This was the entry I made together with the talented Mint for HSO Round 2. It placed surprisingly high! Third place, wow! I really didn’t expect that at all, considering the story is quite sad… So I’m really happy!
The writing was a lot of fun, dark fairy tale AU is my jam. And Mint’s illustrations are absolutely lovely. I’ll never get enough of her beautiful old lady Jade!
The Frost Witch and the Lady of Thorns
2987 words, WARNINGS for character death, body horror.
The Frost Witch and the Lady of Thorns loved each other. But the Lady looked too long into the light, until her skin was scorched and her eyes blinded with soot. In rage and pain she fled south, into the depths of the darkest waters to soothe her burns. There she forgot the use of her hands, the sight of her face and the sound of her name. They sank into the void and she sank with them, to be a beast among beasts.
The Frost Witch wept the streams to flooding, grieving for her love. She left her icy domains to look for the Lady, but though the Frost Witch traveled far and wide she could not find her anywhere.
Every winter the snow follows her to the southern valleys on her search, and every spring the rivers rise with her tears as she returns to her frozen fells alone.
—
She is a little, brittle thing, the human with the frosty hair.
Twig-arms and stick-legs, shriveled flesh with all the fat sucked out. A crooked spine and sunken shoulders, veins winding wormlike under spotted skin. Her nails are chipped and her teeth are few, her eggshell-thin skull a near provocation. She is too small to walk so boldly, too close to fading for her eyes to be that bright a green, alarming in your colorless world.
You coil the mass of your body around you, and all your brooding sisters whisper agitation into your mind .
This was SUCH a good entry, and congrats to Ingrid and Mint for getting third place!! WAY TO GO!! (Also would like to add I did that background for the third image! It was a lot of fun. Ingrid had some very helpful descriptions that really helped me out!) Yay Team Rose<3Jade!
One of my favourite Untamed moments of NHS so far is the soft smile of "ah, home sweet home" while everybody else are clearly "is the Unclean Realm a supervillain lair?" So, a prompt: 5 times the Nie sect's perfectly ordinary sect things got everybody else freaked out, much to NHS' puzzlement.
1
Even Nie Huaisang would agree with the general consensus that he’s a useless good-for-nothing, which is why he doesn’t understand everyone’s expressions when he helped out in making dinner when they’re all night-hunting. Scorn he’d be used to, but everyone is just goggling as if he’d suddenly summoned lightning.
“Were you not planning on eating the boar or something?” he asked, looking around in confusion.
“You broke down the entire carcass into edible pieces in less than an incense stick’s worth of time,” Jiang Cheng said, voice a bit strangled. “Not just the meat pieces, but the offal, too.”
Nie Huaisang shrugged. “My clan were originally butchers. It’d be weirder if I didn’t know how to do that.”
“Could you do it to a person?” Wei Wuxian asked, eyes alight with mischief.
Jiang Cheng smacked him.
2
During the preparations for the Phoenix Mountain hunt, Wei Wuxian gets a brilliant idea and starts writing furiously on pieces of paper in one of the Jin sect’s sitting room.
“Can someone get me some blood? Human, ideally, but pig will do,” he asked at one point, having already scabbed up all his fingers in making draft talismans, and when a bowl was put next to him, he doesn’t think too much about it, only happy that it didn’t seem to ever empty.
After a while, he looked up and noticed that Baxia was propped up on the table next to him, dripping blood into his bowl. Definitely human, too. There was no apparent source for it.
He stared for a while, then went to find Nie Mingjue.
“Did you just stab someone?” he demanded, and Nie Mingjue shook his head. “Then does your sword just regularly drip blood?”
Nie Mingjue shrugged. “I’ve stabbed a lot of people. Why wouldn’t it?”
3
“I don’t know what the problem is,” Nie Huaisang protested. “You wanted me to watch him, he was tired, he asked for a bedtime story!”
“You told him the story about people getting made into meat pies!” Jiang Cheng hollered, holding a wailing Jin Ling in his arms. “Right after he’d had meat pies at dinner!”
