PoppyCosmos

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PoppyCosmos

PoppyCosmos

@PoppiCosmos

Tᴇᴀ ʙʀᴇᴡᴇʀ • Aɴɢsᴛ Wʀɪᴛᴇʀ • Hᴀs ᴀ ᴛᴇᴀᴘᴏᴛ ғɪʟʟᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴇʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀs ᴛᴇᴀʀs.•𝖨 𝖺𝗆 𝖺 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖻𝗈𝗐.•𝖠U𝖣𝖧𝖣

United States Katılım Nisan 2021
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PoppyCosmos
PoppyCosmos@PoppiCosmos·
#fanfic #a03 #fanfiction #xicheng I DECIDED TO CREATE THIS BECAUSE I AM TIRED OF SEEING SEVERAL OF MY FAVORITE WRITERS LEAVING FANDOMS BECAUSE PEOPLE ARE BEING ASSHOLES!! 😭😭 The Etiquette of Reading Fanfiction Fanfiction is a strange and wonderful thing. Unlike traditional books, fanfiction is usually written for free by fans who dedicate countless hours to creating stories simply because they love them. There are no publishing contracts, marketing teams, or editors demanding deadlines. Behind every fic is simply a person sharing a piece of themselves with strangers on the internet. Because of that, fanfiction comes with its own culture and etiquette. Read the Tags The first rule of fanfiction is deceptively simple: Read the tags. Authors tag stories to help readers understand what they are about to consume. Whether it is romance, horror, major character death, alternate universes, controversial ships, or darker themes, the tags exist for a reason. Complaining that a story contains something clearly tagged is considered poor fandom etiquette. If a story warns you about dragons, do not act surprised when dragons appear. Tags are not decorations. They are directions. Use them. Don't Like, Don't Read One of the oldest fandom rules remains one of the best. You do not have to read every story. If a ship, trope, characterization, or plotline is not for you, simply close the tab and move on. Fanfiction archives contain thousands upon thousands of stories. There is no shortage of alternatives. Not every story is written for every reader. And that's okay. Leave the Comment You Wish You Received Many readers underestimate how much a single comment can mean. You do not need to write an essay. You do not need literary analysis. Sometimes: "This made me laugh." "I stayed up until 3 a.m. reading this." "I love how you write this character." is enough to keep an author writing for months. Fanfiction runs on enthusiasm. Feed it. Comments Are Gifts Authors are not owed comments. Readers are not owed updates. Yet comments remain one of the greatest gifts a reader can give. A simple: "I loved this chapter." can make an author's entire week. Many fanfiction writers spend hours, days, or months creating stories for free. Engagement is often the only reward they receive. Kudos Are Free. Use Them. If you enjoyed a story, leave a kudos. Think of it as returning a library book with a thank-you note tucked inside. The author may never know exactly why you liked it, but they will know their work reached someone. That matters more than many readers realize. Criticism Is Not Always Welcome Traditional publishing often encourages critique. Fanfiction is different. Unless an author specifically asks for constructive criticism, many readers follow a simple rule: If you cannot say something kind, simply move on. This does not mean readers must lie. It simply means understanding that fanfiction is often a hobby rather than a professional endeavor. Not every fic is a workshop. Sometimes it is simply someone sharing something they loved enough to write. Respect Author Boundaries Authors are people. They have jobs, families, illnesses, school assignments, responsibilities, and lives outside fandom. Comments demanding updates, insulting writing choices, or pressuring authors rarely accomplish anything except discouraging them. Stories update when they update. A kudos is not a purchase. A bookmark is not a contract. Authors are not vending machines. Updates happen because inspiration returns, not because readers inserted enough coins. Do Not Weaponize Popularity A story having thousands of kudos does not automatically make it better than a story with twenty. Some of the best stories in fandom are hidden deep within obscure tags, written by authors who never gained a large audience. Read broadly. Support generously. Popularity and quality are not always the same thing. Separate Fiction From Reality One of the most important lessons in modern fandom is understanding that enjoying a fictional concept does not automatically mean supporting it in real life. People explore difficult subjects, complicated relationships, moral dilemmas, and dark themes through fiction for countless reasons. Reading or writing something does not necessarily reflect a person's morality, beliefs, or actions outside the story. Fiction is a place where people explore ideas. Not every exploration is an