there is nothing jc went through that was significantly worse than what others went through yet people baby him so much 🙄 sry i don’t like mr genocide everyone"

The tiktok author replied:

"NO FR like “he lost his family” hate to break it to u bud but so did like. Everyone else … it was kind of a war,,,"

Did I read it correctly or did they simply compared Jiang Sect Genocide to people losing one or two relatives in the war??

The author in their bio had "free Palestine". Unfortunatelly that comment here clearly speaks that they don't actually care about anyone's genocide and they probably only do it for the trend.

Apparently these people also think that Jiang Cheng hunted down that tortured "pure innocent Demonic Cultivators for fun".

Are they dumb or do they trully think that these Demonic Cultivators all were like WWX and not blood-hungry like Xue Yang?? The only remotelly normal Demonic Cultivator was WWX!! Nowhere did MXTX say, even in interviews that JC hunted Demonic Cultivators for fun! Some people have never read a book in their life and it shows!

Especially when they act as if WWX was second coming of Jesus and has never done anything wrong.

First of all, WWX did, in fact, have an army in Burial Mounds, the army of undead, fierce corpses and ghosts. That army may not have Wen Remnants, but it was still an army! Also wasn't WWX the one who wrote death threats with his own blood and sent them different sects? He, obviously, wasn't in right mind at that time but he really was the threat to the Jianghu. He was arrogant and, what we know is that Jiang Cheng led the siege (please, remember that we also hear that from other people - who love rumors and speculation and etc. We don't know for sure if JC led the siege or not.).

WWX did betray him. He left him alone when he took Wen Remnants. They were brothers!! What kind of older brother abandons their little sibling? Wei Ying also indirectly caused Jiang YanLi's death. Mind you, Wei Ying didn't die on the same day as JYL, but three months later.

That alone left Jiang Cheng trully alone with a newborn nephew!!

It's a wonder he didn't go out of his mind.

Just because WWX suffered doesn't mean other people, especially Jiang Cheng didn't lose everything in the world. He had to revive a dead sect with his two very hands in his early twenties.

Some people also don't understand what kind of power vacuum Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan's deaths created! Take cultivation out of the novel and you are left with 5 big sect with Sect Leaders who are like the kings in their own land! People pay taxes here canonically. Do some people trully believe that Yumeng Jiang would remain untouched when there was no Jiang Sect left to rule it? Jin Guangshan and other sects, big or small, would start fighting over the land. Jiang Cheng had more problems at his hands than caring about leftover Wens and the problems that Wei Wuxian created because at that time, when he stole Wens from Jin Sect, he was still a part of AND the Head Disciple of Jiang Sect 🤌🏻

Wen Ruohan wiped out one of the 5 big sects and he may have done the same if Wei Wuxian didn't insult Wen Chao, but he indirectly gave Wen Chao the reason to hate Jiang Sect even more than his father's brainwashing and people think it's not that important.

People also genuinely hate Lan Xichen because he never cared about Wen Remnants enough to take them in or save them 🤦‍♀️

Wei Wuxian should also have cared enough for his sect to at least help JC revive it or something as his Head Disciple. Him giving JC his golden core meant nothing at that time, I said what I said! Especially because he didn't know! 🤷‍♀️ I blame Jiang Fengmian for raising him all highty and mighty and lone wolf or smt, but that's the discussion of another time.

I trully believe that some people read the novel with their eyes closed! This here is exactly why I hate westerns so much when they seriously think that JC is the worst character and hate him more than Wen Ruohan, Jin Guangyao/Meng Yao and Jin Guangshan 🤌🏻

MDZS fandom is clearly very toxic and I'm very glad I'm not a part of it. I'll stay in my SVSSS bubble for eternity.

P.S. just so I can make something very clear. The Siege didn't happen because of Wen Remnants as Jin Zixun allowed WWX to take them away, but because WWX killed Jin Zixuan, who was a sect heir and also husband of his Shijie. Wen Ning killed him indirectly, WWX had no control over his abilities, he was powerfull but with no control and his mind was deteriorating at that time. He was a danger to the cultivation world. Siege happened because of him, against him, and Wen Remnants died as a colletal demage. Morally right or wrong, what he created was a political disaster and it ended with every Wen, excluding WN and Wen Yuan, and with himself dead!

UPDATE. someone from China reblogged this post and called me quite horrible things, but that's okay. They also questioned if my people have even gove thro genocide at all. Okay, denial of my people's genocide is not new either. What they said next was that Siege of Burrial Mounds was a genocide of Wen Remnants. No, actually it wasn't. They died as an collateral demage because Wei Wuxian was there, that's the tragedy. I'm gonna repeat once again, Siege happened because of WWX, not because of Wens.

Another thing what they said is that people have empathy that I lack and I'm a horrible person for that, and I should be ashamed for even thinking that or that I'm Chinese literature to spread my hate, etc, etc.

My empathy died when things such these happened to my people.

Mind you, this is only one, one single city and it's not even the whole list of crimes they have done. I'm gonna find and update this post once again, cuz it's clear that I need to spread awereness, I won't let their names be forgotten...

Today the remains of 12 people, who were considered as "lost during war", were found and transferred to my country for burial and it was very emotional as many remains still haven't been found after 30+ years yet and people still hope that there could be even a single bone found and returned so they can bury it.

So, yeah, I bury whatever empathy I have left with the remains of people everytime something like this happens. Every time people deny the genocide of my people, every time these people call US colonizers and many degrading things, saying that we oppressed them when in reality it was other way around, when we couldn't speak our language, when they called it the "dog's language" and and laughed at it, couldn't get any service if we spoke it and they mockingly told us to speak "human language", which to them was Russian, WE were oppressed in our own country and land and they took everything from us and made the world believe that we were oppressors and colonizers, they even stole the name of our region for themselves....

And no one in the world did anything about this because they didn't care. So no, everytime I'll always imagine myself in JC's shoes that I'm asked to care about ethnic Russians and Apsuas, I simply can't care, don't care and won't even care unless justice is served, unless all the land they have stolen is returned, unless they all apologize for what they have done and stop spreading lies about us....

So, good for you, if you have empathy and are a better person, unfortunately, I am not...

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mxtxfanatic · 29 days

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(Please tell me if I am bothering you with my anons, I promise I'll stop, I just really need to rant to someone who understands T^T)

They came onto my post and started being wrong, at this point it's a matter of pride! (Tho I am this close to just doing that, if they keep saying things so factually wrong T^T)

Thanks for the answer, it really helped! We have since then moved on to debate whether WWX's cultivation harmed and impacted him and how he couldn't control it because of it.

(I disagree, personally, as that is what the public is trying to claim without even understanding how WWX's ghost path works, or how any form of cultivation works. I am of the mind that nobody can use any kind of cultivation safely and in a controlled manner while being pushed to the brink as often as WWX was during that period of his life.)

Frankly, it is pretty entertaining, tho I can't say it's a riveting conversation either. Their answer to me saying that the title of the novel was a dig to WWX's cultivation path that actually subvert the trope of demonic cultivation in xianxia novels was : "No, it is because of how he had good intentions and tried to protect everyone by using bad means to achieve goodness,tho in the end, he did more bad things than good ones." And I am just sitting there, losing braincells, wondering what the heck they are talking about.

Still better than the "Both LWJ and JC spent years looking for WWX's soul after his death, LWJ literally played music everyday to call his soul to him 🙄" thing. Why do I see this so often? Like, did it happen in the book? Am I losing my mind? Genuine question here, I feel like I am losing my mind T^T.

I think that particular fanon originated from a popular fandom blogger—and is usually paired with the headcanon that Lan Wangji only went where the chaos was to “chase Wei Wuxian’s spirit”—but I think I also heard it might have been written into some of the adaptations? (Idk about that second one because I’ve only ever completed the book.) Lan Wangji is said to have “gone where the chaos is” during the war, hence his title being given then, and the Lotus Pod Seeds extra seems to imply that this behavior was inspired by his first solo journey out of The Cloud Recesses to pursue lotus pod seeds upon Wei Wuxian’s suggestion during The Cloud Recesses arc. Nowhere in the book does it say that Lan Wangji played music to calm or call Wei Wuxian’s soul. The only place in the novel where it is ever mentioned that music was played in an attempt to call forth his soul is when the sects gathered together after the first siege of the Burial Mounds and were unsuccessful in their attempt. Lan Wangji was not present for this.

As for whether Wei Wuxian’s cultivation physically harms him or not: if the ghost path was harmful to the body, then 1) Lan Wangji would reject its use and 2) Wei Wuxian would limit his use of it and refuse to showcase it to others. For the first part: while Lan Wangji had many objections to the use of the ghost path during the war, he curbs those objections at the end of Wei Wuxian’s first life and actively supports his usage of it through actions in Wei Wuxian’s second life. For the second part: Wei Wuxian uses the ghost path in his second life throughout the entire main story and continuing into the extras. He completely forgoes using a sword as his main weapon of choice. He even displays his techniques to the juniors and explains how they work, but he begins to curb some of his usage with them to give them a chance to solve nighthunts on their own instead of relying on him to solve issues for them.

#mdzs asks #anon #ah so they jumped onto your post #as they do #looks like you have some spring cleaning to do mayhaps

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chengxiancheng-heaven · 4 months

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CXC Heaven Server Member Promotion

As part of the ChengXian+ Community, the Heaven server is promoting the work of one of our server members every other week! 💜💗🤍 Behold our first promo!

A Third Chance

by The_Indian_Ghost

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: M/M

Fandoms: 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV), 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù

Characters: Jiang Cheng | Jiang Wanyin, Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji

Additional Tags:

Time Travel Fix-It, Wei Wuxian loses Jiang Cheng and Lan Zhan on a nighthunt, And so he uses a time travel array to go back in time to save them, He miscalculates and sends all of them back in time instead, And yes they're all married and in love, This fic will be ChengXian focussed though, Kissing, Decapitation (Of Wen Chao and Wen Zuliu), Wei Wuxian's Bride Ghost friend

Summary:

Wei Wuxian loses his husbands in a nighthunt gone wrong. So he decides to use an experimental array to travel back in time to let him fix it and save them. He doesn't expect that his husbands have also travelled back in time, a few days earlier than him even, until they find him again. This is his third chance at life- at happiness- and he's not going to waste it, he promises to himself. My take on Chengxian Week 2021's day 3 Prompt: Promise

Series: Part 3 of ChengXian Week 2021

Words: 2,880 | Chapters: 1/1 | Language: English | Published: 2021-11-04

#member promo #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #zhanchengxian #lan wangji #fanfic

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korgbelmont · 3 months

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Male MC (Nick Taylor) x Stacy Green

A Valentine's Special

After everything that's happened with the Shadows and facing death as a Nighthunter, Nick has reflected on the kind of life he wants to live, which leads to a big decision...

Written in the present tense

Tagging: @choicesficwriterscreations, @jerzwriter

Warnings: None

Word Count: 937

Notes: I don’t own these characters, they are the property of Pixelberry Studios.

A New Chapter made on cooltext.com

Sat at his desk, Nick writes an entry in his journal.

'I thought once the Blade of Morella was gone, the Shadows that messed with me were gone, but I was wrong. Turns out that a piece of that darkness remained within me.

I travelled to New Orleans with Stacy by request of Ivy and Ava to meet with a woman known as Valax. Like the blade, she too was from Morella, and she was able to remove the last piece of shadow that was being used as some kind of signal by something from her realm. I wasn't given the specific details, but it I do know that that small piece of shadow was dangerous.

Once this was all dealt with, she took some of the light and shadow that was already part of me and used it to create a sword before she returned home. But before she did, she told me that I was balanced between the light and dark.

I admit I don't know what this means going forward. But I have been left to question my role as Nighthunter, and if it is still the path I should walk. The thought of walking away from it all and living a quiet, peaceful life is very tempting, but I know it is not just my decision to make.'

Leaning back in his chair, Nick checks the time before getting to his feet and heading out to the kitchen. Shadow sleeps on the chair, and Nick gives her a quick stroke before switching the oven on and getting a few things out.

Getting out of her car, Stacy is hit by the smell of something cooking the moment she gets to the door.

Stacy - Wait, is he...?

Opening up, she finds Nick working in the kitchen and walks over, keeping to the doorway.

Nick - Hey you.

He gives her a quick kiss as he walks past.

Stacy - I thought you said you had something booked for us.

Nick - Yeah, I didn't book. This was my plan all along.

Stacy smiles, rolling her eyes slightly.

Stacy - Anything I can do to help?

Nick - No, I'm all good, thanks. You sit and relax, it'll be ready in about ten minutes.

Stacy - Alright, well I'm going to go change into something less professional and more comfortable.

She leaves Nick to his organised kitchen chaos, heading to the bedroom, but as she walks past, she notices a drawing of Valax and the Blade of Morella in his journal and looks them over. Her smile turns to shock as she reads the latest entry, batting a glance over at the kitchen.

Stacy - (I wonder where his mind is at with it...)

After changing, Stacy exits to find Nick setting two plates down and lighting some candles.

Stacy - Smells amazing.

Nick - Hope you like it.

He chucks a few bits on the kitchen surface before switching the light off and they both take a seat, digging in.

Stacy - Oh wow, that's delicious!

Nick smiles as they continue to eat.

Nick - Happy Valentine's day, Stacy.

They both lean in, sharing a soft kiss. When they part, Stacy touches her forehead to his.

Stacy - I love you.

Nick - Love you too.

After, they relax on the sofa under a blanket with one of Stacy's favourite movies, but she grabs the remote and pauses, sitting up.

Nick - You okay?

Stacy - That's what I was going to ask you.

Nick - I don't follow.

Stacy - I saw your latest entry in your book. About walking away from your life as a Nighthunter.

Nick leans forward, taking a deep breath.

Nick - It's felt strange these past few weeks, after the whole Sword and Valax thing, I just don't if I can continue.

Stacy - I know I said I wanted to keep all that separate from our relationship, but that's not the case anymore. Look, you face the possibility of not coming home every job you take, what is it about this that has you spooked?

Nick - It's because there's always the chance of not coming back. It's one thing dealing with some zombies or a ghost, but this... being used by something I don't even know to invade, it scared me.

Stacy - Nick... Things aren't as they were. But no matter what, whatever decision you make, I'll back you.

Nick nods and she moves to wrap him up from behind. Resting his hand on her arm, Nick closes his eyes for a moment, enjoying her warmth, making him more sure than ever.

Nick - That's not all I've been thinking about.

Stacy -What else is going on in that head of yours?