“It’s tradition to tell that story over meat pies. Don’t you remember the first time I told you that story? You and Wei Wuxian both turned green.”
Jiang Cheng glared at him and comforted Jin Ling to no avail.
Nie Huaisang tapped the child’s shoulder with his fan. “Stop crying. You know what happens to little boys that lose their temper.”
Jin Ling stopped crying at once, his face pale.
Jiang Cheng looked at him, then back at a smiling Nie Huaisang, then back again. “What did you tell him now?!”
4
“Today’s not a good day for a visit,” Nie Huaisang said apologetically. “We get ghosts today.”
“You’re a cultivation clan and you allow ghosts?” Jiang Cheng scoffed.
“They come here to be purified. Anyway, they’re really cute ghosts.”
“…what?”
“Mostly animals,” Nie Huaisang said. “Side effect of cultivation by butchering – at first it was mostly livestock, but after a while we started getting all sorts. Drowned kittens, run over puppies, that sort of thing.”
“…there are puppies?” Jiang Cheng said blankly. “Ghost puppies?”
“Mm, yes. Do you want to pet some of them before they go? They’re usually not powerful enough to take more than a very small amount of yang energy, and petting them makes the purification process easier.”
“Right. Show me the way.”
5
Nie Mingjue was unconscious, having put himself between his sworn brothers and their enemies as they tried desperately to escape the trap they’d been lured into; he’d been stabbed, cut or whipped a number of times before they finally managed to break their way into the cave and escape. Lan Xichen had put him on his back, while Jin Guangyao carried Baxia, his fingers dipping down to caress the blade every few minutes.
“As much as I appreciate dage’s sacrifice, he’s probably the only one who knows his way around this maze,” Jin Guangyao said after they’d been wandering for nearly a shichen without finding anything but more cave, but he settles down a bit after Lan Xichen gives him a look. “I didn’t mean anything by it, erge, you know that. I just meant that it would be nice if we had a guide – ah!”
“What happened?”
“Dage’s saber – it bit me!”
Lan Xichen blinked. “…I’m sorry?”
“The beast head on the hilt! It bit me!” Jin Guangyao took another step, yelped again, and retreated.
Lan Xichen frowned thoughtfully and looked ahead, then turned to go down another fork. “Anything now?”
“No, it’s quiet. Why do you – no. Erge. We’re not following the directions given by a saber! Who would do that?”
“It’s not a saber, it’s Baxia,” Lan Xichen said calmly. “It’s fine. Nie Mingjue always did say Baxia had a better sense of direction than he did.”
“I thought he just meant that he didn’t have any,” Jin Guangyao said. “I didn’t think he meant…”
He trailed off, a strange look coming into his eyes.
“Do you think Baxia took it personally, back in the Sun Scorching Palace, when I said – ow!”
“Maybe you should consider apologizing,” Lan Xichen suggested, doing his best to hide a smile.
As a lake, disturbed (lxc/jgy fic, 1876 words, explicit)
Er-ge helps comfort Meng Yao after a particularly rough day. Blowjob, light angst, first time.
Read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24988387 OR below.
Xichen walks him all the way to his chambers. It’s toward the back of the residential area, away from his half-brother and their cousin. Father assures him it’s because they haven’t had time to clear out better chambers, and surely Guangyao understands how things are when so many people live under one roof. Meng Yao understands, of course, that Father does not want to draw Madam Jin’s attention to the existence of her stepson.
It’s Jin Guangyao now, he reminds himself. And yet, he still hasn’t accustomed himself to using that name in his head.
“A-Yao,” says Xichen, and it touches something Meng Yao wishes were untouchable inside him. Others have called him that before. Father himself has tried the endearment on once or twice, and Zixuan has been gracious in bestowing it upon him stiltedly. His half brother does try.
But Xichen. Xichen doesn’t do it deliberately. He uses the endearment because he’s speaking to someone dear to him. No pretense at all. No obligation. Just steadfast affection. Sometimes Meng Yao wants to drown in it.
