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#wei wuxian cup noodles

canary3d-obsessed · 4 months

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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 40 part one

(Masterpost) (Pinboard) (whole thing on AO3)

Warning! Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Agree to Disagree

The juniors are arguing because Sizhui said that some demonic cultivators might have good intentions. According to Jin Ling that means that Sizhui is celebrating the murders of Jin Ling's parents, or something.

(Actor) Peixin Qi uses forehead-squinching as a primary acting tool, which would be perfectly fine if he wasn't playing a character with a red dot between his eyebrows.

He goes on to say that Wei Wuxian is the evillest of them all, way eviller than Xue Yang. Which in sheer numbers of victims, is probably a fair point. But Xue Yang was way more of a dick.

Ouyang Zichen is all of us when he asks Jin Ling to chill the fuck out.

Sizhui apologizes even though Jingyi is ready to throw down on his behalf. It's unclear if this helps, because Hanguang-Jun chooses this moment to arrive. He immediately defuses the situation with the power of stinkeye.

(more after the cut!)

More Than Meets the Eye

Many differences between CQL and the novel are adaptational choices - Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji's deep, early friendship; the yin iron plot, Jiang Cheng being loveable, etc. Changes like that, I normally don't point out, because adaptations are AUs, in my view, and can be enjoyed separately from their sources.

Other changes are driven by censorship, however, and in those cases I think it's fair to look to the novel and its less-censored adaptations for a peek at what's happening off camera. Particularly when there are scenes and interactions in The Untamed where the show seems to be deliberately pointing to the novel to fill in the blanks.

This moment on the stairs is one such scene. In the show, Lan Wangji carries liquor upstairs to Wei Wuxian, and the juniors react with shock; Jingyi drops his chicken out of his mouth and Sizhui stuffs it back in there.

They are shocked because he bought liquor, and that's the extent of their reaction.

In the Donghua, Manhua, and Novel, Lan Wangji is dragging Wei Wuxian up those stairs, having drunkenly tied him up with his headband.

First he stops to show his prize to the juniors, who have basically the same reaction in every version of the story, including Jinygi dropping his chicken and Sizhui stuffing it back in his mouth. In the novel, however, Sizhui does that to stop Jingyi from saying anything to Lan Wangji & his captive.

The liquor, in all versions, is a clear sign of how much Lan Wangji has mellowed since his youth. In case we need another reminder, we learn here that he let Sizhui get a tattoo on his finger.

Every parent will tell you, you gotta pick your battles.

Returning to to the timeline in which no visible bondage is occurring, Wei Wuxian is sitting around in the room upstairs waiting for Lan Wangji. Wasn't he busy talking to Lan Xichen when Lan Wangji went into the inn to shut the kids up? How did he get upstairs before Lan Wangji? Never mind, never mind.

Wei Wuxian goes to look out the window and Wen Ning appears, hanging off the roof like a dork, or like someone who has seen that one Spider-Man movie and is hoping for some upside-down kissing.

Wen Ning asks if Jin Ling is the kid he halfway orphaned, and Wei Wuxian says yes.

Then he hears Lan Wangji coming, and Wen Ning falls to the ground for no reason.

Wei Wuxian urgently shoos Wen Ning away, trying to hide him from Lan Wangji.

Wen Ning acts way too clueless for someone who spends so much time third-wheeling.

There's no in-world reason for Wei Wuxian to hide Wen Ning; They fought side-by side in Yi City, and they were all together for A-Qing's burial. There's not a problem between him and Lan Wangji.

Once again, the novel provides the missing information. Wei Wuxian is hiding Wen Ning because Lan Wangji is hella jealous even when he's sober. Wen Ning fell to the ground because drunk Lan Wangji leapt through the window and kicked him.

In the novel, Wei Wuxian & Lan Wangji's evening ends with a game of tag that's loaded with sexual tension, followed by a kiss...followed by Lan Wangji literally knocking himself out to avoid taking advantage of Wei Wuxian.

Lan Wangji does everything in the most extreme way possible.

In the live action, the most sexually charged part of their interaction is this positively sinful hip thrust that Wei Wuxian gives when he turns around at the window.

If you've seen Xiao Zhan dancing, you know this is not an accident.

Unlike the novel's perpetually clueless protagonist, live-action Wei Wuxian clearly knows he's on a date right now.

...and he's enjoying every minute of it. He's delighted that Lan Wangji has provided *good* liquor, rather than the rotgut he's able to afford himself.

As he pours for Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji points out that both of their brothers know who WWX is at this point. Wei Wuxian isn't happy about it but he says they can't do anything. Which is...not correct.

He tries once again to get Lan Wangji to tell him how he recognized him, and Lan Wangji responds by asking him why his memory sucks so much.

Wei Wuxian says "you try dying by falling from a great height TWICE and see how your brain likes it." That's what he should have said, anyway.

This whole thing about his memory isn't actually important in the live action, even though it keeps being mentioned. He's forgotten the name of their song because he was delirious when he heard it; otherwise his memory seems perfectly fine.

I think this might be another instance of the live action giving a wink to novel readers in the audience, because in the novel Wei Wuxian forgot Lan Wangji's confession of love. Which, like WangXian, was presented in a cave while WWX was delirious; Lan Wangji is not great at choosing his moment.

Anyway, this may be why Lan Wangji seems to take Wei Wuxian's memory problems personally, despite having very little in-show reason to be upset.

Lan Wangji changes the subject by asking Wei Wuxian to go to Jinlintai with him, to search for Nie Mingjue's head. Sounds like a perfect romantic getaway for a boy and his favorite necromancer.

Just as Wei Wuxian starts to ask what Zewu-Jun will think, Zewu-Jun and his cheekbones come into the room.

He's taken time to think things over--a concept the rest of the cultivation world could stand to learn about, incidentally--and he agrees that they should investigate.

Note: the non-CQL illustrations come from the MDZS manhua, which is complete online (mangadex.org includes the uncensored extra bits), and is about halfway through being published in English by Seven Seas. It's delightful and I highly recommend it.

Bonus: Lan Wangji and Sizhui enjoying some tie-in cup noodles. (A few in-character ads are included in the Viki version of the show.)

#the untamed #wei wuxian cup noodles #the manhua fills in the blanks like a champ #jingyi's chicken #wei wuxian's tiny waist #wangxian date night #the untamed gifs #the untamed meta #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #ep40

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lilapplesheadcannons · 10 months

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MDZS cooks, rated by Jiang Yanli, the Queen of soup.

Wei Wuxian: abomination unto the kitchen gods! Eating his food is just the beginning of your suffering because rest assured, it'll hurt more coming out.

Lan Wangji: Actually decent at making simple dishes. Stickler for recipes.

Jin ZiXuan: Messes up the spice drawer and substitutes sugar for salt. Get him out of her kitchen!

Jiang Cheng: Elaborate, fancy recipes. Leaves a mountain of dishes in the sink.

Nie MingJue: Stress baker. Makes excuisite croissants, thanks to his upper arm strength.

Nie HuaiSang: Self-declared taste-tester. Will finish off an entire pot just tasting. Persona non grata in the kitchen.

Lan Xichen: Partner in Sunday baking class. Tends to slightly overmix cake batters and make dense spongecakes.

Jin GuangYao: Doesn't cook, but has a palate that should be preserved for posterity. Can tell all the ingredients in a recipe from one taste and recommend whatever is needed to fix it.

Jin Ling: Ruined the microwave trying to cook an egg.

Lan SiZhui: Takes after both his parents. As in, can cook simple recipes but tends to overspice.

Lan JingYi: Would rather live on takeouts and cup noodles.

Ouyang Zizhen: That child will probably get kidnapped one day, lured by a piece of cake. Can't boil water.

Jiang Fengmian: Actually knows his way around the kitchen.

Yu ZiYuan: Can toast bread and slather jam on it. That's pretty much it.

Lan Qiren: Excuse me? Why cook yourself when you can pay someone else to do it?

Wei ChangZe: King of barbecue. Has a secret spice mix that he hides from everyone.

Cangse Sanren: Can't believe she's saying this, but actually agrees with goatee Lan.

Wen Qing: Coffee connoisseur. Hasn't bothered to explore the rest of the food pyramid.

Wen Ning: Master Chef material.

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wangxianficrecs · 1 month

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💙 Contingency Plan by krispy_kream

💙 Contingency Plan

by krispy_kream

M, 8k | 1,5h, Wangxian

Summary: “You’ll still love me when we’re old and ugly, right?” Wei Wuxian asks. “We’ll have each other while everyone else is busy with their kids and their dogs and annoying in-laws.” And Lan Wangji asks, "Why Wait?" Kay's comments: I don't have words, this story was just so incredibly funny and cute and it made me shriek in delight every other line. The absolute peak of idiots-to-lovers, never have I seen the trope written so well! Wangxian truly deserve each other! The way they get married for tax reasons and housing benefits and both just go: but we do this as friends obviously and my feelings will never be returned but that's fine because we're friends :) Just. Perfectionn. Also, the line in the excerpt about living with Wei Ying being like living with a pet is the best line ever period. Also, this story is also available as a podfic!! Excerpt: Living with Wei Ying is a lot like owning a pet. Not that Lan Wangji thinks of him as such, that would be inappropriate, but he demands attention in a similar fashion and Lan Wangji often finds him eating things he shouldn’t, so there are similarities. “I will cook,” Lan Wangji insists when he catches Wei Ying dipping doritos in cup noodles. “What, for both of us? You don’t have to do that—” Wei Ying tries, but Lan Wangji is already ripping open the fridge to keep himself from ripping the cup noodle from Wei Ying’s hand. “I seem to recall a contingency plan that involved me as acting housewife,” Lan Wangji says. “That wasn’t—!” Wei Ying splutters. “I didn’t say housewife.” “Mn,” Lan Wangji agrees with a small twist of amusement. “You used far more words.”

podfic available, podfic length: 1-1.5 hours, pov lan wangji, modern setting, modern no powers, idiots in love, getting together, marriage of convenience, friends to lovers, moving in together, marriage proposal, mutual pining, humor, fluff and humor

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

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imperfectpompom · 1 year

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“Ah! Shit…” Wei Wuxian almost drops his chopsticks as the temperature of his mouthful of chilli oil soaked noodles hits him. “Shit!”

Wei Wuxian fans himself frantically with his hands as he tries to blow the steam out of his mouth. Across from him, Lan Zhan watches amusedly as he blows on his noodle soup patiently. Even the way he eats his food is perfect. God dammit - Wei Wuxian doesn’t have a chance.

As his eyes start to water Wei Wuxian brings his gaze up using one hand to cover his mouth as he debates spitting his mouthful from hell out and the other still fanning his face. God he hopes the mascara he’s wearing doesn’t run. All he had wanted was Lan Zhan to notice his pretty eyelashes. Should have known something like this was coming when he put it on earlier.

Eventually Wei Wuxian gives up on chewing and gulps the mouthful down.

