#xiyao Tumblr posts

  • fincalinde
    21.10.2021 - 6 minutes ago

    A bison would have been of great use in traversing the desert, but they do not have one. While Lan Xichen is considering their options, Meng Yao approaches a few members of a passing Si Wong tribe and trades his Gaoling hair ornament for a small sand-sailer.

    Bending sand rather than earth is an interesting challenge, though as soon as they are out of sight of the oasis Lan Xichen switches to airbending instead, filling the sail with a steady stream of air that propels them smoothly over the dunes. Meng Yao sits at the front with the compass, Wangji perched on his shoulder and his eyes narrowed against the glare of the sun.

    On the first day they find nothing, and when the sun sets and the temperature drops they wrap themselves in blankets and huddle for warmth in the curved belly of the sand-sailer's left runner.

    On the second day they find nothing, and despite their supply of water Meng Yao is quiet and lethargic when they stop for the night. Wangji laps up his share of water and takes to the sky, swooping gladly through the cooler air, but Meng Yao shakes his head and smiles through cracked lips when Lan Xichen asks him if they should rest tomorrow rather than travelling during the hottest part of the day.

    On the third and the fourth and the fifth days they find nothing, and Lan Xichen is beginning to tire. They don't waste energy on words when the moon rises for a fifth time, though Lan Xichen insists Meng Yao have some of his own water ration. Meng Yao resists only until Lan Xichen makes it clear that either way he himself will not be drinking said water.

    Afterwards they curl up together in the sand-sailer, Wangji nestled in Lan Xichen's robes and chirruping affectionately. Lan Xichen tucks the blankets round them all, daring to brush the stray grains of sand from Meng Yao's forehead.

    "If we don't find anything tomorrow we must go back."

    "I can carry on," says Meng Yao. "This is too important to give up so easily."

    x

    Lan Xichen and Meng Yao search the desert for Wan Shi Tong's library.

    Set in my ATLA Xiyao AU.

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  • fincalinde
    21.10.2021 - 8 minutes ago

    The fire is burning low enough that Lan Xichen is comfortable sitting close to the embers. He is still wearing the robes Meng Yao gave him, and his hair is tied up with Meng Yao's spare ribbon. The bandages that cover his tender back and shoulders are from Meng Yao also. All he has of his own is the warm weight of a sleeping lemur curled up in his lap.

    Wangji makes a chattering sound and wriggles about to get more comfortable. Lan Xichen strokes his ears.

    "Thank you," he murmurs.

    "I'm glad to help," says Meng Yao.

    "There aren't so many nowadays who would risk helping the Avatar."

    x

    A quiet moment not long after Meng Yao saves Lan Xichen from the Fire Nation.

    Set in my ATLA Xiyao AU.

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  • r95irth
    21.10.2021 - 1 hour ago

    New chapter of Just a drop is out !!

    I hope the art is okay because damn i had troubles with it xD My tablet died on me, so i switched on ipad, then i lost the files/colorization a first time, then i tried to upload it to the cloud, but it took 3hours only to upload 1/3 of it then it failed and i lost it a second time.

    Some days are just...unlucky. Today was definitely an unlucky day for me and i'm gonna go back to my bed with my cat and let iit ENDS.

    Hope you'll like the chapter and the art though :D

    Have a nice day !

    #xiyao #just a drop #fanfic#mdzs#lan xichen#jin guangyao#meng shi #she is the little pink ghost #my art
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  • invisiblegargoyl
    21.10.2021 - 4 hours ago
    #xiyao#my fic #finally writing this
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  • guqin-and-flute
    21.10.2021 - 12 hours ago

    In Your Hands--Interlude [Peony to Lotus!Verse]

    [Chapter 1][Chapter 2][Chapter 3][Chapter 4][Chapter 5]

    [This whole fic is the second chronological installment of the Peony to Lotus!Verse]

    [First Installment] [Ao3 Series]

    [CW: Unreliable narrator TW: Hanging mention (metaphorical), brief allusion to forced prostitution that does not happen]

    He has been staring at this missive for over a quarter of an hour without truly seeing it.  Instead, his mind is very hollowly itemizing all his earthly possessions for packing.

    It had been quiet all day, no hint that they will expel him--but he has learned in his life that this doesn’t mean anything. And he will be prepared, this time. When he had fled the brothel at 14, all those vultures had left of his mother’s things was one crumpled blue hair ribbon he had managed to snatch from the floor. The rest had been sold for her medicine before her death or appropriated as the beginnings of payment for her debt just as soon as she stopped breathing--and he had been next. The Madam had looked down her nose at him, crumpled beside his mother’s now empty deathbed and said, “You’d better be prepared to start actually being useful, tomorrow.”

