#immortal wei wuxian

[wangxianficrecs]

🔒 Calling Heaven by mondengel

🔒 Calling Heaven

by mondengel (@mondengel2)

Not rated, 2k, Wangxian

Summary: Lan Wangji had not wanted to come at all. Kay's comments: Oh, I absolutely loved the vibes of this story, it was so atmospheric! Lan Wangji gets invited to a feast in Lanling where a demonic cultivator was dragged in to be punished, as his last wish, he asked to pray and he prayed to Wei Wuxian, who promptly appeared as a freshly formed martial god and oh, I had goosebumps! And I really loved that for Wangxian. Excerpt: The air in the room chilled fast enough to make his skin pebble. The incense smoke curled, not toward the ceiling, but inward toward itself. Slow at first, then quickly. Thicker and darker, then with a grinding, squeaking noise like sand being crushed under a pestle and with some deeper, empty note like the aftermath of a scream of horror, it took form. Wei Ying. Wei WuXian. Robes black as night and decorated with blood red embroidery in shapes that made his eyes ache to behold. Blinking away tears that might have been the same reflexive action as looking at the sun, might have been the burn of that defiant, stubborn love given hope, Lan Wangji tore his eyes away from those impossible designs. Looking up, he saw Wei WuXian's hair was held back in twists and braids by jewelry made of what was unmistakably human bone. The top part of a skull was pinned to the back of his head, the straight lines of a forearm bone spearing through a twist of hair, the curve of a rib and a thousand tiny fingerbones and teeth dangling where beads and jewels would be. His face was white as snow, but radiant as the full moon, the glow extending out into a heavenly aura. A young martial god descended from heaven.

pov lan wangji, canon divergence, thirteen years of wei wuxian's death, martial god wei wuxian, immortal wei wuxian, ascension, gods & goddesses, carp tower, koi tower, hopeful ending

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[on-repeat-again]

Ever think about how Lan Wangji knew how strong of a cultivator Wei Wuxian was and probably assumed that they could cultivate to immortality together and how DEVASTATING it would have been for him to realize that Wei Wuxian didn’t have his golden core anymore???

[ficsiwontwrite]

I had this thoughts because I really like when a cnovel or fic has a cool heavenly tribulation scene AND immortal wangxian.

SO!! Heavenly Tribulations are A Thing in cultivation novels, right?

As I understand it, they happen when someone is going against heaven’s natural order, as in: when a mortal gets closer to immortality or ascension BUT I’ve also saw it being used in other “against the heavens” ways

My point is: resurrection is against heavens natural order ✨

So when wwx and lwj help Wen Ning wake up they end up with a heavenly tribulation burning everything with pure qi and they’re in the burial mounds so it gets really explosively dangerous for not only them but also the wen there

Lan wangji would try to direct/deflect the lightning away from the civilians but Wei wuxian and wen Ning would end up refined by heavenly qi in a pretty painful way probably

[In this au I’d put resentful cultivation as controlling corrupted yin qi (of the dead) with the cultivators own resentment (which would be corrupted yang) ]

So while they (wwx and wn) are being refined lwj is getting a qi deviation because his core can’t handle a heavenly tribulation and wen Qing is trying to help him hold on long enough for the other to run

They would probably die if wwx didn’t have experience with being attacked by enormous quantities of energy, so he grita his teeth and starts painting a array (in his blood of course ouch) that redirects the energy into the earth

Actually he’d probably need the others blood too, to connect everyone to the array

By the end of the tribulation not only are all four of them immortals, even if both wen Ning and Wei Ying have predominantly yin qi, BUT the burial mounds is completely purified and teeming with qi

[coquelicoq]

i have spent a lot of time of late thinking about what conclusions lan sizhui might draw in a world in which wen qing lives and gets married to jiang cheng during the timeskip but sizhui is still being raised in the lan sect. so obviously in this scenario the adults still think it's necessary to hide his identity from him and the world at large, but wen qing wants to watch him grow up. so from sizhui's perspective, hanguang-jun periodically takes him to lotus pier on "sect business" even though he never actually seems to talk to jiang-zongzhu about anything whatsoever and jiang-furen is always looking at sizhui really intensely and she seems to cry a lot? but in a happy way? like, that would be a weird situation for a little 12yo or whatever. and occam's razor would suggest a very specific and very incorrect explanation for 1) the fact that everyone thinks hanguang-jun is mourning a dead lover, 2) hanguang-jun's utter contempt for jiang-zongzhu, 3) jiang-furen's inexplicably intense reaction to the sight of a random kid from some totally other sect, and 4) the fact that sizhui doesn't know who his parents are. obviously he was the product of a passionate and completely unsanctioned love affair between teenage hanguang-jun and teenage jiang-furen (before she was jiang-furen). mystery solved!