endorsement. Fanfiction Is a Gift Economy Fanfiction is one of the few places on the internet where people create enormous amounts of content with no expectation of payment. Stories are shared because someone loved an idea enough to spend hours, weeks, months, or years bringing it to life. The proper response to a gift is gratitude. Not entitlement. Leave Fandom Better Than You Found It At its best, fandom is a community built on enthusiasm. Recommend stories you love. Leave encouraging comments. Support writers and artists. Help new readers find their footing. Remember that behind every username is another human being trying to create something meaningful. In Conclusion Fanfiction is built on passion. Every chapter, every one-shot, every unfinished work abandoned in 2017 and still haunting someone's bookmarks exists because a person cared enough to create it. As readers, our responsibility is simple: Read the tags. Respect the author. Leave kindness where you can. And remember that behind every story is a human being who loved something enough to share it. Treat that love gently. After all, every fic was once someone's late-night idea that they loved enough to share with the world. And fandom is at its best when we remember that. 🖤
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PoppyCosmos
PoppyCosmos@PoppiCosmos·
#Xicheng #Allcheng (maybe?) Time-travel with accidental fix-it sorta. It was quietly whispered politely across the cultivation world behind closed doors in recent months. 'Jiang Fengmian's fifteen year old son tried to commit suicide. His one and only 𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧.'
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bee🐝
bee🐝@beedaydreams·
Is it just hsr fandom or are fandoms in total getting less interactive? I miss getting actual feedback on my fics
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PoppyCosmos
PoppyCosmos@PoppiCosmos·
#Xicheng (Since I hurt a few hearts last time. 😗 Here's this for you. <3) Jiang Cheng dies. When he opens his eyes again, he's transmigrated into the body of a background character in a cliché modern romance novel. Perfect. Background characters don't die. He has one goal: Graduate. Get a decent job. Stay as far away from the main cast as possible. He has absolutely no intention of getting involved in the plot. Unfortunately... The quiet young man who always sits alone during lunch keeps showing up wherever Jiang Cheng is. His name is Lan Xichen. The heir to the wealthiest family in the country. Polite. Elegant. Soft-spoken. Embarrassingly kind. He smiles at everyone. Pays for strangers' meals. Volunteers at shelters. Remembers birthdays. Thanks the cafeteria staff by name. Jiang Cheng decides they're friends now. Everyone else thinks Lan Xichen is perfect. Jiang Cheng thinks he's a little... odd. "Why did you buy lunch for that guy who bullied you yesterday?" Lan Xichen blinks. "He looked hungry." "You know he only apologized because he wanted money." "I know." "...Then why help him?" Lan Xichen smiles. "Because he asked." It should bother Jiang Cheng. Instead... it just makes him sigh. "You're going to get yourself killed one day." Lan Xichen laughs softly. "Then you'll save me." Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. "Obviously." The problem starts months later. When Jiang Cheng finally remembers where he's seen the name Lan Xichen before. Not the hero. Not the second male lead. Not even the love interest. The villain. The final antagonist. The one responsible for destroying half the cast. Jiang Cheng rereads the novel in a panic in his head. Then notices something he'd completely forgotten. The villain wasn't cruel. He wasn't sadistic. He genuinely believed he was helping. Every terrible decision started with the same sentence. "It's alright." "I'll take care of it." "You don't have to worry." Lan Xichen never learned that kindness without boundaries can become something frightening. And no one had ever told him... "No." Jiang Cheng closes the novel. Looks across campus. Sees Lan Xichen happily feeding stray cats between classes. "..." "Oh, you've got to be kidding me." The "villain" isn't evil because he enjoys hurting people. He's evil because he has unlimited power, unlimited resources, and no healthy boundaries. If someone hurts his friend? He quietly buys the company that employs them. If a professor unfairly fails Jiang Cheng? The professor is transferred before the semester ends. If Jiang Cheng says he likes a café? Lan Xichen casually purchases the building to "make sure it never closes." To Lan Xichen, these are thoughtful gestures. To everyone else... They're terrifying. And poor Jiang Cheng slowly realizes his sweet, oblivious best friend is sleepwalking toward becoming the novel's final boss—not out of malice, but because no one has ever taught him that love and kindness need limits, too.
