#antivillained

[baijingshen]

@antivillained​ sent: “All this time in here and you still won’t talk to me?” ( lan zhan )

          Contrary to what Wei Wuxian might think Lan Wangji has heard every single thing he’s said since they came to the library. Most of it an irrelevant stream of consciousness designed to entertain one person alone - the one it originates in - Wangji truly wishes he could just block it out, but for some reason it drills into his head as if he’s screaming at him. Food and liquor, music, Lotus Pier, the endless rules of the Gusu Lan Sect, it all comes and goes, creating VIVID IMAGES in Wangji’s head that he never asked for.

The words written on the page before him begin to blur and jumble but he refuses to give in to Wei Wuxian’s HARASSMENT. Sooner or later he will grow tired from all the talking and resign to his fate - certainly.. he must. Just as that thought crosses Wangji’s mind Wei Wuxian gets up from where he’s seated and starts wandering about, looking at the books in their shelves and presumably reading the titles. Only now Lan Wangji dares to look up and let his gaze follow him around the room. He has a distinct sway to his steps that he noticed earlier on and a habit of putting his HANDS where they shouldn’t be when he’s observing something, like a child. His blatant disregard of the rules and his obvious reluctance to do as he’s told at any given time is irritating - and yet Wangji finds himself less annoyed and more intrigued by his behavior the longer he endures it.

His eyes quickly fall back to the book in front of him and he turns the page for good measure, despite not having grasped a single thing from the previous page. Instead he knows now that the Jiang Sect serves spicy roasted water chestnuts at their winter solstice celebrations. Not even Wei Wuxian’s ENTHUSIASM could wake the desire to try them in Lan Wangji, who despises spicy food. The question Wei Wuxian poses is ignored like all those that came before it, but he seems to have reached the point where he’s no longer content with talking to himself. Turning away from the books he comes over to where Wangji is sitting, who tenses barely noticeably in his seat.

     “You’re not done. Go back to your task,” he says, granting Wei Wuxian’s wish to be spoken to and denying it at the same time. He hopes that he will finish soon, for both their sake.

------Even though.. there might be worse things than spending the afternoon at the library with Wei Wuxian.

[yuexins]

𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙿𝙴𝚃𝙰𝙻𝚂 𝙾𝙵 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙻𝙾𝚃𝚄𝚂, 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙼𝚈 𝙽𝙰𝙼𝙴:       @antivillained​                 /                   there are other ways to get me to shut up, you know. ( for jc )

with zǐdiàn bound tightly around his former - shixiong,   jiang cheng can only let out a scoff to those words,   not believing them for a second.      “   even if i tried other ways,   ”      he pauses,   taking a sip out of the lotus rib soup   &   immediately feeling the lines of his visage tense,   tighten.   it never tastes the same no matter how they try to recreate it           no matter how hard he tries.   jiang cheng’s eyelids slip close for a moment or two,   those tensed lines beginning to soften as he swallows thickly.   then they open,   greys flecked with sharp violets sending daggers o’er to where wei wuxian sits,   mouthing off like some annoying brat.      “   you wouldn’t shut up!   you’re still not shutting up so you’re proving my point.   ”

regardless,   &   despite everything that has happened ‘tween the two,   the sect leader calls back his spiritual weapon to his hand,   allowing the gleaming snake to curl around his wrist   &   for the silver ring to settle perfectly on his finger.      “   what are you doing here,   in yunmeng?   you haven’t been here for no less than a few minutes   &   you’re already doing this or that.   causing trouble   &   ruining everyone’s hard work   ...   seriously!   ”

[yearswaited]

@antivillained​  𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒅  :  ◕‿◕

PLAY   WITH   HIS   HAIR  //  NO  LONGER   ACCEPTING

❛     is   this   your   way   of   apologising   for   the   amount   of   work   you   have   given   me ?    ❜       HUMOUR   LACES   HIS   TONE .   for   all   the   arrogance   of   humanity ,   he   quite   likes   them ,   especially   when   they   come   up   with   ways   to   disturb   the   nether .   oh ,   it   is   no   good   for   the   seal ,   but   shen   wei   has   felt   the   tremors   of   it   begin   some   century   before .   if  wei   wuxian   wishes   to   shake   the   earth   he   is   welcome   to .    SHEN   WEI   HAS   DONE   MUCH   WORSE   when   he   was   young .  