You would have thought that by now he’d burnt all of his mouth’s pain receptors off with spice haha!! Guess not.

“Shit that hurts…” Wei Wuxian reaches for his glass and chugs the whole load of his water down. He usually doesn’t bother pouring the water glass when he sits down, but thank God Lan Zhan did.

Wei Wuxian sighs as he places the cup back onto the table. Way to impress his crush…

“Ow…”

“Are you okay, Wei Ying?”

Wei Wuxian flicks his head up back to Lan Zhan’s gorgeous face with a smile plastered on his face. “Yeah, of course! Not the first time I’ve burnt my mouth hahaha… Only my pride was injured.”

Lan Zhan’s eyes twinkle with unspoken laughter. “Of course. Do you need any medicine?”

Wei Wuxian runs his tongue along the top of his mouth - he swears that burning his mouth has never actually hurt before!!! It usually just goes a bit numb.

He can’t believe he’s saying this, “Well, if you have any then yeah that would--”

Wei Wuxian is cut off by two lips pressing to his own.

His eyes go wide as he takes in a sharp inhale through his nose - he would recognise this skin tone and these unbelievably close facial features anywhere.

Lan Zhan???

No that can’t be right.

Oh, who cares?!?! Wei Wuxian closes his eyes as the insistent lips press closer and a tongue runs across the line of his mouth he drags in a shaky sigh through his lips, opening up to the very much wanted visitor. Wei Wuxian’s body quakes as Lan Zhan’s tongue brushes against his own, his third eye opening as he brings his hands up to run along the sharp line of Lan Zhan’s jaw.

However, all good things must come to an end and Lan Zhan is retreating back to his seat far too soon for Wei Wuxian’s liking.

His hands are still hovering mid-air where they were cupping Lan Zhan’s cheeks when Lan Zhan breaks the silence.

“All better now.”

“Huh??”

Lan Zhan frowns at him, “I kissed it better for you.” He turns back to his meal.

Wei Ying slams his hands down on the table and literally jumps over it, coming to a rest when he finds himself straddling Lan Zhan’s legs on the other side.

“Do it again.”

#ehehhehehe #excuses to kiss wei ying by lan wangji #wangxian #fluff #wangxian drabble #wei ying #lan wangji #lan zhan #wei wuxian #yiling patriarch #mdzs

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mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess · 11 months

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Houses and homes

@rookseeksraven

🏚️🌠🧻(abandoned house, shooting star, toilet paper) I am a sucker for getting together Wangxian fics. But whatever these random emojis inspire! 😊

Song for atmosphere: here (I wish you were mine - Loving Caliber)

Toilet paper is way too expensive, Wei Wuxian grumbles to himself as he leaves the corner store in his neighborhood. Why is it so expensive? It's not like they're making it out of gold fiber, is it?!

He glares at nothing in particular then sighs, walking the dark road towards his new... home. Well, it's neither his, nor a home. But what's he to do? Madam Yu kicked him out with only a hastily packed suitcase to his name, so he can't be picky.

All his savings are still neatly tucked away in a slit in his mattress, so it's either sleeping under bridges, or making himself a place to stay out of the creepy, abandoned house at the edge of the forest.

He's never liked bridges much.

There must be some law forbidding the occupation of an abandoned house somewhere, so Wei Wuxian is quite sure the police will come whisk him out one of these days - but until that happens, he's happy just to have a roof over his head.

The house isn't even that bad, once you're inside. Sure, there are a few broken windows, everything's so dusty he's been sneezing like he's getting paid for it and there are cobwebs everywhere - but there is a comfortable bed upstairs, and Wei Wuxian has fixed the electric panel enough to grant himself a bit of light and access to the electric stove.

There is even running water, and a bathtub that doesn't look nearly as bad as Wei Wuxian has expected. With a bit of cleaning, it's actually usable!

Even though his savings are still in the house he's been kicked out of, Wei Wuxian just got paid today, and though his job at the coffee shop landed him a barely survivable paycheck, he could still afford cleaning supplies and some instant noodles, the bare necessities considering his situation.

Perhaps he will sneak in and retrieve his money soon.

He ties his hair up in a bun and puts on the bright yellow cleaning gloves before proceeding to spray a generous amount of cleaning product on the stove. Even though it's really late at night, he can't sleep, so he might as well just get something productive done.

Plus, he needs to cook something to eat. It's been two days since his last meal.

---

He shows up at work surprisingly early Monday morning. Wen Qing asks what's wrong, but Wei Wuxian tells her he doesn't want to talk about it, and she doesn't pry. He knows she'd move him in her apartment the moment she found out what transpired over the weekend in his life, but she has enough on her plate with Wen Ning, A-Yuan, and a two bedroom apartment.

Wei Wuxian can handle things just fine. At least for now.

His favorite customer-become-friend walks through the door at 7 on the dot, and Wei Wuxian's heart suddenly feels lighter than it has in the past 48 hours.

"Morning, Lan Zhan! The usual?"

"Mn. Good morning."

Wei Wuxian prepares his latte with oat milk and a cup of green tea to go as they make small talk, and Wei Wuxian also warms up one of Lan Zhan's favorite pastries as a surprise for him on the go. He has an important meeting today, after all, and he deserves some sweet encouragement.

"Wei Ying, there is something I would like to ask you."

"Sure, what's up?"

"Have you moved out?"

The question startles Wei Wuxian out of his warm nothing-is-wrong fantasy like a bucket of ice water thrown on his head. Lan Zhan has taken him home a few times after they went out, or on his way from work, but Wei Wuxian has never thought Lan Zhan would try to drop by, much less unannounced...

"It's... complicated. Why do you ask?"

"I've been to your house on Saturday." His ears pink up a little bit. "I... wanted to see you. But I was told you didn't live there anymore. Did something happen?"

"Why were you there?" Wei Wuxian deflects, careful not to let his smile drop and worry Lan Zhan further.

He sighs, fingers gripping the little coffee cup a bit too hard.

"Lan Zhan?"

"Will you be my boyfriend?"

Wen Ning drops a plate in the back and Wen Qing quickly ushers him into her office with an apologetic look.

Wei Wuxian stares, wide-eyed, at Lan Zhan, and he wonders if the world stopped spinning or it's just him.

"This is why I was at your house... I wanted to ask you... I had a date planned out..."

Wei Wuxian laughs, though his eyes fill with tears, and the droplets fall before he can stop them. Lan Zhan panics, and tries reaching across the counter to grasp Wei Wuxian's hand.

He finds himself pulled into a kiss.

"Yes. The answer is yes, I will be your boyfriend." Wei Wuxian replies as they separate. "But you have to promise not to come over for a while."

"Why?"

"I'm basically homeless right now, I live in an abandoned house until I get a hold of my savings."

Lan Wangji is about to open his mouth, but Wei Wuxian raises his hand to stop him. "No, I know you're already living with your brother and uncle and I doubt they'd be fine with you bringing in some random homeless man in their house just because he's your boyfriend."

Lan Wangji huffs, looking a lot like a frustrated bunny. "Then let me get you an apartment."

"I'm looking to rent-"

"Not rent."

An incredulous look. "Lan Zhan! We have, like, 10 minutes of being together!"

"And two years of being friends."

"Still, isn't it a bit too-"

Lan Wangji pulls him into a kiss over the counter in response.

(They move in together by the end of the month and marry by the end of the year.)

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wangxian #writing attempts

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astronicht · 7 months

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whumptober day 3: “like crying out in empty rooms, no one there except the moon” | (implied) solitary confinement

tbh only meets the prompt if u squint but!! fic amnesty just post bb

Modao Zushi | WWX & JC gen, background wangxian | 1.1k

“He doesn’t understand it,” Wei Wuxian says. “That you have to sweat out the heat.”

“Please do not talk to me about Hanguang-jun,” Sect Leader Jiang says.

The cicadas sing in the wide hot dark beyond this room, where it is humid and close and lit by two little oil lamps on either side of the table. The oil lamps are clay and shaped like leaping fish the size of a child’s cupped hand. On them is a glaze called Yunmeng blue; the alchemical recipe for it was one of the things Wei Wuxian might have found in the Lotus Pier treasure rooms, had he been looking for that in particular.

Jiang Cheng has not met Wei Wuxian’s eyes this entire conversation at this little table with its yours and mine oil lamps, arranged like a banquet. Wei Wuxian is eating a meal: sliced steamed fish cakes in oil, Hongshan caitai fried with chili and garlic, plain congee rather than what was first offered, which had been rich with the white meat of Yunmeng fish. Wei Wuxian knows how to delicately reintroduce this body to food.

Jiang Cheng is not eating, because the dark night outside is nearly false dawn. Outside this little room, Sect Leader Jiang’s cooks are hanging out fresh noodles to dry in the coming sun, whispering to each other in the dark as their hands do a job they have done a thousand times.

“Will you tell him about this,” Jiang Cheng says.

“I thought we weren’t talking about Hanguang-jun,” Wei Wuxian says. Then adds, “I don’t keep secrets from him,” to see if Jiang Cheng will have him thrown out of this room. He keeps eating, very slowly. The fish cakes and the vegetables are very spicy, Yunmeng spicy. It is burning his cracked lips.

Jiang Cheng does not say anything or move, so Wei Wuxian says, “What I was saying is that there are only a few things that Lan Zhan doesn’t get. He doesn’t know how to survive the heat, you know, not really. I always liked eating spicy food in the heat, right? To sweat it out. He likes bitter melon and mung beans.”

“You are supposed to eat those in summer.”

Wei Wuxian shrugs. “After three days in your dungeon I would’ve eaten mung beans till I couldn’t stand up,” he says agreeably, even though in fact he has spent three days alone in the dark and is calmly eating a single fish cake one tiny bite at a time. His hands only shake a little with the effort of not shoveling in food.

Jiang Cheng’s knuckles crack as his fists clench on the table. Wei Wuxian looks at him from under the lashes of a dead boy. “Well, I would,” he says mildly. “And it was all a misunderstanding, so I hope you have not disciplined the responsible parties. Of course your new disciples would not recognize little old me. Congratulations, of course, on the new disciples.” He means this very genuinely, though Jiang Cheng will take it as a cold joke. Wei Wuxian doesn’t know how to fix that. Maybe it won’t ever be fixed. Maybe this humid little room where once decades ago the walls were painted red with purple lattice designs, the murals flaking from the plaster in an old unburnt part of Lotus Pier, will be the closest they come.

Wei Wuxian takes another careful bite of food he finds easy to digest. Below this little room off the kitchens he can hear water moving among the stilts. The kitchens are built partly over water here, to reduce the constant threat of fire. Similarly, to get into the Lotus Pier treasure rooms you must swim under buildings whose bottom is flush with the water level, holding your breath. The currents are strange among the stilts; there are underwater barriers and pylons and it is very dark even in the daytime. Every movement stirs up muck from the bottom.

