#tell me if I should post this on ao3

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

How You Turn My World; Chapter 4

You finally find your way into the labyrinth, coming across some new and old faces; both friendly and malicious.

Character; Lilia Vanrouge

Content; Gender-neutral reader, reader is getting tired of being stuck here and smelling like a bog

Content Warnings; Swearing, some talk of death, reader passes out

Word Count; 2.2 K

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |

As per usual, don't put my work into AI.

You were finally making some decent progress, what, with not being stuck in some bog and knowing somewhat of where you were going. A vast improvement really! Well, it would be, but unfortunately, you still reeked of rotten eggs and skunk — apparently the bog stench only got worse the longer it stayed on.

“Why did it have to dump me into the swamp,” you huffed, rounding yet another corner. “Like, it could have dumped me beside the water, but, no, no, let’s dump the magicless human right into the putrid bog water! A good guffaw, don’t you think? Ha ha ha HA!”

At least your au de Bog of Eternal Stench kept any would-be assailants away since you hadn’t run into anything (besides a rose bush, ouch) since you started making your way through the labyrinth. So maybe it wasn’t all that bad… damn, maybe your sense of smell was just used to it… hey, if stink helps you not die, then you would gladly stay stinky! Well, bitterly stay stinky is more like it.

“Assholes,” you muttered, rounding another corner. 

But it wasn’t a corner; it was a crossroad. Three paths merged off of the one you were on.

… aren’t labyrinths just one long line? THIS IS A FUCKING MAZE?! You groaned, looking at your possible options which all looked exactly the same.

Decisions, decisions, decisions. Of course nothing is easy here, no no no! Gotta make things difficult now.

The hedge behind you rustled, and you whipped around, getting into a stance where you could either land a pretty good sucker punch to the hedge-stalker or make a mad dash away. But out of the hedge crawled out a small, fuzzy, caterpillar. And back at home you would have thought it was cute, but you learned your lesson from the doors; don’t trust it, or anyone for that matter.

You looked down at the caterpillar, and the caterpillar looked up at you, blinking slowly. 

What are the chances… 

“Do you know a way out,” you asked the caterpillar, crouching down so that you didn’t tower over it.

The caterpillar blinked at you again (apparently caterpillars in the Underground have eyelids, which isn’t the weirdest thing considering everything). “No,” it chirped and continued crawling on its merry way, wherever that may be. “But you’ll find the way.” And it disappeared into the growth of the maze, humming a little tune to itself.

You sighed, and pushed yourself back up, straightening out your shoulders and looking up to the sky. “I’ll find a way,” you breathed, looking up at the cloudless sky which was starting to turn a brilliant amber with the setting sun. “I might want to find a way is more like it.”

You looked back down to the ground, looking at the three paths in front of you. They all look the same, save for the ground making up paths themselves, with the middle and right paths looking well worn with travel. And while they may be well worn, there was a voice at the back of your head that was whispering caution. The left-most path was not as well travelled, with dead vines covering parts of it.

“Hopefully you’re right, little buddy since I could use all the luck I can get.” And you made your way down the path, hoping that it was the correct one and didn’t lead you to your death or some other unpleasant thing.

…

…

Lilia was at the entrance of the labyrinth, in front of the two doors.

“Have you seen a human, about this tall, a bit of a temper, and smelling foul,” he asked the doors.

The doors looked at each other before looking at Lilia. “And what’s it to you,” they said in unison.

Lilia smiled, but it was one of mild annoyance, not joy or amusement. “Royal orders I fear. You wouldn’t want the mistress finding out about you both tampering with a royal matter, would you?” The smile turned cat-like since Lilia had backed them into a corner.

The doors paled, with the blue door speaking up. “No no, sir! We would never dream of such a thing!!! Yes, there was a human, a wretched one at that, horribly rude!”

Lilia hummed, cocking a brow at the door. “I do think wretched is a bit of an overstatement now,” he whispered to himself. “Well, tell me where about they are then. The sooner I can collect them, the better for you lot.”

The red door sighed, “Near the heart of it, they took the left path.”

Left path? Why the left path leads to… Shit. Lilia mentally groaned, knowing that regardless of the path you took, you would end up having to deal with them eventually. “Your cooperation has been noted,” is what he said though, giving the doors both a nod before turning into a bat and flying over the labyrinth, trying to find you before you ran into whoever them was.

“Please be clever enough not to die,” he whispered to no one, hoping that he didn’t have to deliver your body to the Queen.

…

…

The left path brought you to what looked like a forest; with old-growth trees, ferns and moss covering the ground, and a list mist hanging in the air. It was peaceful and beautiful, with the setting sun illuminating the mist without burning it away.

But that would not last, night was fast approaching and you had nothing to protect you this time; no rowan tree to haul your ass up, and no sort of weapon to protect yourself besides the oh-so-lovely smell of the bog to deter something from eating you. You were pretty sure it would also keep away anything that wanted to otherwise snatch you up.

“AH!” Something jumped out from a tree, and you couldn’t fully register what it was since you were also screeching, much like the creature was at you; you with fright, the creature with amusement and joy.

Two other creatures jumped out from behind the trees and startled cackling, jumping, and clapping. Together, they surrounded you, with no way to really escape them without fighting through.

… you really should have read about fae species, since you didn’t know what they exactly were, or how dangerous they were either. 

One pulled you near a pit and lit a fire, cackling in glee and dancing, trying to get you to join them. “Ah come on, human, have some fun! DANCE BABEY!!!!”

But you stayed still as more creatures came out of the shadows, dancing around the fire, giggling, cackling, and pulling a bit at your clothes to prompt you to join them. You didn’t know, cementing your feet down, your eyes watching their movements with caution.

‘Should you dance with the fae, you shall not stop dancing until you exhaust yourself. And once you wake up, you will continue dancing. This cycle will repeat itself until you dance to death.’ 

At least that was what the book said, and so you stayed still, regardless of how much the creatures pulled at you. While it looked like a grand old time, you remained where you were.

“I don’t have time for dancing,” you answered coldly, flinching from pinching fingers. You were also a bit shocked that Eau de Bog of Eternal Stench wasn’t keeping them away. Either, they couldn’t smell, or, they didn’t care that you smelled downright awful. “So this ‘baby’ won’t dance.”

And should I be offended by you calling me ‘baby’ or am I reading too much into it?

The main creature just shrugged and spun its dancing partner around. “Your loss human! More fun for us then! YIPPEE!!!” And it threw something in the fire to where you could feel the heat on your face.

What now? You were just standing there awkwardly as the creatures danced about, singing something that you couldn’t really make out. All you knew was that the heat, noise, and the dizzying dance of them was making your head pound, and throat scream in thirst. You hadn’t drank anything for over a day(?) — no, bog water did not count — and the heat from the fire made the thirst only worse. Shit.

“Ah, you don’t look too… hot there human,” one of the creatures snickered at its own joke at your expense. “Maybe if you dance with us, loosen up and have a bit of fun, then you can have a drink? Hmm? Dancing won’t kill you!” But its failed attempts at covering up its own malicious giggles were more than enough to stand your ground… which was coming at you quite fast since you practically collapsed.

Was it the thirst? The pounding migraine that wanted nothing more than to crawl into some dark hole and hide? Or your exhaustion from making that tiring trek, crawling yourself out of the bog and making the trek again, or the hours you had spent wandering around the maze with no real idea of where you were going? All you really knew was that you were now on the ground with the creatures poking at you to see if you were still alive.