silken   strands   are   tugged ;   they   are   hard   to   deal   with ,   by   oneself ,   but   shen   wei   does   not   have   the   heart   to   change   them .     he   allows   a   moments   pause   in  the   air ,  room   cold   from   his   entrance ,   frost   gathering   minimally   along   the   doors .   once   the   atmosphere   accommodates   his   presence ,   it   will   melt ,   but   for   now   the   chill   remains .    ❛     continue .   ❜  

[tianguang]

 ❛   i know exactly what you’re all about.   ❜     for   JZX           /          @antivillained​​.     prompted.      accepting.    

“   do you  ?    ”       pompous stance widens all the more in his   𝑂𝐹𝐹𝐸𝑁𝑆𝐸,       dimpled chin lifting arrogantly as he stares down wei wuxian.        gallant features are abstracted by a pointed glare;      as one accustomed to words of praise and popular acclaim,       he fails to find a reason as to why he was so regularly   𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐙𝐄𝐃    by the other.         “   would young master wei be so kind as to inform me   what   he's so   certain   he knows about me  ?   ” 

[evcryopeneye]

@antivillained​​​ asked: [PROTECT] for zizhen

“Huh?”

He was too young to be this tired, yet through the exhaustion shone a depth of feeling he desperately attempted to cover up. It wasn't something he wanted the world to see. It reminded him of every criticism that he had ever got, the way his father had told him constantly, that he was too soft, too emotional, too much of a pacifist to lead a Sect.

Zizhen hated it.

Even more, he hated the fact he couldn’t talk about it.

How did you explain that? How did you look your friends in the face and tell them that our life at home was miserable? His friends had lost their parents, some their entire Sect, they were in the middle of blood, loss, greif, and pain. Here he was. With his mother at home, a sweet woman who deserved better, butloved her husband anyway. Enough that she wouldn’t rock the boat to defend him. A father who clearly...had come to the conclusion that Zizhen just wasn’t the type of child that he wanted.

He couldn’t. What kinda self absorbed nonsense did it sound like to complain about your family to people who had little. Zizhen had more self awareness than that, and yet, didn’t understand that his friends would be concerned anyway. “I doesn’t matter,” he finally voiced, trying to shift the conversation away from himself. The night air was still warm, it felt too close. The rooftop was an ideal place to hide and wallow in his own feelings that he wasn’t willing to share. To mull over the idea that tomorrow he would be dragged back home, to a home he particularly didn’t want to be in.

The hug was unexpected, an arm wrapped around his shoulder, brought him into a sideways hug and the touch was enough to shatter whatever damn it was he had built. It was protection in a way, from the emotional reality of what he had to deal with. Yet, sometimes, he needed protection from himself. “I don’t want to go home.” Zizhen finally admitted. Who would think such a simple gesture would bring him to struggling to hold back tears. It wasn’t like Zizhen could remember the last time someone other than this mother had granted him such a gesture.

“I don’t know what to do.”

[wonderstxrs]

“I think I’ll manage.” ( lan xichen )

 MEME I CAN’T FIND / @antivillained

‘‘ very well, if you’re sure. ‘‘ the only reason xichen offered, was because one way or another... he and grandmaster lan simply didn’t get along. either party hardly had to do anything and they found themselves in unwelcome circumstances. there’s still tension between wangji and uncle as well, but that damage had been done many years ago already. and even though wangji had been right all along in trusting master wei, his methods remain to be questioned. ‘‘ would you please try not argue with grandmaster lan? ‘‘

[heavensbright]

meme.