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1143x1 ll Si Danta lang malakas
A #xicheng au wherein JC was switched at birth with jgy and he was later found by the Jiangs.JGY was a green tea and acted like he wanted to leave them but the rest of the jiang fam tried to stop him cause he's still the didi. JC just looked at them with a bored expression cause
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PoppyCosmos
PoppyCosmos@PoppiCosmos·
#xicheng 😌🔪 “I love you.” The confession is almost embarrassingly soft. As though speaking too loudly might frighten the answer away. Lan Xichen smiles, his thumb brushing lovingly across Jiang Cheng’s cheek. “I should have said it sooner.” Sunlight spills through the paper windows, painting warm ribbons of gold across the room. Outside, the breeze carries the scent of lotus blossoms from the lake beyond the Cloud Recesses. It is beautiful. Peaceful. Exactly the sort of afternoon Jiang Cheng always claimed was “too quiet.” “You’d complain,” Lan Xichen chuckles to himself. “You always said silence made you restless.” He waits. Almost expectantly. As though any moment now Jiang Cheng will roll his eyes and mutter that Lan Xichen talks far too much when no one is asking him to. The silence stretches. Lan Xichen only smiles wider. “You’ve always been stubborn.” He carefully gathers Jiang Cheng into his arms, supporting his weight with practiced ease. “You’ve made me carry every conversation for weeks now.” His forehead rests lightly against Jiang Cheng’s. “I suppose it’s only fair.” His fingers gently smooth the wrinkles from Jiang Cheng’s robes. Every fold. Every sleeve. Every loose strand of hair is tucked carefully back into place. There. Perfect. Just the way Jiang Cheng preferred. “I asked the kitchens to prepare lotus root and pork rib soup today.” His smile turns sheepish. “…Yanli’s recipe.” “I know mine never tastes quite right.” He laughs quietly. “You always knew.” ⸻ Days become a rhythm. Every morning, Lan Xichen opens the windows so Jiang Cheng can “enjoy the fresh air.” Every afternoon he reads aloud from whichever book he happens to be studying. Every evening he lights incense because Jiang Cheng always said he slept better when the room smelled of sandalwood. He talks enough for two people. About politics. About rabbits escaping the back gardens. About Lan Wangji’s continued inability to express emotions with more than three words. About nothing. About everything. He tells Jiang Cheng stories the way lonely people pray. Not because they expect an answer. Because they cannot bear the silence otherwise. Sometimes… He apologizes. “I should have listened.” His voice catches. “I know.” “I know.” He presses his lips against Jiang Cheng’s forehead. “If I could choose every mistake in my life…” “…I would choose differently.” “…Every single time.” Visitors come. Lan Wangji. Uncle Lan Qiren. The elders. Nie Huaisang. None are allowed inside. Lan Xichen politely declines them all. “A-Cheng is resting.” “He has had a difficult few days.” “He shouldn’t be disturbed.” His voice is always calm. Always gentle. Always certain. No one knows how to answer that. Weeks pass. Fresh flowers replace old ones. Lan Xichen notices when the petals wilt long before he notices anything else. “A-Cheng likes lotus best,” he murmurs as he arranges another vase. “They remind him of home.” He smiles. “So we should keep them fresh.” Then one afternoon a knock. So quiet it almost disappears beneath the wind. Lan Xichen doesn’t answer. Another knock. “…Uncle.” His hand freezes. He closes his eyes. “…Jin Ling.” The boy’s voice is hoarse. Small. Like someone trying very hard not to cry. “…May I come in?” Lan Xichen says nothing. The door slides open anyway. Jin Ling steps inside. For a moment he simply stands there. Looking. Looking at the room. At the flowers. At the carefully folded blankets. At his uncle… resting peacefully beside the window. Everything is so lovingly arranged. So meticulously cared for. As though someone has been trying to preserve a single perfect afternoon. Jin Ling’s chest tightens. “…You’ve been taking good care of him.” Lan Xichen smiles. “Of course.” “He deserves that.” Jin Ling nods. His vision blurs. “…He always deserved that.” They stand together in silence.
