i am very curious about sixteen stitches and that whipstitch wip
sixteen stitches is a companion fic (but sort of stand alone) to my first untamed fic in which jyl and wen qing both live, but wen qing winds up in hiding with lwj in his seclusion (for Reasons called i wanted them to). SS is mostly just me wanting wen qing to get to have messy, complicated, ugly emotions and not have to like...apologize or atone for them lol
a snippet from the next chapter:
She turns in time to see Lan Yuan fling himself gleefully off the porch and into the thick snow to the side of the cleared walkway. Suppressing a sigh, she shakes the snow from her own hems and walks back to where he’s burrowing more than walking through the snow. His robes will be soaked when they go inside, even with the winter cloak he wears over them.
“A-Yuan,” she says, crossing her arms, “what have we said about getting your robes dirty?”
He pauses once he’s emerged onto the walkway, eyes bright and brow furrowed as if in deep thought.
“Um,” he says, tapping his nose with one finger. “Um, but it’s not dirty? See, it’s like yifu’s robes.”
Raising his eyebrows up at her hopefully, he makes for a criminally cute picture. Still, Wen Qing raises her eyebrows and looks pointedly at the water stains already seeping dark into his pale robes. He deflates slowly, dipping his head contritely.
lxc & wwx post-whipstitch is honestly probably abandoned but I started it at a point when I needed a break from the heavier bits of whipstitch (lol) and wanted to noodle on their relationship so! a snippet as well:
If he’s come for revenge, Lan Xichen doesn’t have any right to refuse him. After all, Xichen is the reason Wei Wuxian had his mouth stitched shut, no matter that he was trying to find the lesser evil, the kinder cruelty. Lan Xichen stitched his mouth shut and then stood beside the man who orchestrated murder and suffering all across the world. If Wei Wuxian wishes to lay out his grievances, the least Xichen owes him is the opportunity.
Without a golden core, Wei Wuxian is more susceptible to aging than the rest of them; there are faint smile lines up by his eyes and his face is thinner, sharper, than when he was last in the Cloud Recesses. A few strands of grey hair streak along his crown, only noticeable for the contrast with the deep black of the rest of it. He doesn’t carry himself as if he notices the years, though. Even now, his hair is pulled up high with a scarlet ribbon, and his smile, while small, curves up his lips.
