*seductively crawls out of hell* (
laozu) wrote in
meadowlarklogs2019-04-21 07:05 pm
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CLOSED.
WHO: Ancient China Wuxia Crew ( Wei Wuxian
laozu, Lan Wangji
wangxian & Jiang Cheng
sandu )
WHERE: Various locations.
WHEN: Various times.
WHAT: A catch-all log for literally everything so we don't spam.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Sexual content, discussions of suicide/suicidal ideation, physical violence, difficulties in communication, etc.
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WHERE: Various locations.
WHEN: Various times.
WHAT: A catch-all log for literally everything so we don't spam.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Sexual content, discussions of suicide/suicidal ideation, physical violence, difficulties in communication, etc.
no subject
[ how dare jiang cheng say it. how dare he put into words the cloud that hung over the lotus pier, threatening the modest peace he had found among that family; the rumors, false and cruel, that he was the favored. that jiang fengmian, given the chance, would have readily elevated the orphaned son of the woman he was said to have loved over his own wife. the rumors that wei wuxian himself knew of, dreaded and turned his eyes and ears from because he would have never agreed to it, because all that they were - were cruel rumors, designed to tear the jiang family apart from the inside out. he has always known jiang cheng to be fragile of heart, to take things into himself so deeply that they fragment and wound him and those wounds festered, untreated and hidden. ]
What I did, was my own action! Stop taking the things I've done as the weight you think you have to balance yourself against, Jiang Cheng!
[ the words are a roar, furious and aching. i value you, he wants to say, more than life itself.
and then jiang cheng strikes and the words die in this throat. lan wangji interposes himself between them, as if on autopilot, as if yanked by fate itself into the line of fire. he sees the pass of the man's broad shoulders between he and his shidi, the blow blossoms across his face. ( not for me, he wants to yell, don't take this on my behalf. ) words don't come to him, his expression stricken and heartsick with all of it. jiang cheng hurts, because of him. lan wangji is hurt, because of him. it would have been better, he thinks - sudden, violent - if only he'd stayed dead and gone. the wounds would remain, he knows; but, at least they could have become scars.
the flat of his arm finds purchase against lan wangji's ribs, pressing him aside - FORCING him aside - as wei wuxian lunges into jiang cheng's face, fist cocked, expression strangled. he'd told him, he'd told him that if he was horrible to the man who continues to position himself between the harshness of the world and himself, to protect him, to stand by him -- he'd beat the shit out of even his own brother. so, he goes for jiang cheng's face as well, fast and smaller than he used to be, and somewhere between throwing his weight and his fist past lan wangji and connecting with jiang cheng, his hand has opened. it has seized his shirt collar, the other has seized his wrist --
and he twists, rocking at the hip to bring jiang cheng over his center of balance, over his shoulder. to flip him, rough and ungentlemanly, over wei wuxian's own body and onto the pavement below. it's about all he can do in the moment, pouring his weight down onto jiang cheng, there in the alley. it's not enough, he knows. they're both stronger than him; mo xuanyu was sickly, was too-thin and had lost muscle tone by the end of his life. wei wuxian is only now building it back, but he sits on jiang cheng's stomach and grabs for his wrists to pin him down, there on the ground. ]
-- I told you, [ he strangles on his words, ] that I'd beat the hell out of you.
no subject
he could shake him off so easily now - but it is not the weight of the body that stops him, it is the rage, it is the look in his eyes that strikes and pins him down more than anything ( furious and aching, the pain throbs rabbit-rapid against his ribs, the cage of his chest curls and shudder against the influx ). ]
What the fuck do you expect me to do?
[ jiang cheng laughs, because that is the only thing he knows how to do, right now, the knuckles of his hand smarting still, burning still, from the strike he has so boorishly left upon lan wangji.
he lets the laughter rip itself out of him - it claws its way out of his throat like some small, wounded thing, like a thing with too many teeth and tongue and venom, and some pale flickering fire burns in his eyes as he stares up at wei wuxian through blurry vision still smarting from the blow of his fist. he laughs with blood in his eyes and in his mouth, and the sound is harsh like nails on chalkboard, like sword striking stone, and one could almost see white hot sparks thrown from the point of contact where the sound cracks and breaks. ]
You have done - [ some part of him rebel against it, some part still aware of the third presence that had been pushed aside by wei wuxian in favour of such violent reaction - but what does it matter?
what of it? what does any of it matter, when it is jiang cheng himself who tears through what small measure of connection that still exist between them, closing his hands upon the delicate silk strings of some fate that had once bound them and breaks them as if they were nothing? ]
You have given me everything. [ a brother, a friend, beside him and before him, a hand to take in the dark, a voice when he had been blinded. ] How am I supposed to compete with that? How the fuck do you expect me to react, just say 'thank you' and move on?
[ breathing out, he hacks out the words like curses amidst some harsh, cracked laughter, the edges of his gaze raw and red - a broken, bleeding thing. lost. ]
no subject
wei wuxian is a limber thing. limber once, limber now. no matter the body which the soul now holds or the body that now holds him, wei wuxian has always been as such. he has always been able to occupy any and all of lan wangji, been able to mold him beneath the slightest pressure of his palm. and now, this too is true. this too is true, when taken by force. and that action, that sudden and frenetic burst of outrage, stings more than the punch that jiang cheng threw ever could and ever did. he thinks it to be true, no matter how his gaze skews and the struck eye waters, uncontrolled and uncontained.
why would such a reaction be for him, he would have thought. he would have thought, but lan wangji knows better. he knows better, because he knows too himself.
and yet, something ugly and dark and quiet in lan wangji burns. it sits against the edge of skin, works against the edge of bone. and it writhes. it sours. it catches acidic and raw in his mouth, breaks against his teeth. it tastes like metal, like blood, like corpse dirt. it tastes of all that lan wangji tamps down within himself, as though beneath the oxen and spade. it tastes of all the things he has buried so deep within the self that he has forgotten their shape.
and still, he recognizes them. and still, he yokes them. he digs his heels into any purchase that remains. he reminds himself—
how am i supposed to compete with that?
that name, that name he's turned over his tongue since he was young ( so young, when he first saw him ), catches on itself. the syllables knot up in his throat. they are swallowed alongside the acceptance of what he has cascaded. and yet, he had decided even back then that what is wei ying's to face would be his too face. if only he would let lan wangji, if only he allowed. and now, has he forgotten that too? those two days, those two long and tired days. those days, when all he heard— ]
Wei Ying.
[ it is a soft thing. a declaration, that asks to be. it is a statement, that this too was something he chose. this was an action he too elected. like wei wuxian had too decided, in smaller fragments. that movement, like all movements before, was a willingness. wei wuxian needn't do this in part for himself, for lan wangji, for the one who would give and never ask again for the "thank you"s that ended more as partings, as sharp and strange goodbyes.
and yet, it is a reassurance. this too is why he has come to love him. in part, this is what he has understood. just like him, lan wangji would not have been able to check his temper then, would he have?
of course not. of course not, just as back then. just as now, when he had situated himself between them. just as now, as he wishes only to shield wei wuxian from this too.
and yet, he knows he wouldn't. were he in wei wuxian's place, he knows he would not be able to come to his side. and still, he asks without asking. like before, like many times before. it is a request, if not for himself, but for wei wuxian. if not for himself, but so too jiang cheng.
it had already been enough. ]