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tree
tree@idkidk__fr·
Guess crying is part of my schedule now
PoppyCosmos@PoppiCosmos

#xicheng 😌🔪 “I love you.” The confession is almost embarrassingly soft. As though speaking too loudly might frighten the answer away. Lan Xichen smiles, his thumb brushing lovingly across Jiang Cheng’s cheek. “I should have said it sooner.” Sunlight spills through the paper windows, painting warm ribbons of gold across the room. Outside, the breeze carries the scent of lotus blossoms from the lake beyond the Cloud Recesses. It is beautiful. Peaceful. Exactly the sort of afternoon Jiang Cheng always claimed was “too quiet.” “You’d complain,” Lan Xichen chuckles to himself. “You always said silence made you restless.” He waits. Almost expectantly. As though any moment now Jiang Cheng will roll his eyes and mutter that Lan Xichen talks far too much when no one is asking him to. The silence stretches. Lan Xichen only smiles wider. “You’ve always been stubborn.” He carefully gathers Jiang Cheng into his arms, supporting his weight with practiced ease. “You’ve made me carry every conversation for weeks now.” His forehead rests lightly against Jiang Cheng’s. “I suppose it’s only fair.” His fingers gently smooth the wrinkles from Jiang Cheng’s robes. Every fold. Every sleeve. Every loose strand of hair is tucked carefully back into place. There. Perfect. Just the way Jiang Cheng preferred. “I asked the kitchens to prepare lotus root and pork rib soup today.” His smile turns sheepish. “…Yanli’s recipe.” “I know mine never tastes quite right.” He laughs quietly. “You always knew.” ⸻ Days become a rhythm. Every morning, Lan Xichen opens the windows so Jiang Cheng can “enjoy the fresh air.” Every afternoon he reads aloud from whichever book he happens to be studying. Every evening he lights incense because Jiang Cheng always said he slept better when the room smelled of sandalwood. He talks enough for two people. About politics. About rabbits escaping the back gardens. About Lan Wangji’s continued inability to express emotions with more than three words. About nothing. About everything. He tells Jiang Cheng stories the way lonely people pray. Not because they expect an answer. Because they cannot bear the silence otherwise. Sometimes… He apologizes. “I should have listened.” His voice catches. “I know.” “I know.” He presses his lips against Jiang Cheng’s forehead. “If I could choose every mistake in my life…” “…I would choose differently.” “…Every single time.” Visitors come. Lan Wangji. Uncle Lan Qiren. The elders. Nie Huaisang. None are allowed inside. Lan Xichen politely declines them all. “A-Cheng is resting.” “He has had a difficult few days.” “He shouldn’t be disturbed.” His voice is always calm. Always gentle. Always certain. No one knows how to answer that. Weeks pass. Fresh flowers replace old ones. Lan Xichen notices when the petals wilt long before he notices anything else. “A-Cheng likes lotus best,” he murmurs as he arranges another vase. “They remind him of home.” He smiles. “So we should keep them fresh.” Then one afternoon a knock. So quiet it almost disappears beneath the wind. Lan Xichen doesn’t answer. Another knock. “…Uncle.” His hand freezes. He closes his eyes. “…Jin Ling.” The boy’s voice is hoarse. Small. Like someone trying very hard not to cry. “…May I come in?” Lan Xichen says nothing. The door slides open anyway. Jin Ling steps inside. For a moment he simply stands there. Looking. Looking at the room. At the flowers. At the carefully folded blankets. At his uncle… resting peacefully beside the window. Everything is so lovingly arranged. So meticulously cared for. As though someone has been trying to preserve a single perfect afternoon. Jin Ling’s chest tightens. “…You’ve been taking good care of him.” Lan Xichen smiles. “Of course.” “He deserves that.” Jin Ling nods. His vision blurs. “…He always deserved that.” They stand together in silence.