    And so he had escaped that night with just the clothes on his back and that disheveled ribbon. 

    His banishment from the Unclean Realm had been equally as abrupt and so he had been equally as empty handed, left only with the robes he wore, the ribbon in his inner pocket, and Huaisang’s hand-me-down guan that he had ended up having to sell. There are books he misses, gifts and letters that he….It doesn’t matter. By his stay at the Nightless City, he had learned his lesson. He had collected nothing of sentimental value and anything of import stayed on his person at all times. His knives, Hensheng, and his mother’s ribbon had followed him to Lanling. The parting there had at least been longer and more prefaced, but no less excruciating. He hadn’t stayed long enough to accumulate anything more than a new name and a newly refreshed patina of rejection. Even his Jin robes had been left behind for Jiang colors.

    Here at Lotus Pier, he has no notion of whether or not this departure would be drawn out or sudden. And so he draws up a mental list. He has Hensheng, his name, the ribbon, and his robes--at least these last he can sell.

    And he has...A-Li’s lotus guan. The hand embroidered handkerchief. The silk cord. Will he be allowed to keep them? He’s certain the guan was expensive. 

    ...Does he want them? 

    (He doesn’t. He does.)

    He blinks slowly, transfers his empty gaze from his desk to the pillar inset on the far wall. He can take the notebook he had tucked away behind a panel, there, the one he had started when Jiang Wanyin had allowed him to begin work on the Clan’s fiscal affairs. It is organized and neat, a record of commerce, spending, contacts, weak points and anything he had thought might possibly benefit his father to know about the Jiang. A desperate project, begun at the very beginning when everything inside him had been panic and scrambling damage control. All he could do was try to gouge out handholds wherever he could reach. 

    He hasn’t touched it in days. Because he has allowed himself to be distracted. It’s Nie Mingjue, it’s Er-ge all over again. Someone shows him warmth or defends him before others and he loses focus; immediately and repeatedly throwing himself on metaphorical rocky shores or literal blades for their sake, losing sight of his ultimate goal.

    All he needs is to figure out how to return to his father’s side. That’s all he needs. That’s all that matters. Leaving here was always the Plan--it’s useless to feel rejection like a sting, now. Useless to feel crushed. Again. 

    And how will you return? You were cast here as garbage. Madam Jin will never let you return to Lanling, and Father never wanted you in the first place--that’s what all of this was for. He came to convince his father that he can follow his orders, that he can still be an asset--anything he needs.

    Who wants you? 

    “I love you, A-Yao.”

    His fists ball up and he closes his eyes, fighting sweeping nausea, clenching his jaw. He has let his heart run away from him again. He is too old, he has been burned too many times to believe pretty lies anymore. He knows better. Knows she is lying to be kind, because she has a soft heart. And yet he is here once again, feeling the ache of approaching abandonment. Having started courting her. Wanting her safe, wanting her happy and smiling--starting to care so horribly, so deeply. It’s stupid. It’s unbelievably and unforgivably stupid.

    She is kind. Too kind. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, doesn’t understand the depth of it. 

    She will tire of it all--him, his reputation, his hang-ups, the lies she will have to tell him and herself, the energy it takes to handle whatever ugliness her patience might draw out of him. She will stumble across something in him that he will fail to tuck away in time and recoil in disgust. Horror. It has happened before. Chifeng-zun….

    (He has already hurt her. If he had known… If he had seen the bruises, he would have….)

    And he doesn’t want this. He doesn’t. He doesn’t. This isn’t what he has been working for.

    There is nowhere else to go.

    Er-ge’s soft smile swims up in his mind’s eye, the memory of a dingy house with just one bed--hands on his cheek, the words, ‘If you ever need anything, A-Yao, I will be there…’ 

    Then he really will have done the rounds, passed around every main Sect like some whore being lent out. 

    His fingernails dig into the fabric of his sleeves as he pulls in a harsh breath through his nose. No. No. No, he will dig himself in, he will find the security to be still long enough to figure out his next move back. Staying here...staying here is the best place to do that. If he is thrown out now, he will be starting from nothing. Again. 

    He finds himself sitting back, reaching into his inner pocket to draw out his mother's ribbon--but when he pulls it, A-Li’s handkerchief also falls out, into his lap. He feels, at once, the almost insane, overpowering urge to fling it from him. So he cannot be contaminated. Swayed.