Chuckling, Nick goes to stand before reaching into his pocket and turning to face Stacy, getting down on one knee. He opens up the box, revealing a ring. Stacy's eyes widen, realising what is happening.

Nick - Stacy Green, will you marry me?

She nods, pulling him to her.

Stacy - Yes.

She captures his lips with hers in a deep kiss. Both only able to smile when they part. Nick places the ring on her finger, holding her.

Nick - I know there's a lot I'm questioning right now. But being with you isn't one of them.

Stacy - Good. Because neither am I.

She goes to stand, taking both his hands in hers and quickly switches the TV off before taking Nick to the bedroom to celebrate their engagement and the beginning of the next chapter in their lives.

#playchoices #it lives #it lives in the woods #stacy green #mc x stacy #korgfics

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qourmet · 1 year

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in my head, the jiang territory is the second-to-last of the 5 major sects that cssr visits post the lan-hunt-gone-wrong. she befriends the nies beforehand much to the chagrin of the nie elders (cos whoops there's an eccentric who can match the energy of their young master & combined, their energy is as close to chaos-in-a-bottle as you can get) & once she has a fully established relationship with the jiangs & co & all who encompass that association, the nies host a nighthunt & cssr is Loathe to go back because she was there Within the year but the boys convince her to go anyways.

while the jiang boys arent inherently close to the nie heir, they're aware of the politics, of how he took a concubine before he took a wife, of how he & his wife were hitched last year, etc etc etc. Point is they don't interact with the nies all too much because jfm & wcz have an age difference with the nie-heir of like, 4+ years so at least As Teens he was Just Out of the cusp of their Age Range of Socializing.

Anyways they convince her to go with them as a guest disciple of the Yunmeng Jiang & the Minute they get there, xiao laopo is running crying into cssr's waiting embrace. Nie-gongzi & his wife have been away for politics since last week & she's been lonely, & despite the safety of residing in Qinghe Nie, she's still a scaredy cat who thinks she hears ghosts & such during the wee hours of the night (it doesn't help that Nie disciples have been gathering gui & such for the night hunt). wcz is shellshocked at how intimately two people of two totally different social standings meanwhile jfm is absolutely delighted at her easygoing personality & socializing. wcz discounts her relation to jfm cos jfm has been Actively trying to court cssr & considers her casual nature as a good sign that she's going to take a place next to him as his furen. Both girls are referring to each other very intimately & cssr even had a snack suited to xlp's tastes & xlp cries more about how relieved she is now that cssr is back while cssr tells her meimei to go clean her face & that they'll catch up later after nie-gongzi returns tonight. xlp agrees & leaves before someone can scold her for shameful displays & wcz freezes when he realizes that a lipstick stain has been imprinted on the collars of her robes.

She catches him staring & figures out why, smirks & strides over & teases him in a low voice so as not to be overheard by others about how he might want this kind of visual claim. she'd press, by the cute xlp? or by me? & skip away laughing when he turns visibly distressed.

#i need y'all to understand that This is how much i think of them while im doing other shit #mdzs #cssr #wcz #jfm #i might continue this later #qourmet: aga

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lady-of-the-lotus · 2 years

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No, But I Will Be

Xue Yang will do anything to make the newly-resurrected doazhang stay.

Anything.

Xuexiao - E - read on AO3

*****

Xiao Xingchen has been back for a full month before Xue Yang notices anything wrong.

If you could go so far as to call it wrong. More like suspicious.

No, not suspicious.

Just slightly off.

If that.

It’s just after dawn, and Xue Yang opens his eyes to the daozhang sitting up in the pink morning light. Xingchen is running a slim white finger along the raised scar on his neck, thumb brushing his throat and collarbone as if remembering the feel of gushing blood.

Idiotic, that last part. Even if Xiao Xingchen does remember anything that had happened the day he died—and Xue Yang is certain he doesn’t—he had bled out too fast to remember the sensation.

It’s nothing, really. Nothing at all. Though Xingchen has never asked about it, he’s bound to be curious about the mysterious scar he feels on his throat…

Xingchen hears Xue Yang stir and stops touching the scar, turning away slightly and tightening the blindfold over his sightless eyes.

Xue Yang keeps a close eye on him all day and is satisfied that it’s nothing by the time they make camp that night. The daozhang had been his usual self all day, smiling at Xue Yang’s jokes, giving money to a beggar in the town they’d passed through, and making sure “Chengmei” remembered to eat and drink.

Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing at all…

Xue Yang curls up against him as the campfire goes out. The daozhang doesn’t need food or drink, but Xue Yang is proud to have produced a sophisticated fierce corpse that needs rest every night.

And one with a pulse, who can cry, breathe, and produce warmth. Far better than the Yiling Laozu’s shoddy prototype or even his own previous work on that meddling priest.

True, the Ghost General and Song Lan could see, at least, but Xue Yang could have easily given Xiao Xingchen new eyes if he’d wanted to.

But a sighted daozhang would ruin everything.

He drapes Xiao Xingchen’s arm across his chest, drawing it around him so the daozhang is holding him tightly. Sometimes Xingchen needs to be reminded of things like this, as if he’s reverted to the shyness of their early days of sharing a bed back at the Coffin House, as if he doesn’t remember how much he likes falling asleep with Xue Yang in his arms, but not often.

The daozhang has gone out of his way to look after me, if anything, Xue Yang reminds himself. Not just because he’s grateful for Xue Yang’s devotion, or that he’s thankful Xue Yang spent seven years tirelessly working to bring him back.

No, it’s because he’s happy to be back with Xue Yang, glad to pick up where they left off. Not back at the Coffin House—Xue Yang can’t risk a return of memory—but better: traveling the world, nighthunting, letting Xiao Xingchen get his fill of helping people while Xue Yang gets to kill things with Xingchen’s blessing.

The only thing that would make it better would be for the daozhang to be more outwardly affectionate, but that will come, in time, as Xingchen adjusts to his undead state.

Xue Yang keeps the spirit-trapping pouch that had held the daozhang for so long. Unwilling to let it go, he’s modified it into a qiankun pouch and has slowly been filling it with magical and demonic cores from the various spirit beasts and monsters they’ve hunted.

“To infuse another fierce corpse with, if necessary,” he tells Xingchen, the closest either of them has come to so much as alluding to A-Qing.

But he still kicks himself for saying that much when, three months after the daozhang came back to him, the second suspicious thing occurs.

Not suspicious, not really. Natural, if anything. Xue Yang just wishes it hadn’t happened.

They’re in a small town haunted by a yaoguai, and Xiao Xingchen, as always, asks their guide’s name, as if it matters.

“Qing’er, daozhang,” the girl says, bowing, and Xiao Xingchen stops walking for a moment before shaking his head as if to clear it and hurrying after her.

“What happened to A-Qing?” Xiao Xingchen asks him later, after they’ve killed the beast and Xue Yang has a potent new demonic core for his qiankun pouch. His question is hesitant, as if asking despite himself, but with no preamble or build-up to soften it.

Xue Yang has known this moment was coming for three months, but that doesn’t make it any easier to answer.

“Plague,” he says sadly, heart thumping. “She caught it tending to you…”

He tosses that last part in as a way to give her a little boost. He can afford to now that he has the daozhang all to himself.

Still, though he doesn’t regret many things, he does sometimes wish that he hadn’t been forced to kill her. If only she’d left well enough alone and stopped trying to set cultivators on him!

That night Xiao Xingchen lies down a good arm’s length from Xue Yang in the barn they’ve been allowed to sleep in as payment for the hunt, pretending to fall asleep before Xue Yang can close the gap.

But he’s back to himself the next morning, fetching Xue Yang water from the nearby well and making sure he eats breakfast.

Just like he used to…

***

Four months in, and Xingchen still hasn’t brought him a single candy, hasn’t so much as kissed him.

Doesn’t mean anything. They haven’t much money, and the daozhang is still adjusting to his dead-alive body…

It’s during their fifth month together that they annihilate a nest of fierce corpses and Xiao Xingchen completely shuts down. Says not a word as they make camp and cook Xue Yang’s dinner or settle down for the night.

Xue Yang is lying awake, staring up at the stars and telling himself that it’s alright, it’s alright, it had just been a long day, that’s all, when Xiao Xingchen suddenly whispers, “It doesn’t bother you?”

“What doesn’t?”

“All the killing? All the death?”

Xue Yang keeps his voice low and steady. Casual. “They’re not human, daozhang. You know that.”

Xingchen swallows hard. “…yes, I...I know…” He reaches up to touch his blindfold. “But I don’t like killing, not even monsters and demons, not anymore, not even for the greater good. I’m just…I’m selfish, I suppose…”

“You’re the least selfish person I’ve ever met.”

Xiao Xingchen doesn’t seem to hear him. “You enjoy the killing.”

“Well…I’m doing it to help people, right? I’m not just running around hurting people for no reason, am I?”

“And you don’t think about it all afterward, do you?”

Xue Yang wishes he’d pretended to be asleep. “Is this about the dead bodies we found today? We can’t save everyone, daozhang…”

Xingchen digs the heels of his palms into his eye sockets, staining the blindfold with faint red, and draws in a shuddering breath. “Forget it. It’s nothing. Just sometimes I wish…sometimes I wish I were more like…” And suddenly he’s rolling into Xue Yang, teeth scraping his throat, sucking on his skin as one hand slides around Xue Yang’s chest.

“Daozhang?” Xue Yang can barely get the word out. “What are you —”

And then Xiao Xingchen is on top of him, pinning him to the mossy earth. With seeming desperation he presses his mouth to Xue Yang’s and kisses him as if trying to swallow him whole.

I knew it was just a matter of time—

Xue Yang laughs and tries to return the kiss, but Xingchen is too fierce, half-frantic. He moves aside Xue Yang’s robes, knee digging into his leg, dead-alive hand warm around his cock.

“I want you inside me,” he whispers into Xue Yang’s throat, nails dragging down his chest, leaving bloody red trails on his flesh. “I want all of you inside me—”

Painfully hard but suddenly uneasy, Xue Yang grips his arms and tries to gently push Xingchen away. “Daozhang, there’s no need to rush.”

Xingchen releases Xue Yang’s stiff pink cock, laying his hand on his chest, digging his nails deeper into Xue Yang’s bloody skin. His face is chillingly beautiful in the pale moonlight, cheeks flushed, lips parted and trembling.

“Daozhang, are you alright?”

“I will be.” He bends back down to Xue Yang’s throat, biting hard enough to break the skin, raking his nails over his shoulder. His voice is a rough whisper. “Please, just take me into you, you into me—”

Xue Yang swallows hard. He’s been dreaming of this moment for years, so why does it feel so wrong? “Daozhang, let’s—”

“I’ll just do it myself, then!—” Xingchen scrapes his teeth down Xue Yang’s chest, over the scar he’d left on his stomach, one hand gripping Xue Yang’s hip so hard it hurts. His mouth closes around Xue Yang’s dribbling cock and suddenly Xue Yang relaxes.

Nothing is wrong, he realizes with relief. So what if it isn’t as he’d imagined? Xiao Xingchen has just jumped straight to the passion of their final days in the Coffin House, skipping all the shy preliminaries of the beginning of their physical relationship—a compliment!

The daozhang forces Xue Yang’s cock deeper into his throat, deep enough to gag a living human, and Xue Yang spreads his trembling legs with a whimper and buries his fingers in Xingchen’s hair.

This is the daozhang’s way of taking care of him. The thought gives him more pleasure than Xiao Xingchen frantically deepthroating him, throat constricting around his cock, nails raking his hips and thighs and chest as he devours him. None of his usual finesse, just frantic sucking as if he’s desperately trying to draw Xue Yang as far inside him as possible.

“I want you inside me too, ” Xue Yang whispers, and Xiao Xingchen raises his head as if making eye contact through his blindfold, a string of precum and saliva connecting his lips to Xue Yang’s throbbing red cock, before ducking back down to suck on the swollen tip, suck so hard Xue Yang lets out a strangled gasp of mingled pain and pleasure.

Xiao Xingchen digs his nails deeper into his side, drawing more blood, and Xue Yang comes, filling the daozhang’s mouth with cum. Xingchen swallows it all, licking his lips, cleaning Xue Yang’s cock with his tongue as if desperate not to waste a single drop.

He lays his weight fully on Xue Yang, kissing him so that Xue Yang tastes his own cum, before lifting Xue Yang leg over his shoulder and sliding inside him without preamble or lubricant.

Xue Yang is relaxed from his orgasm, but it still hurts. He relaxes around Xingchen’s thick heat just a moment before the daozhang begins to thrust, rutting into him like a dog in heat.

“Harder— ” Xue Yang wants to say, but all that comes out is a smothered gasp.

Xingchen pins his wrists to the grass, fingers biting into his bone. The tip of Xue Yang’s half-hard cock bounces against Xingchen’s stomach as Xingchen thrusts, filling Xue Yang with deliciously frustrated lust at each brief touch.

Xue Yang closes his eyes, focusing on the sensation, relishing the burning ache between his legs, delighting in the proof of passion the daozhang has carved into his chest and hips.

Luxuriates in the knowledge that the daozhang is back, that he wants him, wants him badly—

Something grips his cock, and his eyes fly open. Xiao Xingchen’s long white fingers are wrapped around his glistening length, scraping his nails along his cock as he pumps it back to full hardness, as if knowing Xue Yang needs more pain with the pleasure this soon after his last orgasm.

“Please, please, make me forget,” he thinks he hears Xiao Xingchen whispering, but it’s been seven years and he’s too lost in the moment to pay attention.

Something hot drops on his chest.

A single blood tear.

He reaches up, touches the daozhang’s face. “I’m glad you’re back too, daozhang,” he says, and he slips a finger inside Xingchen’s mouth and clenches around his cock, pulling the daozhang deeper inside him.

Xiao Xingchen emits a half-gasp, half-moan, and at the sound, Xue Yang comes too. He prefers the sensation of being filled with the daozhang’s liquid heat but will take the daozhang’s pleasure as a consolation prize, the knowledge that of all the millions in the world, Xue Yang is the only one who can give this to the daozhang, the only one the daozhang has ever felt comfortable enough with to show this hidden side of himself—

He’d thought he was empty but his cock sputters in Xingchen’s hand, splattering them both with cum. Xiao Xingchen gives a few last thrusts and pulls out, then leans over Xue Yang and cleans his chest and stomach with his tongue, lapping at the milky white ejaculate as desperate to consume everything he can, before wiping the cum splattered over his own face and licking his fingers.

He collapses beside Xue Yang, breath still ragged.