“Aw, man! Are they already dead? That’s no fun!” One of the creatures pouted, raising up your arm, and you let it plop back to the ground. “Come on human! Get up! You’re not a party pooper are you?”

Scre you buddy! Can’t you read the situation?!

You were trying your best to stay quiet, which wasn’t all that hard, since all of your energy was gone. 

“They best not be,” a familiar voice called out.

From your position, you couldn’t see who it was, but you could make out the creatures jumping away from you like you were the hot fire instead of the fire pit. But someone else was approaching until you could make out a pair of shoes in front of your face.

They crouched down beside you, placing their fingers gently at the base of your throat; taking your pulse. “Hmph, playing dead, are we, Beastie?”

That irritating chuckle. The annoying nickname. Those mischievous magenta eyes that now looked at you with curiosity and amusement.

It was him — Mr. Sparkles.

And he had just blown your act of playing possum (well, not really, since you had actually collapsed).

But you didn’t say anything, instead favouring to give him a dirty look. Yet he just shook his head in jest, and proceeded to pick you up and wrap you around his shoulders and neck like some sort of bizarre ermine pelt; better than being carried like a sack of potatoes or the bridal carry you supposed.

“Her majesty sends her regards for not turning or killing her guest,” Lilia offered the creatures. It would be such a waste and pity to see such an entertaining Beastie leave us too soon now. “But do know she won’t take to their condition lightly.”

My condition? I’m not some Victorian child with some unknown illness wreaking havoc on their body you know?! But all that you did was groan and cough. You couldn’t even cough in Mr. Sparkles’ (Lilia’s) face, since you had a lovely view of the moss-covered ground and the fae’s shoes.

He patted the back of your calves, and you would have kicked him if you had more energy, but you didn’t. “Now, we really should be off, since Beastie has… an hour to get out of this maze before they turn into some sort of worm, or a hedge; never know what this old labyrinth will decide on really.” Lilia chuckled at the thought (was it merriment, or was he happy that you weren’t joining the caterpillar you met earlier?).

“No,” you wheezed. “WoRm!”

“See! They said it themself! No worm! How lovely that we are on a similar wavelength, Beastie! Marvellous even!” Lilia exclaimed, and the both of you started levitating off of the ground. “Now, do enjoy your party, Fireys!”

The creatures (Fireys apparently) groaned but got back to their party, dancing around the fire like they didn’t just try to lure you to your death mere minutes before.

“Tsk tsk, Beastie,” Lilia’s tutting brought your attention back to him and you grumbled. “You owe me two favours now, you know. Lucky that I found you… although that part wasn’t hard. I thought you learned your lesson the first time you decided to take a dip into the Bog of Eternal Stench?”

You lightly kicked him, letting your irritation be known, but Lilia just hummed. “Now now, no need to be like that! Do you want to smell like a bog when you meet the mistress? She wouldn’t take kindly to your… unique aroma.”

You hissed out a breath since he decided to pinch at your ear rather harshly — prompting for you to answer. “No,” you whispered hoarsely.

“Also, do read up on that book, since you will want to know about the government and fae species etiquette!”

From a smelly bog and fumbling around a maze for hours on end, to finding yourself being taken to fae high society… was it too late to become some worm in the maze? I think being a worm actually has a better chance of me living.

But sadly, you were saved from an eternity of being a worm. Hopefully, Mr. Sparkles (Lilia) would cover for your blunders a little for when you found yourself in front of ‘the mistress’.

...

...

...

...