[oh-dameron]

Wei Wuxian dies. Lan Wangji mourns. Years pass. Trouble returns to the jianghu.

Wei Wuxian wakes up covered in blood, in a familiar array. It's Nie Huaisang's fault.

Lan Wangji finds him. They save the day. They marry and live happily. That's the end of the story, until:

Wei Wuxian dies in a night hunting accident. It was a trivial matter, easily dealt with until it very abruptly wasn't. Certainly no great battle worthy of song or fitting to end the Yiling Patriarch's second life.

Lan Wangji mourns. The grief is different this time; he's not wracked with might-have-beens and should-haves. Instead, one moment he held the whole world in his arms, the next it was torn away from him. It's shattering, how unfamiliar this pain feels when he once would have called himself accustomed to loss.

Years pass. Trouble returns to the jianghu.

The Unclean Realm is under seige, and Nie Huaisang genuinely does not know what to do. He's a strategist, certainly, but even in his youth he was never a warrior. He's been outmanouvered today, and it's long years since he could fling himself into his elder brothers' arms and wail for help.

Zewu-jun has not stirred from his mountain in a long, long time. No; instead Huaisang is left with the exceedingly cold comfort offered by Hanguanjun. The Second Jade of Lan might be frozen in the bloom of youth, but time and grief have left a flawless diamond shell around the hollow of a man. The light that lit him from the inside died with Wei Wuxian. He's where the chaos is, as ever, but if he has any ideas about how to remedy their situation he's been characteristically close-lipped about them. Huaisang is resigned to the notion that Lan Wangji might be in Qinghe more for the possibility of finding his own end than any pressing desire to help.

Well. If Hanguanjun is determined to sacrifice himself then Huaisang is determined that it's going to be in the service of saving as many Nie lives as possible. There are innocents here: disciples too young to have earned spiritual weapons, children too young to even be called disciples, healers and teachers, servants and cooks, the elderly and, and. And noncombatants, like Huaisang himself, whom nobody could rightly call innocent. There's nothing to be done to save him. That would take a miricle.

His grandchildren are here, beautiful and clever and strong. The eldest isn't a child any more, grown from a wonderfully curious toddler into a endlessly curious adult seemingly overnight, but grown or not Huaisang will see all of them out of this mess. If nothing else, Huaisang will knock them out himself, tie them to Hangaunjun and boot them out the back door while he distracts their enemies. Preferably not by sallying forth and dying pathetically. As soon as he comes up with a better idea he'll demote that one to plan B.

His study is as he left it: painting supplies and books sadly gathering dust in the corner, set aside yet again for duty and drudgrery. There is new correspondence to see to; perhaps it will bring good news. Probably not.

The door to one of the cabinets is ajar. It's an ancient, tacky thing that he keeps largely because Da-ge favoured it, and it has a tendancy to swing open unless the latch is set just so. He certainly didn't leave it that way: he hasn't survived this long in the jianghu by being careless, merely acting the part, and he always wanto to know when the contents of this particular cache are disturbed. Locks are an obvious indicator that the contents are interesting or valuable in some way, and if someone circumvented the lock to the room already, well. What could be interesting about a cupboard full of boring administrative papers in a room full of nothing else?

He nudges the door the rest of the way open, peers inside, and his heart immediately lodges in his throat. In amongst Da-ge's journals from the Sunshot campaign, the bundles of correspondence from Jin Guanyao, heavily-encoded notes on his plans for revenge written in the form of truly atrocious juvenile poetry, something is missing. A manifesto, a copy he made from the notes of a long-dead demonic cultivator, who in turn made his own copy from the notes of the Yiling Patriarch himself, seized by the Jin sect after the first seige of the Burial Mounds.