“Daozhang—” Xue Yang whispers, turning on this side, burying his face in Xingchen’s silky black hair, hooking one leg around his. “I’ve been waiting seven years for that.” Seven years for proof that Xiao Xingchen did want to be with him, that everything that had happened on the terrible day he’d lost him had just been an overly emotional blip—

Xingchen pulls Xue Yang into him, heart beating fast against Xue Yang’s bleeding chest, fingers twined in Xue Yang’s hair, gripping him tightly enough to hurt.

Xue Yang falls asleep like that, tangled in the daozhang. Xingchen is up before him, as usual, with a pail of water and washcloth waiting for him.

“Did I hurt you last night?” he asks as Xue Yang wipes the dried blood off his chest and throat. He leans forward slightly, strangely intense.

Xue Yang grins. “Is that our new euphemism? Not as poetic as your old ones, but you can ‘hurt me’ anytime you want, if so.”

Xingchen looks away, fingering his slightly bloodied blindfold. Xue Yang watches him fondly as he dresses and tucks the pail into his qiankun sleeve.

How like the daozhang, to be upset he might have hurt Xue Yang!

It had been seven years since anyone had cared whether he’d lived or died, let alone had a few scratches…

But he’s glad Xiao Xingchen can’t see his slight limp as they start down the road. The last time this had happened, Xingchen, horrified, hadn’t touched him for a week.

Xue Yang slips his arm around Xingchen’s elbow as they walk, claiming the road is rocky but really just looking for an excuse to be closer to him. Xingchen flinches slightly, as if still upset that he’d hurt Xue Yang, and Xue Yang gives him a reassuring squeeze.

“We’re almost in an actual city,” he tells him. “Plenty of ghosts there, I’m sure.”

Xingchen nods, mood lifting as they near the large, bustling town. By the time they pass through the gates he’s almost giddy, pulling Xue Yang along behind him.

They banish three ghosts that afternoon alone and are paid in actual money, for once. Xingchen spares a precious coin to buy Xue Yang a stick of candied hawthorn.

Xue Yang grins so hard his face hurts. He knew it was only a matter of time! The daozhang couldn’t buy him candy till now, given how rarely they were paid in cash…

Xue Yang takes Xiao Xingchen’s hand and runs it up the long red candy. “Is this a hint, daozhang?”

He likes to tease the daozhang like that, make him blush, though in the past, Xingchen had been the one to initiate things between them half the time, once he’d gotten comfortable doing so.

But Xingchen doesn’t laugh or blush, just grips Xue Yang’s arm tightly as if seized by a sudden idea. “Are there people around?”

Xue Yang pulls him into an alley. “Not anymore.”

Xiao Xingchen grabs his face and kisses him on the mouth. His lips are trembling, as if he’s in a state of suppressed excitement. “Is there an inn nearby?”

“We can find one—”

Xue Yang is still spent from last night, and would rather just lie in bed with the daozhang and share the hawthorn, but he lets Xingchen pin him to the bed as soon as their inn room door closes behind them and begin pumping him erect.

He enters Xingchen this time, too sore to allow the daozhang inside him again. From behind, as the daozhang insists. His least favorite position when he’s not on the receiving end, but the daozhang seems desperate to have him inside him like this, for Xue Yang to come inside him, and Xue Yang will do anything to make the daozhang happy.

He slides a hand around Xiao Xingchen’s hip, steadying him. The daozhang’s legs are shaking, and for a moment Xue Yang worries that he’d entered him too fast. He should have told the daozhang no, gone slower—

But, “Don’t stop,” Xingchen whispers. "Don't stop, fill me from the inside, make me be like you—"

Xue Yang leans forward as he rocks his hips, kissing Xingchen’s sharp white shoulder blades, planting kisses up along his throat as his hand reaches down to wrap around Xingchen’s cock, but as his lips touch the suicide scar the daozhang reaches down, grabs his wrist, pulls his hand off his cock.

“Don’t touch me there—” Xingchen manages, and Xue Yang comes at the feel of him gripping his wrist, at him ordering to stop. He fills Xingchen before pulling out and collapsing beside him, breathing hard.

“I knew you’d be back,” he whispers into Xiao Xingchen’s hair, breath ghosting over the scar on his throat. “I knew you would be—I knew it—”

He tries to use the blanket to wipe at the mess leaking out from between Xingchen’s legs but is stopped again.

“Leave it,” the daozhang whispers, sliding a finger into Xue Yang’s mouth, brushing his tongue, pressing his lips to the bruises he’d left on Xue Yang’s throat. “Leave it inside me…”

Xingchen is in the same feverish mood the next day, walking slightly ahead of Xue Yang as they leave the town. Xue Yang had wanted to stay longer in the city, but Xingchen had been suddenly unable to bear being around people.

He tries talking to Xingchen, joking about all the fine things he was going to buy with the money they’d earned, but Xingchen just drifts silently along the road in front of him as if embarrassed over last night’s passion.

Just as he was after our first few times together back at the Coffin House.

There are no towns within a day’s walking distance, and they’re forced to camp out in the forest.

Perhaps Xingchen was right. This is better than being in a town. Just the two of them under the moon and stars. Plenty of time for Xingchen to get over his shyness over what had happened between them…

He’s building a fire when Xiao Xingchen, who had been sitting there and watching him with sightless eyes, suddenly straightens and says, “I can’t do this anymore.”

Xue Yang looks up. “Do what?”

“Can’t go on like this.”

Xue Yang stops fiddling with his flint. “I thought you preferred camping, but we should hit a town tomorrow—”

Xingchen’s face is very white. “Not camping.”

“Not picking up what you’re putting down, daozhang.”

“I remember everything,” says Xiao Xingchen, and Xue Yang freezes.

“You what?”

“I remember who you are. What you’ve done. I don’t remember it, but I know you must have killed A-Qing, I know it…”

Xue Yang drops the flint, taking a deep, steadying breath. “That’s—that’s just a hallucination, some kind of side effect from the resurrection—”

Xingchen’s voice is strangely flat, but every word is like a kick to the gut. “You wiped out the Chang Clan, you killed Song Lan, you drove me to—”

Xue Yang is on his feet. “That’s not true!”

“I remember, Chengmei. And I—I can’t. I tried. I tried so hard! So hard…But I can’t. I can’t…”

“That’s—nothing has changed! I’m still me! I’m still Chengmei—”

Xingchen is on his feet too. “Goodbye, Xue Yang.”

“Wait! Where are you going?”

He begins to drift towards the road.

“You can’t travel on your own! You’re blind—”

“I did fine before I met you, and I will do fine after you.”

“Did so fine you picked me up on the side of the road!”

Xingchen lays a trembling hand on a tree. Flecks of Xue Yang’s blood are still trapped under his fingernails. “Goodbye, Xue Yang.”

Xue Yang kicks at the water pail, anger washing away shock. “Not even going to try to stab me? Remember that, daozhang? Remember sticking Shuanghua in my stomach before asking so much as a single question?!”

Xiao Xingchen starts down the road, ghostlike in the twilight.

Xue Yang follows him, grabs his arm, whirls him around. “I brought you back to life! You can’t just leave like this!”

Xingchen pulls away, recoiling from Xue Yang’s touch as much as trying to get free. “Goodbye, Xue Yang.”

“Fuck you, I’ll make you stay—”

Xue Yang snaps his fingers.

Xingchen collapses in his arms.

He carries him into the woods and gets to work.

***

Xiao Xingchen doesn’t know how long it is before he regains his senses, but he’s conscious of time passing.

He opens his eyes.

It’s late afternoon, sunlight dripping through the thick green canopy, coating the forest like honey and sparkling off a nearby stream.

The shock of the sight sends him leaping to his feet, heart pounding.

He can see—

He looks around, overwhelmed. The drooping green trees with their trailing leaves—the colorful wildflowers—the berry-laden bushes and tall yellow grasses and bright green bamboo thickets—

Near him, propped up against a tree, nestled in the tangled roots, sits a young man dressed in a green inner robe. In his lap is an empty qiankun pouch and beside him is a bloodstained knife.

On one hand is a familiar black glove.

Xingchen goes cold. Looks away. Forces himself to look again.

Chengmei’s face—Xue Yang’s face—is nothing like he’d imagined it.

All these months, Xiao Xingchen had been picturing the grinning baby-faced rogue he’d captured at the Chang Manor. The only half-human imp who’d laughed his way through an arrest, had gloated over the heaped Chang corpses and teased the Jin cultivators as they marched him off for sentencing.

But the young man sitting beside him is nearing thirty, face handsome but haggard, as if from years of grief and labor. His cheeks are thin and pale, once-bold black brows now melancholy, black-and-blue bruises ringing his eyes.

Not his eyes.

Where his eyes had once been…

Empty sockets gape up at Xingchen, dried brown crusting Xue Yang’s cheeks where he’d failed to wipe away the blood.

With a shaking hand, Xiao Xingchen reaches up, touches his eyelids lids, feels the soft curve of eyeballs that do not belong to him.

He makes a choking sound, and Xue Yang stirs.

“Still want to leave, daozhang?” Xue Yang asks. His voice is hoarse, flakes of dried blood caking his lip, as if he’d pierced his tongue with his teeth when he had—when he had...

Heart hammering, Xiao Xingchen sits down on the forest floor. “Xue Yang, you…”

Xue Yang tilts his head back, letting the light of the dying sun cast deep shadows in the empty black holes in his face. He licks at the blood crusting his chapped lips with a dry tongue, scrubbing at the blood on his face with a trembling white hand. “Chengmei.”

“….Chengmei.”

Chengmei smiles. It’s soft and sad and nothing like the demented grin he remembers.

Is that how Chengmei had smiled all those years in the Coffin House?

Or is this someone new, not altogether Chengmei or Xue Yang?

Doesn’t matter. They’re all the same person. The same depraved murderer…

He closes his eyes for a moment, suddenly overwhelmed by the sunlight, and opens them at the sound of rustling.

The young man is patting around for his thermos, shaking hands combing the grass. The thermos lies beside the tree across from him, out of his reach.

Xiao Xingchen watches him struggle. The sun is beginning to set, the golden light turning a melancholy blue.

Soon it will be dark. As usual. Only this time there will be a thousand brilliant points of light in the night sky…

Xue Yang sets his hand down on his knife, nicks his palm, stops looking for the thermos.

Xiao Xingchen hesitates, then uncorks the water bottle and holds it to Xue Yang’s lips. Chengmei’s lips. The young man’s lips…

He watches the young man thirstily downs the entire thermos. Long-healed scars cover his throat and hands and face.

How long had those scars been there? Had he simply failed to notice them when arresting Xue Yang all those years ago?

Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t change the things he’s done…

The young man sets the water bottle down, touching the inner corner of one blood-caked eye socket with a fingertip and quickly drawing it away.

“Daozhang?” he whispers. “Are you still here? I can’t hear you…”

Xiao Xingchen doesn’t move. The young man settles back in the hollow of the tree, trembling fingers playing with his knife, smearing it with blood from his cut. It’s dangerously near his wrists, wrists mottled with dark purple bruises as if from a brutal grip.

Xingchen’s grip…

“Daozhang?” he says again after what seems like an eternity. The night is dark but a yellow crescent moon floats over the treetops, accompanied by millions of bright silver stars. “Daozhang…”

Xingchen doesn’t speak. Breathing shallowly, Xue Yang rests his head against the tree trunk, still fumbling with the knife.

Xiao Xingchen watches him silently, watches the knife tremble in his weak white fingers, then finds himself picking up the blindfold from where it’s wound snakelike in the grass and tying it over the young man’s eyes.

The young man jerks slightly at his touch, then reaches up as he ties it on, brushing his hand with ice-cold fingers stained with dried blood.

“Daozhang,” he whispers, voice cracking. “You stayed.”

Xiao Xingchen closes his eyes, shutting out the yellow moon, the jewel-like stars, the helpless young man with the gaping black eye sockets, then opens his eyes.

“Did it work? I used all of the beast cores…can…can you see?”

“I can see.”

Xue Yang breathes a sigh of relief that comes from somewhere deeper inside him than his lungs. His quivering hand finds Xingchen’s face, traces his jaw, gently brushes the scar on his throat, his other hand resting on the knife. “Are you alright?”

“No.” Xingchen takes the knife away, sets it out of reach. Takes the pail from beside the cold campfire, rises. “But I will be.”

He tries to decide if he’s lying or not as he goes to fill the bucket.

He supposes it doesn’t matter.

#xue yang #mxtxnet #fytheuntamed #theuntameddaily #xuexiao #xiao xingchen #lotus writes #mdzsnet #lotus posts #untamed fanfiction #cw blood #cw self-harm #cw eye trauma

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rosethornewrites · 2 years

Text

9/28-10/5 T & G reading

The usual

Finished

Teen:

Lessons relearned, by Iamnotawriter (12 chapters)

He thought of all the pain and death that was to come. There was so much that went wrong in the cultivation world in the next few years. The weight of responsibility felt insurmountable.

Lan Qiren had never wanted to be a politician or leader. That role was meant for his brother. He had done his best in the years he had led the sect but he was aware that he was not the best person for the job. His interests had always been the academic pursuits and teaching the next generation. How could he hope to make an impact on the mess of political manoeuvring and aggression that was imminent? He decided he could only focus on the events which impacted his family the most. He could save Cloud Recesses from being burned. He could protect both his nephews from their disastrous relationships. He could protect the books they lost in the war.

Lan Qiren travels back in time and tries to fix the future.

General:

Fate, by snowberryrose

In which an intervention is made

Or: the fate of three lifetimes

Unfinished

Teen:

Alternate Headcanons, by nirejseki

Random assortment of MDZS ficlets in response to a request for prompts for alternate headcanons for characters

The Return of Cangse Sanren, by milesofheart

The dark figure pointed with his flute. “There’s the road. Be on your way and don’t come back.” His tone dismissed them, a threat threaded between the words.

Cangse Sanren was not often afraid. She had been afraid as a child on the street, before she was found by Baoshan Sanren. She was afraid when the spider demon cornered them earlier that night, and she thought she would never see her baby boy again. She wondered vaguely if she should be afraid now.

But mostly she was just irritated.

She started to yell back at him, but lightning flashed, illuminating the people on horseback: elderly, bloody and bruised, in torn robes of sun and flames. As the lightning lit up all of their faces, the flutist’s cruel expression suddenly dropped, and his eyes went wide.

When he didn’t look so vicious, he was quite handsome. Maybe even vaguely familiar, somehow.