To be continued!

~~~~~~~

Tags; @afunkyfreshblog @cheezy-moon @eynnwwyjth @identity-theft-101 @ithseem @lucid-stories @ryker-writes @twistwonderlanddevotee @xxoomiii

Link to Masterlist

[vole-mon-amour]

it's the middle of the night, early morning even—around four a.m. Astarion doesn't need much sleep (meditation), he's had a meal, he's in an elevated mood. he visits Halsin (who went to sleep not that long ago) in his tent because he feels like it (the dude is in Love and is feeling like being close. cat owners call it 'being clingy' and 'wanting attention').

Astarion is being all flirty and playful—"mrphh", "darling", kisses all over his face, neck, shoulders; a smile lingering on his lips, trying to be seductive. only for Halsin to scoop him in his bear arms, pull him closer, snuggle him tightly—Astarion's face is quite literally being smooshed into Halsin's chest—and response in a sleepy manner without even opening his eyes, "what is it, my heart? can't sleep? no luck with hunting? want some blood?"

Halsin's reaction is basically, "my love, let me sleep." but in an lovingly embracing manner. he is going to rest while also holding his grumpy pale cat in his arms. the cat, by the way, is mentally going, "damn you!", while verbally his grunts are muffled due to his position, "let. me. uhh. go!" and trying to wringle himself out of Halsin's arms.

and Halsin, being too close to unconsciousness, starts letting him go but wildshapes in the process. by the time Astarion is free, Halsin—a big brown bear—is fast asleep. Astarion—his hair ruffled, his look disheveled—stands there and states at Halsin in an exasperated way. with any kind of playfulness long gone, he can storm off and sit by the fire.

then, as he starts coming down off of it, his expression softens. he sighs. fine, he thinks. perhaps it won't be too bad. perhaps tonight this will have to do. besides, it's not like he has a lot of options—sulk there by the fire and sleep alone or go back to his lover. he chooses the latter—because he's already used to sleeping next to Halsin.

in the tent, Astarion lowers himself next to the bear. he willingly gets in between Halsin's big paws—the bear is so, so warm, almost as warm as the fire. and is quite fluffy, too—Astarion has already gotten used to Halsin's fur. even though it's coarse, it's not itchy. it's like sleeping next to a very warm and giant dog. and even though Astarion doesn't like dogs, this one is not that bad.

as Astarion drifts to sleep—while being cuddled by a literal bear—he thinks that, actually, it feels quite nice. he can definitely do with more of this. just, perhaps, with less face to chest smooshing and they will be fine.

p.s.: guys. the size difference while we're at that. Astarion is sleeping next to a heated breathing blanket. the mighty paws next to Astarion's elegant claws, too. sharp teeth and dangerous claws. they match—in a way.

[lightyaoigami]

something i see so so often is people lauding and extolling authors in discord servers, private conversations, twitter, etc and while i think this is wonderful, you should comment this publicly or reach out to the person you're complimenting! i see a lot of authors get tons of love privately and then their fics will have maybe 1-2 comments, and i KNOW that people are speaking highly of those same fics incognito. so please if you see this post go to a fic you've recommended to someone and comment on it and say why you recommended it! it's very difficult to maintain momentum for something like fic when all the interaction with your work is out of your line of sight. it's a beautiful thing to speak highly of people when they arent in the room, but it is imho even better to do so directly to them. you could make someone's day, week, month just with a little interaction.

[bi-the-wei]

A Stay of Execution

Prologue

Wei Wuxian had always thought that it should rain on the day he died. That the sky might see fit to open up and weep for him seemed the very least it could do. Instead the small breath of wind that trickled through the narrow slit in the stone that functioned as his only window brought with it the scent of warmth and sunlight. He imagined he could almost hear a bird chirping somewhere, trilling a merry tune. Honestly, it was almost insulting. Though, he supposed, if the sun had deigned to come and watch his final moments... Perhaps he truly was as rotten as they all said.

Either way, there was no longer a soul alive who would weep for him now.

In the end, he hadn't fought being captured. He'd gone rather quietly. In fact, he still hadn't said a single word. Not to anyone. He hadn't spoken as they stripped him down to brand his skin . He hadn't spoken when they'd sheered off his hair, sawing at fistfuls of dark locks with a dull blade that ripped more than it cut. Or when they bound his hands . When they spilled his meager rations on the floor. When they taunted him. Insulted him. Beat him. He didn't speak when they closed the door to the dank cupboard that would be his last home. When they told him that he would be executed for his crimes. Not a word. Not a sound.

Wei Wuxian stumbled a bit as he was dragged out of his cell. It had been months since he'd been able to fully extend his legs and torso at the same time, the chain that bound his arms to the floor too short for him to stand at his full height, and the room too narrow to extend them while sitting. The three guards assigned to take him to whatever fate awaited him laughed and tried to make him stumble again, spitting at his face when he didn't.

"This is more than you deserve," one of them grumbled bitterly. His voice was like a fuse and flint stone, clicking on hard consonants and hissing his S's. "A quick, clean death is more than you were willing to give." "I guess no one else is twisted enough to do what you did though," sneered the second guard. This one almost sounded like a whine, thin and nasally and pinched. "No one else could be as monstrous as you."

The third guard said nothing, but his boots still fell heavily on the stone floor. His grip on Wei Wuxian's arm was the most painful. ' That'll bruise by tomorrow' , Wei Wuxian thought dully. ' Well, it would have anyway .' As they began to climb up a narrow staircase, the cloth they had kept over his eyes slipped just enough that he could almost make out the color of his drab, rough robes, as well as the sinister design that adorned them. His foot caught on a rough stone, but he didn't stumble again.

~*~

In the end the guards had to half-drag Wei Wuxian for the final length of their journey. After months of abuse and disuse, his legs just couldn't carry him the entire way. They trembled to bear his weight, and it was a challenge just to keep them moving one in front of the other.

In the end this was fortunate, because if he had been in charge of supporting himself alone he may have collapsed the moment his face hit true sunlight.

The gentle warmth of the sun felt like a scalding brand on his cold skin. The light was blinding even through the cloth over his eyes. His first breath of fresh, clean air after months and months of smelling nothing but wet, rotten dirt and stone made him so dizzy he nearly retched. And the noise- oh the noise- so much noise.

He took in every overwhelming sensation with careful attention, cherishing the pain it brought him. It was as if knowing that his final breath was drawing near, he thought he could take in the rest of his natural life all at once if he tried hard enough. It was okay that it hurt. He welcomed the burn.

The wind scraped against his skin, his chopped hair, now grown back nearly past his shoulders, making his neck itch - a neck that he was lucky to still have.

All this in only a moment before he was pushed forward again - up uneven stairs and onto some sort of platform. The heavy chains that still bound his raw wrists were grabbed and yanked so violently he had no choice but to fall hard to his knees. When he tried to catch himself with his shackled limbs, the chain was wrenched again. He only just managed to keep his face from smashing against the ground and received a hard kick in reward, causing him to fall backwards instead. All his breath left him and he couldn't help but curl in on himself, coughing and rasping to get it back.

In the end it was the third guard who graciously helped him back up onto his knees. With a helpful hand grasping him by the hair, he was pulled unceremoniously upwards. With just as much care, his blindfold was ripped away. He cried out at last, flinching as the unfiltered light from the sun assaulted him again. He heard screams as he blinked out in the vague direction of a crowd. A crowd that shrank back away from him, terrified of him even now. Even in the state he was in.

"Have no fear!" called a familiar, booming voice next to him. "We took great care before bringing him here before you today. See the symbols on his robes! He has been bound and sealed. I have cut him off from his heretical magic. I have stopped his murderous ambitions and denied him the joys of his evil. His eyes can do you no more harm. He is contained and you are safe at last!" It was then that Wei Wuxian realized that some of the bright, flashing gold that blinded him was not just from the sun, but rather the illustrious gaudy robes of a tall man standing beside him. Of course, after what he had done to his son, it would only make sense for his long over-due sentence to be overseen by the great Jin Guangshan himself. Even Wei Wuxian had to admit that was only fair, even if it meant he had to listen to the man postulate his own magnificence and blather on and on and on.