Wei Wuxian had wanted to see a treasure. So he had come to Yunmeng alone, while Lan Zhan was visiting with Head Cultivator Zewu-jun, doing brotherly things, probably having meals not so unlike this one with so many horrible things unsaid. Though honestly, Wei Wuxian cannot believe this current luck: that he got into the treasure room at all, that he was only imprisoned in the dark for three days before Sect Leader Jiang returned from a night hunt to find a trespasser held in a cellars built up on the hill. It was hard to think of Jiang Cheng who once kept puppies and now keeps men in holes in the hill, a line of them that they have always called the dungeons, where perhaps people who learned some of what the Yiling Laozu taught died in the belly of the dirt of Yunmeng.

Jiang Cheng, who once spent months with Lan Wangji, trying to claw Wei Wuxian out of the soil and horror of Yiling.

It had felt very different four days ago when he dived beneath the surface of the lake again, silent and small as a black cormorant. The water closed above him, warm and for a moment almost clear before the rich silt stirred. He had held his breath and swum the old path.

Wei Wuxian looks at the little oil lamps, deep blue glazed. “Yunmeng blue,” he says, tapping one with a fingernail. The ceramic sings. The little flame wavers in its broth of oil.

Jiang Cheng’s gaze sharpens. “That’s not what you were after,” he says, and then looks like he meant to say something else, a stronger accusation. The Lans would love to know the secret of Yunmeng blue. It happens in the hills, the alchemy of it, in the potters’ kilns that stretch two li from hilltop to valley like snaking dragons with bellies of fire. There, among the azaleas, mostly unbothered by the night hunts, the people of Yunmeng cook a blue deeper than the sky.

“That’s not what I was after,” Wei Wuxian agrees. “I was looking for the rubbing of the old Han Dynasty star map and I didn’t find it anyway. Your disciples are very thorough in responding to their alarm talismans. Very diligent. I’m sure I am very lucky Sect Leader Jiang returned tonight.”

“And you took nothing,” Jiang Cheng says.

“I took nothing.”

“Well,” Jiang Cheng says, and clears his throat. Wei Wuxian’s brother, once. “It was only three days this time.”

Wei Wuxian looks at him, long and black-eyed and birdlike in a stolen body. “Yes,” he agrees. “Only three days. I’ll sweat it out in no time.”

—

idk man idk! important to state that i love jiang cheng, this is just as much about jiang cheng. anyway. i cant shut up about the development of chemical blue dye/pigment. also i couldn’t get Wei Ying to admit even to the narrative that he touched the dead husk of a silk worm stored inexplicably in the treasure rooms of lotus pier and knew it was there for their sister, whose work and life is all unrecorded in the treasure rooms of Yunmeng. etc.

#my fic #whumptober ‘23

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fictionkinfessions · 2 years

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oh the supermarket question is so fun!!

as luke, i would probably head for the instant food - it's cheap so i could pay for it in the morning when the employees show up to let me out, and i'm sure i could finagle my way into a break room where there's likely to be hot water and hopefully a microwave. i would probably indulge just a little bit and also tea and/or candy, because why not?

as wei wuxian i don't think "paying for it later" would cross my mind even a little bit, i'd find all the spiciest foods and then spend the rest of night debating whether or not i should attempt to bring all the fish in the butcher section back to life. i also know that if i break a something or if they do require me to pay for anything later, my lovely hanguang-jun will be more than willing to cover it :]

as apollo justice i think i would go for the instant ramen cups, but unlike luke i don't think i'd be able to get into a break room, so i'd be torn between eating dry ramen noodles out of the cup or using the hot water out of the bathroom sink. eventually i'd come to the conclusion that the risk isn't worth it and i'll just chow down on the dry damen all night.

as shang qinghua i would do exactly the same thing as apollo justice, but i think i would risk the bathroom sink water and it would not taste good at all. i'd probably spend most of my time on my phone writing notes for PIDW and i'd end up forgetting about the bathroom instant ramen. later i would raid the energy drink section (i'd pass out about 10 minutes after chugging my first can)

as luffy i would eat the whole store. like i can't even say anything specific i would just go "oh sweet, free feast!" and go right to town. whoops!

i have more kintypes but this is a pretty long ask already 😅

- 💚 luke

#fictionkinfessions #fictionkin #canon snacks #lukeskywalkerkin #starwarskin #weiwuxiankin #apollojusticekin #shangqinghuakin #luffykin #mod party cat!#food cw

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stiltonbasket · 3 years

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Baking AU prompt: Ok this is p dorky but what about Lan Wangji receiving some pastries from a rival bakery (idk maybe gifted from a coworker or a client who had a successful case). And WWX is fine, he really is, it's just that he feels very confused and off-center thinking about LWJ eating those mediocre, inferior pastries. So he ends up going on a baking spree and making a much fancier version of whatever LWJ received. Cuz you know, he'd hate for LWJ to not know what that dish is SUPPOSED to taste like, you understand. WWX's version is much better, isn't it Lan Zhan? Right? Isn't it?

Lan Wangji blinks down at the purple box in bewilderment.

“Moon cakes?” he asks, as Wei Ying turns away with flushed cheeks and a twitch in his left eyebrow. “Thank you, Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying nods and sticks his hands into a pan of sweet bread dough. “It’s the mid-autumn festival soon, so I baked you some.”

“Baked me some?”

“Of course! Aiyah, Lan Zhan, don’t you know how long it takes to make yuebing? And you have to leave them for a couple of days to make sure they’ll be good to eat, too! I’ve never sold mooncakes at Lotus Pier, and I never will.”

Hesitantly, Lan Wangji opens the box and peers at the twelve round cakes lined up inside. Wei Ying often gives him free buns and pastries, and Lan Wangji’s heart nearly beats right out of his chest with every one--but those gifts are part of the bakery’s everyday menu, even if Wei Ying does make sure to wrap and label them in advance, so for Wei Ying to have baked something for Lan Wangji specially...

His fingers move almost of their own accord, reaching for the smallest yuebing before bringing it up to his lips. The crust is perfect, rich and soft with a hint of warmth that must have come from some kind of spice--Wei Ying’s own addition to the standard recipe, most likely--and the paste of the filling is moist and fresh and oddly clean-tasting, as if something light and fresh had been blended in with the lotus seeds.

It’s the most delicious yuebing Lan Wangji has ever tasted, and he eats so many every mid-autumn from the gifts he and Lan Xichen receive that he was sick of them by the first year after his Xiongzhang started the law practice.

“How is it?” Wei Ying asks, halting with his arms buried up to the elbows in raisiny dough. “Do you--like them?”

Lan Wangji still has his eyes shut, with the sweet morsel cradled between his tongue and the roof of his mouth, and he extends a hand towards Wei Ying’s shoulder as if to assure himself that the love of his life is real.

“They are divine,” he says hoarsely. “Wei Ying, you--”

But before he can finish his sentence, the door flies open, and A-Yuan appears on the threshold with sugar smeared over his cheeks. “A-Niang!” the little boy cheers, wrapping his arms around Wei Ying’s legs. “A-Niang, did Lan-shushu like the mooncakes?”

He turns towards Lan Wangji without a reply, reaching out to tug at his slacks without letting go of Wei Ying. “Uncle Lan, you have to like them! A-Die didn’t let us try even one bite!”

“I only made enough for you,” Wei Ying mumbles, when Lan Wangji stares at him with stars in his eyes. “I don’t eat them very often, and you know I don’t sell them--but you had that dry one in your packed lunch when we went to the park with A-Yuan, and...”

Suddenly, his heart feels as if it could float right out of his body. “You wanted to make me one I would like?”

“I did.” Wei Ying’s cheeks are suffused with a beautiful flush, so delicate that Lan Wangji can hardly see it, but he is certain that if he touched his friend’s tanned skin, he would find it as warm as the oven counter. “Don’t eat those dry mooncakes anymore, ah? Come to me if you want them, and I’ll bake a batch for you.”

“I want to taste one,” A-Yuan clamors, butting his head against Wei Ying’s hip. “Please, Lan-shushu!”

“A-Yuan! The cakes were a gift, you can’t--”

“He is more than welcome to,” Lan Wangji says gently, bringing the most succulent-looking cake out of the box and offering it to A-Yuan. “If you take some, Yuan’er, the others will taste even sweeter.”

“Really?”

“Mm, they will. Food is the most delicious when it is shared.”

“That’s what I keep telling Xiao-Yu,” A-Yuan agrees, sighing as if the weight of the world were on his six-year-old shoulders. “His peanut snacks will taste better if he shares them with me, but he never does!”

“A-Yuan,” Wei Ying chides, bringing out a handkerchief to wipe Wen Yuan’s face. “Baobei, don’t speak with your mouth full. You might choke, and then what would A-Die do?”

The scene is so very domestic--with Wei Ying wiping A-Yuan’s cheeks, and Lan Wangji cupping his hand under the little boy’s mouth to catch the crumbs as he nibbles at the mooncake--that Lan Wangji almost dies on the spot. But then Xue Yang comes running in with Xiao-Yu and dumps the baby into his arms before rushing off to wait the tables in the dining room, and Lan Wangji comes so near to expiring that he has to cling to the table behind him for support.

“Dada,” Xiao-Yu whimpers, shoving his tiny nose into Lan Wangji’s neck as he curls deeper into the warm sweater Xichen forced him to wear before he went out. “Hug!”

Cause of death: cardiac arrest from spending too long with Wei Ying and the little ones, Lan Wangji think dazedly, breathing in a lungful of Xiao-Yu’s clean baby scent before Wei Ying leans over to take the infant from him. How can all three of them be so precious?

“Do you really think so?” Wei Ying teases. Lan Wangji turns crimson--he said the last sentence aloud somehow, and now Wei Ying is beaming at him as if Lan Wangji is the most wonderful thing he has ever beheld. “All this for a tasty mooncake, Lan Zhan? If I knew you liked good yuebing so much, I would have made them earli--”

“Have dinner with me.” Lan Wangji blurts out. “Wei Ying, I...please.”

“Aiyah, we’ve been friends for so long! You know you’re always welcome for dinner, right? I’ll ask Jiejie to make some extra noodles, and take one of the seasonal dishes off the menu so I can cook your favorite--”

“No, I...have dinner with me, Wei Ying. As...as a date.”

Wei Ying’s eyes go wide. “Lan Zhan?”

“A-Die says yes,” is A-Yuan’s solemn contribution. “Lan-shushu, he told me you make his heart beat fast, so you should take him to dinner!”

Lan Wangji takes Wei Ying’s hand, and for a moment he cannot tell which of their pulses is quicker. “Your A-Die makes my heart beat fast, too,” he tells A-Yuan. “It races every time he looks at me.”

“Do you mean it?” Wei Wuxian asks. He seems to glow under the low light fixtures hanging from the ceiling, though the smile on his face could surpass the sun itself for brightness. “Really?”