Xichen places a hand on his arm and smiles kindly down at him. “You did very well. Everyone was in great spirits.”
Meng Yao forces a smile. He knows it doesn’t come as naturally as it should. “Only thanks to Er-ge. Without your help, I fear it would have been a complete failure. Your xiaodi thanks you.” He turns, intending to bow, and knowing that Xichen will stop him before he’s able to complete the gesture. Xichen is so good to him. It hurts not to lean into the warmth of his arms. He is forever letting himself slip out of Xichen’s grasp.
“Er-ge,” he says, hands unclasping to reach out. His fingertips catch the fine fabric of a sleeve before it withdraws completely.
Xichen looks at him, expectant. Meng Yao swallows. For once, he doesn’t have a script ready in his mind. The day catches up to him; Meng Yao gasps as his eyes fill with tears. He only wants Xichen to stay.
Xichen’s eyes widen. He steps forward, and good, he is touching him once more, hand on his arm. “Come. Let us go inside,” Xichen coaxes. If he sees what Meng Yao sees when he looks in the mirror, could his voice still remain so endlessly gentle?
Meng Yao allows himself to be steered into his chambers. Perfectly respectable. Even, if one is not too particular, fitting of a son of the Jin Clan. All this grandeur is wasted on a man of such a background, he’s heard the servants whisper.
He tries to pick himself back up. He’s had practice with it, after all. He even manages another smile. “The entire day in the sun,” he begins. “It must have caught up with me. Er-ge, I’m sorry I—”
Xichen’s arms are around him again to pull him close. No fleeting touch this time—Meng Yao is offered Sect Leader Lan’s warm shoulder, the fresh clean scent of Gusu clinging to it. A moment of deep discomfort as he wonders irrationally whether Xichen is able to detect any traces of the cloying perfumes that saturated the air of the brothels. Never mind that it has been nearly a decade since he’s stepped foot in one.
He wants to pull back. He does pull back a little. Xichen gazes at him, eyes full of sympathy. More than the scorn of everyone else in the world, Meng Yao finds Lan Xichen’s pity the most painful to bear. He wants—needs—to wipe that look off Xichen’s face. He dives back into the embrace, intent on doing just that.
Why should he not take this, when Xichen was so unwise as to pity him? Let him give Lan Xichen something to pity, if that is the case.
He doesn’t expect to be kissed back. Xichen’s eyes are closed, as if he can’t stand to look—or maybe it’s that he can’t stand what looking would do to him. Meng Yao understands that feeling well. He softens into the embrace, letting himself have this, gorging himself on the taste and scent of Lan Xichen, who is so perfect in every way.
They kiss until they are out of breath, and even then, Meng Yao wishes he could simply stop breathing. Wouldn’t that be easier? He could sustain himself like this, drawing heat and energy from Er-ge’s lips, from the soft caresses of his hands down Meng Yao’s back. He’s never been kissed the way Xichen kisses him, like he is something delicate to be treasured and revered.
“Is this all right?” asks Xichen, voice thready as he catches his breath. As if he were the one who started this. As if Meng Yao hasn’t dreamed of this since the moment Xichen’s hand brushed his when they first met. As if Meng Yao isn’t a man who has just been afforded a full view of the moon after having existed only in darkness all his life. He simply nods in reply.
Arousal creeps up on him, until his body is thrumming with it, and with the awareness of Xichen’s hand on his hip, Xichen’s erection pressing against his stomach through their clothes. As if their bodies have planned this, they move together to the edge of the bed. The back of his knees hits the frame. Meng Yao allows himself to sink down onto the mattress. Their kiss breaks, but that’s acceptable, because Xichen is right there. Meng Yao reaches, frenzied, for the belt cinching Xichen’s robes together.
Xichen stops him with a touch on his hand.
Meng Yao swallows down the knot at his throat, lifting his gaze as Xichen shakes his head. His stomach drops. He is ready for disgust. He is ready for pity, for awkwardness, for a dozen other things he will gladly shoulder in exchange for the moments that have just passed.