---

(Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze return from a near-lethal nighthunt in Yiling, eager to pick up their young son from the inn and be on their way to the next town. But when they run into a dark figure with a red-tasseled flute and glowing red eyes, it soon becomes apparent that something has gone terribly wrong.)

General:

Naive bird come home, by A_moon23

In which Wei Wuxian is raised by Baoshen Sanren instead and gets the love and support he deserves but not without scars and suffering he must face first.

#the untamed #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #cql #chen qing ling #untamed fanfiction

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coquelicoq · 2 years

Note

Heyy. Could I ha e your ao3 link? I think we have similar taste in fics and for some reason, there's no tag for Jc-centric fics. Anyway, it's totally okay if you aren't comfortable w that

i don't have an ao3! i do however have a tag specifically for yunmeng shuangjie fics, so you might have some luck with that. i don't have a tag for jc-centric fics that don't involve his brother feelings, but i've got a general fic tag and a jiang cheng tag.

i've also been waiting for an opportunity to rec a short fic i haven't seen on tumblr yet, I Can See Clearly Now by xfrinz (4k, T). what if jiang cheng's chronic crankiness was (at least partially) due to untreated constant headaches? how would the people in his life react to him getting glasses? multiple pov and every single one of them is delightful.

oh and i'm reading a really good WIP right now, How long does it take for your family to notice your death? by KayllanBreak (36k, NR). i don't often rec WIPs, but there's one chapter left and it last updated just a couple days ago so i feel like the time is right. i would call this jc-centric because it's all about him, even though he isn't actually directly in the fic - about half of it is second-person narration addressed to him, and the action follows his family members as they cope with his unexpected death (modern au, the parents/jiang yanli are alive, and jin ling is a toddler). the narrator talks to him but we are never directly privy to jiang cheng's dialogue, it's just inferred from what the narrator says in response. i'm really glad i gave this a chance even though i don't often read second-person narration or fics where the main character is dead and not certain to return to life in some form, because it is SO funny and poignant and i'm really digging all the character insights.

also because it's me i am physically incapable of not reccing a yunmeng shuangjie fic when given even the barest excuse to do so, so i offer for your consideration Snowmelt by sugar_shoal (2k, T), a short and sweet hurt/comfort, huddle-for-warmth fic of the "yunmeng bro relationship thawing (pun intended) by way of jiang cheng begrudgingly saving his brother-in-law from certain death after a nighthunt gone wrong" type. can never get enough of that concept.

#hope you find something you like <3 #the untamed #jiang cheng #fic #yunmeng bro fic #these are a few of my favorite things #asks #anon #links

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jingyismom · 3 years

Text

Lan Wangji is so preoccupied on one of his precious, rare nighthunts with Wei Wuxian that he does not feel it when a tiny, quiet curse latches onto him. It is so small and inconsequential that it remains unnoticed until long after Wei Wuxian has gone, and long after it has taken firm hold of Lan Wangji’s meridians.

(Rated T, wangxian, no warnings) (imported from twt and lightly edited)

It doesn't do much, at first. Just sits in his spiritual veins, simmering darkly, weakly. But it grows. Lan Wangji can feel it growing. He researches thoroughly in the Cloud Recesses library, tries every technique he knows. But he cannot shake it.

Most people have no idea anything is wrong. Not even when the pain begins. Not even when Hanguang-jun stops leaving the Cloud Recesses altogether, or when he teaches less and less. He still looks the same. Acts the same. People assume he is focusing on his spiritual development.

The truth is that the pain is constant. It thrums deep in his bones, in his soul. And sometimes it rises up and pulls at his muscles like a child tugging on a sleeve for attention. These are the times that prevent him from nighthunting, from riding his sword. From teaching.

It comes on unexpectedly, and renders him speechless, incapable of moving.

Lan Wangji does not know what it wants.

His family are deeply concerned. Zewu-jun comes out of seclusion. They continue to search for answers.

A month passes.

Sizhui quietly sends for Wei Wuxian.

He meets him at the gate, obviously agitated. Wei Wuxian's building happiness at being asked back, at seeing them all again and wanting to be seen, evaporates.

"What is it?" he asks.

Sizhui vacillates. Hanguang-jun has clearly not told Wei Wuxian anything himself, dashing his rather consciously futile hopes that they've been in secret correspondence about the curse the entire time. He's never gone behind Hanguang-jun's back about anything before. Sending the message was hard enough.

He bows, apologetic. "Come inside first?"

Wei Wuxian follows him to the disciple dorms, and to the room where they take their tea. Distantly fond memories wash over him, discordant with the acute worry he feels now. Jingyi is there, looking even more harried than Sizhui. He seems like he hasn’t slept in days.

Wei Wuxian sits with them. They stare at their teacups. It takes about two distant trills of birdsong before Wei Wuxian gives up on waiting them out.

"Speak!" he demands. "What is wrong with you two??"

Sizhui startles and bows again. "Thank you for coming, Wei-qianbei," he says. "Ah. We have...there is...an academic question that we need help with."

Like most of the Lan who raised him, he's a terrible liar.

"Alright," Wei Wuxian allows.

"If there were a curse...a mystery curse...that just seemed to cause pain. How would you go about removing it?"

"You're cursed?" Wei Wuxian asks, a jolt of fear in his chest. But he looks fine. He turns to Jingyi. "Is it you?"

"No!" Sizhui hurries to assure him. "No. We're not...no. We just need to know. If you could. Direct us toward possible solutions."

Wei Wuxian narrows his eyes at him, trying to guess at what it is he's not being told. He wonders, briefly, if they would tell him if it were Lan Qiren. If they would think him so mercenary as to not help the old man in a time of need.

He hopes that's not it. But either way, they need him.

"Well, it depends," he begins. "I'm going to need more information. And you're going to need to take notes."

They spend the morning in the library, books forgotten, making charts and arrays and talismans based on the information they have. If it weren't so stressful not to know the truth, Wei Wuxian would call it one of his best days in a long while. But then, some time after midday, a long shadow falls across Wei Wuxian's writing desk, and he looks up to see Lan Zhan standing over him.

He looks surprised. Shocked, even. And not exactly happy, though not upset to see him, either.

Wei Wuxian tries a smile, and a tentative greeting. "Lan Zhan."

Lan Zhan merely looks at the two boys beside him, his jaw going tight.

"Sizhui," he says. His tone is admonishing.

Wei Wuxian starts to feel, quite suddenly, extremely awful. The clarity with which he is not wanted here, not allowed, is staggering. He stands.

"Don't blame him," he says, automatic. "I shouldn't have—he just wanted help. It was overstepping on my part, to come all the way here just for an academic question."

Lan Zhan blinks at him, then Looks at Sizhui.

Sizhui straightens. "He's been helping us. With our work."

With an uncharacteristically visible breath, almost a sigh by his standards, Lan Zhan begins to turn away.

"Come and have tea," he says.

Just before he loses sight of his face, Wei Wuxian registers that it looks tired. He's only really seen him look tired once or twice in his lifeHe thinks, probably, that Lan Qiren being ill is the best explanation for all of it. Wei Wuxian's presence would surely make his condition worse, if he knew.

He follows Lan Zhan, still on edge, resigned to a short chat and a kind ejection from the premises. He's so morose about all of it that he doesn't notice Lan Zhan’s stiffness until they're sitting. Until Lan Zhan pours their tea.

Until, slowly, as if moved by gentle, invisible hands, Lan Zhan curls into himself, and gasps.

All thought, all expectation, leave Wei Wuxian's mind.

"Lan Zhan?" he says, panicked.

Lan Zhan holds up one shaking hand, as if it stall him. He gasps again, head bowed, body balled up tight, and then rasps, "It will pass."

Wei Wuxian stares in horror until it does. It feels like hours, like a lifetime of Lan Zhan in more pain than he's ever seen.

And then, as if nothing has happened, and just as slowly, Lan Zhan straightens once more. He keeps his eyes down as he reaches out, only trembling slightly, to finish pouring their tea.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian says, desperate and quite suddenly afraid. "What's happened?"

"Foolishness," says Lan Zhan. His voice is low, and worn softly ragged at the edges like old paper. How did Wei Wuxian not notice? How did he not notice the way he's holding himself, how he moves as if his robes are made of glass? "I allowed myself to be cursed."

"Allowed? Cursed? When? How?"

Wei Wuxian is bursting with questions, and with the desire to reach out, to comfort him somehow. He keeps his hands folded in his lap, sure they would have the opposite effect on anyone in such pain.

Lan Zhan merely shakes his head carefully. "We have not managed to uproot it," is all he says.

It's clear he won't say more. Whether because he doesn't want to tell Wei Wuxian, or because it hurts too much to speak, is unclear. But Wei Wuxian's mind suddenly works up to full speed, and he combines everything he learned from Jingy and Sizhui with this new and horrible revelation. But it's not enough.

"Why did—" Wei Wuxian stops himself before he says it, wondering if it's too presumptuous. But in the end, he needs information above all else. He needs to fix this. Fast. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Lan Zhan still doesn't look at him. "I would not bother you."

Wei Wuxian grips his cup too hard and spills his tea. "Bother me," he repeats. "How—how could—" he stops himself again, and tries to calm down. He needs to think clearly. He needs to speak clearly.

"Is that really all it is?" he asks. "I won't be offended if any of you didn't want me involved. It doesn't matter, I understand. I want to help, not make things worse. Can I do that? Can I help?"

The air seems to leave the room entirely as he waits for an answer. At length, still very carefully, Lan Zhan nods.

"Okay," Wei Wuxian says, unbelievably relieved. “Okay." He takes his first full breath since Lan Zhan appeared in the library. He holds out his hand. "Can I see?"

Before Lan Zhan has so much as moved, he snatches his hand back.

"Actually—does it hurt? To touch things. I don't want to hurt you worse."

Slowly, so slowly, yet elegantly still, Lan Zhan holds back his sleeve and extends his wrist, his fingers held in an approximation of a loose, relaxed curl. But Wei Wuxian can see how rigid it is. How hard he's working to look normal. It's worked, he supposes. He's heard no whispers of anything wrong with Hanguang-jun. And he himself didn't even notice, he reminds himself bitterly. Ridiculous, ungrateful, horrible that he didn't take his first chance to immediately drink him in, to look, to see how he was. Selfish.

"You could not hurt me worse," Lan Wangji murmurs, laying the back of his hand on the table before Wei Wuxian.

It's not an encouraging idea. Wei Wuxian presses the tips of his fingers lightly to his skin, reaching out with his meager energy to sense Lan Zhan’s meridians. They are teeming with something cool and dark that whispers to him wordlessly. He closes his eyes to focus on it, on the gently swaying song it murmurs beneath Lan Zhan’s skin.

He murmurs back, coaxing. Welcoming. It stills, briefly, to listen.

Lan Wangji tears back his arm.

"No." His voice has gone tight with the effort of moving so quickly, his posture bending just slightly from the strain.

"But, Lan Zhan, I could understand it better if—"

"You will not take this upon yourself." His words are clipped, almost angry. Final. His breathing looks less even, and his more pronounced tremor is making one of the jewels on his robes shimmer.

"Okay. I won't," Wei Wuxian says. He holds out his hand again.

"Wei Ying," Lan Wangji implores.

He looks so shaken, so pained, that Wei Wuxian is forced to capitulate.

He sighs. "I really won't," he says. "Not if it would upset you that much."

"It would," Lan Wangji affirms.

"Alright, then that's settled. Can I see again?"

After only the slightest hesitation, Lan Wangji re-extends his wrist for examination. Wei Wuxian touches him again, and tries to hear what the curse is saying. Tries to understand. Tries to see how it works and what's letting it stay.

"It's not really a curse," he says quietly.

"What is it?" Lan Wangji asks, just as softly.

Wei Wuxian cocks his head. "It is, and it isn't. It's a...thing. It wants something." He opens his eyes. "Do you know what it wants?"

"No," says Lan Zhan. He has sensed this too, and cannot puzzle it out. The hurt is too loud.

"Do you have any unusual cravings?" asks Wei Wuxian. "Like...to kill...or eat spicy food?"

He cocks half a smile, trying to lighten things.

"No."

"Hmm."

He tries to wedge his energy between Lan Zhan’s and the curse. But it won't budge. And not by virtue of its own strength...there seems to be...overlap, somehow. Some common frequency between the two of them.

Wei Wuxian withdraws his hand, at a dead end.

"Well...it's simple," he says. "Almost like a child. It wants something, and when it gets enough of it, it'll let go. If we can't figure out what that is..."

He looks at Lan Wangji, drawn and pale and rigid, and moves without thinking. He lays a hand gently on his forearm as he speaks. "Then I'll just find a way to force—Lan Zhan?"

Lan Zhan’s eyes have widened and fixed on Wei Wuxian's hand. He sways, almost imperceptibly. Wei Wuxian lifts his hand away, but Lan Zhan flinches and makes a small sound like he's been hit with something heavy and blunt.

"Did I hurt you?"

Haltingly, as if he's confused, Lan Zhan shakes his head.

Wei Wuxian takes his wrist back into his clinical, probing hold, and looks at him. He shakes his head again.

On a hunch, Wei Wuxian lets go, only to uncurl Lan Zhan’s fingers and take his hand in both of his.

Lan Zhan’s eyelashes flutter, and his shoulders drop. Something about the longing in the little curse's whispers falls into place

"That's helping," Wei Wuxian states.

Dazed, Lan Zhan nods. "Yes. Why?"

Wei Wuxian smiles at him a little sadly. He has another hunch, this time about what the similarity between the curse and Lan Zhan might be.

"Affection, Lan Zhan," he says. "It wants affection."

He only lets the silence sit between them a moment before he focuses on action.

"I'll go get your brother. And Sizhui? And...or. Send for them. If—it—I shouldn't let go, I guess. Until they get here. Unless you want me to."

Staring down at their hands, Lan Zhan shakes his head. It's a slow, loose shake, so different from his tight movements of just moments ago. Almost like he's drunk. An uncomfortable thought arises at this apparent level of relief.

"How...how long have you been in pain?" Wei Wuxian asks.

Lan Zhan glances up at him, and then away. Silent. Wei Wuxian huffs.

"Fine. Well is it—is it completely better now? Or..."

After another slightly tipsy-looking moment, Lan Zhan shakes his head again.

"Okay. Okay. I'll just—I only need one hand to send a message talisman. Just let me—"

He takes one of his hands back, and Lan Zhan’s entire body goes taut, hunched, before he forcibly straightens. Wei Wuxian hurries to put his hand back where it was.