Almost nobody knows about that book and what it contains. Almost nobody has access to his study. Almost. Nie Huaisang drops his fan and sprints across the Unclean Realm to the inner family quarters. Disciples flutter as he passes, unaccustomed to seeing their elderly zongzhu stir himself beyond a saunter. An empyrean figure in white joins his wake like the trail of a comet, ghosting silently after his gasping dash.

Huaisang pauses before the door and sends a silent plea to the heavens, to his ancestors, to Da-ge and anyone who is listening that he's wrong or not too late. He pushes into the room and his knees give out, strong hands arresting his fall before he can hit the ground sobbing. There's blood, in lines and characters, the tang of resentful energy in the air, and the body laid out in the centre of it all isn't his grandchild any more.

Wei Wuxian wakes up covered in blood, in a familiar array. It's Nie Huaisang's fault.

Lan Wangji finds him.

[florizzia]

[Pt-Br]

Na defesa dos Wangxian, eu amo eles! Só não amo mais do que eu amo o Mo Xuanyu...

[Eng]

In Wangxian's defense, I love them! I just don't love them as much I love Mo Xuanyu...

[sasukimimochi]

“Shijie?” Wei Wuxian spoke quietly, watching her as she scraped along the bottom of the bowl in her attempt to pick up some of the small pieces of food she hoped he could swallow. “Yes, A-Xian?” She replied gently, pausing in her movements to look up at him with an attention that almost would seem odd if he was in his right mind. “Do you think…there is a life after this one?”

-

Combo prompt for my fall writing/drawing challenge: 14&17, "Mourning" & "Depression"

I wanted to try drawing pre-death COI wwx (Chapter one: part 2); I couldn't get it right though so I don't like it too much BUT I've been told I'm full of it, so here it is. These are meant to be quick and painless anyway, so I hope you guys like it despite the sad!

Check out other prompts in the first hyperlink! You can see other MDZS projects in my masterpost here. ❤

[sirenofthegreenbanks]

another one!! 🪳

recommend a great AU!

this took me too long to answer excuse mwah <3 sorry i couldnt resist asdhjash such a stupid joke

with you from dusk by katharija. WOH modern au, chronic pain, unspecified chronic illness, angst, trust issues, vulnerability, grief/mourning, sharing a bed, T. i literally just finished rereading it this morning! a brief glance at wenzhou's early days, but set in modern day. im very weak for conversations in the dark, after some guards have been lowered and possibilities to live your life a different way, a better way, seem tangible. there is also a sequel to this!

hunger by lastembers. WOH modern au, chronic pain, unspecified chronic illness, referenced cannibalism, canon-typical violence, domesticiation of a monster, M. also a fic i finished rereading the other day! what if wenzhou were neighbours, but wen kexing eats people? u know that im very into cannibalism as this metaphor for something else and as a stepping stone to experience real emotional intimacy! i also really like it when the very palpable sensation of hunger functions to talk about very related things, very visceral things, that can also be felt in the body.

there is a line here i particularly liked:

"Aren't you hungry?" Zhou Zishu asks. Wen Kexing is watching him like he's the most interesting thing in the world. "No," Wen Kexing says. Zhou Zishu knows its a lie. He thinks maybe Wen Kexing is always hungry.

oh, you're mine to take, i wanna hear the sounds you'll make by anonymous. MDZS modern au, genderbend wangxian, experimenting with gender, E. just quoting that one tumblr post from a while back: "dykes who want get fucked in the ass like gayboys." yep!!!

fish & wild geese by impossibletruths. MDZS modern au, wangxian, little forest AU, hunger as a metaphor for grief, farming as a metaphor for healing, food as a metaphor for love, T. lan wangji moves into his dead mother's house and tries to remember how it is to live. its been a while since i read this but i still remember how the grief felt like a fishbone stuck in my throat.