Lan Wangji nods, and he is suddenly very grateful that baby Xiao-Yu is safe in Wei Ying’s arms--because his laughing father chooses that moment to kiss Lan Wangji on the lips, very softly, and take his breath away again, and again, and again.

#wangxian #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #wuxian versus world: bakery style #my fic

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mdzs-fic · 3 years

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Additional Tags:

Food as a Metaphor for Love, Food Sharing, Travel, Introspection, Hurt/Comfort

Word count: 6k

Summary:

“Lan Zhan, ah, Lan Zhan, do you really want to kiss me so much?” Wei Wuxian laughs, but not unkindly. He pours Lan Zhan chrysanthemum tea and passes him the cup, watches him down it in a single swallow.

“It is not only for that reason,” Lan Zhan says once he regains composure. He picks up another mouthful of noodles between his chopsticks and brings it up to his mouth. “But yes, I do. I always want to kiss Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian knows it’s not only about that. Lan Zhan’s meals growing up were silent and restrained, and more often than not solitary. That’s why, Wei Wuxian supposes, he’s so intent on being able to share.

A treatise on sharing meals and kisses in six parts, told over a year of wandering.

#the untamed #mdzs #wangxian #post canon #mdzs canon #established relationship #married #food #character study #domesticity #completed #idrilka #10k

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selfproclaimedunicorn · 3 years

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ooook then the untamed 👀

This one I know! Lol. Those dramatic homosexuals in their swishy robes & their long-ass lace fronts. Love those boys.

My favorite female character: Wen Qing. She has it all: she's a doctor, she's pretty, she's willing to do what it takes, she's loyal, she's a badass. The Jin Clan killing her was really just because Jin Guangshan was intimidated that she's better than him in literally every conceivable way.

My favorite male character: Nie Huasang. And sure, he's a man, but he radiates girlboss energy. He radiates the energy of the entire damn gaslight/gatekeep/girlboss meme, and I love that for and about him. He is just a silly little swishy man on a righteous and devious quest to avenge his big brother, & I respect that.

My favorite book/season/etc: Considering I've only watched the show, and its 50 episodes of 1 singular season, I guess I'll just pick my favorite arc? Which, that was the one in the extended flashback where they were all "students" under the teaching of the Wen Clan. The one where WWX & LWJ were fighting the Tortoise of Slaughter. That one, that chunk of episodes/arc was my favorite 👍

My favorite episode: Episode 34. The king Nie Huasang is back, babey, & I like watching WWX & LWJ babysit the Lan Clan Juniors while trying to investigate Coffin Town.

My favorite cast member: I don't super keep up with the cast of most things, but because Wang Yibo did that ridiculously over the top cup noodle commercial as Lan Wangji I hope that he prospers.

My favorite ship: WangXien is...right there...being canon. Canon magical boy husbands. It sparks so much joy, oh my God. I also may or may not own a ship mug for WangXian with them as rabbits....

A character I'd die defending: Jiang Cheng did nothing wrong. Neither did Jin Zixuan. Can I defend both of them? Put both boys on a hill & I die defending both of them? They are justified and correct in everything, they are perfect angels. All either would need to do is point me in the direction of who bullied them & I would go down swinging.

A character I just can't sympathize with: Jin Guangshan. If you're a villain in The Untamed, you're a goddam cartoon villain with almost no redeeming qualities, but at least the others are entertaining. Jin Guangshan is built like a bitch, & if he wasn't dead in the story proper/after the several episode flashback, he would learn that these hands are rated e for everyone.

A character I grew to love: Jin Ling. At first I thought he was annoying & kinda rude/entitled...but I would be too if I was raised like that, damn. Get that boy some therapy and also a hug. He needs both.

My anti-otp: Last year, it came to my attention that some people ship Wei Wuxian with Jiang Cheng???? Ew???? No???? That's his adopted brother??? That's skeevy???? Bad take. Horrible opinion to have.

#about me #the untamed #thanks for the ask!#lol glad i could actually answer this one

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rosethornewrites · 2 years

Text

Friday NR, E, & M reading

The usual.

Finished

Not Rated:

Chief Cultivator Yao AU, by nirejseki

Prompt: Sect leader Yao intervenes during the ambush on Qiongqi Path and ends up saving everyone and becoming the chief cultivator

Explicit:

dare to dream, by quillifer (wbtrashking)

“It seems as though you are with child.”

“But—” Lan Wangji starts and then stops. I’ve never had sex.

“Ah,” the healer says, drawing his own conclusion about Lan Wangji's reticence, eyes full of pity. “Your lover isn’t around?”

Yes. No. He's not really my lover.

Lan Wangji's deepest desire comes true with the help of an odd talisman.

Mature:

If I could Go Back in Time, by ariwrites (28 chapters)

Lan Wangji made a quick decision. With all his spiritual power, he gave a mighty leap and in an impossible act of defiance and love, crossed over to where Jiang Yanli was about to be run through by the sword. He shoved her away just as the corpse brought it down, cleanly splitting down his neck, heart, and lung.

The role reversal fic no one ever wants to read where Lan Wangji is the one who takes the blow for Jiang Yanli.

Novel canon with a select few elements from CQL thrown in. Wangxian relationship is novel canon. No yin iron plot to bring them together.

Dear Hanguang-Jun, by cavaleira

"Dear Hanguang-Jun,

I need your advice most desperately!"

Or, the one where Lan Wangji accidentally becomes the cultivation world’s best relationship advisor.

when you’re ready (we’ll turn the page together), by lazulink

Midmorning, Wei Ying makes his way into the kitchen to get something to eat and make a fresh pot of coffee. He smiles and mouths “pretend I’m not here” while Lan Zhan helps A-Yuan with his homework.

How can he pretend Wei Ying isn’t there, when he feels so nonsensically drawn to him? When every hair on his neck is prickling with the weight of Wei Ying’s eyes on him, when he stumbles over his words not once but twice while explaining basic addition to A-Yuan.

Lan Zhan takes on the new challenge of childcare and falls in love in the process.

meet me in the middle of the road, by idrilka

A treatise on sharing meals and kisses in six parts, told over a year of wandering.

Unfinished

Mature:

Keeping Our Promises Unbroken, by ColdBloodedReptile

The last thought Jiang Yanli had was that it was worth it to save her brother, and she would be reunited with her husband.

Except, that was not what happened at all.

Or, Jiang Yanli travels to the past after Nightless City, and decides to not let history repeat itself. She's surprised to find she's not the only one who wishes that.

wander the edges of light, by cl410

Lan Wangji frowned down at him. “You should not annoy your Master.”

“Why not?” Wei Wuxian chirped. “It’s fun.”

“Fun,” Lan Wangji repeated, appalled.

“Yeah,” Wei Wuxian agreed. “Sometimes she just threatens to toss us off the top of the mountain, but occasionally we can badger her into sharing a story or two.”

Lan Wangji had no idea what to say to that. He settled for vaguely disapproving silence to cover up his complete bafflement. Baoshan Sanren was nothing like he’d expected, her disciples even less so.

T O A D, by cuttlefeeeeeeeeesh

The shields arced overhead in a tessellation of blue, silhouetting a dark mountain of a shape. It was easily twice as tall as any of the buildings, visible from across the Cloud Recesses. Its back was rounded in organic lumps, yet motionless.

Then it opened an eye.

___________________

A giant toad attacks the Cloud Recesses. Wei Wuxian goes full Yiling Laozu on it and unexpectedly earns the appreciation of his new family.

#the untamed #mo dao zu shi #untamed fanfiction #mdzs #chen qing ling #cql

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amorphine · 4 years

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seeing wei wuxian and lan wangji advertise skin care products, cup noodles and juice boxes is odd but kinda believable because i do believe that wuxian takes care of his skin and never leaves the house without a juice box and that wangji frowns at his noodles.

#lan zhan #lan wangji #wei wuxian #wei ying #the untamed #cql #wang yibo #xiao zhan #mp #my stuff

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imaginaryelle · 4 years

Text

Fic: And One He Writes Himself

(also yesssss. \o/ headcanon, but even though everyone blames wwx for the new rules, lwj going off script 100% freaked the clan out way more and imo would make the clan elders far more likely to chip out some more lines on the wall than anything wwx could do alone, lol)

@vera-invenire, here it is! Thanks very much for the prompt, I had a lot of fun writing for it :D Many thanks also to @morphia-writes and @miyuki4s for their wonderful beta work, you are all awesome people.

Tags: CQL-verse, Chief Cultivator Lan Wangji, Wangxian, five times fic, pining, getting together, first kiss, long distance relationship (with meet-ups)

Length: ~6k (AO3 link here!)

1: Do Not Use Clan Techniques Inappropriately

To His Excellency, the esteemed Chief Cultivator, Hanguang-jun, the letter begins.

How will you ever know which letters are mine if I start them so formally? I promise, I promise, never again. Forever onwards you will be only Lan Zhan in letters, no matter what I have to write on the address.

But Lan Zhan, did you know? I’ve heard the most outrageous rumor lately. It’s the talk of traveling merchants and wine houses everywhere that you used the Lan Clan silence spell during the last cultivation conference. On every sect leader! Lan Zhan is so cruel. How could you do such a thing—and not invite me to see it? A baker in Yingchuan said Sect Leader Ouyang turned redder than his robes, and that Sect Leader Yao risked his throat and mouth still trying to speak. I’m tempted to call on Jiang Cheng and extract a full account from him, but we’d probably only fight again. Especially if you used it on him, too! Perhaps Jin Ling will be more accommodating for his long-lost uncle. Can I even think to trust a version of the tale from our dear Sect Leader Nie? I’m sure he managed to keep his voice unhindered, sly fox that he’s become.

It looks as if the rain is letting up, so my caravan will be leaving soon. I’ve heard all my life how beautiful Kuizhou is and now I finally have the time to visit. Have you seen it? I’ll send sketches of the landscape in my next letter; if you’ve been, we can compare notes, and if you haven’t perhaps they’ll help you decide if the rumors are true. For now, I can only offer this picture of your Gusu mountains. Think of it as a promise that I’ll come see them again someday.

Yours,

Wei Ying

P.S. I know you won’t tell me the story yourself, but I plan to beg you for it anyway. A tale like this is too good to keep behind your lips.

Lan Wangji reads it twice, committing the ebullient flow of Wei Ying’s writing to memory. The drawing is inked in a looser hand than he remembers from portraits and rabbits so many years ago, but he recognizes the landscape as the ridge on which they bid each other farewell, as seen from the trail towards the Qingling mountains.

He sets it to the side, smooths it carefully, and tries to take up his work again. The Jin Clan’s collected accounts of the last twenty years are neatly stacked before him, the white-gold bindings gleaming in yellow lantern light. He even manages to open one before his mind flits away, following the swooping energy of Wei Ying’s brush strokes into the night. He puts down the ledger, snuffs out the lantern, and stands. Perhaps he will check on the rabbits before curfew.