❛ please don’t go. ❜

@antivillained​

He busies himself with the captivation of tending to those present and still living. Of course, Wei Wuxian waves him away first, a relief to the man who feels as though his heart might finally consume itself in its own immolation that Wei Wuxian stokes with every breath, every second of nearness that he haunts Lan Zhan with. He examines everyone’s wounds and scrapes a little too closely, checking their pulses for any imbalances a little too long. Anything to give him a moment’s stay before he must resign himself to Wei Wuxian’s side. 

But it is, in fact, an inevitability that he drifts to his side, called to him by the draw of his own heart. Sits upon the stairs alongside him. And waits in disheartened silence. There is a terror to endings that inhabits him to the deepest crevices of his soul. That endings are forever, and goodbyes will be, too. And even when Wei Wuxian’s pulling at his sleeves to scramble to his feet, catching him firmly by the wrist to lead him through the labyrinthine safety of the city streets to where Little Apple waits within the outskirts, Lan Zhan’s heart thunders with the foreboding of a storm’s brontide that this is all prelude to the dread that is sure to come.

And when Wei Wuxian fails to release Lan Zhan’s wrists, looks upon him with a poignant melancholy … Lan Zhan almost tells him he needn’t say a word. 

“Please don’t go,” comes the quiet plea, as unexpected as lenity often is. 

Lan Zhan’s eyes widen, question brimming in his pale eyes. 

But Wei Wuxian only laughs, looks away as one reproached. His hand reaches to scratch nervously upon the nape of his neck as his eyes focus a little too intently on Little Apple. As if he’s planning how he might escape this moment’s mortification.

So Lan Zhan reaches for him. Fingers brush the hair from his temple, caress the curve of his head until his fingertips press into the nape of Wei Wuxian’s neck and draw him close. “No. Say it again,” he demands softly, their foreheads now pressed together so closely the tips of their noses almost touch. 

Another abashed laugh from Wei Wuxian, but he answers obediently after a theatrical pause. “Don’t go,” he says, this time like a command that he knows Lan Zhan is more than happy to fulfill. 

How many times had Lan Zhan wondered how different their lives might have been, if only Wei Wuxian had asked this of him. He can think of a thousand moments that might have been ameliorated because of it. But there are musings of a man who is forced to ruminate about the ruination of possibilities. Now, he is a man who understands the honey-sweet pleasure of repletion. 

“I have neither the desire nor capacity to leave you,” Lan Zhan promises, his lips brushing Wei Wuxian’s as he speaks. As if begging a kiss he cannot yet demand. “Nothing will part us. Not even time’s cruelty could. If not by my will nor yours, we will never again be without one another. This I swear to you, by the river of stars, before all my ancestors and yours. I will never leave you, Wei Ying.”

[ofwindsweptpines]

“ i’m not sure i know who i’m supposed to be anymore. ”

Misc Prompts for Feels | status: open

༺🌕༻ He had heard it said that a man wears many different robes in his lifetime. There were robes you were born with — the robe of a child, a son, a brother. There were robes you inherited — the robe of ones clan or sect, the robes of filial duty. There were robes you chose that signified ones path in life —the robes of a student, a warrior, an enemy, a friend; of a father, a lover, a mentor. 

   One would don and doff these robes throughout ones life, sometimes discarding, sometimes layering, sometimes trading for a more complimentary color. Some of them one would grow out of. Some of them, one might never quite grow into. But from the moment a man was born he was was never truly naked; when all else was stripped away something still remained.

  The world had stripped Wei Wuxian of so much. All that was left to do was to figure out what was left; what was to become.

  “Wei Ying is Wei Ying,” he spoke at last after much silent deliberation, his gaze drifting from the tea cup clutched gingerly between his fingertips to the cultivator sitting across the table from him. A man of more words might have said something akin to the fact that he was an accumulation of a lifetime of robes, so to speak. Layers upon layers of meaning, purpose, and self. That the most ill-fit of robes were those of others; those of expectation, which should not be donned lightly.

  But Hanguang-Jun was not a man of more words, by any stretch of the imagination. And so he took a quiet sip of his tea instead.༺🌕༻