and you must keep your soul/ like a secret in your throat by athena_crickey. MDZS, The Untamed, modern au, modern cultivation, supernatural elements, vampires, culture clash, case fic, grief/mourning, complicated family dynamics, the weariness of being old and immortal, what it means to be alive, E. wei wuxian is an ancient vampire and lan wangji is a young (youngish) cultivator who seeks him out for a case. i particularly liked seeing glimpses of wei wuxian's earlier lives through fictional academical articles and reports at the end of each (i think it is each?) chapter, and sometimes through their conversations. i like it when there is a really old (really, really old) being there and through them, you are challenged to confront what being alive for such a long time does to a person, in what ways it reshapes them.

in the water grass, in the green by nerdzeword, twigofwillow. The Untamed, modern with magic, wangxian, angst, illness, curses, witches, river spirits, family, gardening, G. lan wangji's mother falls ill. he asks the wen witches across the street for help. this fic, too, has the theme of finding solace and comfort in cooking, food, and nature! i love lan wangji being this transcended being between a person and a river! there is also some anticipatory grief here and complex family dynamics; even though madam lan isnt dead, it is hard for lan wangji to reach her because she is not accepted by his family. he has feelings about that.

bug me bug me for fic recs!!!!

[quotablefanfiction]

“Oh, really? Lan Zhan was so enamored of me and my rule breaking ways that all his anger was really just a front for him wanting to pin me down and have his wicked way with me?” Lan Wangji leaned in, his large hands sliding under Wei Wuxian’s inner robe, which was somehow already undone. “Mn. Wei Ying is very smart.” “Wait. What?! Lan Zhan! I was joking!”

Lan Zhan has been having thoughts for a while (chp. 41)

Cultivating immortality by KizuKatana (AO3) Mo Dao Zu Shi/The Untamed – Mature – Lan Zhan/Wei Wuxian #Alternate Universe #Canon Divergence #Canon-Typical Violence #Rogue Cultivator Wei Ying #Mutual Pining #Angst #BAMF Wei Ying #BAMF Lan Wangji #Wei Wuxian low self-esteem #Happy Ending #Hurt/Comfort #Unreliable Narrator #Sect Wars happening #demonic cultivation descriptions in detail #Found family #First Time #Sex

“A weapon is not the same as a spouse, even if that weapon is powerful.” The words had barely left Wei Wuxian’s lips when he found himself slammed against the trunk of the nearest tree, Lan Wangji’s hands gripping painfully tight around his shoulders, practically lifting him from the ground.

“Wei Ying is not a weapon!” Lan Wangji bit out.

Wei Wuxian had said many things that had angered the illustrious Second Jade in the past. When he had been in Cloud Recesses as a youth, it had been Wei Wuxian’s favorite hobby. But he realized had never managed to truly enrage Lan Wangji with anything he had said until this moment.

- - - -

The Lan sect has been putting pressure on Lan Wangji to find a cultivation partner. They don’t like the one he chooses.

[travalerray]

or where the four idiots try to cosplay SQQ (NHS), LBH (WWX), LQG(JC) and MBJ(LWJ) respectively

[pokikichuu]

MUSE | A Wangxian drabble.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

Warning: Major Character death.

This drabble includes: Immortal Wei Ying, Poet Lan zhan, Dead Lan zhan, angst but make it poetic, inspired by poetry (Iamnotapoet), love letter, this entire fic is a love letter, first person pov of wei ying.

Summery: Immortal Wei Ying falls in love with Lan Wangji, a Navy Soldier and poet. His faith catches onto him and he looses his love, down to the ocean. In order to forever engrave Lan Wangji's face in his mind, Wei Ying makes paintings and sculptures of him, waiting for the eternal end where he can get a glimpse of him again...

Word count: 969

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

M U S E

Lan Zhan, my dear,

The smell of soil after a drizzle, the sound of leaves grumbling with the wind, the sight of the sun setting under a blanket of purple and orange clouds, the taste of fresh water after a run, nothing can compare to the feeling of your skin against mine. 

I don't remember when my life began, I don't see it ending anytime soon either. However, I remember one thing, when your eyes met mine, I felt the most alive. 

You were frowning, I was not. I met you on a whim, in the midst of an adventure, but I forgot my purpose when I caught a glimpse of you; your brunette hair flowing with the wind. 

You sat straight viewing the vast ocean in front of you, the sunset in front resembled your hazel eyes. Oh, you were breathtaking. I had gathered my courage to approach you, and with God's wish, I had succeeded. 

And since then, I remember my days clearly. 