There is no announcement to go with the new rule listed in the main courtyard; it simply appeared on the Wall one morning, and then in all the library copies on the day after. But rumor swirls, of course, even in this place where gossip is prohibited. Perhaps especially here, behind white-and-blue sleeves in the juniors’ classes and through barely-moving-lips in the crafting, sword and music halls. As seems to be happening ever more frequently in the past few months, the name on the wind is Hanguang-jun.

Lan Wangji walks the wide, wandering paths between the back mountain and the Jingshi with the crisp folds of Wei Ying’s letter pressed between his yi and hanfu, over his heart. “Inappropriately” is a qualifier with more leniency than he is used to hearing from the Lan Clan elders. He wonders, with a sudden surge of surprise, if they are just as unsettled by and unprepared for his appointment to the position of Chief Cultivator as everyone else. Or perhaps it is simply that they have all attended more cultivation conferences between them than he ever wants to imagine. He can’t be the first Lan to have such an impulse. Loudly proclaimed falsehoods are, after all, exactly what the silencing spell was created to counter.

Yes. He is secure in his judgment. He has no doubts.

If the Sect Leaders cannot restrain themselves to speaking the truth, they will not speak to him at all.

2. Do Not Bother the Kitchen Staff

It’s supposed to be a surprise. A good surprise, for Wei Ying’s first visit to Cloud Recesses since Lan Wangji’s appointment as Chief Cultivator. He’s been working on it for weeks, ever since he received the letter declaring Wei Ying’s intent to visit for Qixi: he knows that Wei Ying’s greatest complaint about Cloud Recesses is the food, and so he will make certain Wei Ying has at least one meal more fitting to his tastes.

He knows it’s foolish, wishful thinking, but the idea that if he could just fix this one thing Wei Ying would stay has snuck into his mind, and so he purchases dried chilies and their oil from Yunmeng and spicy peppercorns and ginger from Caiyi, and rises before five every day for two weeks so that he might visit the kitchens and learn enough to prepare something simple.

If the kitchen staff are curious about his presence, they never let him see it. Li Jing seems pleased enough to teach him—stern and exacting, but never cruel—and pronounces the dishes of hot clear noodles, freshly pickled mushrooms and spicy tofu soup Lan Wangji produces “acceptable,” which is the highest praise she ever gives anyone. He makes them again the afternoon Wei Ying arrives, so that they will be ready for the evening banquet. He leaves a preservation talisman over the tray, and a note: For Wei Wuxian’s Return.

He doesn’t have time to check on it again. Wei Ying arrives like a spring storm, wild and sudden and casting the quiet paths of Cloud Recesses into disarray. He flits here and there like a blown leaf, greeting Lan Sizhui with an enthusiasm that violates at least three Clan principles before teasing Lan Jingyi with familiar humor and then complaining aloud—and loudly—that the rabbits still don’t like him. Never once does he venture further away than the reach of Lan Wangji’s shadow, and rarely even so far as that, but it is still not quite enough to quiet the tangled threads that pull and knot in Lan Wangji’s center. The press of paper against his chest is a habit born of a new kind of waiting, and now that Wei Ying is here, in front of him, the warmth it brings is more distraction than comfort.

Evening comes quickly, sweeping over Cloud Recesses with a cool, creeping fog and painting the mountain peaks in lively shades of red. Wei Ying tips his head back to watch a pair of cranes fly overhead and Lan Wangji watches the tilt of his mouth as he smiles and the line of his neck as he turns and waits.

He would have preferred a private dinner in the Jingshi, where Wei Ying might pair his special meal with his favorite wine and there would be no audience to comment on a lingering touch of fingertips as the cup passed between them. But it is not to be: his uncle is eating alone to aid his recovery after several days’ work refreshing the outer wards and his brother is still in seclusion, and so it falls on Lan Wangji to be present in the main dining hall for the evening meal.

Wei Ying pouts at this revelation but he joins the crowd without much protest—with so little in the way of objections, in fact, that Lan Wangji is certain he has some small rebellion in mind. As he is a single note of black and red in a chorus of white and blue, whatever it is is sure to be noticeable, but perhaps the food will be distraction enough. It is at least different from what Wei Ying has been served in Cloud Recesses before. Different enough that he frowns at it, and then opens his mouth to speak before he catches the slight shake of Lan Wangji’s head: silence during meals. Instead he fishes a whole dried pepper out of his soup for inspection and shoots Lan Wangji a questioning glance. The look of glee on his face when Lan Wangji nods is so captivating that Lan Wangji hardly even looks at his own portion before he starts eating.

It’s not that he doesn’t notice the unexpected added spice; his mouth burns after the very first bite, but Wei Ying’s surprised pleasure is worth any momentary discomfort. Even if it means he can’t actually taste most of the meal. It’s only when Lan Jingyi makes a faint choking noise that he realizes anyone else’s food has been affected. He can see the moment Wei Ying notices it too—his lips curl in like he’s clamped them together with his teeth trying not to smile, and his eyes widen even as he determinedly doesn’t look at anyone. Lan Wangji keeps his own eyes lowered as he examines the room. He is abruptly thankful that his uncle is not present, but many of the other elders are not so lucky. Several have already gestured for more tea or rice, an action that quickly ripples through the attending juniors as well.

The prohibition against talking during meals has never felt so smotheringly present as in this moment, watching faces turn red behind fiercely-clutched cups of tea. It’s Lan Bai who stands from his table and glares at Wei Ying, his face transformed more with emotion than the spicy food. He doesn’t speak—silence during meals—but he flaps his sleeve derisively and starts to sweep contemptuously past them, and Lan Wangji knows he will go straight to the Grandmaster, and then to the Sect Leader if he is still unsatisfied, because he always does. It will be an unpleasant waste of everyone’s time and an unnecessary stress on both of them because Lan Wangji already knows this incident is highly unlikely to repeat itself. It can only have happened at all in Li Jing’s absence, which means she has been called away earlier than expected for her grandchild’s birth in Caiyi.

“Do not be picky about food,” he reminds Lan Bai, and even the clicking of chopsticks stops in the wake of it. Lan Bai looks so affronted that for a moment Lan Wangji thinks he will actually argue the point.

Anything that might have been said is promptly forgotten as Wei Ying hurriedly stands and runs from the hall. He makes it just outside the doors before laughter bursts out of him, loud and joyous and likely audible to the whole of Cloud Recesses. Lan Wangji holds Lan Bai’s gaze. He will not have this falling on Wei Ying’s shoulders, and he is no longer just the Second Jade of Lan, too young and too-headstrong, who spends too much time away from home. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Lan Sizhui nudge Lan Jingyi, and both pick up their chopsticks. Slowly, the normal sounds of dinner resume, if with a great deal more tea than usual. Slowly, Lan Bai manages a rather stiff bow and excuses himself without further dramatics.

After he’s gone Wei Ying returns, mirth still spilling from every movement. He finishes his meal without speaking but it’s clear, as cultivators file out of the hall in silent rows, that he has plenty to say.

“That was—” He laughs again in the quiet of the Jingshi. “Lan Zhan, I can hardly believe someone so righteous as you would do such a thing. And to so many at once! Do you know how many times I tried to get into the kitchens when I was a student here?”

“It was unintentional,” Lan Wangji admits as he pours wine into Wei Ying’s cup. The incident is, in retrospect, rather reminiscent of a childish prank, and he should not be surprised to learn that Wei Ying might have planned something similar. “My preparation of your portion was not meant as a general instruction.”

Wei Ying accepts the cup with a soft brush of fingertips and a grateful smile, and then stills with it halfway to his mouth.

“Lan Zhan.” He sets the cup down with a sharp click. “Are you—Lan Zhan you made that? You—” his gaze drops for a moment and then he slides around the corner of the table to sit beside Lan Wangji instead of across from him. “You cooked that? For me?” His eyes are very wide, all traces of humor gone.

Lan Wangji hesitates, his fingers curling deeper in his sleeves. Perhaps his confidence was misplaced.

“Was it unpalatable?” he asks, because of course that’s possible. He hardly knows what the dishes are supposed to taste like to someone who actively enjoys them.

“It was delicious,” Wei Ying assures him. He reaches out with both hands and finds Lan Wangji’s fingers, and then his wrist. “Perfect.” He laughs, the sound a little watery. “I can’t believe—” he squeezes Lan Wangji’s hand, “—no one’s cooked just for me since—” he breaks off and turns away. His breath shudders through his frame.

Lan Wangji turns his wrist and links Wei Ying’s fingers through his own. This is perhaps not the reaction he hoped for, but he is hardly unfamiliar with the ways grief can lie in wait to ambush the most vigilant of minds.

“Sorry.” Wei Ying’s grip tightens. He manages to meet Lan Wangji’s eyes before ducking his head again, his chin tucked to his chest. “Sorry, sorry, this is—I don’t know why I—”

“It is alright, Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji guides his head back up and wipes the tears from Wei Ying’s cheek with his sleeve. “I’m here,” he promises. For you, always here for you, goes unspoken, caught somewhere deep in his chest.

Wei Ying’s face crumples. “Lan Zhan,” he says, the syllables half strangled on a sob, and he leans first into Lan Wangji’s shoulder and then sinks lower, until his head rests on Lan Wangji’s forearm above their joined hands, and he cries. It is not a particularly comfortable position, but Lan Wangji does not protest, even when Wei Ying’s tears soak through his sleeves to dampen his skin. He is, for a moment, at something of a loss for what to do. A faded memory comes to him of another night in this room, so long ago it’s more feeling than image: his mother’s soothing warm hands on his back and soft humming above him. And then another memory: Lan Zhan, won’t you sing for me echoing back at him from two decades passed.

He strokes Wei Ying’s shuddering shoulders, and he hums, soft and soothing, and he holds Wei Ying’s hand until he quiets, wrung out and limp with exhaustion.

Tomorrow he will rise early and prepare another meal for Wei Ying’s breakfast, shuttered away from curious eyes and open judgment. Tomorrow there will be music, and stories of mountains and rivers they never saw in their youth. Tomorrow they will walk the paths of his home side-by-side, and visit Little Apple and the rabbits, and he will watch Wei Ying revel in the afternoon sun. Tomorrow, together, they will build a lantern and release a promise to the heavens.

Tonight, he unbinds Wei Yings hair and combs it smooth with long, slow motions. Tonight he guides Wei Ying carefully to the bed and removes his boots and sees him settled under the blankets. Tonight he holds Wei Ying’s hand in his own and sits vigil against any specters of memory or dream that might come to haunt him, and for tonight—for tonight, that is enough.

3. Do Not Be Overly Affectionate in Public

“Pssst. Wei-qianbei.”

Wei Wuxian stops, much to Little Apple’s annoyance, and lets one hand slide down to Chenqing as he inspects his surroundings more closely. Cloud Recesses’ main gate is just around this bend in the path, and sometimes he thinks the donkey might be looking forward to their arrival even more than he is.

