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Wei Wuxian knows that Lan Zhan is the same Lan Zhan as before, but also so, so different. This Lan Zhan is soft for him. This Lan Zhan has a set jaw and a steely look in his eye, ready to fight anyone who gets in Wei Wuxian's way. This Lan Zhan puts up no fronts - it almost hurts to look at him, he's so open.
Wei Wuxian looks at this Lan Zhan, and he wonders.
(i.e., Wei Wuxian tries real hard to use his two brain cells to figure out if Lan Zhan likes-him, likes-him or not.)
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I Was a Fraction Out There by etymologyplayground for Etheldreda
Fandoms: 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV)
20 Jan 2022
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"Why are your advisors up your asshole about inviting me to the conference?"
Jiang Cheng looks at him weirdly. "Because the whole thing is about how Hanguang-jun is ditching his job to go wallow in marital bliss or whatever. It would be rude not to invite you."
Wei Wuxian blinks. Then blinks again, then says, "Sorry, what?"
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Apparently Jiang Cheng knows something that Wei Wuxian does not. -
spiritual communion by kakikaeru for Syolen
Fandoms: 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
06 Nov 2020
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In the end, Lan Wangji will tie A-Yuan's forehead ribbon on with the lover's knot reserved for weddings, will write his name Lan Yuan, for hope and honesty, and choose the courtesy name Sizhui, in honour of the man who Lan Wangji will raise him for. He will go into seclusion to calm himself as the Elders required. Though his mind had settled as soon as Sizhui reached tiny, reverent fingers up to touch the cloud on his forehead, and shyly asked, in his little voice, if he might tie Baba's ribbon on for him too.
"This is how I will live," Lan Wangji promised the altar in the cold pond, kneeling where he'd once sworn a different oath, hand-fasted before an Elder, with the boy who'd claimed his heart. "Upholding justice, and raising our son."
Lan Wangji drinks to remember, and also to forget.
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watch the slow door by Lirelyn for cerbykerby
Fandoms: 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV)
05 Jan 2021
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Lan Wangji woke shuddering. There was a hand on his shoulder, a face bent over his. It took him several moments to understand where he was, to know that the face was Mo Xuanyu’s.
“Hey,” said Mo Xuanyu. “You — I think you were having a bad dream.”
Lan Wangji closed his eyes, shuddering again. His cheeks were wet. His chest ached. It had been years since he’d had one of these dreams, and he’d always been alone. To be seen like this was unbearable.
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“You were asking me to run away with you,” Wei Wuxian says, one morning in the middle of spring. The sky is glowing, purple and red and gold, the night fading out and being replaced, gentle and gorgeous as always, with the day. He does not usually get up this early, though Lan Wangji always did and still does; his husband is sitting by the mirror and tying up some of his hair, only looking over when Wei Wuxian speaks. “Back then, when you came and asked me to come to the Cloud Recesses.”