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A@nanaboo__·
😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
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PoppyCosmos@PoppiCosmos

Two people who loved the same man. One refusing to let him go. The other knowing he already had. Jin Ling takes one hesitant step closer. Then another. His voice is barely more than a whisper. “…Zewu-jun.” Lan Xichen looks up. “…It’s been weeks.” No answer. “The physicians…” His throat closes. “…they came.” Nothing. “They…” He can’t finish. Instead he wipes at his eyes with the heel of his hand like the child Jiang Cheng used to comfort after nightmares. “…Please.” The word cracks. “…Please give him back.” Lan Xichen blinks. “I don’t understand.” “I know.” Jin Ling’s tears spill freely now. “I know you don’t.” He kneels beside the bed. Looking only at Jiang Cheng. Not at Lan Xichen. “…I miss him too.” His voice trembles. “I miss him every day.” He reaches out, stopping just short of taking Jiang Cheng’s hand. “…But he deserves to go home.” Another sob escapes him. “He deserves to rest.” Silence. Long. Heavy. Then Jin Ling finally looks at Lan Xichen. There is no anger in his eyes. Only grief. “…Please.” “…He’s starting to change.” The words almost don’t exist. As though saying them aloud makes them real. “I don’t want…” His shoulders shake. “I don’t want that to be how I remember him.” Lan Xichen’s gaze slowly falls. For the first time… he truly looks. Not with hope. Not with denial. Just… looks. At the stillness. At the hand that has never once squeezed his back. At the silence that has answered every confession. At the man who would never wake. The room does not change. The flowers still smell of lotus. The breeze still slips through the windows. The sun still paints everything gold. Only Lan Xichen changes. His breath catches. His hands begin to shake. And the truth—kept outside the door for weeks—finally walks in. The first sound he makes is not a cry. It is Jiang Cheng’s name. Broken. As though saying it one more time might somehow call him back. It doesn’t. And that silence, at last, is louder than anything Lan Xichen has ever heard.

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✹✹☆
✹✹☆@a_rin_ur·
実は今日30歳の誕生日です 友人も恋人もおらず、誰にも祝って貰えません せめて、SNSだけでもお祝いしていただけると嬉しいです😢
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clara 🐈‍⬛ semi-ia
clara 🐈‍⬛ semi-ia@cloudrecessesss·
new #xicheng fic up on ao3 💙💜 🍇 don't look at me (like you're in love) ☁️ fwb to lovers, alpha lxc, omega jc 🍇 modern au, fake dating, JC pov ☁️ E rated, 4.3k, ch 1 of 3 link in comment!
