11 Dec 2021
Lan Zhan leaves Cloud Recesses after three years of seclusion. Wei Ying avoids the cultivation world after coming back to life.
Omega Lan Wangji is doted upon by his entire sect whenever they have the chance, spoiled with gifts and whatever affection they can get him to accept.
Sadly, what Lan Wangji wants is Wei Wuxian's clothing for his nest, and nobody has thought to gift him that.
- Part 3 of Threadfics
10 Apr 2020
The first time Lan Wangji met Wei Wuxian, he knew the man was the rumoured Fallen One, the powerful cultivator who was being punished by the heavens because of his demonic cultivation.
He had lived for almost six-hundred years in order to fulfill the eighty-thousand soul contracts as his punishment in his loneliness. He remained immortal, not aging, not dying, until he finished them all.
Lan Wangji had heard the tales about the Fallen One, but he had never expected he would’ve looked like this. None of those tales he had heard telling him that the man was dangerously alluring.
(“Lan Zhan, ah, Lan Zhan, you’re a very good kid.” Wei Wuxian patted his head, “I have to go now, but when we meet again in the future, Lan Zhan, I want you to remember that to your lips only, my name is Wei Ying.”)
16 Dec 2021
There is a low, thrumming danger in Lan Zhan’s voice, like the bass note of the qin, like the note weaved through the foundation of the Chord Assassination Technique, and Wei Ying does his best to suppress the shiver that it sends through him. “Aiya, no, don’t worry so much. Who could hurt me, Lan Zhan?”
You, he thinks, helplessly. You could. His eyes sting with tears. His other self really was right when he called him pathetic.
What if the incense burner dreams weren't all dreams. What if, somewhere, there was a Wei Ying who had to live with that.
18 Jun 2020
He doesn’t quite remember the details of his original life anymore. But now, he does his best to conjure up what memories he can and carve a similarly bloody path to Yi City.
When Xiao Xingchen arrives to bring him to justice, Xue Yang can’t help but stare. Time and death have chipped away at his memories, leaving only fleeting impressions. A smile. A few words, softly murmured. The motion of long, deft fingers patching a threadbare blanket. The man he remembers was graceful and ethereal, otherworldly but kind. The man standing before him, this man made of flesh and bone and blood and breath -- he is the sum of all these things and more.
“Daozhang,” Xue Yang whispers, lowering his trembling blade.
Song Lan runs him through with Fuxue on the spot.
Xue Yang lives and dies and lives again.
Across thousands of lifetimes, only one thing remains constant: he wants.