    Instead, he picks it up with shaking fingers and runs his thumb over the careful, smooth stitches. It really is beautifully made. Two mandarin ducks, a drake and a hen, their bodies two halves of a circle, their heads turned toward each other in the middle. A simple golden peony flowers over the drake, a delicate purple lotus next to the hen. His heart aches in his throat.

    He presses it to his nose and breathes in the scent of the incense he had gifted her, sandalwood and orchid. When A-Li had first burned it in their room, he had been startled at its familiarity--it smelled like Er-ge’s hair had when Jin Guangyao had held him as he shook and cried silently over the loss of his Clan, half delirious with fever as they hid in Yunping from the Wen. In purchasing it, all he had done was ask He Si what sort of incense A-Li preferred and chosen one from the list. He hadn’t known it would be almost the exact same blend that Er-ge uses. It had seemed like synchronicity, at the time, like a golden thread from his heart to theirs, the fact that two people that are so unbearably kind to him could share this in common. Two people that he….

    Now, it feels like a noose delicately brushing his neck, a dangerous pitfall he could hang himself on if he isn’t careful. Watchful.

    His mother’s hair ribbon hasn’t smelled like her osmanthus hair oil for years. It is worn, fraying at the tips, and there are slight discolorations where creases had been ingrained in by sweat and weathering, back before he had the means to tenderly press it back to smoothness. Back when he was still nothing and no one. When he kept becoming nothing and no one, over and over again. 

    He stares down at them, ribbon in his left hand, handkerchief in his right. This, more than anything, should be a wake up call, not an unpleasant surprise. He is being weak. He is betraying his mother’s dream. 

    He’s spitting in the face of all she had ever done for him. This isn’t where he belongs.

    Though they will not want him here, he will fight to stay here, for now. He will focus. He will prove that he is useful. Indispensable. He has to.

    #GENERALLY A LOT MORE ANGST #this was gonna be an exercise to get in his head #to write him from the outside and uuuuh it got away from me #I'll fix it next time 😬I promise #Yaoli #peony to lotus #my fic#my stuff #JGY is having a time #A very traumatic time #past xiyao
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  • justawanderingbabbit
    21.10.2021 - 15 hours ago

    Remember that photo from "Take the Lead" I posted a while back? Where I proposed a Modern AU 3Zun story where they're tango dancers For Some Reason?

    Well, I don't have a story, but I done did art. Figure the boys are practicing for a show or a contest. Otherwise they'd be a heck of a lot more flashy. (Maybe I'll revise the pic to go with flashy clothes? Maybe not. The Babbit's art is still not where she wants it to be for that.)

    #fanart#mdzs#3zun#xiyao#nieyao#nielan #modern au idea #maybe someday my art will improve #Though i just don't have time for both writing and artistry
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  • ahundredbutterflies
    21.10.2021 - 17 hours ago

    Another fic concept I'm not good enough to write: Mr. and Ms. Smith but with Xiyao

    #blogging #mo dao zu shi #the untamed#lan xichen#jin guanyao#meng yao#xiyao #someone pls do this for me
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  • disastermages
    20.10.2021 - 21 hours ago

    [read it on ao3]

    1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

    If it had been possible to do without getting caught, Meng Yao thinks that Lan Xichen would have insisted on carrying him back inside the manor, sand still falling off of the both of them. Meng Yao had long since known it was in his hair, but it hadn’t gotten into Lan Xichen’s until after they’d finished. Lan Xichen had laid them both on the blanket, but he’d kept Meng Yao’s head on his chest, his voice warm and lulling. He’d talked about the stars and Meng Yao had done his best to listen while their bodies cooled and their hearts slowed.

    Meng Yao’s fingers still remember the feeling of Lan Xichen’s bare chest underneath them, the warmth of it, the steady rise and fall of it. Meng Yao had meant to kiss Lan Xichen’s heart, but he’d only been able to get most of the way there. Lan Xichen had still rewarded Meng Yao with a smile, his fingers buried in Meng Yao’s hair, and then he’d said it.

    “A-Yao, I love you.” The words had come to Lan Xichen easily, but they’d made Meng Yao go still, his eyes wider than a doe’s. He hadn’t planned on running away, but Lan Xichen’s arms had still tightened around him. “I don’t want you to say it back if you’re not ready, but I wanted you to know that this,” Lan Xichen had fumbled for a moment, but had succeeded in pressing Meng Yao’s hand against his chest, the beating of his heart steady and strong, “I wanted you to know that this is yours and yours only.”