"Sorry," he says, holding on tight. "I guess it goes by...degrees? Uh...maybe we could both go get them."

Deliberately, Lan Zhan pulls his hand away.

"Thank you for your help," he says, his voice something thick squeezed through too small a space. "I am sorry you came all this way for something so simple."

Wei Wuxian can see his muscles working to expand and contract his lungs. He can see how difficult it is for him to stay upright, to keep speaking.

"I will find a way to act on your advice. Please do not let this keep you from your travels any longer."

Wei Wuxian's empty hands curl into fists. He doesn't want to say it. He almost doesn't say it.

"I know you don't lie, Lan Zhan, but I don't believe you."

Lan Zhan looks down at the table. He takes a breath in. He pushes it out.

Wei Wuxian decides to play dirty.

"Either you want me gone, or you don't want to burden me," he goes on. "Which one are you going to let me believe?"

Suddenly, finally, Lan Zhan looks at him. Wei Wuxian raises his eyebrows in challenge. Lan Zhan’s mouth works.

"Of course I would not wish to burden you," he says. "It is not necessary."

"I wouldn't just leave you in pain. I couldn't."

"I can bear it."

"That's—not—you shouldn't—"

"I have borne it for over a month," Lan Zhan almost snaps. "There is no urgency."

Wei Wuxian stares at him. "You wouldn't even tell them, would you," he realizes aloud. "A whole month in pain, and not one person has—has—" It hits him. "It's been a month since we nighthunted."

Lan Zhan’s mouth, impossibly, goes tighter.

"Did this happen then? And you didn't say anything?"

"I did not know," Lan Zhan says, "until it was too late."

Another difficult breath. And another.

"I did not want you to feel responsible. Or to worry. It was my mistake."

Wei Wuxian has to look away, then, to gather himself. To keep the hurt off his face. He knows it isn't personal, but he still wishes Lan Zhan felt he could tell him anything.

He gets up.

Lan Zhan watches the movement, but quickly pulls his gaze away.

"Be well," he says quietly.

Disbelieving silence follows.

"A whole month," Wei Wuxian repeats. "I'll be well if you will. You won't ask for help, you'll be annoyed and just keep hurting if I try to ask for you." He sighs. "Lan Zhan, I may be a poor substitute for family, but we may have to work with what we have until you're sick enough of me to go to them."

He rounds the table to sit beside him. It takes a moment to make himself move more than that, but he manages. He closes his hands around Lan Zhan’s elbow, and then pats it a little bit hoping it counts as affection.

Lan Zhan turns his face away, but he can't hide the way he sags under the touch.

"Better?"

A nod. Wei Wuxian slides one hand down to his wrist, to check. The little curse-ghost is humming madly, hungrily, and holding on even tighter. Wei Wuxian sighs.

"Sorry, Lan Zhan. It's...going to take a lot more than just me holding your arm."

He pulls his arm closer, hugs it to his side, and Lan Zhan reaches out to grip the edge of the table.

"Is—is that better or worse?"

Lan Zhan is silent.

"Lan Zhan."

"Better," Lan Wangji says, very quiet.

He is finding it difficult to stay upright, to speak clearly as the tension and constant onslaught of pain drain from his body. He wants to lean into him. But he will not presume, will not make a needy spectacle of himself. Wei Ying deserves better.

"This is awful," Wei Ying says.

Lan Wangji tries not to flinch.

"Pain, for a whole month?" he goes on. Lan Wangji guiltily realizes his mistake. "How do you even sleep?"

"I am able to meditate," he supplies.

There is a heavy silence. "Oh, Lan Zhan. Even you need sleep."

Lan Wangji cannot refute this.

"When was the last time someone hugged you?" Wei Ying asks, at length.

Lan Wangji answers without meaning to. He has been thinking of it as well.

"When Sizhui was small," he says. "Previously, before my mother died."

Wei Ying makes a sound similar to choking. "Lan Zhan...why?"

Lan Wangji turns to him, to look at the stiff way he is trying to help while still trying to hold himself separate.

"I am not the sort of person people naturally wish to hug."

Gradually, Wei Ying’s eyes close, and his forehead thunks onto Lan Wangji's shoulder.

"Lan Zhan," he says, "you told me yourself you don't like touching people. You told everyone. With your words and your face."

This is true. "Mn."

Wei Ying gives him a very pointed look, and squeezes his arm. It makes his ears heat.

"I know the Lan aren't big on hugging, but you should seriously try it," he says. "You know Sizhui gives great little hugs. He'd love to."

Lan Wangji can feel his restraint, his strength, ebbing the more relief he is given. He does not know what would happen should the pain cease.

As if in response to this thought, another wave of burning, nauseating, bone-crushing agony screams through him. His body tries to make itself smaller, to escape. He grits his teeth, but it ends abruptly. He becomes aware that Wei Ying is rubbing soothing circles on his back.

Once he has his breath again, he gives him the answer he is owed.

"I would not have him see me in such a state," he says. "It is not for the child to care for the adult."

Wei Ying lets out a deep breath.

"Alright," he murmurs. "Alright. Your brother? Your uncle? Someone else?"

The thought of any of them seeing him so weak and helpless sets his teeth on edge. But this is unfair of him.

"You are not obligated to stay," he says. "If you wish it, I will speak to xiongzhang."

A pause. "Why don't you want to, though?"

Perhaps it is his deteriorating state of mind, or perhaps it is something else entirely, but Lan Wangji tells him.

"He took care of me once, another time. He should not have to do it again. And I do not look forward to reliving it."

He regrets saying it almost immediately. He cannot look at Wei Ying to see what his thoughtless words have done.

"I understand," Wei Ying says quietly. "But you're really leaving me no choice. So, last chance to pick someone else."

Lan Wangji does not quite understand what he means until it is happening.

Slowly, as if he expects Lan Wangji to pull away, as if he is allowing for it, Wei Ying makes of his arms a circle, enclosed within it Lan Wangji.

The pain intensifies, for just a moment, while his arms hover awkwardly. But then they lay against his chest, his back, and Wei Ying’s hands press against his arm.

"Come here," Wei Ying murmurs, twisting him, pulling him.

The pain dims, and all of his muscles relax. All of his muscles relax toward Wei Ying. He could not stop it if he tried.

"Ah, ha, alright," Wei Ying says, taking his weight and holding him up. "Better, right?"

Lan Wangji brings up his hands to try to move himself, to try to brace away, to give him space. Only they are not working properly. It is as if they do not answer to him. He finds them clutching at black fabric instead.

"Excuse me," he forces out.

Wei Ying shushes him, and folds him properly close.

The relief, after so many days, weeks, of steadily increasing pain, is so intense in itself that it frightens him. It feels like death. He struggles to breathe, suddenly heavy and weak.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Ying says, "is it better? Talk to—oh."

He breaks off when he pulls back enough to see his face. His expression goes from questioning to something soft and sad. He tightens one of his arms, and brings his other hand up to Lan Wangji's face. His thumb brushes his cheek, and comes away wet.

Lan Wangji closes his eyes and turns away, lacking the strength to apologize again.

"Don't," Wei Ying says. He lays the same hand on the back of his head, a warm suggestion. "Relax. Let me...let me do this for you. Please, Lan Zhan."

Lan Wangji takes a deep breath. He lets it out, and lets himself be guided.

Wei Ying turns his head and lays it against his shoulder. He shifts them so that Lan Wangji is almost in his lap, so that he is pressed along his front, wrapped tightly in his arms. Lan Wangji’s chest pangs with how much, how long he has wanted just this. Helplessly, pathetically, he holds onto him, his mind slowing as every tension-taut, pain-strung muscle finally releases.

"There," says Wei Ying, rocking him slightly.

An ominous tightness builds in Lan Wangji's chest and throat, finally releasing in a sob.

"Ah, Lan Zhan," Wei Ying murmurs above him, wiping more wetness from his face. "I know you wouldn't choose this. But I...I don't want you feeling guilty, alright?" He squeezes him briefly. "I have...I have maybe too much affection for you. Let me give you some, hm?"

Lan Wangji presses his face to Wei Ying’s chest, clinging. The words wash over him, and his tears wet Wei Ying’s robes. He feels strange and dreamlike, warm and open. He does not know what he might do, like this. What he might say, or ask. A small part of him is afraid.

He feels pressure at his temple. Soft, hot, and damp. He looks up.

"Ah," Wei Ying says, his mouth, which was just on Lan Wangji's skin, twisting, his eyes serious. "Too much?"

Lan Wangji's breath hitches. "No."

Wei Ying threads careful fingers through Lan Wangji's hair, and Lan Wangji has to close his eyes again.

"Can I take these out?" Wei Ying asks, brushing against Lan Wangji's hair ornaments. "I'll be careful."

Lan Wangji nods against him. He lets himself be held close, and holds still as Wei Ying pulls out the pins and unwinds the sections of hair. It is deeply soothing, the way his touch tingles across his scalp, the way his thoughtful, clever hands relieve the pressure on his skull. He melts against him, insensible. He has only foggy, distant memories of drunkenness, but they share a close kinship with the way he feels now. Hopelessly undone.

"I would," he says suddenly.

"Hmm?" Wei Ying asks, fingers still combing through his hair.

"Choose this," Lan Wangji says. It is important that he knows, that he understands he is not some stopgap to prevent pain. He does not know why he was so hesitant to say it, before. What he thought it might cost. "You."

He feels Wei Ying’s sharp intake of breath, rises with it.

"Good," he says. He kisses the top of his head.

The tail end of Lan Wangji's forehead ribbon slips over his shoulder, into his line of sight. The last thing binding his hair back, which Wei Wuxian was so careful not to touch.

A sound comes from the direction of the still-open door, which sounds roughly like "‼️"

Wei Wuxian turns just in time to see Sizhui's red face, before he slides the door closed and runs.

"S—Sizhui!" he calls. "It's not—ah. Well. I think we're going to have to talk to him."

He looks down, but Lan Zhan hasn't even moved. He doesn't seem to mind what Sizhui might think. Or maybe he hadn't even heard? He's gone so still against him.

Wei Wuxian reaches down to check his pulse. The little curse is still there, just holding on. Weaker, quieter, but still there.

"It's not going to let go for a while, I think," he says. "Sorry."

Lan Zhan’s hands fist tighter in the fabric of Wei Wuxian's robes, and he tucks his head up under his chin. His breath is warm on Wei Wuxian's throat.

Wei Wuxian blinks up at the ceiling in lieu of doing something unacceptable.

"You need rest," he says. "Real sleep. To heal, and recover your strength."

Lan Zhan mumbles something that sounds like, "Sleep here," which can't be right.

"Lan Zhan," he tries again, and jostles him lightly. "Sleep?"

Mn," says Lan Zhan.

"Okay," Wei Wuxian says to himself.

He looks around, suddenly aware that it's just the two of them, alone in Lan Zhan’s house. It's quiet, and dimmer now that the door is closed. He's moved by each of Lan Zhan’s breaths, deep and even, now. He sits a moment longer, his back aching from the awkward position, just to feel the way his ribs expand and contract in the circle of his arms. He tries to memorize it, the feeling it gives him, deep in his chest, in his gut. The feeling of something good and right that belongs to him. He savors it, for those long nights sleeping alone under the stars.

He has a lot of practice, missing things he thought he couldn't live without. He reminds himself it's always easier than you expect, once it comes down to surviving.

But if he's uncomfortable, Lan Zhan must be, too. So he gets his legs underneath them, and his arms around Lan Zhan’s waist, and he gets them up.

"Come on, Lan Zhan, help," he groans. "My foot's asleep, if you don't, we'll both fall."

With obvious effort, Lan Zhan stands. They lean against each other, holding on, like drunks or drowning people. Like something bad will happen if they let go.

And something bad will happen, Wei Wuxian reminds himself. None of this is affection for affection's sake. He’s helping him. There's a purpose.

He walks Lan Zhan over to his bed, and can't help laughing a little bit at how similar it is to the times Lan Zhan has been drunk.

Only this time, he can't just toss him onto his bed and hope he falls asleep. This time, that would be cruel. No, he'll have to suffer all his horrible fondness for him at much closer proximity. He'll have to hold on, and not let go when it feels like too much.

There's no graceful way to do it, really. They end up on the bed in a heap. Lan Zhan seems unwilling to move even then, so Wei Wuxian tries to arrange them to some semblance of a pair of sleeping people. His face burns as he moves them around, as he moves Lan Zhan’s body with his own. It's more overwhelming than he would have thought, to be horizontal together. Wrapped in each other. When he finally gets them settled, heads on the bolster, nothing caught or twisted, he's a little bit breathless.

And then he has to lie there, holding him, staring at his face.

Because he can't help but stare at the best of times, let alone this close. Short, dark lashes against perfect skin. Hair he now knows definitively is very soft. Cute little red ears. Full, relaxed mouth.

He tries very hard not to dwell on the last one. He tries and fails.

It looks even softer than usual, somehow, even more plush. He's wanted to kiss it for so many years, and he thinks, just now, Lan Zhan would let him. It would also, just now, be very unfair to try. He puts it out of his mind. Focuses on the drying tear tracks instead.

"Lan Zhan," he says, "are you still awake? Can you listen?"

He's not expecting Lan Zhan’s eyes to open and fix, alert though they droop with exhaustion, on his own. Too close.

He clears his throat.

"You know you can have this, right?" He's speaking too softly, but he can't help it. "With me," he clarifies, staring at the threads of embroidery on Lan Wangji's collar. "Open offer. Any time you want..." he huffs, "affection."

It's awfully silly, but he can't shake the feeling it needs to be said. A whole month of pain. Alone. Because nobody thought to reach out and comfort him. He's not sure he would have, either, if he's honest.

"You don't even have to ask. I want you to just—you can just—"

He falls silent when Lan Zhan reaches back, runs his hand along Wei Wuxian's arm until he finds his hand on the small of his back, and then picks it up.

The air rushes out of Lan him, and his face contracts gently, his eyes closing again. Wei Wuxian panics, sure he's said too much.

"Lan Zhan! Don't—"

Deliberately, slow with pain, he places his hand on the side of his head. Wei Wuxian rubs a thumb along his temple, and he relaxes, though his expression remains tense. He searches out Wei Wuxian's fingers with his own, and sets them against the knot of his ribbon.

Wei Wuxian's lungs stall.

"Lan Zhan?"

"Do not wear the Gusu Lan forehead ribbon in sleep," he intones.