In all honesty, he'd really rather they just get on with it. The showmanship seemed a bit redundant.

"This man. This devil. This Demon of Yiling. You all know of him. He haunts our children's stories; a tale of caution to those who seek power!" he expounded. Wei Wuxian stifled a scoff. "He who started as a servant, who used a terrible war to greedily climb rank and assert his will over the lives of innocents. A parasite who manipulated the very life force of the world to do his bidding so that he may claw his way into society. So that he may fool us into believing in his consequence. This evil creature who corrupted the dead with his black magics! Who stole the life energy of my only son! I bring him now before you so that you may know his crimes."

The silent guard gripped him again, yanking him up forcefully by the hair once more and bringing him closer to the crowd, where all could see him in his shame. His neck strained with the effort of supporting a body his legs still could not hold. "See him now, his hair shorn in his shame. His honor cast aside with it. See him now and judge him guilty!

I lay before you the record of his evil. Hear me now and know them."

Jin Guangshan preened under the attention he had commanded. He basked in the silent anticipation of his next words, pausing to let them sink in further before listing the numerous crimes in question.

Really the true list wasn't THAT long. Yes it was true that Wei Wuxian had found a new form of magic - one that manipulated life force instead of spirit. But he hadn't used any of the life force of another living human. He drew a firm line in the sand that he swore he would never cross. He could steal only the life forces of plants and trees. The last breath of a fallen soldier. Himself.

And he kept that code. He hadn't stolen life directly... not until... Until he'd been face to face with true evil - with Wen Ruohan himself.  It was heady watching the light leave his eyes. Here was a man who used his wealth of spiritual power, cultivated with such care, who had hoped to use that power to obtain true immortality - who had thought that it gave him the right to force his will upon the world.   To watch as all that power came to nothing, as all that power was not enough to stop Wei Wuxian from draining his life away. The surge of power that rushed through his meridians - the full life force of a living human... It would have overtaken a lesser man. Heady and instantly addictive. But he'd pushed through it. Pushed it back out and dispersed it into the air. What use did he have for such power? The war was done. He'd saved them all. He'd done it. They were free and now he could finally pursue his own desires. His own freedom. His own life. His own...

He had broken his code, yes, but surely this end justified those means? As long as he never did it again, it would mean that at his core he was still a good man. He wouldn't have said it felt good, but he could at least live with himself. He had fought harder than any other soldier. Protected more than any other soldier. He had won countless battles and finally, finally ended this pointless war.

Wei Wuxian and Wen Ruohan had fallen to the floor in tandem. It wasn't until he'd woken a week later and noticed how people flinched when they saw him, how they skirted away when they could avoid him entirely, that he realized he'd had an audience to his horrors. And even then, none of that could be called a criminal, despite the tale being twisted now. No, nothing he'd done in the war could be truly held against him... But what happened after...

"Unsatisfied with the killing, no longer able to slake his thirst for violence with a war, this monster sought out his next victims! The poor innocents, guilty only of a shared name, were hunted down like sport! He took their very souls simply to sate his own blood lust!   "And when my Zixuan, my precious son... When he tried to stop this senseless slaughter - to try to reason with this deranged creature - to show him mercy and compassion! When he tried to put an end to the blood and death, this demon stole his soul as well! And now my grandson grows without a father. My daughter in law without a husband. My wife without a son." Again he paused, letting sympathy and anger stew in the crowd's hearts. "See now as we give him more than he would have given them; a trial! He may have decided to bring about his own twisted justice, but see now that we shall not! A demon he may be, but let none say that we judge him unjustly!   "Speak, demon! And tell us of your guilt!"

Wei Wuxian's hair was tugged again, drawing the crowd's focus back to his gaunt form. His eyes, finally adjusting to the harsh daylight, searched through the mass of people. He wasn't sure what he was looking for. Sympathy? Familiarity? Sadness? Of course there would be none - he was guilty and had no intention of denying it.

"Did you or did you not create black magics, evil and heretical, and use this power to slaughter thousands?" "I did," Wei Wuxian said. His voice, rasping with dehydration and disuse, did not waver.

"Did you or did you not hunt down remnant factions of the Wens, men and women that should have been brought to trial, only to cut them down instead?

"I did."

"Did you or did you not, when my son tried to stop the violence, to plead with you to stop the fighting and lay down your wicked ways, steal away his precious life?!"

"I did."

"He admits it! You hear now from his very mouth - the plea of guilt! You hear now the sins against his soul! The evils of his actions!" There was no silence now. The roiling anger of the mob before him was like the agitated buzzing of a hundred angry wasps.

"For this crime, I would have his head!" Jin Guangshan bellowed. Wei Wuxian was once again forced to move. This time he was half dragged to a solid block of wood. Stained red and jagged from use, he was pulled forward until its sharp splinters dug into his neck. A mirror was angled carefully so that he could see the executioner take his position behind him. Ah, so that's why they let him keep his eyes.

"Tell me now, would any of you here speak against this judgment? Tell me now if anyone would speak against this justice? I stand before you in grief and anger and ask you now will anyone claim this man?"

Wei Wuxian had never known true silence before this moment. It was as if the world itself had decided to hold its breath. He watched as the executioner grasped his axe. He watched his muscles tense to pick it up. He watched as--

“I will speak for him."

The silence was cracked by a cold, even voice. Wei Wuxian tore his eyes away from the reflection of that sharp blade and searched desperately for who had spoken.

Lan Wangji.

His voice had been firm and matter of fact. His golden eyes hadn’t even flickered in Wei Wuxian's direction. The maddening silence took on an almost desperate tone now, all eyes passing between the two men.

He spoke again.

“I will offer my hand to save him from this sentence.”

Lan Wangji finally looked at him then, his expression as unreadable as it had always been. He seemed to be waiting for something

“Wh-What?” he wheezed. He didn't understand what was happening. This couldn't be real. Maybe this was just a delusion he'd conjured to comfort himself before the ax finally fell.  Maybe it had already fallen.

"Lan Wangji, you speak for this man?"

"I do."

"Despite his crimes, which he himself admitted before your very eyes, you would spare him?" "I would."

"You would tie yourself to this monster?"

"Yes."

The crowd was anything but silent now. Cries of shock and outrage poured from every direction. The righteous Lan Wangji was sparing the Demon of Yiling? The man who knew only justice and virtue, the hero of the war, would take that evil man into his home? Marry him?

Somehow, through the clamorous noise, Jin Guangshan made himself heard once more. He spoke through gritted teeth, as if each word came at a great cost.

"Wei Wuxian, Demon of Yiling. This man has offered himself to you. Would you accept his hand? Or do you accept my ax?"

The pressure holding him against the block was released, letting him sit up to consider which fate he preferred: to bind himself in a loveless marriage, or to regain what little honor he had left in death. How kind.

Lan Wangji stood straight and firm and unyielding before him. Wei Wuxian had loved him for so long - since they were children. He had always dreamed of being wed to this man... But not like this.

Lan Wangji thought he owed Wei Wuxian a life debt. That's why he was doing this. Out of duty. Moral obligation. Not love. Wei Wuxian would be truly cruel indeed to accept this. To force Lan Wangji into a marriage with a man he couldn't stand....

"I, Wei Wuxian, accept your hand, Lan Wangji. I will marry you."

[jichanxo]

sooooo... *twirls her hair* how many asks should i send until kuwagami art. jk as well. the real question will be: does it happen often that someone else’s art inspires you? in fandom spaces specifically

well you see it’s like a loyalty card program, every 10 asks or so you get a complimentary kuwagami

just kidding you can just breathe in my direction and I’ll be tempted to draw them. kuwagami blast! (you've caught me on a... just okay art day lol)

(people still like kabedons, right?)