    Bathwater, almost too hot, wraps around Meng Yao like the arms of something greedy and possessive as he lowers himself into the tub, the memory of Lan Xichen’s hands and words sinking into his skin. They wouldn’t wash away, Meng Yao didn’t want them to.

    His mouth had opened and closed, and his eyes had felt wet, even as Meng Yao pressed his free hand against Lan Xichen’s jaw. “I want to. I want to say it back, but…” Meng Yao’s tongue had gotten clumsy, it tripped over his words and made him stumble, it made him feel smaller than he already was when he was pressed against Lan Xichen. He’d tried to shrink with it, but Lan Xichen had only turned his head to kiss Meng Yao’s palm.

    Lan Xichen is patient.

    Lan Xichen is kind.

    Lan Xichen’s heart belongs to him, he’d told Meng Yao so himself, without hesitation or fear of being turned away.

    “You would only be the second person I’ve ever said it to.” Shame had threatened to creep up Meng Yao’s spine, but Lan Xichen’s arm had draped over his back instead. His fingers had rubbed slow circles that made Meng Yao sleepy. Lan Xichen’s hand still kept Meng Yao’s pressed against his chest, his heartbeat forgiving.

    “A-Yao should only tell me if he’s ready, I’m not upset if he isn’t.” Lan Xichen’s lips moved against his forehead, keeping the worst of the guilt and the worry away. Meng Yao had wanted to burst, the words had gathered into a bubble, but they’d lodged into his throat and refused to move.

    Meng Yao can still feel his eyes stinging at the memory, he can still feel the ache in his throat, but it eases as Meng Yao slips beneath the water’s surface. Lan Xichen hadn’t been angry with him, he hadn’t even been disappointed or sad. He’d still followed Meng Yao into his room and slept there until the early hours of the morning, and then he’d slipped away with his lips pressed against Meng Yao’s temple, and then he’d smiled across the table while they’d eaten breakfast.

    Water gets into his eyes and makes Meng Yao blink hard as he stares up at the ceiling, trying and failing to find new shapes in the aged tile. The first time he’d taken a bath here, he’d made himself see the shape of a rabbit, a crack shaping out the ears, but now, Meng Yao struggles to find anything.

    His hair covers his eyes as he resurfaces, casting a curtain over any shapes he might have seen above the screen of the water. “I was starting to wonder when you were coming up for air.” Lan Xichen’s voice is soft, but it still echoes in the bathroom. His already warm hands are warmed further by the water, but Meng Yao still leans back against him. “Let me wash your hair for you, A-Yao.” Even without shampoo or conditioner, Lan Xichen’s fingers still work through Meng Yao’s wet hair, easing knots and tangles out without the slightest bit of pain.

    Lan Xichen’s knees peek above the edges of the tub when Meng Yao turns to look at the both of them in the mirror, leg hair made darker by the water. The sight of the two of them makes Meng Yao’s heart twist so tightly that he almost doesn’t notice that all the cracked and discolored tiles have disappeared.

    Tiny, purple, but faded tiles sparkle and shine in the low light as if they were brand new again, but Lan Xichen’s mouth against his throat drags Meng Yao away from them. Water sloshes out of the tub and drips down the sides as Lan Xichen’s hands slide over Meng Yao’s stomach, blunt nails digging into the softness. “Maybe A-Yao doesn’t want his hair washed, then?” Lan Xichen asks him, though his voice is muffled against Meng Yao’s back, but the kisses don’t feel right. They feel too cold, and for a moment, Meng Yao’s fingers dip into the water, trying to guess if it had gone cold without either of them noticing, but the water is freezing and slimy feeling when the surface breaks under his fingertips, making Meng Yao jerk back.

    “A-Huan, you’re hurting me.” The words come out in a brittle gasp and his hands wrap around Lan Xichen’s forearms, trying to pull him loose, but Lan Xichen is stronger than him, and his nails pull Meng Yao apart until blood starts to drip out into the icy water, staining it. “A-Huan, please.” Meng Yao digs his own nails into Lan Xichen’s arms, but the blood that springs forward is thick and black and oozing.

    Meng Yao is forced to bend forward as Lan Xichen presses his mouth against his ear, his lips cold and cracked like they’d never been before, “Look in the woods, A-Yao, look beneath the moss.”

    It’s Lan Xichen’s voice that makes the tears finally fall, like the dry rustling of leaves, but dipped in cobwebs and stained with something acidic.