A huff escapes Wei Wuxian, which is an improvement on the hysterical laughter that wants to break free. He doesn't know if Lan Zhan...means anything by it. But he can't imagine he doesn't. He tries not to think about whether or not he deserves this much trust—Lan Zhan is clearly waiting for...something. He has heard Wei Wuxian's words, and he has asked his own question in return, Wei Wuxian thinks. He's waiting for an answer. It's an easy enough thing for Wei Wuxian to give.

He plucks carefully at the ribbon until the knot comes undone. He tugs it free of his hair, which falls loosely around his face, framing it differently than he's ever seen. In combination with his fragile expression, it makes him look impossibly young.

He wiggles his other arm under him to hold on, to not cause him any more hurt, as he tries to put the ribbon into his hand. But Lan Zhan just glances up at him briefly and folds both their hands closed around it.

"Sleep," says Wei Wuxian, instead of kissing him or screaming and running away.

Lan Zhan lets out a long, slow breath. His eyes stay closed. "Mn."

Wei Wuxian watches his face relax, watches for any sign of something going wrong. He reaches out to check on the curse, to make sure its hold is weakening as it should. He's certain he won't be able to sleep himself—it's still daylight, not to mention his anxieties or the way his very blood seems to be vibrating with Lan Zhan’s closeness, with the way their fingers twine together in blue silk.

But Lan Zhan’s breathing is hypnotically even, and he's so surprisingly soft in Wei Wuxian's arms. It shouldn't be a shock, it's not as if he dresses himself in stiff angles and hard points. But he's always so...solid. Implacable. It's strange to know him now as such a warm, pliant creature. Strange, and wonderful in a way that makes Wei Wuxian's chest ache.

He lies there thinking too much while also thoughtlessly stroking Lan Zhan’s back, his hair, until deep in the night the little curse lets go. Wei Wuxian feels the moment it drifts off, at peace. Liberated. Lan Zhan sighs in his sleep.

Wei Wuxian tries so hard not to wonder what its absence will mean when Lan Zhan wakes, that he sends himself off to sleep, too.

Morning dawns, and an unusually long time after, Lan Wangji wakes.

He is warm, and his body is heavy. So heavy, so weighed down that he thinks he must still be dreaming. His eyes do not want to open, so for many breaths, there is no way to know.

Then, something shifts, and the sensation is so foreign that his eyes open at last.

The warmth, the weight, resolve into a person. Black-clad, and half atop him. Breathing deeply against the side of his face.

The memory of the past month comes back to him all at once. The last day and night, more slowly. He remembers being held. Being...touched. Lovingly.

He closes his eyes again, remembering. He was brought to bed. He was cared for—he had required care.

He is embarrassed. He is filled with something bittersweet. When he tries to cover his

eyes with his free hand, he finds it is not free at all. His ribbon is tangled up in his fingers, and in Wei Ying’s.

It hits him suddenly, a blast of futile adrenaline that prickles under his skin, a wash of cold at the memory that he had been so bold, so selfish as to ask Wei Ying for such a declaration in such an extenuating circumstance. His mind, sluggish, clings to the hope that Wei Ying’s memory had failed him once again, and he had not thought anything of it. That he had not felt obligated to...

Lan Wangji begins clumsily tugging the ribbon from Wei Ying’s fingers. He tries to be gentle, so as not to wake him, but his muscles are not moving as precisely as he is accustomed. He takes a steadying breath, and tries to center himself.

"Reminds me of that cave," Wei Ying says, sudden and quiet.

Lan Wangji's heart hammers.

"Not the Xuanwu. The cold pond. You remember."

It is not a question. This is good, because Lan Wangji could not speak to answer.

"You hated it so much," he goes on. "I always wondered what Lan Yi really thought of seeing us like this." He lifts his entangled hand. "We were just kids, though, and you were already sacrificing one of your rules to help me. I think she saw that, and thought you were good. That it meant good things."

He pauses, and Lan Wangji closes his eyes. If he does not, he might look at him. And he cannot do that.

"Why are so many great heroes destined to always be so right and so wrong about everything?" Wei Ying muses. "She was right about you, of course. Of course. But she had no idea..."

He trails off. He pushes the ribbon off from around his fingers, and presses it into Lan Wangji's palm. Lan Wangji's heart sinks down through the bed, through the floor.

The sadness in his voice. The regret. As if he has done something wrong. As if the past he speaks of is ancient and fixed, a tragedy they still walk within today.

The curse is gone. But Lan Wangji does not feel relief.

Wei Ying surprises Lan Wangji out of his thoughts by speaking again, instead of taking his leave.

"Do you remember what I said before you fell asleep?"

Lan Wangji tries to think back. To force himself to remember, instead of skirting the edge of it all in shame. The kindness of it staggers him.

He nods.

"Good. Don't forget it. I get...there aren't many people I know, anymore." Wei Ying’s thumb rubs absent circles on the back of Lan Wangji's hand. It sends goosebumps up his wrist. "At least not who would want to...anyway. Just don't forget it. Any time."

They are silent, together, unmoving but for breaths and heartbeats and Wei Ying’s gentle thumb. Until Wei Ying leans closer, and presses a kiss to Lan Wangji's temple, before moving away to stand.

"I did not hate it," is all Lan Wangji's panicked, stricken heart can muster.

Wei Ying pauses.

"I hated the confusion," he goes on. He breathes through the fog of exhaustion and too many other things to name, and he holds up the ribbon. "This has belonged to you since that day. I have never known how to tell you, without obligating you...to claim it."

Wei Ying is very still, until, "Lan Zhan."

"You speak as if my breaking rules for you is the paradigm. You lament it. I reject the notion. This, now, is our paradigm: me, alone, in pain, and you the only balm."

Lan Wangji hears himself only once the words have left his mouth, and feels a flare of pain down in his bones. He takes a breath. Another.

"Apologies," he says, contrite. "As I said, it is not my wish to make you feel—"

"Shh," Wei Ying cuts him off, suddenly close again. Very close. "Be quiet," he whispers from where he has tucked his face beside Lan Wangji's.

He is wrapped around him again, holding tight, almost lifting him from the bed with the force of it.

"Don't—" he kisses Lan Wangji's cheek, then just presses his face to it. "Don't apologize."

Lan Wangji cannot breathe.

His hands are clutching at Wei Ying’s arm, at his waist. He is too stunned, too overwhelmed, to manage his actions. He turns his head, blinking the morning light from his eyes for a second time.

Wei Ying is there, half a breath away, pink-cheeked and stunning, searching Lan Wangji's face. His clever eyes settle on Lan Wangji's mouth before skittering away.

Lan Wangji's heart skips a beat, and he parts his lips as if he would speak. No words come, but the movement draws Wei Ying’s eye once more. He stares, and Lan Wangji stares helplessly back, all thought suspended.

Wei Ying kisses him.

Quick, like the pecks to his temple and cheek. Like he is uncertain of making too much of it. Lan Wangji registers this too late. He has already followed, reflexively chasing his mouth. He pauses a hair's breadth away, tense. Wei Ying closes the distance.

He falls against him, pressing him down, heavy once more in a deeply pleasant way. He kisses him, and kisses him, and then pulls away to look. Awed, Lan Wangji dares to touch his face, to map the shape of his cheek, his jaw, and to hold it in his palm. Wei Ying leans into his hand.

"Lan Zhan," he says, hoarse. "Is this alright? You don't—"

Lan Wangji cannot hear uncertainty, and cannot answer. He pulls him down and fits their mouths together, opens his lips to feel the plush give of one of Wei Ying’s between his own.

Wei Ying’s next breath is shaky as it ghosts across Lan Wangji's face, but he only presses closer, opens to him, presses deeper. He shifts, and Lan Wangji's body wakes suddenly from its stupor, his skin abruptly going hot and shivery.

He can feel Wei Ying’s heart pounding against his chest, a mirror image of his own. The kiss stays slow, tentative, a question of boundaries, as it deepens. And deepens. The first shocking spark of something more comes when Wei Ying’s tongue flicks into his mouth.

There is a knock on the door. They break apart, the sudden reminder that they are not alone, that the world at large has not slowed to a stop, jolting them back into it.

"Hanguang-jun?" A tentative, worried voice. Sizhui. "Wei-qianbei?"

Guilt settles back into Lan Wangji's chest, its old home. But then Wei Ying’s face drops atop it, and it is overshadowed by the comfort of this casual use of his body as a convenient surface. He shuts out all thought of what other casual uses Wei Ying might find for him, and gathers himself.

"Sizhui," he calls. "A moment."

Wei Ying sighs dramatically, and twists to peek at him with one eye.

"We can do that again," he says, "right?"

Lan Wangji feels liable to sing.

"Yes," he says. "Whenever you like."

Wei Ying groans, and kisses him again.

"You can't smile at me like that if I have to wait," he says.

He flings himself away to lie on his back. Lan Wangji sits up, and begins the process of getting up and making himself presentable. But Wei Ying’s hand darts out to hold his wrist.

"Whenever you like, too," he says.

He's gone serious again. He holds on, waiting, until Lan Wangji nods. Then he smiles, and stands, and stretches.

"Don't get all neat again, Lan Zhan," he says, grinning. "You're resting today, just let him see you're okay and go back to bed."

He turns halfway to the door.

"This is going to be a different talk with Sizhui than I thought we'd have. His Xian-gege and Youqian-gege are—" he stops, his grin fading. "Ah..." he shakes his head.

Lan Wangji stands, his whole body aching, and goes to him. He cradles his face in both hands, and kisses his forehead, once, for all the times he has wanted to and felt unable.

"We will tell him, and anyone you like, whatever you like. Or," he says, and takes up Wei Ying’s wrist, "for now, if you would rather tell him before we have decided on the words..."

He wraps his ribbon around it, but pauses before tying it off. He looks at him in question.

Wei Ying nods, smiling again, but softer.

Lan Wangji ties the knot, and as soon as it is secure, there are arms around him.

They both take a deep breath before parting. Wei Ying takes his hand, and squeezes.

Awake, together, and curse-free, they open the door.

✨The End✨

(amazing art inspired by this thread in reblogs)

#lan wangji #wei wuxian #wangxian #wangxian fanfic #the untamed fanfiction

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vrishchikawrites · 3 years

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Its a prompt! (And dont worry about it, absolutely love reading your writing XD) Okay so dimension travel, so we all agree in a world where WWX was raised in another sect (like Lan/Nie) That he would be absolutely adored by them and everyone, healthy relationships( even Jin Zixuan and Wei Wuxian wouldn't be on a bad term much because no WWX JYL interaction) so! Canon!WWX from post ssc timeline gets transmigrated/summoned to one of these worlds where hes raised by either Lan or Nie so 1/2

They're a bit confused seeing WWX in black clothes, and seeing his gaunt/tired appearance and him being so on guard around them (since he's usually open and loved) that they ask him why is it so? Does he not know Lan Xichen/Nie Mingjue back from whicher place he came from, and Wei Wuxian goes 'Ive met them/we're not close' they ask 'sorry if its a bit personal but who were you raised by?' and WWX replies the Jiangs and cue everyone horrified cuz Jiangs areopen in their heavy dislike of WWX2/2

'It's my fault.' Nie Huaisang thinks as he frantically collects all the materials needed, 'It is my fault, I need to fix this.'

His er-ge was gone. His brother, Da-ge's pride and joy, the shining star of the Nie Clan.

Gone. Just like that.

One minute they're on an easy nighthunt and the next, Wei Wuxian is pushing him away to take an attack straight to his chest.

He knows his brother is gone. His body may be alive, but just barely. He's drowning in his own blood and there's nothing Nie Huaisang can do. There's no cognition in his eyes, that bright silver gaze is dull and blank.

He has to do something.

The ritual may not work. It came with so many warnings that Nie Huaisang lost the patience to read them all the way through. If something goes wrong, it goes wrong.

"Huaisang! What are you doing?!" Da-ge's voice is loud but Nie Huaisang doesn't pay any attention to it. The room is sealed and it would take da-ge some time to break through it.

"Nie Huaisang!"

Good, Lan Xichen is here. He'll take care of da-ge if something goes wrong.

"Huaisang!" There's a loud crash but he doesn't pay any attention to it, "Stop! Don't do something stupid."

"I need to save him. It is my fault, I need to save him!"

"Huaisang!"

There's a bright red flash and it drowns out everything.

---

Miraculously, he survives.

His fledgling Golden Core has shattered and melted into nothing, but he has survived.

And he has done it.

"Does your stupidity known no bounds?" Da-ge demands as Lan Wangji kneels by er-ge's bed and feeds him potent spiritual energy.

Wei Wuxian is alive. His cognition is intact and his Golden Core is stable but he's soaked in Resentful Energy.

"You destroyed your Golden Core, Huaisang! There's no recovering from it!"

"Wouldn't you do the same?" He demands, turning around to look at his oldest brother. He ignores Lan Xichen's alarmed voice and focuses on Nie Mingjue, "Is his life worth less than my Golden Core?"

Da-ge locks his jaw but doesn't reply. Of course, Wei Wuxian's life is worth more than a Golden Core.

"Huaisang," Lan Xichen sighs, "a-Xian wouldn't have wanted this."

"Look at Wangji-xiong and tell me that again." He says bluntly. He is tired and drained but no one can convince him that reviving er-ge wasn't the right choice.

Xichen-ge doesn't reply because no one can look at the devastated expression on Lan Wangji's face and say it wasn't worth it.

Huaisang doesn't feel the absence of the core as keenly as someone else might. He had only developed it during the Sunshot Campaign, after all.

He isn't like er-ge or Wangji-xiong, with their powerful cores and potent spiritual energy. The loss would've been devastating to them but is only an afterthought to him.

---

They realize something is off when Wei Wuxian opens his eyes and looks at them with distant wariness instead of familiar affection. He looks around and is instantly on guard, "Where... Why am I here?"

He looks directly at Wangji-xiong, "Lan Zhan? What are you... Have you brought me here?" He demanded, his expression shifting to something hostile, "Are we in Gusu?"

"Wei-gongzi," Xichen-ge calls for his attention, "I know you're very confused but please don't be alarmed. We're in your home at the Unclean Realm, not in Gusu."

Er-ge narrows his eyes and Huaisang recognizes that expression, even though it has never been directed towards them. A look of cool calculation as er-ge tries to decipher their motives. "My home?" He asks.

Wangji-xiong knows er-ge almost as well as they do. He reaches forward, "Wei Ying, let us explain, please."

It appears that this Wei Wuxian is just as vulnerable to Wangji-xiong as his brother had been because he softens immediately. His body is still tense but he seems to be willing to listen.