“Wei-qianbei.” A flash of white on the mountainous side of the path reveals Lan Jingyi, stumbling down to meet him with Lan Sizhui at his side and a gaggle of other young Lans in his wake.

“A-Yuan,” Wei Wuxian greets Lan Sizhui with a grin, “and so many upright young Lans. Whatever could you all be doing outside your own warded walls?”

Lan Sizhui steps forward. “Wei-qianbei,” he says with a bow, proper as anything, “before you meet with Hanguang-jun, there’s something you should see.”

Wei Wuxian purses his lips, considering. “How many rules are you planning to break with this venture?” he asks.

“Um. None.” Lan Sizhui looks back at his companions and then nods firmly. “It’s actually the Wall of Discipline we want to show you.”

Wei Wuxian clicks his tongue in disappointment. Youthful creativity squandered once again. “Really, A-Yuan, don’t they teach you Lans anything about negotiations? This proposal is not at all appealing to me. I’ve seen enough of those rules to last a lifetime. Or two.”

“We know that.” Lan Jingyi folds his arms over his chest and smiles like he has something to be smug about. “But we think you’ll want to see this one.”

Hm. There’s a bit of cunning in Lan Jingyi’s expression that Wei Wuxian must admit is refreshing to see in a Lan. And he’ll have to walk past the rules anyway, on his way to the Jingshi. It can’t really hurt to take a look.

“You see?” He gestures at Lan Jingyi. “This is much more intriguing. Take note.” He ponders for another moment, then nods. “Alright,” he agrees, nudging Little Apple back into motion. “But it had better be quick.”

They get some curious looks from the cultivators on gate duty, and it takes some time to get Little Apple settled, but soon enough they’re in the main courtyard, staring at the engraved hunk of rock that dictates so much of life in Cloud Recesses. Wei Wuxian isn’t certain what he’s supposed to be looking at. Yes, there’s a new rule: Do not be overly affectionate in public. He’s just not certain what was so important about it to merit a special visit.

“It was added months ago,” Lan Wangji says, appearing at his shoulder. “Shortly after your departure.”

Wei Wuxian looks up at him, searching for some hint of what he’s supposed to be understanding here. Lan Wangji is doing his best impression of an implacable jade statue, which generally means he’s having some very pointed thoughts indeed. Wei Wuxian leans in to jostle his shoulder and gets a faintly amused deepening of the corner of Lan Wangji’s mouth in response. Success.

“How long was that, a few breaths?” Lan Jingyi asks to their right, too-loud as ever. “A count of ten?”

“I’m not certain that breaks it,” Lan Sizhui says, softer, “You’ve never been punished.”

That prompts Wei Wuxian to watch Lan Wangji more closely, waiting for confirmation or denial. But surely not. Surely they couldn’t mean...

Slowly, ever so slightly, Lan Wangji nods.

Wei Wuxian stares at the characters so carefully etched into the rock and struggles to contain his laughter.

“Lan Zhan,” he says, trying to hide his snickering behind his sleeve. “Lan Zhan, they can’t be serious. This sounds like they think I’m going to ravish you in the central courtyard.” It’s a joke. Very much a joke. He would happily ravish Lan Wangji in private, of course, if he could ever be certain Lan Wangji was interested in such pastimes, but—

“It’s not you they’re worried about,” Lan Jingyi says, though his smirk slides off his face almost as soon as it’s out of his mouth. Lan Wangji’s gaze settles on him for a moment, until Wei Wuxian draws his attention back by tugging at his sleeve because that—that doesn’t make sense.

“Lan Zhan,” he says. “Is this—this can’t be about Qixi. Can it?”

Lan Wangji looks away. The tips of his ears are turning pink.

“It is?” Wei Wuxian thinks hard, but he can’t remember anything from his last visit that would be drastic enough to prompt a new rule as a response. He frowns. “But we only built a lantern together. Building a lantern is hardly debauchery in public.” Even if it had felt like a bit more than just building a lantern at the time, with the mix of hope and nostalgia rising in his chest.

“Wei Ying is shameless,” Lan Wangji observes.

“I was a perfect gentleman!” Wei Wuxian protests. Well, alright, perhaps he had been overly touchy in his affection for Lan Sizhui. Or overly loud, at least. And there had been, admittedly, several moments where he’d had to to sternly restrain himself from kissing Lan Wangji in full view of all his elders and students. He had restrained himself precisely because he hadn’t wanted to spend the precious after-dinner hours of the festival writing lines or banished to kneel somewhere as some sort of penance. And also because even he wasn’t so shameless as to subject his first kiss to such a display. What if he did it wrong? Getting it wrong in front of Lan Wangji would be bad enough, but the whole of his clan as well? It hardly bears thinking about.

And yet, Lan Jingyi had said…

Wei Wuxian does have some well-worn memories of that time, of Lan Wangji’s steady presence at his side and the jumping, choking pulse of hope and want thrumming under his skin. There had been moments. When Lan Wangji plucked leaves out of his hair after an afternoon’s game with some of the younger Lan disciples. When their hands had touched over and over and over again as they built their shared lantern. The way Lan Wangji had looked at him after they’d released it. The mornings, when Lan Wangji presented him with breakfast made especially for Wei Wuxian, and the evenings too, when they played together, sharing songs both old and new, or simply sat together in easy quiet with a cup of Emperor’s Smile passed between them: one to pour, one to drink, fingers brushing. Moments when he’d thought—maybe that kiss was going to happen.

Maybe Lan Wangji had thought that too. Maybe—maybe he was waiting for Wei Wuxian to move first, maybe—

“Lan Zhan.” He reaches for Lan Wangji’s sleeve again. Lets his fingers slide down to linger on Lan Wangji’s own.

Lan Wangji turns, just slightly. Just enough to actually be facing him. There’s a quickly muffled noise to their right, which Wei Wuxian resolutely ignores.

“Lan Zhan,” he repeats, softer. “I really… I really do like you.” He shifts closer.

“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji’s fingers clench around his hand, and Wei Wuxian squeezes back.

“I like you so much,” he says, “and I wish...” He drops his gaze to Lan Wangji’s lips. “I wish...” His words dry up. All he can do is squeeze Lan Wangji’s hand tighter and stare at him and hope that—that his intent is clear. That Lan Wangji… understands and—

And then Lan Wangji is kissing him, moving their linked hands up to Wei Wuxian’s jaw and holding him still with Bichen pressed against his side and kissing him, and Wei Wuxian suddenly remembers the rules—rules Lan Wangji is breaking! For him!—and their audience, and he can’t stop the blush that burns on his face and neck but he’s not going to stop kissing Lan Wangji either.

“That definitely breaks it, right?” Lan Jingyi says in a whisper that is likely louder than he thinks it is, and Lan Wangji pulls away.

Wei Wuxian, embarrassingly, whimpers a bit, which turns into a only-somewhat aborted exclamation of surprise as Lan Wangji turns and starts dragging him along in the general direction of the Jingshi.

“Lan Zhan!” He jogs a little to keep up. He wonders how many rules they are breaking now—they’re not exactly running, but they’re certainly moving faster than usual. He’s definitely making noise. Is kissing someone still an impulsive act if he’s spent months and months thinking about it? And he’s quite certain that anyone looking at his expression, at least, would mark him down for “excessively happy” because the smile he’s wearing feels like it’s been stamped onto his face.

“Lan Zhan!” He stops in the Jingshi’s doorway and clings to the wall a little and waits for Lan Wangji to look at him along the taut line of their still-joined hands.

“What is it?” Lan Wangji’s voice is unexpectedly flat, and his grip on Wei Wuxian’s hand tightens as his eyes drop to that point of connection. As if he is perhaps afraid Wei Wuxian will try to slip free now.

“I just wanted to say, it is an honor to break the Lan Clan rules with you.” Wei Wuxian’s grin widens as Lan Wangji’s gaze narrows. He loves that glare so much. So, so much it feels like emotion is going to burst out of him like a breaking dam. “And,” he adds, gleeful and almost giddy, “I’m happy to help you break that one again any time you like.”

There is a moment of considering silence.

“Perhaps,” Lan Wangji allows, a smile pulling at the edges of his lips, and Wei Wuxian steps over the threshold and lets himself be pulled in like the moon pulls the tide—surging, crashing, and eternal.

4. Do Not Speak to Wei Wuxian

There is a new rule on the Wall of Discipline. Lan Wangji glares at it, which has little effect except to make his lover cling to his sleeve and laugh at him.

“Unjust,” Lan Wangji mutters. The rule has, admittedly, come in the wake of three separate disturbances to the Lan Sect’s calm, quiet existence, but Wei Ying is not to blame for them. If anything, it had been Lan Wangji himself who asked his young students the question: Who is just, and who is evil? Who is wrong and who is right? Who decides what is black and what is white? And how will you tell the difference outside these walls?

Just because Wei Ying is present in Cloud Recesses does not make him responsible for disruptions, even if he does take a certain amount of glee in watching such debates unfold.

Wei Ying’s glee is currently threatening to completely undo him as he collapses under the force of his own humor, more and more of his weight coming to bear where he holds Lan Wangji’s wrist.

“Lan Zhan,” he gasps, laughing enough to be hardly intelligible, “this is my favorite rule.”

Lan Wangji steadies him and waits, patiently, for an explanation. There usually is an explanation even if it is not always something Lan Wangji himself would consider reasonable or logical. Wei Ying tries to speak three times, each instance interrupted by a fresh peal of laughter before he finally heaves a few calming breaths and stands straight.

“Lan Zhan,” he says, wiping tears from his eyes, “with this rule, any time your uncle yells at me, he must break it. And the other elders! How will they punish me for talking at meals and running in the courtyards if they can’t speak to me?”

Lan Wangji’s lips twitch. “Ridiculous,” he says.

Wei Ying smiles, wide and exuberant. “Yes, yes, yes, so many of your rules are ridiculous,” he agrees, which is not what Lan Wangji meant, but he is well familiar with Wei Ying’s opinion in this matter. “But Lan Zhan,” he continues, “this one is silly. If only speaking to me were such a danger then you, you! Hanguang-jun, the Second Jade of Lan, the Chief Cultivator! You would be entirely beyond hope.” He shakes his head, incredulous and dismissive. Matter closed.

The implication, Lan Wangji is certain, is meant to be that he is obviously still an upstanding member of the Lan Clan, committed to its principles. This is true, but is perhaps truest in Wei Ying’s eyes, and in his own self-perception, rather than that view belonging to his Clan’s elders; Lan Wangji’s interpretation of the rules differs from his Uncle’s, and he knows the friction that causes is unlikely to resolve itself quickly. And then there are the rules he breaks willingly, repeatedly. The rules he is breaking right now, standing here with Wei Ying without attempting to hide either his affection for the man before him or his critique of an elder’s decisions. Speaking to him, as is apparently now prohibited. Lan An’s principles—and his exceptions—are well known to the Lan Clan elders, but Lan Wangji is still certain his ancestor would be much more forgiving of his transgressions than his living relatives are.

“Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying leans into him, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Do you want to know the best thing about this rule?”

Lan Wangji nods, and Wei Ying presses his lips tightly together, perhaps suppressing another laugh.

“Lan Zhan,” he whispers, leaning ever closer, until his hair brushes Lan Wangji’s ear and his breath is warm on Lan Wangji’s face. “Just think,” he says, conspiratorial and jubilant oh-so-dear, “I can never be punished for breaking it.”

5. Do Not Vandalize Sect Property

Their belongings are packed, the weather is clear, and Wei Ying is eager to return to the road. Lan Wangji, if pressed—by Wei Ying, in a quiet moment caught between breaths, private to themselves—might allow that he is also pleased to be leaving Cloud Recesses, at least for a time. To go night hunting again, to use his cultivation skills where they are most necessary, and to extract himself from the incessant politics of squabbling clans. To spend time with Wei Ying, and only Wei Ying, and to see the world as Wei Ying sees it. He has dedicated months of planning to this journey. Weeks of work to guarantee that they will not be interrupted, and that the cultivation world will weather his absence without more than the usual level of strife between sects.

Still, he stops in the courtyard, before the Wall.

“I will meet you at the back gates,” he says.

Wei Ying shoots him a curious look. “Is this about whatever had you talking to Zewu-jun for days and days?”

“I will meet Wei Ying at the gates,” Lan Wangji repeats. This topic is only tangentially related to matters he has discussed with his brother recently, and it only concerns Wei Ying in the way that most of Lan Wangji’s life concerns Wei Ying—his thoughts ever returning to him like the flow of rivers into the sea. There will be time to inform him of this later, when they are alone on the little-used mountain path to the southern provinces. He retrieves a bundle of bok choy and carrot tops from his sleeve and holds it out for Wei Ying to take. “For the rabbits.”

Wei Ying pouts, but he takes both the vegetables and the direction. “Secret Lan Clan business,” he mutters. He frowns and shakes the carrot tops at Lan Wangji. “You could have told me you were planning something.”

Lan Wangji could have, it’s true, but he knows Wei Ying. Even the hint of something unusual is enough to keep his interest for days—often long days, featuring frequent leading questions—ambushes from a probing enemy. And this is Clan business. Clan politics. Involving Wei Ying even as an observer courts resentment at best and chaos at worst. Wei Ying himself at least seems to realize the same. He sighs and waves the topic away.

“If you take too long the rabbits might start to like me best,” he teases instead, turning away and deliberately avoiding Lan Wangji’s skepticism.

Lan Wangji watches him until he’s out of sight and waits several slow, steady moments longer. He has gathered an audience, eyes watching from latticed windows, just-barely-open doors, and entirely-too-convenient conversations stopped just far enough away to allow observation. But that has been true of his life for years now—eyes wherever he goes, whatever he does. Here, now, perhaps it will actually be useful.

He approaches the wall and runs two fingers along the top edge, where he can feel the protective layers of generations of cultivators’ wards and talismans sunk into the stone. He could break them, with enough effort, or unravel them with the right array, but it won’t be necessary. What he has planned should not interfere with any of them. He steps back, pulls a talisman from his sleeve, and centers himself. He’s still not certain the words are exactly right, but they are the closest he could get.

It’s easier than expected. Perhaps due to something in his bloodline, or his cultivation level, or the memories he can bring to bear, stretching back past this handful of years, past Wei Ying’s resurrection, past his death, past Lan Wangji’s own injuries and seclusion, stretching back across long years to a childhood spent etching rules into his bones in the hope of one more afternoon listening to his mother talk and laugh and sing.

Or perhaps not. Perhaps the Clan has simply depended more on custom and reverence to protect the Wall than he anticipated. Perhaps they thought to ward only against actual damage. Whatever the reason, it is only the work of a few heartbeats to write the seal, focus his intent, and let it go.

The ink shines against the stone, stark against the carvings: An attempt to control others is a loss of self.

It won’t scrub off, or be easily banished. It will wear away with time, and rain, and wind, as all the world does. It will last weeks, at least. Perhaps months. Long enough. He suspects, in the utter stillness that the courtyard has suddenly become, that even a day would be long enough.

He does not look at the watchers in the windows, or across the courtyard. He turns and walks away, looking only forward. To Wei Ying, who is sitting on the ground near the back mountain gate with a leaf of bok choy in one hand as he attempts to coax a rabbit ever closer.

Wei Ying, who pouts as Lan Wangji approaches and the rabbits immediately lose interest in his offering of treats, instead gathering around Lan Wangji’s ankles. Wei Ying, who stands and tosses the leaf aside with a disappointed sigh more befitting of a child than a cultivator of his talent.

“Important Clan business done with?” he asks.

“Mn.” Lan Wangji gently nudges the rabbits away and steps over them, joining Wei Ying and Little Apple at the gate’s threshold. Wei Ying nods a few times, like he’s not really aware of his actions.

“You know, Lan Zhan.” His voice is oddly low, the words stilted. His hands move aimlessly in the space between them. “If you’d rather stay here—if you don’t want to come—”

“I want to, Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji assures him before that line of thought can go any further. He takes Little Apple’s lead and holds Wei Ying’s gaze. “The paths we walk do not need to be lonely ones.”

Wei Ying smiles, his eyes overbright, and something between a sigh and a laugh bursts from his lips. “Lan Zhan,” he says in something closer to his normal voice, “you just say these things and I can’t—” His hands rise warm and familiar to Lan Wangji’s jaw, and their lips meet, and Lan Wangji stands still and steady and kisses Wei Ying for as long as it takes for Little Apple to become agitated and shove her head into Wei Ying’s hips, pushing him back. Based on the displeased scrunching of Wei Ying’s face as he glares down at his donkey, Lan Wangji is certain they would both agree it wasn’t nearly long enough. But there will be more chances. More long afternoons, more starlit nights and soft morning sunrises to share. He watches Wei Ying shake his head fondly and rub the donkey’s ears. Watches him grip Chenqing at his belt and turn with a smile.

“Alright, Lan Zhan,” he says, the corners of his eyes crinkling with good humor and excitement and what Lan Wangji has tentatively started to think of as love, right there on his face for the whole world to see. “Where should we go first?”

#wangxian #the untamed #chen qing ling #lan wangji #wei wuxian #cql #alex writes

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cbyauthor · 3 years

Text

NEW FIC!! AT YOUR SIDE, CLEAR SPACE FOR ME

Read it HERE on AO3!

Modern Au with CAT HYBRIDS!! Wei Wuxian is a handyman living at Cloud Recesses. That Lan Wangji guy is...odd.

Chapter 1/8

Story:

Wei Wuxian's main duties at the Lan complex—locally known as Cloud Recesses, which was just about the most pretentious thing Wei Wuxian had ever heard—were as follows:

1. Minor repairs and maintenance. Wei Wuxian might never have had an actual job, but that didn't mean he didn't know how to do things. A lot of Saturday mornings hanging out with Uncle Jiang had taught him enough that he could get by. Google was helpful when he was actually out of his depth. Who the hell still had knob and tube wiring, and why did they assume a random 20-year-old with half an engineering degree could fix it?

2. Clean common spaces. This was the easiest part of his job. Lans didn't tend to congregate, so tidying up in the library and the entrance hall took only a few seconds, especially if he set himself a timer and was trying to beat his best score. (He'd done the floor in 56 seconds last time, and didn't miss any of it.) (Except maybe a couple corners.)

3. Deliver mail—and food, because even Lans couldn't resist the siren song of Dominos—to the individual living spaces within the complex. Mostly, he took important-looking envelopes to the office of Lan Xichen, who was supposed to be running the family business, whatever that was. Nie Huaisang had told him that it was 'totally legit' but that was the same guy who believed his brother and his brother's weird uppity secretary weren't fucking, soooooooo. Debatable.

4. Ignore any weirdness.

Namely, hybrid shit. As if it wasn't the most obvious thing ever, in this life or the next.

Everybody knew the Lans were cat hybrids, but nobody talked about it. After the legislation, the Jiang clan had opened their gates and actually socialised with the humans around the complex. No such luck with the Lans, though they could hardly be blamed for keeping their distance. The Jiangs were dog hybrids, pack-oriented at heart.

The Lans were...not that.

Which was why it was still a surprise when anyone approached the gate, and even worse when someone actually rang the doorbell.

"Oof!" Wei Wuxian managed to keep his face from slamming into the floor, but it meant the rest of him was in an undignified heap next to his tiny bed. "Coming!"

The door to his one-room cabin hit the wall with a loud bang as he rushed to the gate, then his finger bent at an awkward angle on the button for the intercom.

"Ow—yeah? I mean, hello?"

"Uh, I have a delivery?"

"Cool, one sec."

The guy looked spooked, jumping at the beep the outer door made, but he handed over the package just fine. Brown paper, a little warm on the bottom...food, definitely. Indian, if the smells coming out of the bag were anything to go by.

Wei Wuxian's stomach twisted with want. Not hunger...he'd just eaten. Just longing for something that wasn't cup noodles.

"Thanks, man," he said, deliberately loosening his grip on the bag.

The guy smiled, tightly. And didn't leave.

He didn't outright hold out a hand in expectation, but the vibe was 'poor orphan boy asking for another helping'. Or for at least 15 percent on the price of the order.

"Did they already tip you?" Wei Wuxian asked, even though he knew the answer.

"Uh. No."

He kept his sigh inside as he dug into his jeans for his wallet. This guy hadn't done anything to deserve feeling like he was about to get reprimanded. It wasn't his fault that a lot of the older Lans were so removed from the human world that they'd forgotten—or had never learned—the most basic of social customs.

What the hell had they done before Wei Wuxian was around? Got shitty service, probably. That probably had something to do with why most people didn't even bother to ring the doorbell. A number of good pizzas had met an untimely demise out on the sidewalk that way.

Juggling the bag, he pulled a bill from his wallet, hoping it'd be enough. It was all he had, so it would have to be. "There you go."

"Thanks," the delivery guy said, his smile a little more genuine. "Have a good day!"

"You, too." The door—heavy and resistant to pressure, like all the doors in this place—closed way too slowly for Wei Wuxian's taste, since he felt obligated to keep his pout to himself until nobody was in sight.

He had to stop doing that. It wasn't his job to pay delivery people, and the Lans wouldn't learn if he kept enabling them, but it would be so shitty for the delivery people...

"Ugh, whatever," he told the tiny smiley face written on the edge of the paper bag. At least someone was happy.

His lunch break was over, so he hustled up the driveway to the living spaces, the sunshine putting him in a better mood with every step. One of the wind chimes that dotted the complex was going at it. Not annoying per se, just unignorable.

"And who do you belong to?" Wei Wuxian muttered, juggling the bag again to get a peek at the instructions to the restaurant.