    Meng Yao’s lungs burn and scream at him as he jolts out of the water, splashing water onto the cracked and faded tiles, droplets even make it onto his pajamas that lay on the counter. He’s alone when he looks into the mirror, just like he’d always been. He locked the bathroom door behind him, no one else could have gotten in after him unless they had a key. The lights are still overhead and electric, bright and nowhere near the romantic candle flames that his dream turned nightmare had provided.

    It didn’t matter if Lan Xichen did want to bathe with him, they couldn’t take that kind of risk while Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Fengmian were both home.

    Meng Yao tries to remind himself of all of this, but he nearly misses the firm knocking and the voice on the other side of the door. “Mr. Meng, are you alright? You shouted.” Yu Ziyuan’s voice is cold but quick, the flat of her hand patting against the door as if she could knock it over and get to him.

    Panting, Meng Yao pushes his hair away from his face and stands up in the water, “I’m alright, Mrs. Yu. I-I fell asleep in the tub and frightened myself.” That was the only version of the story that Meng Yao could bear to tell her, it was the only one she would believe, but there’s still a pause on the other side of the door, the floors creaking and protesting underneath Yu Ziyuan’s heels.

    “That’s a dangerous thing to do, Mr. Meng, I wouldn’t advise making a habit of it.” Meng Yao almost doesn’t believe the level of relief he hears in Yu Ziyuan’s voice. He hears the points of her nails slide down the door and come to a stop on the doorknob, but she thinks better of it, though the sound still nearly makes Meng Yao sit back down in the cold water. “Are you certain that you’re alright? Miss Wen is gone for the evening, but I have limited medical training myself.”

    Meng Yao doesn’t have to wonder why Yu Ziyuan would have sought out her own medical training, she’d been the sole caretaker of a young, sick daughter once, and then she’d brought on help.

    “I’ll be alright, Mrs. Yu, thank you for the concern.” Meng Yao means it sincerely, and he hopes he communicates it well enough through the door, but he’s started to shiver. He wants to get dressed and slip into his own bed. He wants to pull the covers over his head and hide from the house and everything within it.

    A long moment passes without either of them saying anything, but Yu Ziyuan still lingers outside the door, and Meng Yao finally steps out of the tub and pulls the plug loose. His hand lands on a too large, too fluffy towel while Yu Ziyuan scuffs her heel against an already scratched floorboard. “You’ve lasted longer here than I expected you would, Mr. Meng.” Had she expected him to run out of the house screaming the first night? Had she given him a week? Two? How much had he defied her expectations?

    Meng Yao opens his mouth to say something, but Yu Ziyuan doesn’t allow him the chance. “You may think me cold, Mr. Meng, but you’ve proven yourself time and time again to be dependable, it hasn’t gone unnoticed. You will have a job here as long as you like.” Yu Ziyuan clears her throat after she finishes speaking, but she still doesn’t give Meng Yao the chance to speak, her heels let him track her through the hall until she shuts a door behind her.

    “Thank you, Ma’am.” Meng Yao says it to empty air, but it’s better than not saying it at all.

    The mirror is fogged while Meng Yao dresses, his pajamas clinging to his skin with what’s left of the moisture from his bath, but Meng Yao is grateful for it. A cold hand runs it’s nails up his back at the thought of looking into the mirror after what he’d seen in his dream. He hadn’t looked at Lan Xichen after the water had turned cold, Meng Yao wouldn’t give whatever it was twisting his dreams that kind of power, but the idea of going back downstairs without seeing Lan Xichen’s face as it actually is makes Meng Yao’s stomach churn and ache.

    He looks up and down the hallway twice before Meng Yao walks to Lan Xichen’s door and knocks on it lightly. His hair is still dripping down his back.

    It takes a crushing few seconds for Lan Xichen to answer the door, his pajamas already on and his hair tidied into a braid. “A-Yao, what are you doing here? I was going to come to you.” Lan Xichen guides Meng Yao into his room and closes the door behind him, but when he turns around, a slight frown marrs his face.

    Meng Yao doesn’t stop himself from standing up on tiptoe to hug Lan Xichen, his arms curling tight around Lan Xichen’s throat. “A-Yao, you’re shaking, are you cold?” Lan Xichen’s arms wrap around Meng Yao, but his hands rub back and forth where they come to rest, trying to coax warmth into Meng Yao’s skin.

    “I needed to see you.” It’s the only explanation Meng Yao can hope to offer, his face hidden against Lan Xichen’s chest so he can hear and feel the beating of his heart.