anyway for my actual answer: in terms of direct inspiration, it doesn't really happen much? the last two times i did art directly based on someone else's work is probably this one from this fic, and also that time i drew art of someone else's judgment au. oh! and there's that moriohpsycho art based on this comic! (filthyguts' work is so very. hgngngghh. very good.) nothing else really comes to mind, and when i think of the other things i've been into recently there hasn't been as much opportunity for that to happen...

flex and herds = strong fixation but lmao. almost nobody else made stuff about them. nobody is surprised umineko = surprisingly i don't read much umineko fanfiction? and in terms of illustration, i certainly picked up imagery and indirect inspiration but nothing concrete enough for me to give an example... now that i think about it, i did once draw andromalius from redaction/sunny, but that was years ago, and also mostly because i was acquainted with the writer. ...i don't have that artwork on hand right now death note = didn't really get involved with the fandom + i enjoyed my own ideas well enough! ...i can't recall if i drew long-hair-L art before or after seeing other artists do it. and as for everything else the same kind of reasoning applies. didn't really get involved with the fandom or wasn't really compelled to make art in response to stuff i saw, or i just don't remember anymore.

buuuuuuut if we're opening this up to just... pulling ideas from other people? then yeah, all the time, though that kind of goes without saying when you have a creative hobby. ...it's probably going to be hard to come up with examples of this since it's more ambiguous.

there's uhhhhhh... kuwana listens to nickelback which was a @/four-white-trees invention, wasn't it? (EDIT: and @/overdevelopedglasses!) (not tagging in this post so he doesn't feel obligated to read my big ass ask responses 💀) as of writing this, it's not posted but i did end up making kuwagami art based on a nickelback song so. yknow. there's that LMAO

for sawashiro and arakawa, i do sometimes go reference @/todayisafridaynight 's art to help me with my own. ("how did he draw this part of the suit? oh, like that huh? hmm" <- this kind of thing)

and um. i'm not trying to pander to you (at least not this time), but genuinely it's one of the few examples that come to mind at this moment. but when i was writing my first kuwagami fic, i could feel the influence of the ever-changing on my brain... was turning over some of your ideas there...

you remember this? (you even pointed it out in your comment on my fic, and i should've said something then, but whatever i'm saying it now)

that was absolutely because of this

(obligatory poke at anybody else reading this post that you can read passthroughtime's fic here.)

so, um. yeah. not really sure what else to add to that. pretty self evident i think. (i'm always talking about the ever-changing but i don't think i can overstate the impression it left on me at the time)

anyhow there aren't really any other examples off the top of my head! these are all recent examples so they're not so difficult to recall, but there are probably others i've forgotten...

[sometilememes]

i've been hit and it was by @wolfythewitch's zombie au

He refuses to believe it. He ignores Phil’s skin as it changes from pink and alive to a pale, pasty gray. He dismisses how Phil’s bones begin to poke through his skin. He looks away when Phil stumbles and groans. He ignores the obvious until he can’t anymore. 

The highway stretches on for miles. Sooner or later they will arrive at a town. With that come new challenges and benefits. First, they acquire supplies. After that, they flee as quickly as they can. The more populated a town was before the more zombies now. A larger settlement means more resources but also more zombies.

It all began to blur. The past months felt like a cruel time loop. Walk. Raid a town. Walk. Raid a town. Walk. Over and over again. Nothing ever changes.

The highway was empty and quiet. It was peaceful and vast; almost suffocatingly lonely. The horizon appears a lifetime away and as he stares at the line, everything begins to fade. 

Until he sees Phil trip.

He’s lungeing before he even realizes he’s moving. His legs and arms move faster than he can think. He blinks and his hand is wrapped around Phil’s wrist. He feels nothing but the freeze of death. No blood pumps through his father's veins. His arteries have been long out of use.

The illusion is broken.

But he can’t let go.

[importantdestinydefendor]

Chapters: 3/?

Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warnings:

Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

Fandom:

Arslan Senki | Heroic Legend of Arslan

Relationships:

Daryun/Original Character, Sam/Original Character - more tags to be added later

Characters:Arslan (Heroic Legend of Arslan), Daryun (Heroic Legend of Arslan), Vahriz (Heroic Legend of Arslan), Narsus (Heroic Legend of Arslan), Sam (Heroic Legend of Arslan), Farangis (Heroic Legend of Arslan), Elam (Heroic Legend of Arslan), Alfreed (Heroic Legend of Arslan), Original Characters - more tags to be added later

Additional Tags:

Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Worldbuilding, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, a lot of in-universe typical violence, even more secret keeping, dislike to friends to lovers, hey how about we give some characters even more trauma, it is basically a trauma fiest, you get trauma and you get trauma - everyone gets trauma - more tags to be added later

Summary:

As Pars and Lusitania go to war, the island country Maar offers their support in form of a delegation but get firmly rejected. The leading head of the delegation, Almennt Azar, decides to act from the shadows in order to lend aid to Prince Arslan and his growing number of loyal followers. Dispite her cold and distant demeanor they seem to be drawn to her - especially Lord Daryun - as they learn more about this mysterious knight. What lies under the facade of this White General and what does she have to do with Daryuns family? What does she know that Vahriz even hid from his own nephew?

[they-of-fixation]

Die Alone Together [Placeholder Name; DRAFT]

A Cult of The Lamb fic (my AU)

There I lay, crouched in the grass, clinging to myself desperately; falling, falling, falling... my mind miles below the soil in which I cowered. The moment I fell to my knees, there became of time this... dissonance, a rift between it and space, and though the ground caught me, I never quite stopped falling- falling away from myself, from this place, and into a memory; miles away from here, years, suspended in an unreachable past and yet frozen in the present. For my dissociation, I could hardly think but one thing:

I was too late.

They're all-

I could scarcely hear myself screaming, nor could I feel the tears stinging my cheeks, nor the burn in my lungs or the ache in my legs from the fighting; my body did not and does not feel like my own. I am not in it. Everything felt distant as I held myself, and as I drew the corpse of one of my own to my chest, I realized how far this place had become from my home.

'They're all dead.'

And I will never get them back.

I don't know how long I laid there for, but I do remember thinking myself damned to the same fate, trapped in the same place; that I'd die there, alongside my brethren, eventually- in some way. I couldn't bring myself to leave them, not even to stand, and had little reason to think anyone would find nor save me. I was alone in the depths of Darkwood, miles away from any living thing- who could possibly hear my crying? I could hardly hear myself, and any person who might would surely, in devotion to the Bishops of the Old Faith, to the Worm, Leshy, end my life.

That is, or so I thought.

There was movement, rustling, in the brush surrounding me, and I was suddenly aware of just how loud I had been mourning, and, consequently, of the fearful silence that followed- but I did not move. I was not frozen in fear, at least not completely, more I was complacent; maybe someone had heard me, and I was going to die here. In a way, I deserved to. Perhaps dying the same way my friends, my found family, had would honor them, perhaps it would free me.

So I stayed. I stayed right where I was, amongst the remains of my community and embracing the body, only turning my head up to look in the direction of the sound, to see my assailant and face them head-on, if only for a moment. I dared not stand nor speak, I just patiently awaited in trepidation whatever fate it'd be to befall me.

It was quiet again for a moment as I stared into the shadowed flora, but then, not only could I hear the crackling of leaves on the forest floor, I could see someone, something, moving towards me. I drew in a sharp, panicked breath despite myself and held it as I watched the cloaked figure step into the clearing and catch sight of me.

I could feel my breath hitch yet again as I made eye contact with what seemed to be a child, at least no older than me, donning the crown of my god, and... not just a child- at that, a lamb?

I knew my face betrayed me; I was never known for my poker face, and despite my position, now was no different. I could not hide my confusion, for it had been years since anyone had seen a lamb. I thought- as we all did- that the Bishops had caused their extinction. The lamb's eyes were dark, stoic- nearly expressionless, if not for the silent and subtle shock at the sight before them; had it been any darker, I would not have noticed. I stared back with exceptional surprise but equal intensity. I did not ask.