"You died in this world, saving Huaisang's life." Da-ge begins gruffly. Huaisang winces at the bluntness but er-ge seems to appreciate it, his sharp gaze focusing on their elder brother, "Yes, this world," Da-ge confirms, "Our didi decided he wouldn't tolerate it and decided to use one of our forbidden rituals to revive you. He didn't read things clearly. The ritual dragged your soul from another world and placed you in his body."

Er-ge's expression is skeptical, "Our didi..."

Wangji-xiong sucks in a sharp breath, "Wei Ying," His brother's gaze moves to his 'best friend', "You are Wei Wuxian, 23 years old, the Head Disciple of QingheNie Sect, the adopted younger brother of Nie Mingjue and older brother to Nie Huaisang. You were adopted by the former Nie-zongzhu when you were six years old."

Er-ge stares at Wangji-xiong in stunned disbelief but there's no denial in his expression.

No wonder, Wangji-xiong never lies. That must be true in his world as well.

"a-Xian," Er-ge winces and looks at Xichen-ge, "You need to rest and recover. Your Golden Core is stab-"

Er-ge gasps and immediately sits up, placing his hand on his chest. He closes his eyes and almost violently summons his spiritual energy.

"Wei Ying!" Wangji-xiong calls out in alarm but his brother doesn't pay any attention, his focus entirely inward.

"I have my Golden Core back..." Er-ge breathes, astonished but his skin goes white and he loses consciousness.

They exchange stunned glances before scrambling forward to check on him.

---

No one can deny Wei Wuxian has changed. It takes a month for his body to recover but his heart is still unsteady. He puts on every appearance of being alright, but Huaisang has grown up with this man. He knows something is off.

It is only when er-ge decides he needs to start training again that things start to become clear. Er-ge has trained all of his life to fight with a Dao. His movements are powerful and aggressive, designed to overwhelm the enemy.

Er-ge's mind, however, is accustomed to the traditional Jian. He seems to expect his movements to be lighter, faster. More agile and less powerful.

The dissonance makes him clumsy and he loses his first fight against Lan Wangji in a long time.

"Wei Ying?" Wangji-xiong frowns, "Your movements."

Da-ge has his concerned scowl on and he grabs Baxia, stepping into the training field, "With me, Wuxian."

This fight is faster and more brutal. Huaisang almost wants to protest but he can see er-ge adjust and adapt quickly.

His eyes gain a razor-sharp focus and his battle instincts come to the fore. "Good," Xichen-ge observes, "He's accepting his body."

Indeed, he is. Against da-ge's overwhelming force, there's nothing er-ge can do but react instinctively. They engage in several bouts and keep at it for over a shichen.

By the end of it, er-ge is exhausted but faintly triumphant.

"Lan Zhan, again!"

"Wei Ying, you need rest." Wangji-xiong says with a shake of his head, "Don't strain yourself."

"Why were you fighting like you wanted to wield a Jian, didi?" Da-ge asks sternly, "You were hesitant and weak in some strikes."

Er-ge grimaces and Xichen-ge steps forward. It has been over a month and though er-ge has seen how much they all care for him, he remains wary.

"a-Xian," Xichen-ge begins gently, "You weren't a part of the Nie Clan in the past, were you?"

Da-ge's scowl deepens at the thought of er-ge belonging to anyone else but them. They had suspected something like this, of course. But they had hoped that er-ge would've still been a part of the Nie Sect if not the Clan.

Er-ge remains wary but sighs, "No."

"Not the Lans," Xichen-ge observes astutely, "Not the Jins either. Were you a rogue cultivator? Or from a smaller sect?"

Er-ge studies him before shaking his head, "I was the Head Disciple of the Jiangs."

"What?" Wangji-xiong asks, his voice uncharacteristically sharp, "Jiangs?"

Da-ge looks furious and Xichen-ge seems pained. No wonder, given how... problematic the Jiang situation is. That family is entirely unsuitable for someone as loving and giving as his er-ge!

Jiang Wanyin is a complex mix of pride and insecurity. He lags behind all sect heirs, though Huaisang is fairly certain their batch of cultivators is particularly skilled. Er-ge and Wangji-xiong are exceptional in every way and Jin Zixuan is barely a few steps behind.

In the face of such competition, skilled but ordinary cultivators can't help but be overshadowed.

Jiang Fengmian, according to da-ge, is a meek little imitation of his former self. The man that pursued er-ge's mother had been strong and wise. He had the skill, political acumen, and grace to be an admirable Sect Leader.

His marriage to Yu Ziyuan ruined him.

And Yu Ziyuan is a nightmare. The one time she met Wei Wuxian, she had left such an impression that da-ge had cut all ties with the Jiang Sect until its Madam apologized to the Nie Sect Head Disciple.

That hadn't gone down well and the relationship between them is still sour.

"Do you want to return to them?" He blurts out, unable to help himself. If Jiangs are this Wei Wuxian's family then maybe-

"No."

They still because that's a very firm no. It is a complete and utter rejection of the very thought of it.

"No."

---

Getting the whole story out of er-ge is like pulling teeth but between Wangji-xiong's pleas, Xichen-ge's gentle questions, da-ge impassioned demands, and his own begging, they manage.

This Wei Wuxian doesn't love them yet but he sees their love for him clearly. That softens his heart and they get to hear every painful, excruciating aspect of his past life.

Wangji-xiong looks furious, da-ge paces, Xichen-ge is pale, but all of that doesn't matter.

He recognizes the look on er-ge's face. He has never seen it on him before, but he recognizes it.

Er-ge expects them to reject him. To abandon him for his 'sins'.

"Well, I don't have a Golden Core. Can you teach me Demonic Cultivation?"

"Huaisang!" Is yelled from almost every direction but he only has eyes for his older brother.

He sees those tired silver eyes study him for a moment before they soften completely, turning into the color of liquid moonlight. "You brat," Er-ge murmurs affectionately, "The thought of you wielding that power is nothing short of terrifying."

"But er-ge! Can you leave me defenseless, just like that? Don't you feel sorry for me-"

"Huaisang!" Da-ge snaps, "Stop trying to manipulate your brother!"

"Really, a-Sang, it isn't right for you to-"

Er-ge laughs. It's familiar, loud, and openly joyous. Silver eyes sparkle as he looks at them, "Don't worry, da-ge, he's a hundred years too early to manipulate me."

Wangji-xiong huffs, "Wei Ying."

"Lan Zhan," Er-ge teases, "How is that you manage to reprimand me by only saying my name? Shall I try it too? Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan!"

"And they're flirting again." He murmurs under his breath, drawing an amused look from Xichen-ge.

"Perhaps we really need to start betrothal negotiations," Xichen-ge says and da-ge scoffs.

"Not going to happen unless you're willing to part with your brother. Mine is my heir. He's not marrying into the Lans."

"Da-ge, be reasonable-"

Huaisang tunes them out and waves his fan in front of his face, his mind whirling.

He doesn't care about er-ge's marriage negotiations. He has bigger fish to fry.

Really, those Jins and Jiangs are getting too bold.

#short prompts #nie!wwx #wei wuxian #nie huaisang #lan wangji #lan xichen #nie mingjue #anti jiang cheng #anti jiang sect

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crossdressingdeath · 3 years

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What do you think will happen if JC lost his gc way early? What if a nighthunt went wrong and it affected his cultivation or what if it crushed his core? What if actually this nighthunt was initially assigned to WY but he and YZY threw a tantrum and took it hoping to best WY? As an extremely insecure person how will he react? How would WY’s life be affected?

WWX's life in Yunmeng would pretty much be over. Even assuming YZY didn't whip him to death as punishment for not taking the assignment that she refused to get him, can you imagine the absolute hell she and JC would put him through? I suspect whether by leaving or dying WWX would be gone from the Jiang sect within the year. As for JC... well, if he lost his golden core outside of wartime with the guarantee of wealth and power for the rest of his life still hanging around he probably wouldn't just curl up and die, but he'd certainly be miserable. Probably for the rest of his life.

#mdzs #lotus mom #grapehate #dis-core-se adjacent #asks #anon

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super-novatuna · 2 years

Text

deathday (MXTX Reverse Trope Fest day 7: free day)

(unsolicited fun facts: prompt is deathday because the 19th is my birthday and it is a reverse trope fest. i decided this like the first day i planned out the prompts and stuff. my first thought was "angst? on my birthday?" then the second thought was "indeed, angst on my birthday" post-canon, wwx's third death anniversary since he came back. pain. also fluff)

(cross-posted on ao3 and twitter)

Wei Ying is not next to him when he wakes up.

Naturally, Lan Wangji starts panicking.

It has been two years since his beloved’s resurrection and everything else that came with it, but the fear that strikes him whenever Wei Ying suddenly disappears is still sharp as ever.

He quickly gets out of bed and searches the Jingshi, panic rising the longer he goes without finding his husband. Finally he opens the door to check the front yard, and relief like no other floods though him when he sees Wei Ying sitting on the porch.

Relief which is replaced with worry, because Wei Ying is up before him outside the Jingshi, staring at nothing.

“Wei Ying?” he tries to make his voice as soft as possible, but Wei Ying startles anyways as he turns to him.

“Lan Zhan!” he exclaims. “Ah, sorry, I’m not... “

“Come back to bed?” Lan Wangji gently inquires. “It is cold outside.”

Wei Ying smiles. “Alright,” he agrees, picking himself up and tucking himself into the crook of Lan Wangji’s arm as he leads him back into their bed. They do not lay back down, but sit up on its edge. Wei Ying edges closer to him, but his eyes do not look at him and stare unfocusing once more.

“What is wrong, Wei Ying?” he prods, kissing his hair. “You can tell me.”

“I-” he squeezes his eyes shut. “I think... today is the day I... died.”

The realization drowns Lan Wangji in a chill not unlike the water of the cold springs.

Today is the sixteenth anniversary of the Yiling Patriarch’s death at the Siege of the Burial Mounds.

To Wei Ying, it has been three years since he’s died.

At this realization, a familiar mourning passes over him. It is routine and ever-present on days like these, days where he’s reminded that he lost Wei Ying. It is lighter and easier to forget after Wei Ying returned, but it has only been three years since he did and Lan Wangji had spent thirteen years in what he had thought to be eternal grief.

He pushes that feeling aside by squeezing his arm around Wei Ying, a reminder that he was here, beside him, as his husband. And today’s priority was to keep Wei Ying in or close to the Jingshi, because the past two anniversaries had let them to a silent agreement to stay home whenever these days occurred.

The first year, Wei Ying had a nightmare of his death. He did not talk about it, no matter how much Lan Wangji pried and persuaded, but it left him stilted and almost silent for the rest of the day as they went about their normal business. When he was free, he disappeared, and Lan Wangji found him later in the bunny field.

“I died, Lan Zhan,” he had mumbled, eyes on the bunny underneath his stroking hand. “It wasn’t pretty, and it was painful. And with everything that happened after coming back, I don’t think I’ve really thought about the fact that I died and... how being dead felt like. How different it is, to being alive. Should I think about it? Should I leave it behind? I accepted my death wholeheartedly, but coming back afterwards, that messed all those feelings up,” he frowns. “I was dead before, and now I’m alive. Happy, with you. And I’m glad. But I guess I’m only coming to terms with it now.”

Lan Wangji had hugged him close and patiently waited for Wei Ying until he was done. That night was peacefully dreamless for the both of them.

The second year, they had gone out farther on a nighthunt, only to be greeted by celebration of his death’s anniversary. There were people here and there praising another year since the eradication of the Yiling Laozu, and even as Lan Wangji desperately tried to stop them, they carried on without care. “Evils should be eradicated and that Wei Wuxian deserved it!” they yelled, not realizing, for their town was large enough to hear rumors but not see enough faces, that they were speaking to “that Wei Wuxian” and his husband.

After the hunt was completed, Wei Ying made to set off for home immediately, and insisted that they camp outside instead of at an inn in the nearest town when night fell. They did not talk about it, and simply held each other close when they went to sleep. Wei Ying’s behavior did not improve until they returned to the Cloud Recesses and the delighted chirps of “Wei-qianbei!” from his beloved junior disciples.

So this year, they will stay in the Jingshi, together, alone. Today has no decided schedule, and if Wei Ying wishes he can go teach the disciples, and if he wishes to be in the Jingshi alone Lan Wangji will leave him be, and if his beloved will follow him around as he does his duties to help his uncle, Lan Wangji will let him.

As long as Wei Ying is alive, as long as he is happy.

#i'm so indecisive on where to place the cuts lmao #mxtx reverse trope fest #mdzs #wangxian #wei wuxian #lan wangji #novatuna's brain writes #novatuna's brain at work

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gusu-emilu · 3 years

Text

Ask me my Top 5 anything

Anon asked for Top 5 Post-Canon Junior Quartet Moments where they have to fight without using cultivation. Here’s my headcanon/scene rambling...

1. Lan Jingyi defeats a vengeful ghost just by roasting it for how it died

That’s it that’s the scene

2. Everybody forgot their talismans

Lan Sizhui is the Junior Quartet Mom who usually has a huge stash of extra talismans ready to go because the other three always forget to bring enough. But it turns out that just before they left for this nighthunt, Wei Wuxian secretly borrowed all of Sizhui’s talismans to “experiment” on them and return new versions as a present later.

So now the Junior Quartet is running around in utter chaos yelling for Wen Ning because nobody has talismans

3. Ouyang Zizhen learned how to wrestle from a poem

Listen, if there’s one way to motivate this boy, it’s with a very long ballad about two lovers who went on epic journey together and had to wrestle a band of actually-sympathetic-but-still-wrong criminals while simultaneously working through their relationship issues and tearing up about their beautiful memories together and confessing their undying love to each other. The narrative not only detailed every single line of their heart-rending dialogue, but also every blow in the fight, and Ouyang Zizhen is excellent at memorizing things when he wants to be. (Bonus points if he got the poem from Nie Huaisang)

4. Lan Sizhui is surprisingly good at hand-to-hand combat

Technically, Lan Sizhui is a Wen, so he wasn’t born with the formidable upper body strength of the Lans. While training with the Lans, he couldn’t rely on sheer power like the others and had to develop clever strategies (fake-outs, unorthodox moves, tricking opponents into thinking he’s unintimidating, etc). Sizhui doesn’t actually take the offensive very often in combat, and instead draws his opponent into making mistakes.