Instead, there is only love and kindness on Lan Xichen’s face. An adoration which would knock Meng Yao off his feet if he weren’t already seated. Then Lan Xichen, Sect Leader of the Gusu Lan Sect, slowly lowers himself to his knees.
Meng Yao shudders when Xichen’s hands land on the tops of his thighs, a question in the light touch. It’s followed by the actual request, “May I?”
“Er-ge,” he says. He swallows again. Nods. Yes.
Is this a dream, after all? In all his fantasies, never once has it been Lan Xichen on his knees. Never once has it been Lan Xichen reverently pushing his legs apart, long, white fingers catching at Meng Yao’s belt. Er-ge’s lips parting as he is revealed to the cool air. A hitch in Er-ge’s breath, a desperate light in his eyes as he leans forward to press his cheek against Meng Yao’s bare thigh. His warm exhale lands on sensitive skin; Meng Yao moans at the sensation.
“You are so beautiful,” Xichen tells him, before he tilts his face up and kisses the base of Meng Yao’s shaft.
“Er-ge. Xichen.”
Xichen closes his eyes and utters a soft noise, then opens his lips to take Meng Yao in. There is so much honest desire in his eyes when he opens them again. Something wild in their depths, too. He has ever been the pristine lake, its surface a glassy perfection. But here is the disturbance at last. And oh, how beautiful are the ripples in the water. Xichen tongue sweeps over the swollen crown. Meng Yao hisses, fists clenching on his own parted robes. Xichen devours him, tentative yet steady in his exploration.
He’s not experienced at this, that much is evident. The lack of finesse only serves to drive home the point that this really is Lan Xichen sucking Meng Yao’s cock, his eyes watering from the effort of it, cheeks flushed, his lips glistening, reddened with friction. It may very well be his first time taking a man into his mouth, but he is ever-earnest. It is excruciatingly good.
Too good for Meng Yao to be able to hold back his moans. Too good for Meng Yao to stop the upward thrust of his hips. The first time, Xichen chokes, pulling away to cough wetly. Meng Yeo is scared he will stop, but he only shivers before continueing to suck, to lick, to lavish Meng Yao’s cock with loving attention.
Now that he’s seen it, Meng Yao doesn’t think he will ever get enough of this vision of his Er-ge kneeling between his legs, mouth full of him.
“Er-ge,” he pants, chest heaving even though he’s only just sitting here, receiving the gift of Xichen’s devotion. He can’t control himself.
Xichen doesn’t seem to expect restraint. His eyes flutter closed every time Meng Yao pushes into his mouth, as though each movement has him at his limit. There is no way for Meng Yao to hold back against this guileless onslaught.
“I’m so close,” he whispers. “Er-ge. Xichen-ge. Do you want me? Will you take me?”
Another closed-eyed shudder. A low moan that seems to continue, reverberating in a dizzying symphony within Meng Yao’s own body as Xichen’s hands clench where they rest on his thighs. Meng Yao’s climax hits him as he understands the gesture for the assent it is. He arches up into Xichen’s mouth, his entire body shaking, shattered by orgasm and by the realization that yes, Xichen truly does want him.
Xichen swallows every last drop as Meng Yao watches and marvels. Then he lets Meng Yao slip from his mouth and smiles at him. “Thank you,” he murmurs. He’s shy now, eyes falling to the ground as he picks himself up. Actually unsteady on his feet.
Meng Yao lunges forward. “Er-ge. Let me—”
Xichen receives Meng Yao in his arms again, at which point it becomes evident that he is no longer hard. The color is still high on his cheeks, and only deepens as Meng Yao’s mouth falls open in surprise. “I have embarrassed myself,” he says with a rueful smile.
Meng Yao shakes his head vehemently. “Never.” He sighs, burying his face against Xichen’s shoulder. “I will wash them. Er-ge’s robes.”