Neither did they.

"What is your name?" They spoke softly, their hooves visibly unarmed and reaching towards me in, be it genuine or not, seeming good manner, the bell clasped to their cloak jingling quietly with every step.

"What are you going to do with me?" I diverted; they were a lamb, a living lamb, likely the last of their kind- and better yet, their crown… not to mention that they held no weapon that I could see- but even so, after everything I had gone through, and they as well, I could not be certain of their intentions. It was not in my favor to let down my guard, not with such ease.

They blinked slowly, taking another step my way. "Be not afraid, I mean well. Did he," Their smile faltered, no gesture necessary. "do this?"

"...If you mean Leshy, then I suppose. At least, his following. I," I felt my brow furrow as I forced myself to speak through gritted teeth. "was not here to see."

"Ah."

"You didn't answer my question." My voice cracked; for my tears earlier, I could hardly speak. It was only then I realized that I had never let go of the body- and with this realization, instinctively, I pulled it closer to me.

"Nor did you answer mine."

A beat.

"Your name?"

"Oh. My name is..." My hesitance was not to save face, nor to deceive- I could give a false name to “protect” myself and hide my identity, but if this lamb were to kill me, pretending would do nothing to lengthen my life, it couldn't truly protect me- rather, I was weighing my options, deciding my fate in the only way I knew I could. To continue as I had, or-

I looked down at the doe clasped to my breast: her eyes, lifeless, and lips slightly parted by her final breath. “Fern. My name is Fern," I decided, to honor her, not a lie now that it'd been spoken, but not the truth. If they meant what they said, that they were not here to hurt me, maybe, just maybe, this would be my chance to start anew. I did not turn my head to the lamb again; I let my eyes flutter shut and my head hang low, loosening my grip on the carcass to hold her face in my claws.

“...And yours?"

I could barely choke the last two words out.

"Fern… a pretty name!" Their smile, so mellow, in stark contrast to the death around us, struck me- I could not decide whether it was comforting or off putting in the moment. Again, they reached out their hand. "You may call me Lamb.”

This time I did look up; I watched them cautiously, my eyes shifting from their outstretched hoof, which I still refused to take, to their face.

‘Just… “Lamb”?’ I thought to myself, but said nothing. The question, I decided, was one likely better left unspoken.

“Okay, Lamb- your turn.” I interjected, changing the subject, or at least trying to, for what time now I had lost count. “What do you plan to do with me? Why spare me and not just kill me already?”

“No one deserves to meet a violent end. You deserve to have a choice in the matter; I can't, however, deny having an ulterior motive,” their smile never faltered as my eyes burned a hole through their own. “Would you rather me kill you, or to run away and hide before I have the chance? Or rather, the most forgiving of your options, would you like-” they adjourned, their eyes glinting wildly, still holding contact with my own. “to join me?”

“...Join… you?”

“It isn't safe in Darkwood- though I needn't tell you that- and it isn't much safer in any other of the Bishops’ domains. I can offer you shelter; for a price, of course, but a small one. All I ask for is your loyalty, and your devotion- to me, and to my god.”

“You're asking me… to join your religion?”

“Offering, yes. I won't force you. It is your decision, after all- granted, it is the safest, and in my… qualified opinion, smartest choice of the three.”

“And if I decline?” A face on my behalf, more out of curiosity than defiance.

“Again, I won't force you. But would you truly rather die, or spend your life running, only to lose it to one of them in the end, than to stand by my side? A side you should, in theory, have no hard time taking?”

Any argument I could have made, not that I had one nor any intention of refusing (because what choice did I really have?), was instantly, with ease, brought to a screeching halt. Their honesty, their sharp words and rightful, righteous confidence shook me thoroughly, to my very core; that last statement, a confirmation of my only suspicion. They didn't ask, but they knew. I said nothing, but they knew, and when the realization of their admittance donned on my features, they were more than aware that I knew, too. It was like telepathy, a secret passed silently between us, fate drawing me in.

“I am tired of running.”

“Then? I’m giving you an opportunity you can't possibly refuse.” Their expression darkened, their smile, different now- more serious, more grave; the weight of my situation coming back to me once more, and hitting me like a freight train. “Take my hand and join me, join my cult. You will be safe in the commune, and you can take your life back into your own hands.”

And with this- I looked again from their hoof to their twisted smile and somehow, despite the ominous air about them, emanating from the red crown atop their head, I knew that I’d be safe, or safest, with them- I, reluctant to let go and with a final embrace, laid the doe down in a patch of softer looking grass, and took the Lamb's hand.

[washymylifeaway]

hi rye how have you been spending your time LET ME TELL YOU.

kavetham? haikaveh? idk idc but them..

for starters i just want to put out there that if kavetham is my sakuatsu then cynonari is the sunaosa because i love them and if the bestie agenda isn't alive between at least one pair in the four i get so sad. anyways kavetham has taken over my ao3 and it's so bad LOL. this is mostly for me because i like having consolidated lists of fics i've read to go back to but i'll be kind and give the tumblrinas (?) a little taste too. anyways list under the cut also don't follow me for genshin i'm not a genshin girlie (famous last words)

pre warning, i think it goes without saying that there's like alcohol mentioned in like almost every single fic.. kaveh is (apparently but what would i know) not the healthiest when it comes to coping habits so .. forgive him..

check the warnings and the tags before you read!

truck, barter, and trade by Seungshi03 (T) 20.7k // when i tell you if you're going to read one fic on this list it should be this one. the humor. the plot. the kid. this needs to be framed and immortalized. they're so stupid they're so silly THEY'RE SO IN LOVE

rumors, fame, and reputation by rysarium (T) 27k // THIS. READ IT PLEASE. it's so so funny and very entertaining. you go from loving them to wanting to punch them so bad to loving them again. i will say i thought it was so unfair for kaveh to get the movie wrong because technically he heard it from source so what there was an interview 1034209384 years ago let al-haitham lie in peace (ALSO CYNO IM YOUR BIGGEST FAN YOURE SO FUNNY KING SPEAK YOUR TRUTH)

The Fall, the Rise, and Everything In-between by writingrosez (T) 22.9k // i really did dread the divorce arc in this one i knew it was coming but i really was hoping it wouldn't but it happened (when i say i verbally said NO so many times while reading this LMFAO embarrassing.. i'd do it again...) also poor lumine LMFAO

if i wake up and you're still here by alcyonenight (M) 8.4k // no because why did this fic literally have me punching my screen (completely real) while i was reading it. they both are so silly and dear to me (said in tears) but i love the hanahaki trope so bad and this was *chefs kiss*

burn up, burn out by alcyonenight (T) 8.6k AND pockets full of stones by alcyonenight (T) 11.6k // ELEAZAR AU!!! baby's first eleazar fic and it ruined her. miserably. i loved both of these so much, wonderful reads truly (they both made me so sad)

get on your nerves (to get your attention) by acynthe (M) 3.9k // what better way to get to know a character than by reading him pine over one person for way too long? right? anyways this fic really set me up into understanding that haikaveh = watching ice melt in the arctic during winter..

Work engagement by gwendee (G) 3.6k // silly little boys in their silly little parties with their silly little plans.. the line that stuck with me was bringing their love to new heights because cyno was right.. it was funny..

and yet by luminvies (G) 11.8k // this fic was so poetic and eloquent to me it was a wonderful read and kaveh is so silly girlie pop in it HAHA. but really, it was a wonderful read and i loved how fleshed out kaveh felt despite this being written before he was released LMFAO

In a Language He Understands by Maeyari (G) 13.2k // this was so funny and Kaveh becoming a homewrecker is so insane whaat (totally not fake and not clickbait) that aside, it was a very light hearted read and i enjoyed it very much

what are we by lionkeychain (T) 5.1k // if i had to re route you to Kaveh being the silliest dude alive it's this one right here. i would send you here. he is so . i am so . about him. AHHHHHHHHHH. anyways, he's just a dude with a lot of love ykwim?