clara 🐈‍⬛ semi-ia tweet mediaclara 🐈‍⬛ semi-ia tweet media
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PoppyCosmos
PoppyCosmos@PoppiCosmos·
#xicheng #mingcheng (minor) In hindsight, they all had forgotten how utterly blunt and truthful Jiang Cheng could be when drunk... "Despite what you think, Wei Wuxian, I am not a blushing virgin." Jiang Cheng dryly uttered as he took a shot of his drink. 🙄 It burned going
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PoppyCosmos
PoppyCosmos@PoppiCosmos·
#xicheng (modern) Lan Xichen appears to be calm, refined, elegant — the perfect heir. But beneath the surface is a cold, obsessive, fractured mind that hides his real nature: manipulative, sadistic, and emotionally hollow. He picks Jiang Cheng as his next victim. But Jiang Cheng
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𐌁𐌉Ᏽ 𐌕𐌉𐌌𐌉
“This reads like AI-” No, sir, AI was trained on how I write. I grew up in the trenches of Tumblr, AO3, Wattpad, and fanfictionnet You can’t pry my rule of three from my cold, human hands.
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Chlo 🥀
Chlo 🥀@Weeping2TheMoon·
If you want to read meaningful, well-written fics, you need to stop chasing authors away by leaving negative comments. The AO3 comment section is not Goodreads; it's a place to share your love and appreciation for a fic, not complaints. Don't like a fic? Close the tab! 🗣️
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PoppyCosmos
PoppyCosmos@PoppiCosmos·
#a03 #fanfiction Has anyone else just read a chapter of a story that's clearly 1.k words written and been enraged? Just wrath filling up the heart because it was so good; and it ONLY HAS ONE COMMENT?!!!?!?! GUYS; I'M LEAVING THEM AT LEAST A 500-1K COMMENT BECAUSE ONLY ONE COMMENT?!?! 😭😭
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PoppyCosmos@PoppiCosmos·
#Xicheng (The Aberrations of Jiang Cheng) Jiang Cheng dies. Then wakes up. Not in the afterlife. Not reborn. Not transmigrated. Just… somewhere else. Another world. Another life. Another Jiang Cheng. Same face. Same name. Different circumstances. At first, he thinks it’s reincarnation. Then he dies again. And wakes up somewhere else. Again… Cultivator Jiang Cheng. Modern Jiang Cheng. Actor Jiang Cheng. Mafia Boss Jiang Cheng. Omega Jiang Cheng. Sect Leader Jiang Cheng. The worlds change. He doesn’t. The strangest part? Everyone else is there too. Always. Wei Wuxian is always Wei Wuxian. Jiang Yanli is always Jiang Yanli. Lan Wangji is always Lan Wangji. Nie Huaisang is always Nie Huaisang. And Lan Xichen… Lan Xichen is always there. Different worlds. Different lives. Different histories. Sometimes he’s a doctor. Sometimes an emperor. Sometimes a CEO. Sometimes a wandering cultivator. But he’s always Lan Xichen. Always has the same smile. The same eyes. The same impossible kindness. Only Jiang Cheng remembers. Every life. Every death. Every loss. After enough worlds, he stops counting. After enough funerals, he stops crying. After enough goodbyes, he stops getting attached. Because what’s the point? Everyone comes back eventually. Just not the version he loved Then one day he gets tired. Tired of dying. Tired of waking up somewhere new. Tired of carrying memories nobody else remembers. ⸻ So he kills himself. Deliberately. Certain this time there will finally be nothing.. Instead, he wakes up in a tea house. And someone is waiting. A Death Reaper. Who looks at him with the exhausted expression of someone dealing with a recurring problem. “You finally noticed.” “Noticed what?” Jiang Cheng asks. The Reaper sighs. “You are an Aberration.” Most people live one possibility. One life. One path. Jiang Cheng somehow lives all of them. Every world is real. Every version is real. Every possibility exists. And when one Jiang Cheng dies— another wakes up. The system isn’t broken. It was never supposed to let him remember. Which means Jiang Cheng isn’t immortal. He’s a mistake. An anomaly. A contradiction. A soul that refuses to stay in one reality. The Aberration of Jiang Cheng. And then things get worse. Because in Life #83— for the first time Lan Xichen remembers too. Reality can survive one Aberration. It was never prepared for two…
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