At first glance, one might assume you were somewhat of a crude man, even I assumed the same. However, you were as gentle as a lily on a lake, your soft gaze, kind laughs and gentle kisses kept me awake at nights. Even during the sleepless nights, you laid by my side. Then I would admire your lips, your eyes, your pretty scar on your left cheek and you would chuckle.

Your chuckles were my favourite, it still is. It will forever be. 

When I look out into the sunset, I see your eyes. When I make my way to the market and come across the water lily on the lake, it only reminds me of your touch, your fragrance. 

Pity me, for falling for a sailor, a soldier, a poet and a writer. You were all those things, but to me, you were always my friend, my family and my lover. 

You had pages after pages of poems about my eyes, I had a hut full of paintings of your face. How can we be so different and similar at the same time? As if, you were the full moon who only shows up every twenty eight days, where me, the sun, waited to meet you everyday. 

Pity me, for waiting for you still, knowing you will never reach the shore. 

Pity me, for being a widower without ever eloping with you, my love.

My love,

You were the one I would paint with, laugh with, the one I was willing to die with. If only I had known, you would never return, I would’ve drowned myself in you, with you. 

Dying with the earth seems to be a blessing to an outsider, only I know, how much of a curse that is, how dying and lying beside your astray grave is more peaceful than living forever with the thought of you gone from this world.

Why? Why must I suffer? Why must I be cursed with such a power? 

I remember very less, my family, their image is something I can’t seem to recall. I only linger with their voices and some words they have written down; I cherish them. My acquaintances from childhood, I neither remember their faces nor their names. They have escaped my memory; like wind flows through spring. 

However, I can not bear to forget you. Forgetting you is equal to losing the most precious treasure of my life. I can’t bear it.

Slowly, my little hut became your shrine. The painting of you, your details that only I know of, your smile that only I saw, your gaze that only I received, each moment, each fond memory ended up on wrinkled paper with paint made from berries you and I planted together. Your face, body, hands, I captured them in soil from the island I first met you on. 

Tears roll down my freckled cheeks as I sculpt your face, from memory that is as vivid as my dreams of you. The softness of the soil can not justify your soft skin, however I had to make do of what I had. As my fingers go over your jaw, I almost expect the lifeless sculpture to smile and tell me “I love you,” like you used to. Oh, how I wish that came true! How I wish I could sculpt you back to life! 

All I, a hopeless man, can do is wish for something that is not meant to stay mine. 

God gifted me you for only thirteen years, equal to spec of dust in a desert compared to my lifetime. However, how pathetic am I to hold onto that for the rest of eternity? Hold onto a grain of sand and think of it as my desert?

Even the sunset in a desert reminds me of your eyes. 

My lips have gone chapped, by kissing the hard stone that I made into your lips. My fingers have calluses from moulding your pretty face out of the soil. My cheek now has the same scar you had, whilst mine was intentional. All my clothes have the same paint stains as the hundreds of paintings I made of you.

I would rather die than forget you, I wouldn’t let you be the gust  of wind that flows through spring, that blows through my mind in a few years.

I don’t know when My time will come, but when I will get to meet you, if I do, I want you to look at me the same way you did for thirteen years. With your eye-smile, with your blushed ears and with a tight hug.

I will forever wait for that day, while I spend my life recreating you in every art form there is.

Except poetry, as you were the best at that.

[abonent-nedostupen-navsegda]

🦋He's obsessed with that guy...🪷

[anarchistbitch]

save me doomed siblings.... save me,...

[fengshenjunlang]

WWX raising the dead is culturally unacceptable, why? Because CQL censored that part due to the current government regulation of even censoring the color of blood or bloody wounds in media.

Also China's current regulation: LGBTQ is not Culturally approved!

Also Chinese real-world orthodox culture: LGBTQ is taboo!

Does that mean those FUcKInN DaMn GAYs WangXian are Culturally and Morally unacceptable??

[sasukimimochi]

I'll just leave this here with little to no context (you'll find out soon)

[ see actual serious mdzs/coi in my masterpost ❤ ]

[lunarmist969]

I was watching Daily life of Immortal King episode 1 but is it just me or is that wei wuxian drawn on chalkboard in the back ground.