inertia by smallghosts (T) 3.6k // i think it's funny how al-haitham plays fetch with Kaveh in like 85% of fics (this one included) anyways the summary was so funny i just had to read it and in context it's even funnier to me. Kaveh you're so funny ily king ('being in love with you is gross.' me: HELPDKLNLEEE?GLD>SD>? literal definition of boom roasted).

first love, worst love by caniculeo (M) 11.6k // babe wake up. the circus is back in town. babe go back to sleep. the girlies broke up.. again.. anyways. had to take a laugh break when al-haitham hit on nilou. literally put my device down and had to catch my breath. then when kaveh pointed behind al-haitham. oh god. ALSO highly recommend the second fic in the series with cynonari. cyno i love u my funny king.

Burgeon by gloomyparfait (T) 8.2k // another hanahaki fic rye? really? YES. please i love irrationality. they're so chewable in this fic i love them dearly. i need to blend them. mince them up like beef tartare.

okay this is not an extensive list (def missed some good ones i've read) and i have more i want to consume (!!!) but i haven't gotten around to some of the longer ones just cause my attention span is bad these days. i'm very excited for some of my future reads and so perhaps there will be a part two because i am down in the trenches right now. regardless, i hope you enjoyed this list and now it's time for me to disappear again. bye bye

also if you've written a fic on this list and you would prefer for it to not be on this list/on tumblr, just lmk and i'd be more than happy to remove you!

[bedforddanes75]

thank you ao3 for WORKING. anyway i know it's uncool to write gatty but like im obsessing over these fucking fake cowboy freaks and i CANT stop and you should actually all obsess with me thank you okay here im leaving now im scared

[shentm]

outsider still doesn't feel complete to me but i'm leaving it here for now. blade pov, no beta we die like baiheng, check tags for trigger warnings

dreamwidth mirror, which by the way is the more updated and also likely more permanent version of this piece, as this tumblr post always runs the risk of deletion anytime i'm awake past 11pm

The dream catches itself on those at the center of the tragedy, locking on to the minds already half-emptied by mara. It watches, as the nights repeat, as the hunt grows farther from its purpose.

He's covered in it, clothes slick with blood, the moonlight sliding off of it and watching him through the reflection. Every time he shows up, Jing Yuan has to stay awake for hours afterward, scrubbing at the floors to rid his home of the stains and the stench of mara-stricken beasts. It doesn't help that he likes to trail his sword behind, leaving gouges that the blood flows through, pooling in divots and seeping into the cracks between. But it's not like Jing Yuan expected him to be different.

An Outsider, who participated in a horrific ritual, and became tethered to the merging of paths, a creation of a collector who found the occurrence too interesting to resist. Who was given the abundance emanator's blessing, transforming him into something thought of as prey by most of the Xianzhou Alliance. It's strange that he's still sane sometimes, occasionally managing to break the contradictory resonance of intertwined paths where the hunt and the abundance intersect.

In the shared dream he sees the echoes of those he once knew, dead beings recreated in a perfect recollection of the waking world. It's just how he remembers, an everlasting reminder of what they did. He's drawn in when asleep and awake, unable to escape the repetition of memory.

In that intersection of paths he sometimes finds the shadow of the Imbibitor Lunae running away and away, too afraid to face his crimes. He finds the corpse of a dragon protected by its unborn kin, and tears it apart instead of looking back. He fights through the same landscapes again and again, always waking up in front of the same dim lamp. The only reason he can think of for this endless repetition is that someone out there likes these memories, wants to see the moment of the sin done right.

Skin melts against skin, fire burning through hair. The wet noise of a blade squelching as it rips through meat is the only sound that interrupts the guttural screaming of those beasts, displacing the cries with blood down their throats. Their pathetic existences mirror his own. Eyes press against his brain where they grow inside his skull, amplifying the beats of his heart. A constant high pitched whine carries through the sky, staying with him wherever he goes. Physical discomfort keeps him in the dream, afraid of what deeper pain awaits with the dawn of wakefulness.

He sees her too, sometimes, guarding the path before the corpse. She sees him in return, and they always meet in a clash of swords, the moon almost close enough to touch. It watches next to them, the blue light of her own weapon brilliant against the clouded orange sky. There was never any other choice; a recreation can only travel down the path of the original, like wheels in a rut on a dried dirt road. They tell each other that the dream will end. He continues the hunt again.

The dream is an awful thing to endure. He wonders about its purpose when cleaning his blade that Jingliu so kindly returned.

Dan Feng never acknowledges him, never admits to what he did, never even calls him by name. But it's clear that despite the physical differences, he's still the same arrogant coward that lives in the dream. How else would Dan Feng manage to kill him every time with the weapon he forged with his own once-deft hands, buying useless time before his inevitable judgement?

When he wakes up it is only a brief moment of respite from the dream as clear-cutting pain reminds him of his immortality. Sleep comes with the soothing promise of comfort, but also with the knowledge that it will not be restless.

Later he joins the Stellaron Hunters, gets taken in despite being on the brink of insanity. Feels the frenzy slipping away with Kafka's words, feels the understanding leave his mind. Turns him into a docile puppet, waiting for the next command. He names himself Blade. She gives him the first genuine rest he's had in seven hundred years.

His senses are diluted with her influence, not enough to render him completely useless, but enough to clear his mind. It's mostly just his sight that's a problem, and it's easy enough to counter with his other senses. The other one is touch, but he doesn't expect that to really be important. He does most of his hunting with a sword anyways, distanced enough from his prey.

He's never gone back to the Luofu personally. Once or twice through the years he hears news of its whereabouts, and soon has those reminders taken from his mind, rendering his sleep dreamless yet again.

He doesn't go back because he's not done hunting.

But at some point it was bound to happen, the meeting of three tragic sinners and that other guy who was also there.

A mission brings him back to the Luofu, and he doesn't complain because his mind is too empty to think. He tries to think of himself as just a simple vessel to help Elio carry out his plot. A stagehand for the endless show that they try to put on. It's quite nice, being like this, the desperately needed reprieve from the eyes that always try to crawl their way back into his brain. It's not easy to forget once your body has learned.

Kafka says the mission went well. Elio says he can break the tether now. He doesn't remember any of it, except from the brief moment of clarity when Jing Yuan asked him if he was done, and then the consciousness when he wakes up later.

Jing Yuan looks the same now as he did all those years ago, except for the young shadow he keeps at his side. He's still just as radiant as the sun, the center of everything he joins. Of course a comet like himself was never meant to stay long in Jing Yuan's orbit. The sun does not need to change when a dirty snowball cuts through its orbit after centuries of desolation in the universe; the sun burns bright on its own, without a need for a secondary light.

None of them are, were, like that, just a product that reflected their surroundings instead of the magnetic core that shaped their era. Maybe that's why they're all criminals wandering the stellar seas now, shot out from the gravity well and driven by their own definitions of the hunt.

But eventually he feels the searing pain start to fade when he chokes awake on drying blood, glances over at the dissolving bodies next to him. The eyes can no longer see. Kafka helps with her lightning, and soon the only physical links left are those burning wounds inside his brain.

Between puddles of blood and dripping black stone he wakes up, and the night grows deeper but the streetlights start burning. He collaborates, strangely, with Dan Heng (a new trailblazer) to force Jing Yuan back into his bed. He sees the artificial sunrise a few times, occasionally with Kafka, and sometimes just on his own. The sight of a celestial object rising behind the clouds has been one he's not seen for a while, even if it is still a false sun.

It's done, the dream has an end. The hunt is over, its conclusion long since found.

He meets the one who couldn't let go in the waking world, both of them more alive than they should be. Neither of them deserve to be here, yet they sully the Luofu with their presence anyways, carving and gouging out a place where they no longer belong.

She meets him with the same intensity she always carries, unable to be diminished by time or a dream's veil, and he feels alive as they dance the familiar battle once again, for what may be the last time. Unlike the cycles before them, this time it feels like a breaking of bonds, like something being set free.