Xichen’s hand trails affectionately down his back. A hum of agreement at the back of his throat. “Mm. You are so good to me, A-Yao.”
Meng Yao lets himself sink further into his Er-ge’s embrace. “That is because you are the only person in this world who is good to me,” he says, and then wishes he hadn’t. It’s divulging too much, even if it is the simple truth. There may have been others before, but now there is only Xichen.
“I am sorry others have caused you pain,” says Xichen.
“Pain only makes me stronger.” He summons up a smile. It even manages to be real. “I do not mind the hardship if I can have you there to comfort me when it is over.”
“Always,” says Xichen.
Is that a promise? Meng Yao wants to ask, but decides against it. However Er-ge means it, it will not change how things are. Meng Yao has already decided.
Even until death, Er-ge, I will not let you go.
“Come, Er-ge,” he says, turning to more immediate troubles. “Take these robes off. Let us assess the damage.”
Yuri Day Promotion on BOOK☆WALKER With up to 50% Back on Lesbian eBooks
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Here is a list of the title you can grab now to earn extra coins as part of the promotion:
For @northofallmusic, because they are amazing and inspire me to do better and better.
He busies himself with finishing both jars of the Emperor’s Smile, sinking into his awareness of Lan Zhan’s stare and the crackle of emotion glimmering there. Hanguang-Jun, the impeccably smooth surface of his countenance temporarily disturbed. Wei Wuxian can’t stop admiring it. It seems sentiments repeat themselves over and over where Lan Zhan is concerned.
When he’s consumed the last drop, he sets the jar down and lurches forward, chin in his hands, a sigh escaping his lips even as they curve into a curious smile. “What were the words to this song, Lan Zhan? I remember they exist, but not much more than that. Moreover, you still haven’t told me the name.”
Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24798322
Orchid in the Mud - 11,600 words, nsfw WangXian femslash
A femslash re-telling of certain events.
“What?” Lan Zhan asks. Her soft voice echoes through the cave.
Wei Ying hums out a questioning note. “Mm?” She is, at the moment, struck by how pretty Lan Zhan looks with the shadows outlining the contours of her face, calling attention to her straight nose and high cheekbones. It’s unfair how beautiful Lan Zhan is. For a moment, she loses the thread of her thoughts, compelled to admiration. “Oh,” she says, remembering again. “I was thinking about Lan Yi and Baoshan Sanren.” Here, she glances around, as if worried Lan Yi’s spirit might be lingering. “They were close.”
Lan Zhan almost blinks. “Yes,” she agrees. “They were friends.”
“Not just— I mean, they were close. Haven’t you ever heard the rumors?”
Lan Zhan’s perfect face is blanker than usual; it clearly communicates she has not. Wei Ying nibbles her lip. Really, there are some things which proper head disciples from leading cultivation clans should not know, let alone be able to recite in detail. She probably shouldn’t tell Lan Zhan. It might shock her. Then again, shocking Lan Zhan over the past few weeks has been the most fun Wei Ying has had since journeying to Gusu.
Can the Harry Potter fandom have some sort of fic/art fundraising drive where we all create works about trans issues in the magical world, and all the money we raise goes to helping trans folks, and can we make this huge, just as a giant Fuck You to JK Rowling?
I am working on putting this together, but I would love input from those more involved in the HP fandom, and from transgender folks so I can do the best job possible and come up with a good title for the fundraiser, as well as suggestions on foundations to support!
Power Play (Jiang Cheng/Nie Huaisang, explicit smut drabble fic)
For @rozarria, who writes the best ChengSang and inspired me to write this bit of gratuitous porn. bottom!Jiang Cheng and toppy!Nie Huaisang.
AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24578686 or read below.
---
Jiang Cheng has no real reason to stop at Qinghe on his way back from Lanling, but he still finds himself being ushered in by one of the Nie guards after a fortnight spent helping A-Ling manage Carp Tower. Nie Huaisang greets him with all the exuberance of a good host.