218. Cool.

Wait.

218? Not 217?

He didn't even know there was a 218, but Lan Xichen's personal residence was 217, so he'd been there a bunch. He supposed he'd never been around the corner, but the hallway did continue.

The Lan homes were a bit like single-story motels, but really nice ones. Rows of widely-spaced doors were shaded by an overhanging porch roof, and inside, all the apartments—at least, the ones he'd been in—were virtually identical.

There was nothing special about the door he stopped in front of. Nothing at all, except that he'd never seen it before, and it was in the nicest part of the complex. Someone important, then.

"Knock knock," he called out, then did the same thing with his hand. Next to the door frame was a nameplate.

Lan Wangji.

From inside, he heard a thump.

Then nothing.

"Hello? I've got your food." He shifted on his feet, then added in an undertone, "Smells good, too."

There was another sound from the other side of the wall, then the clunk of a knob turning, and then—

The door opened. About an inch.

A pale face and a dark eye were visible through the crack, but whoever it was—Lan Wangji, supposedly—didn't say anything.

So Wei Wuxian did it first.

"Hi!" The bag made a dry crunching noise as he thrust it out. "Delivery!"

The door closed and the eye disappeared.

"Um."

What the hell?

The bag was starting to get heavy, so he dropped his am. Then raised the other one to knock again.

There was no more movement on the other side, but he knew someone was there, so he backed up against the railing, into the strip of sunlight that the awning didn't cover.

The door opened again, but still, the man—probably a man, if those strong eyebrows were anything to go by—said not a word. Both his eyes were visible this time, though, and his entire long nose. Long face, actually. And tall. Just...long everything.

"Um," Wei Wuxian said. Again.

The door shivered, but didn't close.

Very carefully, telegraphing every movement, Wei Wuxian put the package on the ground in a cloud of warm, spicy smells. Then, he used the edge of his shoe to slooooooooowly slide it across the concrete. The scrape was like claws on metal.

When he'd pushed it as far as he could without getting any closer, he stood up and backed up until he was pressed against the railing.

And he waited.

And waited a little more.

And...the door opened, enough to let a tall—long—body through.

The bag was snatched up in a second, and the man was back inside his apartment in a flurry of flipping hair and loose, pale clothing.

A robe. The man was wearing a very tightly belted fuzzy bathrobe in the middle of the day.

Which Wei Wuxian only noticed because Lan Wangji was standing stock still as the door—heavy and completely unable to be rushed—sloooooooooowly closed.

"Enjoy your food!" Wei Wuxian said with a little wave that felt stupid as soon as he did it.

Lan Wangji stared. The gap narrowed.

Just as the door started to cover his face, Lan Wangji said, "Thank you."

Click.

"Okaaay."

Weird. But oddly, not the weirdest thing he'd experienced here. That had to have been the carpeted bathrooms in a couple of apartments on the West side.

Seriously. Carpet. In a bathroom.

Lans were weird, and not because they were bad at social interaction.

***

He dragged his feet on the way back to his cabin, as far from the main complex as they could possibly put him.

His muscles were sore, weak from being stretched and used for so long. He wasn't out of shape, but bags of concrete were heavy and the new sidewalk on the northside pavilion had taken him all day.

Nothing he couldn't handle. It just would've been a lot nicer with some company.

When his cabin came into view, he saw a familiar spot of white on the door. Grabbing it on his way inside, he popped open the taped envelope that always managed to appear when he was busy elsewhere.

Counting his salary didn't make it worth any more, but he did it anyway before taking out a couple of bills for expenses that week….then a couple more for his phone bill.

As for the rest…

Hopping onto his bed, he pulled up the far corner of his twin mattress and added the envelope to the flattened stack. There were four or five other envelopes just like it, waiting for the next time he went into town and to the bank. He needed to do that.

...Not this time though.

The numbers on his phone's banking app weren't as reassuring as seeing it in his hand. Some instinct still urged him to bury his treasure instead of giving it to someone else to keep.

Thumping the mattress back into place, Wei Wuxian fell onto his back, knowing he'd regret it later when he found smears of concrete dust all over his sheets. That was a problem for Future Wei Wuxian, not him.

Freed from the ribbon that kept it held back, his hair was a little damp from sweat, and a bit grimy from the work. The scratch of his fingers over his scalp was just about as close to heaven as he thought he'd get.

Showeeeeer, the responsible part of his brain told him. You'll extra not want to do it lateeeer.

Future Wei Wuxian was a chump who'd be very pissed in like an hour, but screw him.

He messed around on his phone instead, endlessly scrolling until he found something worth sharing with Shijie or anyone else.

Group Chat: The Boys

Me: I hate this, hate it with me.

[picture]

YourSaviourJC: Ew. What even are those?

Sangbird: WUT R THOOOOOOOSE

Me: The spawn of satan. I hate how human they look. HATE IT.

Sangbird: Oh nooooo, they're so cute how can you hate them? They love you!!!

Me: No they don't, they want to kill me for sure.

YourSaviourJC: Agreed, they want to kill you, specifically.

Me: RUDE!!!

Sangbird: How's it going with the Lans?

Me: Fine

Sangbird: I haven't been to cloud recesses since I was a kid but Da-ge has, obvs. He used to tell me that they were just fully cats all the time and that he had to have business meetings with a fluffy Himalayan but the more I think about it, the more I think he was lying to me

Me: Lol he def was. Nobody is in cat form around here. Nobody even gets their ears out, it's kinda crazy.

Sangbird: NEVER? Doesn't that itch? My wings would like...fall off if they weren't out a lot. Like moulting but WORSE

Me: I dunno.

YourSaviourJC: Do bird hybrids moult?

Sangbird: Kinda.

YourSaviourJC: omg since when???

Sangbird: Evolutionarily speaking, its not that useful. Just makes Da-ge miserable for a few weeks in the spring, cuz he's got like...pure-ass bird of prey blood. I obviously handle mine with grace and don't complain one bit.

Me: Lol you forget I stayed at yours for spring break last year. There was crying.

YourSaviourJC: EXPOSED.

Me: Thank god you and Shijie don't shed. Omg can you imagine Auntie Yu's face if her baby boy got fur on the couch???

Sangbird: Lol. Carnage. Speaking of. I heard she was on a tear.

Me: ?????

Sangbird: ummmmmmm MIGHT have let slip that you're working for the Lans

Me: !!!!!!!

Sangbird: yeah she's kinda pissed now. Thinks you're like… being sneaky?

Me: What the hell does she think I'm going to do? I'm not part of the clan, any more than I was part of hers. It's just a job. Not a great one either.

Sangbird: You know her.

Me: Yeah. Maybe I'll call Uncle Jiang, complain about my life, make it look even more pitiful than it is.

Sangbird: Lol good luck.

Jiang Cheng's silence was damned by his read receipts.

"Fuck," he whispered to no one.

He didn't want to go farther away, far enough that'd it'd be hard to visit the people he liked. Or god forbid, actually leave the hybrid community. And even if he had wanted to, he'd barely saved enough for a few months rent, and he'd been there for almost six months, barely buying enough groceries to eat.

He'd left Yunmeng himself before he was asked to, but he hadn't expected it to be so soon. If he'd managed to get along with Auntie Yu for a couple more years, he might have had a college degree to get him on his feet with a good job before long, but she'd hit her limit of tolerating the fox in the hen house.

Or Uncle Jiang had run out of ways to say no to her.

Rolling over to face the concrete wall of his shack, Wei Wuxian snagged the ribbon that'd been in his hair, rubbing the end of it between his blistered fingers until homesickness no longer threatened to sweep him away.

#fanfiction #The Untamed #CQL #wangxian

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wifiwuxians · 4 years

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Foodfight

(High school AU)

“No Wangxian today?” Nie Huaisang picked at the noodles on his plate and looked around the dining hall to see if his friends were sitting at another table for whatever reason.

Wen Ning, sat across from him and enjoying a small bowl of soup, shook his head feebly. “Wei Wuxian said they were going to go over the work he missed last week...”

“Ah, a famous Wangji sponsored study session,” Nie Huaisang nodded in understanding and slurped up a few noodles. “Good for them. Wonder if they’ll get anything done, though.”

“Nope,” Jiang Cheng rocked back and forth beside him, pushing his office chair idly along the ground. He had been spamming Wei Wuxian with a link to The Symbolism Of Cats In The Silent Hill Series for the past five minutes.

“...Why are you in an office chair?” Nie Huaisang narrowed his eyes at his friend. “Where did it come from?”

“Disciplinary office,” Jiang Cheng closed his eyes and let his phone rest on his lap.

“Aw, Jiang Cheng, come on,” Nie Huaisang held a hand to his hip. “Your mom’s going to smash your skull open if you keep being sent to detention on purpose.”

“Relax, I’m just trying to rile-”

“FOOD FIGHT!”

The shout rang through the dining hall like a war cry- and yet nothing followed it. Not a single person had chosen to participate, leaving the boy who’d belted out the command to stand alone and embarrassed.

“Take a look at that dumbass,” Nie Huaisang snorted. “Way to go. Just sit down and eat in peace.”

The boy did no such thing. He was too far to have heard Nie Huaisang’s mumbled words, but all the same he seemed to be so hyped up on the concept that he threw a banana with all his might in hopes of getting the fight going.

It hit Wen Ning on the back of his head, almost hard enough to splat open. His cheeks immediately reddened and his eyes filled with tears which he quickly blinked away in shame.

Nie Huaisang gasped and was on his feet before Jiang Cheng could reach out and grab him. “Hitting Wen Ning is a crime that cannot be forgiven!”

After his passionate declaration, and despite Wen Ning’s soft pleas, Nie Huaisang hurled all the bread rolls on the table in the direction of the boy, who was beginning to take food off other people’s plates to send back. Not wanting to be left in the dust, Nie Huaisang sacrificed his noodles for the greater good and sent them flying through the air.

“Jiang Wanyin, bane of my fucking existence, return that office chair...” Wen Chao barged into the dining hall with a murderous look in his eyes, but stopped dead in his tracks as a pudding cup landed upside down at his feet. “At... once...”

Silence was all that could be heard in the hall for about thirty seconds. Nie Huaisang was holding an apple high above his head. Wen Ning was using his tray as a hat for cover. The boy who had started it all had somehow produced a slingshot and was loading it up with rice.

Knowing Wen Chao was the son of the discipline master (and to-be principal, the way things were going), he looked him in the eye and bellowed, “Get him!” before letting his rice soar.

At this point, others had decided to join the chaos, so Wen Chao screamed in horror as a multitude of servings made their way towards him. Before any could land a hit, he was seized by the waist and rolled away to safety on an office chair...

“You’re not worthy of throwing food at my friends!”

He could still make out Nie Huaisang’s enraged shouting as the dining hall got smaller and smaller.

#tinyfic #SCREAMS #oh mr jiang please roll on your office chair into my DMs #high school AU #larissaloki

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