19 Jan 2021
Wei Wuxian is staring up at the sky, thinking idly about the taste of Emperor’s Smile on his tongue, when Suibian jumps full force onto his stomach and cries, “A-Xian, don’t be mad!”
The sheer force of her pounce knocks the breath out of him. The resulting pause is just long enough for Jiang Cheng, who up to this point has been laying rather peacefully next to him, to shoot up and demand, “Oh great, what did you do now?”
To be fair, the question isn’t exactly unwarranted. Suibian looks an absolute mess: twigs stuck in her fur, dirt smeared across the white fluff of her underbelly. She’s panting up a storm, little heh heh heh gasps that haven’t edged into her normal high-pitched laughter. When her ears press back against her head, she could almost pass for pitiful.
“Bichen hates me.”
Wei Wuxian’s first thought is Why would Lan Zhan’s daemon hate you?, but it’s followed quickly by remembering exactly where he is, how little trouble he’s caused today, and the fact that he hasn’t seen Suibian for a few minutes.
A grin spreads across his face.
(Or: The most important name a cultivator will ever pick isn’t for their sword. It’s for their daemon.)
Letting himself get cursed may not have been the smartest thing Wei Wuxian has ever done, but he'd argue that it’s completely in character. So he should earn some points for consistency, at the very least. Besides, when the spirit had been explaining it, the curse hadn't sounded too bad. Maybe a little bothersome if he underestimated how many people felt strongly about him, but surely, surely, it wouldn't be enough to hamper him in the long run.
Let it be known that Wei Wuxian is an idiot.
Because, when he emerges from the dilapidated husk of the temple, he can't see anyone
Or: Wei Wuxian gets cursed so he can’t see or feel anyone who feels strongly about him and assume this means that the people he cares about actually hate him.
Bookmarked by Rhymeswithtessa (Cuppiecake)
18 Jan 2021
13 Oct 2020
After the Notpocalypse, Wei Wuxian moves in with Lan Wangji.
Well. Moves in is a bit of an exaggeration, a tall tale perhaps, stretched by Wei Wuxian’s stupid imagination and even stupider pining, but regardless. This is the thirteenth night in a row that he’s spent in Lan Wangji’s bed, curled up around Lan Wangji with their wings brushing over each other. Wei Wuxian’s entire collection of weird mugs has found a new home in Lan Wangji’s fancy wood cabinets. And, Lan Wangji’s immortal rabbits now love him half as much as they love Lan Wangji, which is really the kicker, since said immortal rabbits hate everyone except Lan Wangji.
Bookmarked by Rhymeswithtessa (Cuppiecake)
10 Jan 2021
The mostly-accidental courtship of Lucy Preston by one Garcia Flynn and Wyatt Logan, as told mainly through the Christmases they spend together.
05 Dec 2020
“Song Lan!” He says, smiling slightly as he walks into the main room, heading behind the counter instead of greeting him where he's standing, nearer to the door. When there are no obstacles between them, Xingchen has to keep a tight hold on himself so is not inappropriately familiar. He always wants to put his hands on Song Lan when they’re this close, but that’s always a bad idea. Song Lan was mysophobic in their previous life, and in this one he seems similar, but he especially seems to dislike touching Xingchen’s skin.
They brushed hands once when Xingchen handed him his coffee, months ago. Song Lan went pale on contact and looked nauseous for an hour afterwards.
Xingchen won’t put him through that again.
28 Oct 2020
Xingchen pushes himself a little more firmly into Song Lan, his back to Song Lan’s chest. He tips his head back against Song Lan’s shoulder and places his hands on top of Song Lan’s where they’re folded against his stomach. Song Lan pushes his nose into Xingchen’s hair, just above and behind his ear.
He feels complete.
They sit there, and it gets colder. Xingchen falls asleep, totally trusting in the cradle of Song Lan’s arms. Song Lan watches his eyelashes cast shadows on his cheeks and lets his heart fill with aching for this impossible man in his arms.
He never wants to move.
This is all he ever wanted.
It gets colder, and a crease appears between Xingchen’s eyebrows as he tries to push closer to Song Lan.
Song Lan is so cold.
A snowflake falls on Xingchen’s forehead, and Song Lan smiles.
It doesn’t melt.
Xingchen hasn’t moved in a while.
Another snowflake falls on Song Lan’s hand.
That one doesn’t melt either.
Xingchen is dead.
aka the songxiao fixit i've been promising to write since november 2019