"You must allow me to offer you a meal and a comfortable bed before you depart for Yunmeng, Jiang-xiong," he says, fan circling the air in a way that makes Jiang Cheng want to snatch it away and throw it on the ground. Jiang Cheng clenches the fist hidden behind his sleeve and nods, looking anywhere but into those laughing eyes.
Later, in that comfortable bed Nie Huaisang had prepared for him, cock hard and body aching to be filled, he flips onto his stomach, still avoiding Nie Huaisang's laughing eyes. He doesn't get to avoid the actual laughter, though. Nie Huaisang's chuckle echoes in the room, making Jiang Cheng wonder if there are servants still up at this hour. If perhaps they can hear him, can hear—
"Oh no, Jiang-xiong. Don't think you can get away with just presenting yourself like that." A finger trails over his slick, loosened hole. "I've done all this work already. I'm much too tired from the day's exertions to do anything else."
"Lazy bastard," Jiang Cheng bites out. He pretends the tremor in his voice is due to anger. No one, not even himself, needs to know how little Nie Huaisang's demands upset him. He closes his eyes, as if pressing his face against the bedspread isn't enough to block it all out. He reaches back, feeling heat creep up his spine as he grips his own cheeks and pries them apart, exposing his entrance to the cool air—to Nie Huaisang's gaze, his touch.
He grunts when Nie Huaisang's cock head nudges against him, followed by a burning, inexorable glide inside. Nie Huaisang—he really is such a fucking bastard—pauses when he's fully seated, sighing.
"Ah, Jiang-xiong. So tight. I truly cannot endure this. My poor body." Jiang Cheng feels his cock flex inside and can't help the small cry which escapes him. Damn Nie Huaisang. He turns his head and pulls air into his lungs so as not to pass out from lack of oxygen. He grits his teeth and moves, pulling his hips forward and pushing them back again. Bursts of white-hot pleasure intrude upon the blackness of his closed-eyed vision each time Huaisang's cock slides over just the right spot as Jiang Cheng fucks himself on it.
Huaisang hisses, hands gripping Jiang Cheng's hips, his thumbs rubbing and kneading in time with the tempo of Jiang Cheng's undulations. "Such an overachiever in everything you do. Really, Jiang-xiong, you're a hero amongst men."
Jiang Cheng wishes he had the strength to tell Huaisang to just shut up. At the very least, he wishes Huaisang's stupid speeches during sex didn't drive him so crazy, make it so difficult to fight back his moans. God, he shouldn't have come here. God, he's so close. He reaches down to wrap his hand around his hard cock, not stroking, just holding on, squeezing tight. Not yet. Not yet.
"That's it, Jiang Cheng," pants Huaisang. Why the fuck is he panting when he's just kneeling there, making Jiang Cheng do all the work? "That's it. Moan for me. I'm almost there. Are you going to take it all inside you, or do you want me all over your face, like the last time?"
Fuck. Fuck, Jiang Cheng doesn't even have the chance to make a choice. His body makes it for him. He buries his face back into the bedspread again, muffling his cry as his release spills over his hand onto the bed. An answering cry from Nie Huaisang, fingers digging bruises into Jiang Cheng's flesh—he's only ever shown such strength when they're in bed—and hips finally, finally thrusting, fucking into Jiang Cheng, cock pumping hot seed into him. It's only a few moments, and then Huaisang slumps forward with a soft sigh of contentment onto Jiang Cheng's back.
Huaisang's hair drapes over Jiang Cheng's shoulders. His body is too heavy and too warm, and his softening cock has slipped out of Jiang Cheng, leaving a wet trail of cum down Jiang Cheng's thigh. Jiang Cheng knows in a few minutes they will both begin to sweat even more than they already have. Huaisang hates getting sweaty, but he will, Jiang Cheng knows, be perfectly content to lie like this for hours to come. Jiang Cheng doesn't understand why this part, of it all, is his favorite. He only knows that he will continue to stop at Qinghe, as out of the way as it is, to repeat the encounter.
At least, until one or both of them comes to his senses.
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