In this way, Sizhui takes after Uncle Wei Wuxian for his inventiveness and Uncle Wen Ning for the fighting skills behind his cinnamon-roll veneer. But of course, Sizhui would rather not fight someone for real! Even in a friendly sparring match, he’d try his best not to actually hurt his opponent, and after the match is over he’d apologize profusely and heal any injuries they did get. Still, I think Sizhui deserves the chance to have a fun sparring match with his friends once in a while. Let’s just say that Jin Ling and Ouyang Zizhen were very startled the first time they got utterly defeated by Sizhui! Meanwhile Jingyi already knew what the outcome would be and was laughing the entire time.

(Little post-script: Yes, hand-to-hand combat is messy and rather un-Lan-like but let’s just say the Lan disciples do train in it. After all, Lan Wangji does an awful lot of arm-grabbing and kicking during his fight scenes. Perhaps another Uncle that Sizhui takes after?)

5. A nighthunt in which Jin Ling should not have gone swimming

The juniors are on the bank of a river, taking a break after searching for hours and finding nothing to hunt. Suddenly there’s a giant splash in the river!

None of the juniors can figure out what it was. Since Jin Ling always brags about how great he is at swimming (his mom was from the Jiang Clan, home of the best swimmers), Ouyang Zizhen dares him to go into the river and find out what made the splash. Well, Jin Ling’s over-pompousness is coming back to bite him because he never actually practiced swimming, he just knows he’s good at it...thinks he’s good at it...of course he’s good at everything...maybe...

But he can’t back down now! He jumps into the river and swims out to the site of the splash no problem. He dives under, closes his hands around a large carp (that’s all it was? haha Ouyang Zizhen was scared of the splash for nothing), and brings the fish to the surface to show off to the others. That wasn’t so hard! He really is the best swimmer!

Then the carp grows into a giant water dragon.

Jin Ling has no sword, no talismans, no nothing because he left them all on the shore to go swimming!

Okay, I cheated, this isn’t actually about Jin Ling fighting without using cultivation because Uncle Jiang appears out of nowhere, slays the dragon, and yells in fury at Jin Ling while trying (and failing) not to reveal how melodramatically emotional he was about Jin Ling possibly getting hurt

~Thanks for the ask! Nonny I hope this is what you meant lol. Someone send me more asks to get carried away with, this is fun!

#lan sizhui #lan jingyi #ouyang zizhen #jin ling #mdzs #cql #the untamed #junior quartet #emilu talks #ask game #emilu creations

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riley-phoenix · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Nik X Reader(gender not specified) ... eventually

Canon: Choices: Stories You Play: Nightbound

Content: Murder, blood, depression, angst

Author's Note: This fic was written as a part of @nbappreciationweek, And is gonna be a 3-parter. The story is told from NIK'S POINT OF VIEW. The reader of this story(*your name*) is NOT the reader of Nightbound, Alex(default name of Nightbound OC).

Chapter Summary: After a tragedy strikes Nighthunter, Nik Ryder, he and the world of the supernatural are introduced to the best detective in New York

"Oh!, My bad", had been Nik's response to bumping into a stranger. He bent down to pick up the garage store items now littered on the floor. As their faces drew level, he noticed the golden police badge and uniform. "Working late, huh?", He said as he handed over the groceries.

"Mm? Oh, about to head back to the station actually, I'm *your name* by the way, detective *your name*", The stranger said In a formal introduction. "Nik", he replied, offering his hand, to which *your name* returned.

"I think I've got everything, Babe", Alex, Nik's then 'rookie', now partner says, joining the conversation. Alex looks inquisitively between Nik and the stranger. Nik pokes his head forward and introduces them, "Oh; this is *your name*, we just bumped into each other". A wide smile forms on *your name*'s face as they shake hands and introduce themselves.

As *your name* leaves the store, Alex turns to Nik, "You go ahead and get cleaned up, I'm gonna get some beers, they don't sell any here". "Okay, but be safe", he says, protectively. Alex laughs; "I've been a nighthunter for a year now, I can handle myself". Nik steals a kiss, then proceeds to walk back to their apartment.

A FEW HOURS LATER...

Katherine, Nik's old hunting buddy, knocks on his door. "Sorry, Katy I don't have time, Alex went out to get beers and hasn't been home in hours, I'm going to find--"

"Nik, sit down", she says, tears beginning to swell in her eyes. Nik looks at her sceptically, before moving over to the couch. "Katy... what's wrong?" He says, as a look of concern falls on his face. Katherine sits next to him, trying to find the right words ;or any words for that matter. "... It's Alex". She responds. Nik's eyes grow In size as he takes in her words. "That's... that's good right? So you've heard from--"

"Alex is dead".

Katherine spits out the words in one quick breath, trying to rip the bandage off. Her voice cracks in horror as she utters the "D" word. Nik stares at her in disbelief, not accepting her words, refusing to believe the love of his life, the rookie nighthunter that he'd shaped into a veteran... Is gone.

"N-n-no... No that's... You're wrong". A tear falls down Nik's face as he tries his hardest not to believe it. Katherine swallows; "I'm sorry, Nik..But--"

Before she could finish her sentence, Nik's phone buzzes in his pocket; "LOOK, IT'S ALEX", Nik says in disbelief, sliding the green phone Icon with his thumb; "Hello!?" He says, full of hope. "Hi...is this Nik Ryder?", a man by the name Bobby Johnson responds. Nik's expression falls to one of grief as he answers, "Yeah... This is He". Katherine watches on as Bobby proceeds to state things such as an address, a time, names... But finally; asks Nik to come down to identify the body. She overhears the final moments of their conversation, "Yeah...Hmm... Ok...I'm on my way". Nik lifts his head to Katy before Inhaling deeply and throwing on his jacket. "... I have to see it for myself... And I have to do this alone". He wipes the tears from his eyes before seeing Katherine out and rushing to the scene.

Nik gets out of a taxi, throwing a couple dollars to the driver as he sprints to the scene, anxiety taking control of him as a pit forms in his stomach. He rushes into a crowded crime scene, noticing the name of the road - "Smile Rd." .Pushing past people in an effort to get to the front. "You Nik?", A young, slightly stubbled man calls out to him. "You Bobby?" He Asks in response. Bobby walks forward professionaly to shake Nik's hand, "You sure you can do this?", He asked, concerned. Nik's face is plastered with a faraway gaze, as he stares out into the silent night, Illuminated by its noisy surroundings. "Wouldn't be the first time I've had to face something like this". He answers. "... I'm sorry to hear that", Bobby adds.

They walk over to the crux of the crime scene, black and yellow tape warding off areas, chalk markings made across the floor, Nik felt like he was living in an episode of CSI. The next few minutes were the hardest moments of Nik's life, his parent's deaths haunted him, Elijah, his mentor's death, damaged him...but the next three questions...they broke him...

"This phone had you saved as an emergency contact, can you confirm this phone belonged to Alex?"

"...Yes"

Nik pondered over the heavy machinery pulling a beyond saving vehicle from the depths of a waterfall, "Does this car belong to you?"

"...Yes"

And then, it happened, hell froze over, Heaven fell down, the world collapsed...they began pulling a body out of the car and onto a stretcher...not moving, covered in blood... Head smashed in. Bobby put a sympathetic hand on Nik's shoulder. "Nik... Is this Alex?"

"...Y...Y...y-yes".

And as the words left Nik's mouth, tears ran down his face like a river as he fell onto his knees upon the stone covered surface of the earth that seemed so cruel right now. Nik laid there, unable to think or move

10 minutes later, Nik hears a loud commotion coming from the wreckage. "What's all this about?" He asks Bobby "Mr. Ryder, it seems my partner has found something; Uh, this is Detective--" ,Nik cuts Bobby's reply short.

"*your name*!?" Nik shouts out, slightly Louder than usual, as he recognises the detective. *Your name* sees Nik approach the scene, "Oh my god... Nik?... I-I had no idea". Bobby looks between *your name* and Nik, full of questions. "You two know each other?", He asks. "We just bumped into each other at the garage", Nik explains, "small world", he adds on, trying to force a small chuckle.

"Anyway, what'd you find?", Nik asks, wiping away his tears. *Your name* looks expectingly at Bobby, not sure how to show this to Nik. "Nik... Did you know where Alex was going?" ,*Your name* asks in a concerned tone. Nik sniffles, "Umm, yeah...to get beers". A sympathetic look washes over the detective's face as the three of them walk to the wreckage. Bobby opens the back door, to show Nik seven empty beer bottles scattered all over. *Your name* walks over to the passenger side door, to reveal another three, lying next to two six-pack holsters, one empty, one with two beers left in it.

*your name* and Bobby look at Nik in a sorrowful way. "No-no...Alex wouldn't...not like th--" Nik struggles to find his words, he looks around the crime scene as his heart starts beating inevitably faster and his vision blurs. *Your name* steps forward and grabs Nik by his shoulders, "You cant be here, not now". Nik eventually finds his footing, his breathing is heavy as he gasps for air. "Let me walk you home", the detective offers. Nik nods his head, frowning. They walk slowly to Nik's apartment in silence

Inside Nik's apartment, *your name* sits on the couch, at best, trying to give Nik his space. Nik grumpily throws off his shirt, before he can reach for a fresh one, *your name* says something unexpected

"you're a nighthunter"

Nik looks back in confusion, trying to pinpoint what tipped the detective off. *Your name* signals to the tattoos on Nik's chest, before revealing *your pronouns* own, bearing it's own Nighthunter tattoos. "So what are you, Retired?", Nik asks. "Retired... MIA... Long story short, the life just didn't agree with me and I had to take a step back from it".

"I'm sorry to hear that..."

"...I'm sorry for your loss"

They say to each other, trying their best to be comforting.

Nik walks over to the fridge, with a small smile on his face and grabs two beers. He begins to walk over to *your name*, but stops short as he looks down at the alcohol, the memories of the wreckage and accident flooding back in his mind. He sets them down on the counter, then with a determined look on his face, turns to the detective, "you have to believe me, this is not something that Alex would do, she was a well trained Nighthunter, almost a veteran. It doesn't add up".

*Your name* takes in Nik's words, "I'm sorry, Nik...but...what do you want this to be?".

"I want it to be a murder investigation". He responds.

"Nik, say we do find a suspect, say they have a motive and no alibi, how do you think it's gonna look in court when they mention that Alex was going to get beers, and that the crash was littered with--"

Abruptly, *your name* recieved a phone call, Nik waits patiently as the detective takes it. He hears mumbling in the background as *your name* says goodbye and places down the phone. "Looks like we've finely got some good news".

"What'd they find?" Nik asks anxiously. "A possible witness, there aren't any cameras on Smile Rd. but this guy was on a road trip. He was heading back to Philadelphia and that's the only road back." The detective responds. "I'm coming with you, and you're not stopping me", Nik says commandingly. "Wouldn't dream of it" *your name* replies. Nik and the detective take the near-2 hour drive to Philadelphia, not taking any stops.

*Your name* pulls up infront of an apartment building, in the parking lot they see the car belonging to, "Mr. Turner", their possible witness. They begin climbing the stairway to the 7th floor when Nik speaks. "You think this guy saw something?", he asks. "I don't know but, there's only way to find out". Upon reaching his residence, apartment 6B, they are met by a crowded scene filled with paramedics, detectives, the CSI and Bobby. *Your name* turns to Bobby: "why are the CSI here?". "See for yourself", Bobby responds.

"Well, Nik, looks like you were right" *your name* says, as he returns to Nik. "...Right about what?" Nik asks.

"This is no longer a DUI case... It's a murder investigation".

Nik still looks slightly confused, not quite sure what the detective meant. *Your name* gestured towards the door as Nik pushed his way past a few paramedics to view the scene

Upon opening the door, Nik found several CSI agents making chalk marks over a dead body - Mr. Turner

He stands paralyzed, his fists cleched at his sides. As *your name* steps forward to try to comfort him, Nik notices something out of the corner of his eye. "Hey you're not authorised--", a police officer tries to repremand Nik, before *your name* intervenes, "it's okay, he's with me"

Nik tries to analyse a weird drawing on the wall before something else catches his attention, "there's something in his mouth", he calls out. The detective looks at Nik skeptically, then reaches for a pair of gloves. Reaching inbetween The corpse's lips, a note is revealed. The detective unfolds it, only to find hieroglyphics, numbers, letters and unidentifiable symbols. "It's a a god damn code" Bobby says, pinching the bridge of his nose. *Your name" looks at one of the junior agents, "make a copy of this and send it to me, send the original to evidence".

"Detective there's something else". Another investigator calls out. A few officers gather around the body as they identify the markings on his arms "They were carved into him, presumably with a knife". *Your name*'s eyes grow large as the symbols begin to familiarise themselves. "... they're star signs",*Your name* points out. "Is that important?" Bobby asks.

"it means either the murderer is trying to throw us off ... Or this is the work of the Zodiac Killer".

The scene turns into a heated discussion as the investigators and detectives within the black and yellow tape try to break down the information. "It's impossible, even if Zodiac was as young as twenty during the original murders, that was fifty years ago, he'd have to be an old man now". Someone argues. "They never caught him, what if this is their apprentice? Or someone trying to emulate him?" Another voice adds. *Your name* steps away from the scene, trying to get a clear head, yet soon, joined by Nik. "What'd you make of those symbols?" He asks. "I have a theory". The detective continues; "what if whoever, or whatever murdered Alex, isn't human. The CSI probably won't find anything 'cuz that's out of their paygrade, but you and Alex were Nighthunters, it's possible she could've made enemies. Now when I saw those Zodiac signs I thought 'nope, its just an act to throw us off', but what if... Zodiac isn't human. It'd explain the half century between his last murder and this".

Nik folds his arms, "That's worth looking into, but I saw something I think you should know about"

"What's that?", *Your name* replies

"When I was in there...before I even noticed the note, I saw something. There was this...creepy ass smile drawn on the wall...I didn't think anything of it first but then I remembered something, The road..."

"Where Alex was murdered...", *Your name* continues

"...Smile Rd." Nik says aggressively

They both nod their heads in agreement. "We've got work to do", the detective says. Nik looks around carefully. "What about the non-supernatural side of this investigation?" He asks. "I'll let Bobby handle it", *your name* explains.

Outside, *your name* turns to Nik, trying to conjour a plan. "We found a connection between the road and the drawing, now we've just gotta find out if those star signs we're just there to confuse us or not. I need you to think Nik, is there anyone you can think of that'd want Alex dead?"

Nik looks up to the moon and let's out a small chuckle; "Oh yeah...I have my suspicions".

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Tags: @kinda-iconic @bloodboundismylife @regulusblacksbabygirl @statticscribbles @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @ladylamrian

#choices #choices stories you play #play choices #Nightbound #Nightbound book #nbappreciationweek

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