    “You haven’t brushed your hair yet, it’ll tangle if we leave it like this. Will you let me?” Lan Xichen doesn’t sound the same as he had in the dream, there’s fondness in his voice, there’s a smile, not just desire and something dark. Meng Yao nods before he can stop himself.

    He wants this Lan Xichen to brush his hair, he wants the Lan Xichen that he loves to look after him.

    It only takes a kiss pressed against his forehead for Meng Yao to allow Lan Xichen to peel his arms away from his neck, though he still looks up through his eyelashes when Lan Xichen’s hands press against his cheeks. “Did something happen?”

    It would be easy to lie and tell Lan Xichen the exact same story he’d told Yu Ziyuan, but Meng Yao doesn’t want to lie to Lan Xichen, but he doesn’t want to remember either. His stomach still burns where Lan Xichen had pulled his belly open in the dream. “Am I interrupting something?” There are no crescent moons on Lan Xichen’s forearms, there is nothing oozing out of them.

    Instead of answering, Lan Xichen only shakes his head and leads Meng Yao over to the bed, sitting him down and kissing him quickly. “You’re not interrupting anything, I've just finished grading the boys’ essays. I’m all yours, A-Yao.” Lan Xichen grabs a wooden hairbrush off the dresser before he leans over to brush Meng Yao’s hair, his free hand squeezing Meng Yao’s shoulder. “Tell me if I’m doing it wrong, A-Yao, your hair is shorter than mine.”

    Lan Xichen’s hair fell straight down his back in a solid black curtain when it wasn’t put up or braided away, once, Lan Xichen had even asked Meng Yao to put it up for him. The hair tie had been loose and well worn on Meng Yao’s wrist. Meng Yao’s own hair was cut just above his ears, the longest parts of it getting into his eyes and making him blink before Lan Xichen brushes them back.

    “You’re perfect.” Meng Yao says it and blushes. He’d meant to tell Lan Xichen that he was doing it perfectly, but he hadn’t lied. Lan Xichen deserves to know.

    Once he’s done brushing Meng Yao’s hair, he only sets the brush down on the bedside table and drops down to his knees, his hands catching hold of Meng Yao’s. “Will you tell me what happened, or would you rather we go to bed?” There wasn’t a question about where Meng Yao would sleep, then. He would sleep in Lan Xichen’s bed, tucked into his side, and with one hand resting on Lan Xichen’s chest. Lan Xichen would sleep on his back, but his arm would keep Meng Yao close through the night.

    “I fell asleep in the bath and I saw something terrible in my dream.” Meng Yao finally confesses, bringing his forehead down to press against Lan Xichen’s, his thumb tries to rub over his other one, but he catches Lan Xichen instead, though it doesn’t stop the habit.

    “Something terrible in general, or something terrible involving you?” Lan Xichen asks, and Meng Yao shakes his head. He was getting closer, but not close enough.

    “Concerning me, or concerning us?” Finally, Meng Yao nods, taking a single hand away to press against his stomach. He needs Lan Xichen to understand. He needs him to know.

    Meng Yao watches as Lan Xichen’s eyebrows come together in the middle of his forehead, his hands carefully untangling themselves to lift Meng Yao’s pajama shirt slowly and carefully.

    “A-Yao… What…” Meng Yao doesn’t have to look down to know the marks are there, so he squeezes his eyes shut. He’d seen them enough in the dream, he doesn’t need to look again. Lan Xichen pulls Meng Yao’s shirt back down, but he says nothing, only his arms wrap tight around Meng Yao’s middle, his mouth presses kiss after kiss to Meng Yao’s belly, though over his shirt. “We have talk to Yanli, she might know something.” Lan Xichen tries to stand, but Meng Yao shakes his head, his own hands coming to rest on Lan Xichen’s shoulders.

    “Tomorrow. We’ll talk to her tomorrow, I only want you tonight.” Meng Yao forces himself to speak around the lump in his throat, his legs locking around Lan Xichen’s back. He expects Lan Xichen to argue, to stand up, whether Meng Yao was still attached to him or not, but instead, he nods. Lan Xichen nods and presses a longer, lingering kiss to Meng Yao’s stomach.

    “Alright, A-Yao, you have me, for much longer than just tonight.”

    Meng Yao sleeps in Lan Xichen’s bed, but Lan Xichen doesn’t lay on his back, with Meng Yao tucked into his side, he sleeps on his side, keeping himself between Meng Yao and the door. His arms are tight enough to bruise, but Meng Yao doesn’t mind.

    Meng Yao doesn’t mind it at all.