On the last night of his stay on the Luofu he ends up at Jing Yuan's family home after he manages to separate from the dream, and he's lucky that Jing Yuan still stays here even after seven hundred years. Conveniently, Dan Heng mentions that Yanqing would be dragging the Luofu's heroic trailblazer on some sort of sword-hunting adventure on that day.

"Yingxing," Jing Yuan says when he enters civilly through the window, "please stop dripping blood on the floor."

It's that name that breaks him into the clearest state of mind he's had for centuries. That and the newfound control over his own mind, now that the moon no longer watches him. Jing Yuan still sounds the same, calls him with the same tone of voice. When's the last time anyone's referred to him as Yingxing? When's the last time he's been able to hear that name without his consciousness slipping through the cracks?

"Jing Yuan," he responds, and he's suddenly aware of the winds outside, carrying with them a fine mist of pollen that coats everything in a layer of grit, sticking to the drying blood on his clothes. He's aware of the artificial moonlight that gazes into the room, blue in tone and so much softer than the harsh orange red in his sleep. He can feel the silence of the home, where four others once gathered and where only one stays now.

"That's not my name."

The dream tries to call to him, but its voice is quiet here.

Jing Yuan reclines on the mass of pillows he calls a bed, and when he shifts he can hear the sound of feathers scratching at their confinements. He hears his pulse in his head, reviving nerves once thought to be dead, and he can feel the tingling sensation where it creeps through his limbs.

The air is cold where it hits his skin. It's been so long since he's been able to feel the temperature. He looks at Jing Yuan, and he can see the shine in his eyes, the strands of his hair where it was only a blurred image before. The world is clearer than it's ever been. It's like getting glasses. Do they still have those?

Jing Yuan grounds him in the present, the physicality distracting him from the broken link between his mind and that all-seeing eye disguised as the moon. The moon here on the Luofu is fake, as is the rest of the sky over most of the ship. The mara-stricken here do not scream as they claw at their faces, nor do they tear apart their prey with overwhelming strength.

He can touch and be touched now, acutely aware of the blood on his face, his body, his hands, the stains across the sheets and the fabric where he dares to rip them apart, but it doesn't matter in the moment. Cauterized wounds of foreign eyes that once grew inside his head start to make their presence known again, but they don't try to regrow. Flesh, not his own, knits itself together when he lets go, and the scent of iron permeates the air.

He's never been a particularly selfless lover. He bites down again.

"Ren," Jing Yuan says, quiet with an edge of something else. The false moon silently hangs behind the clouds, diffused into a hazy shower of light. The metallic taste of blood fills his mouth.

Jing Yuan is just as pliant for him now as he was centuries ago, body remembering and opening its vulnerabilities for him so readily. The heat in his head is easily ignored in favor of the heat beneath his hands. It's easy to get lost in the chase to consume and feed, but he reins himself in with the control he thought he'd lost a long time ago.

An Outsider, on equal ground with the Luofu's general, if only for one night. An Outsider, carving his own mark into the Xianzhou's history.

He finds Jing Yuan again after all these centuries, and he's still just as passionate as he's always been, fervent energy and primal fear driving him deeper into the desperate desire to stake a claim of his own.

[autistic-katara]

dunno if this is a hot take but there shouldnt be stuff ur not allowed to write abt. like put age restrictions on things sure and if someones portraying smthn objectively bad in a good light we should 100% be allowed to judge them but the fact that theres stuff u legally cant publish is weird as fuck

[your-dads-filing-cabinet]

Alright, sit your shit because clearly a discussion needs to be had.

You can write whatever the hell you want on AO3 (that's their rules, set up your own site if you don't like it IDC) but you need to tag what you write. You need to tag it in its entirety.

This includes characters being killed, s/h, sexual assault, EDs and whatever the hell else I'm not thinking of. This means tagging "implied rape/non-con" and not "implied sexual content". This means tagging "suicide" and not "minor character death".

If you really really don't want to tag that because it spoils the fic, clarify that there is untagged elements in the fic and include the more detailed warnings in a dropdown in your author's note (there's a tutorial somewhere) or in the end notes of the fic.

Write whatever your heart desires, but please let your readers know what they're signing up for.

TL;DR: write whatever you want as long as you tag it appropriately

[babysundoll]

Is it just me or do fanfictions not hit like they used to?

It might just be my main fandom (or maybe just me tbh) but over the past couple of years they've gotten less and less exciting. All the stories are the same with the same plot and the same characters doing the same boring thing. When I first started reading fanfics in the 2010s there were endless amounts of stories with such good plots and character writing. Now it's just... meh.

Even just a couple years ago there were two writers in my main fandom on Ao3 who posted such good stories (and they were honestly the lifeline of the fandom) but they slowly disappeared and now Ao3 feels like a desert. Idk man maybe I'm not looking hard enough but there's just nothing exciting anymore. Everything is so boring. The stories feel so... soft. Like people are afraid to take risks in writing. There's never anything serious or out of pocket with the characters and what they run into. And if there is something serious its "I had a nightmare" and they need someone to comfort them. Like it's honestly a little lame how many stories I find with that premise.

And it's not just Ao3. It's Fanfiction.net, Wattpad, etc. etc. I used to be able to put keywords in the search bar when I was looking for stories and there would be tons and tons of recommendations (most of which were on FFN) but now nothing comes up when I look at stuff. I think FFN went downhill when they started bombarding their site with ads. There's so many ads and it makes the site all glitchy and slow.

This really could just be me, but I have a hard time finding new stories, and when I do find one that's decently good, it's something I've already read before. Like what happened to creative writing?

This is no hate to anyone this is just an observation I had.

[ssreeder]

SORRY I KNOW U SAID U DONT WANT TO KEEP TALKING ABOUT THIS AND YOU DONT EVEN HAVE TO ANSWER THIS ASK OR U CAN ANSWER IT PRIVATELY IF YOU'D RATHER i just really cant shut up ever and one thing i cant stand is fic writers getting shit in any capacity like omg what is up with unsolicited 'advice'? in some ways i find it WORSE than if people were just actively rude bc it's so backhanded and passive aggressive that you can't really respond how you want to bc they're not technically being nasty and they say it under the guise of being 'helpful' and it's just YUCK. like shut up!!!! who even asked you!!!!! writing fic is a free, beautiful hobby and for some reason people feel entitled to it in ways they really wouldn't with literally any other hobby and it does my head in, so pls pls dont feel like ur being sensitive. that's the main reason im sending an ask bc i get you've acknowledged that it's annoyed you and why so again sorry if im beating a dead horse here, it's just i hate to see you undermining your feelings about something that IS genuinely really frustrating and disheartening. like it will never not baffle me how oblivious some ao3 commenters are to how much their words can impact a writer. just like you, 99% of all my comments are positive, and yet i can probably list verbatim the handful of not-so-nice comments ive had in the years ive been on ao3 bc they just STICK with me. so yeah. you're very valid and i know you dont need me to tell you but you've got a whole army of people who love your work and have your back, so just remember that when someone decides to be obnoxious xxx

Haha hella I adore you & I don’t ever want you to stop talking.

Yeah I think the reason it irked me more this time was because after I got a few scattered comments I didn’t enjoy I kindly asked people not to do it anymore & then the very next chapter someone did it lol. & even asked if I was getting enough sleep … like…. damn it… really?

again I do think I’m being sensitive because fuck it I’m probably not getting enough sleep haha but damn you don’t gotta call me out like that! Lol. & I get so many wonderful comments and fanart and asks and all that jazz but I can’t help but hyper-fixate on the one not so nice comment haha

& then I over think everything & it ruins the fun hobby I’m supposed to be enjoying lol

I love that you get it, thanks for always being so awesome & now for the second or third time coming to have my back. You’re the best hella :)<3