    ~

    Wei Changze is waiting for them on the porch by the time Yu Ziyuan’s car makes one final turn, an open umbrella in one hand and a closed one in the other. His long, dark coat does little to mask the smile on his face, and Cangse does nothing to hide the way she perks up when she sees him.

    “You’re not still carrying a torch for him?” Yu Ziyuan asks, stubbing out yet another unsmoked, but still lit cigarette before pushing the ashtray back into its compartment. What Jiang Fengmian didn’t know wouldn’t kill him.

    Cangse turns the full force of her smile onto Yu Ziyuan, her cheeks starting to ache. “It’s more than just a crush,” If Cangse had more shame, she might have blushed, parts of her still want to, but she pushes forward, “remember when no one could find him at your wedding?”

    She doesn’t have to say anything else, realization crosses Yu Ziyuan’s face, her grip going lax on the steering wheel, “You didn’t.”

    “We did. Twice.”

    Yu Ziyuan is still staring after her, even after Cangse has thrown open the car door to meet Wei Changze halfway, suddenly uncaring if she gets cold and wet.

    It’s always been more than just a crush.

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  • guqin-and-flute
    20.10.2021 - 22 hours ago

    :))))) I’m fine

    #This was literally directly after one another #There was a cut after Wei Wuxian's face and then Xichen turned #The angle is the same I mean #Come on #BOTH LOOKIN AT THE MEN THEY LOVE #WHOOPS #WHAT GREAT PARALLELS GUYS LET'S HIT THE SHOWERS SO WE CAN CRY IN THEM #xiyao#wangxian#lwj#wwx#lxc#my stuff
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  • hamlets-ghost
    20.10.2021 - 22 hours ago

    Ghost!lxc fic. Tw: major character death, but not really. Angst with a happy ending. Xiyao. Wangxian.

    It is dark, until it isn’t. The pain stops as suddenly as he registers it. The pain… Had there been pain? He does not remember. There must have been, otherwise he would not have noticed the lack of it, though trying to think back makes the world blurry. He does not like the blurry, he decides. He likes being able to see, because before he hadn’t been, because…because… The blurry is back. He shakes his head, trying to rid himself of it. He…he is a he. That much he knows. He is called… Called… “Lan Huan,” he whispers the words to himself. He smiles, pleased with himself for remembering, “I am Lan Huan and I need to find a-Zhan.” That is another person. Another he. Lan Huan needs to find him, he knows that. “I need to find my family. They are in danger. I love them.” Talking out loud helps. He remembers. He remembers snow. Remembers carrying a-Zhan on his shoulders so the smaller boy did not get cold in the tall snow. Remembers laughing with his mother – his mother! – when she pinched a-Zhan’s round cheeks. Remembers his uncle’s proud expression as he hands Lan Huan his spiritual weapon. Remembers a-Zhan’s adorable expressions when he got to hold his first rabbit. He remembers and remembers and remembers…. Who is Lan Huan? He is a brother that he knows. He is a nephew. He should not be here; he should be with his family. He knows it is important that he finds them. “A-Zhan,” he whispers to himself, then repeats it louder, “a-Zhan.” “Is someone there?” A voice! Another voice than his own! Lan Huan does not remember having heard another voice than his own, yet he must have. How else has he talked with his family until now? He moves curiously towards the voice. He hopes it is his family. He misses them and he wants to be with them again. He needs to find his family… Continue reading on ao3.

    #lxc#lan xichen#lan wangji#lwj#meng yao#jgy#wei wuxian#wwx#xiyao#wangxian #angst with a happy ending #fics longer than 10k words #my writing #mo dao zu shi #mdzs au#the untamed#ghost lxc #everyone except jgs gets a happy ending
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  • littlesmartart
    20.10.2021 - 1 day ago

    DRAWTOBER #20 - Meng Yao vs. the Board of the Homeowner’s Association by Ariaste

    Two gremlins, their husbands, and the horrible HOA board. As long as nobody gets arrested for arson or murder, we're gonna call it a win.

    if you enjoy xiyao, wangxian, think the concept of Meng Yao and Wei Wuxian as brothers-in-law is excellent, and you haven’t read this amazing series... what are you doing??? DROP EVERYTHING AND GO READ IT NOW. everyone who has read it will tell you that it’s honestly one of the greatest, funniest, most brilliant modern AUs in the fandom. it follows the lives of the two gremlins who are definitely totally not actually friends as they work together to destroy Horrible Susan, the head of the HOA - there are plots! schemes! clandestine midnight burger runs! maybe kind of illegal hacking of personal home devices! secretive midnight alcohol consumed under a ceasefire! tragic parental backstory revelations! and as illustrated above, in both the prison and the open hand (bells on low, on high) Wei Wuxian maaaaaaybe accidentally lets slip a little bit of family news 👀

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  • pearl-diiver
    20.10.2021 - 1 day ago

    francis forever by mitski and motion sickness by pheobe bridgers are both xiyao songs

    #Xiyao#lan xichen#jin guangyao #to be clear i dont ship it but i think it happened #the untamed#cql#mdzs #toxic vibes ennit
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  • stiltonbasket
    19.10.2021 - 1 day ago
    #if anyone has xiyao fics please drop them in the comments for anon! #fic rec#asks #off the top of my head i know ariaste and mercyandmagic on ao3 have written a lot of xiyao fics #but that's all i know I'm so sorry anon 😭
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  • dual-domination
    19.10.2021 - 2 days ago

    WIP title meme

    Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Send me an ask with the title that most intrigues you and I’ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it. and then tag as many people as you have WIPs

    Tagged by @fortune-maiden thank you for the mess ksjkjsjs XD

    So that’s it:

    A Convenient Love
    So Fly High
    A-Yao’s Problems
    The loneliness weight 
    Xuexiao mistery - WWX and WN investigating
    Everyone Fix-It - but not Lan Xichen
    Nie Mingjue is having a hard time
    Haide Drafts - Nie OC

    (I’m not putting here anything about my books for personal reasons, so fanfiction/fandom/random drafts only)

    I don’t have 8 people to tag, help Ç_Ç @hishoukoku @raging-red-lotus-of-qinghe @thesunflowersutra (better not to run this time jkskjskjs) If anyone wants to be tagged here, let me know or just say that I tagged you XD

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  • captain-stab-a-hoe
    19.10.2021 - 2 days ago
    #ask games#xiyao #my beloved tragedy
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  • dual-domination
    18.10.2021 - 2 days ago

    “A Convenient Love” is ON

    Hi, guys, I’ve been absent here bc a lot of work and editing this fic, so I finally managed to publish both EN and PT-BR versions.

    First time working with an official Beta Reader - thanks AGAIN @hishoukoku for the support and everything you’ve been doing here.

    @fortune-maiden and @raging-red-lotus-of-qinghe thanks for lots of Huaisang content here and all the insanity we share through posts!

    So here it is, (the first chapter at least) - a damn 7.500+ words chapter, I can’t believe).

    https://archiveofourown.org/works/34581820/chapters/86083426

    Summary:
    "It had been only a few years since Nie Mingjue's death. It had been only a few years since Nie Huaisang had discovered the betrayal of someone he had considered a friend and the cruel murder of his brother.
    The lavish celebrations in Lanling were always opportunities to take the next step in a practical way, and someone viewed by others as foolish and frivolous, a coward with a pretty face, was easy to do suspicious things without becoming suspicious - but always remained cautious, not everything would be seen as an innocent act if he took the slightest wrong step. The wrong step was not noticing the eyes that had rested on him since they had met there and had followed him throughout the banquet, a restless look, as restless as the person holding it used to be." - On his way to revenge against Jin Guangyao, Nie Huaisang is faced with an unexpected possibility and the chance to put aside all his masks in front of the man who had always been in his heart.

    ---------

    The tags for more info:
    Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín/Niè Huáisāng
    Minor or Background Relationship(s)
    Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén/Mèng Yáo | Jīn Guāngyáo
    Mèng Yáo | Jīn Guāngyáo/Niè Míngjué
                                     Characters:                                    
    Niè Huáisāng
    Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín
    Mèng Yáo | Jīn Guāngyáo
    Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén
    Niè Míngjué
                                 Additional Tags:                                             
    canon-divergence
    Romance
    Drama
    Angst
    Emotional Hurt/Comfort
    Developing Relationship
    Non-Explicit Sex
    Implied Sexual Content
    Revenge
    No Fake Dating
    Chinese Military Strategy

    Yes, this is the fic where that Jin Guangyao quote came from:

    “You can love him with all your heart without worrying, I won’t pull him out from you, Sandu Shengshou…you are so lonely that you bend under this love like bamboo under the storm. You won’t try to change him because you’ll fear losing him, and as long as he’s the same fool, I can keep Qinghe Nie immersed in dust and ensure that Yunmeng Jiang has no urge to oppose Lanling Jin. What a convenient love.”

    So, there’s it for now, I’m going back to my work, (not that I want, XD)

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