A/N: This is a sequel to a entry I wrote for last year’s Mallek Week titled ‘Friend or Foe’ for a purple blood!Mallek and my OC, you can read it here. CW: mentions of blood, injury, violence, and death. (side note, thebold text are flashbacks scenes.)
Summary: Mallek smiles as he watches him, lost in his thoughts as he comes to a conclusion regarding the human that had been under his care for the last year…
bug fixes and improvements; improved fuel efficiency; drones will no longer become hostile through eye contact; drones will no longer become hostile through walking speed; drones will no longer become hostile to meet minimum culling threshold; removed minimum culling threshold; adjusted swarming behavior; improved hive repair request processing times for warmer castes; decreased sensitivity to threats; redefined threat elimination as neutralization of hostile forces instead of complete termination of all living parties within range; expanded delivery routes; slight reworks to order of operations for calculating most efficient routes with paths no longer taking drones through physical structures; updated version number;
Allowing the thought to stay the trigger, the heart to register its trembling (Grey/Depa Billaba ft. Caleb Dume)
Summary:“I’m not worth it,” Grey hisses through their teeth. “Please. Depa, please—” Their general, their Jedi, only shakes her head, her grip on their shoulders a death sentence. “I will not leave you,” she says. “Fight the voice, Grey. Fight it.” They sob and some part of their brain burns with the knowledge that little brown eyes are watching from the corner of the room. They scream, pulling against their bonds and the twisting darkness in their head. “I can’t. I can’t—” Something that isn’t Grey crawls under their skin and it speaks, twisted, Dark. “Traitors.”
Warnings:Mind Control, Violent Thoughts, Serious Injuries, Blood and Violence, Eye Trauma (not graphic but described briefly), Vomiting (in like one sentence, emetophobia gang rise up), Angst Word Count: 2,275
Prompt:Angstpril Day 3 - “I can’t.”
Author’s Note: more suffering! Yay! I like to think this ended happily but this is Angstpril so I’m not writing it lol. Also, I discovered that Kanan’s eyes aren’t actually brown, at least according to Wookieepedia but frankly that’s stupid as fuck so. Brown-eyed Kanan. And nonbinary Grey because I am apparently not the only one who loves that concept! (Also, sorry for late posting! I was unable to finish this last night :/ hopefully I can finish day 4 today as well and catch up)
It’s an endless loop in the back of their mind, an itch they can’t quite scratch. At the Order, it breaks free and turns to a screech, a ringing thought that echoes in their head so loudly it hurts. They don’t even feel themselves pulling the trigger, shouting for their squad to follow.
But when they finally come to, underneath the monster that’s stolen their face, it’s because they’re standing over him.
Caleb.
Commander Caleb Dume. Jedi Padawan. Traitor.
Ad'ika, their heart cries as they lift their blaster. Their shaking hands have it levelled at the boy’s face, right between his big brown, tear-filled eyes.
“Grey—Grey, what are you doing? What—?” His pleading words are nearly unintelligible between his panting breaths. When the cold metal touches his face, he sobs. “Don’t! Buir, don’t—don’t—please—”
Their cheeks are wet. Caleb sees it and only sobs harder, afraid to move for fear that they’ll pull the trigger. With their trembling hands, the likelihood of a misfire is high.
Inside their mind, Grey screams. They claw at the walls of their mental prison, leaving their fingertips bloodied and their throat hoarse from their agonizing howls. The cell won’t budge. The chip won’t give. They can’t get out. They can’t save their son.
But someone else can.
A robed figure flies out of nowhere, tackling Grey to the ground and sending their blasters into the air with a flick of their hand.
“Caleb, the blasters!”
Depa.
General Depa Billaba. Jedi High General. Traitor.
Depa. She hates it when I call her General.
She pins them to the ground and presses the calloused pads of her fingers against their temple. Something like grief crosses her face. “Sleep, Grey. Sleep.”
The chip fights, but they don’t. They like to think it helps bring the darkness faster.
*
“Master?”
Caleb’s voice trembles when he asks, taking a hesitant step forward. Depa is still on top of Grey, catching her breath and making sure they’re passed out. She shuts her eyes tightly, centering her conflicted presence. Her Padawan needs her and so does Grey. This is no time to grieve for the rest of their battalion.
(She tried to incapacitate rather than kill, but they’re still gone. The light that she used to associate with them has been snuffed out by a strangling darkness that burns.)
“It’s alright, Caleb, they’re unconscious,” she says, mustering what little strength she has left.
At her word, he rushes over, clinging to the sleeve of her robe.
Any other day, he’d be indignantly distant, trying to prove himself on the battlefield and make Depa proud. But right now he reeks of terror and uncertainty. And she feels the same.
Execute Order 66, the Chancellor had said.
And then everything had gone to hell. The clones had disappeared, replaced by darkness, and the Master-Padawan pair had barely made it out with their lives. Depa hasn’t even been able to process the wave of lights being snuffed out in the Force and she knows her Padawan hasn’t either; his connection with the Force feels brittle and broken. The Jedi are dying at the hands of their closest companions, at the order of the Chancellor of the Republic, and the two of them stand in the center of it all.
“What’s happening?”
“I don’t know,” she admits quietly. She climbs off Grey and binds them with their own set of binders, something tight in her chest as she does. Then, she turns back to Caleb. “Are you alright? No injuries?”
He shakes his head and wipes at his eyes with the edge of his sleeve. “Just scrapes.” He glances at Grey. “That—That wasn’t Buir, was it? It felt…wrong.”
“Very wrong,” she agrees. “I don’t know what it was, but the Chancellor triggered it. We need to get off the planet.”
“Are we…going back to the Temple?”
Depa visibly hesitates. His face falls and he knows in his heart that they aren’t. Even if they did, there would probably be nothing and no one left.
“It isn’t safe. We need to lay low for a while and figure out how to save Grey,” she tells him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Caleb, look at me.”
He does and she smiles a little.
Even now, in what must be the worst moment of his short life, he’s ready to listen. He’s ready to do what he needs to.
She kneels down to meet his height, holding his head in her capable hands. “You will survive this,” she says like it’s a promise. She can’t say the same of her or Grey or anyone else they know, but she can promise that Caleb will live. Because she will die to see it through. “You will. Do you understand?”
Despite the fear in his eyes, he nods.
“Good.”
Depa allows herself a moment to breathe, but no longer.
“Now, we need a way out of here.”
*
Grey wakes to the buzzing of a ship and panics. The last they remember, they were on the surface of the planet, with Depa and Caleb and- oh, Force. Oh, fuck.
Did they attack them? Did they hold a gun to Caleb’s head?
Their own is throbbing, something clearly wrong. Chills go down their spine as they sit up, finding their wrists held together by their own binders. They’re on the floor of a cargo bay, in an unfamiliar ship, but familiar voices echo from down the hall.
“Master, they’re awake!” calls Caleb after poking his head in.
He may not be showing it, or trying not to, but Grey can see the fear in his furrowed eyebrows.
He’s afraid of them.
They feel nauseous at the realisation.
“Caleb—” they try to say. Their voice is hoarse.
Depa appears from the hall, a glass of water in her hand. She crosses to Grey, motioning for her Padawan to stay by the door, which he does without question. Kneeling before her commander, her lover, she examines their face. They can feel her prodding at them gently in the Force. She’s trying to decide whether they’re friend or foe right now.
“Are you with us, Grey?”
They hesitate, but eventually nod. “I think so.”
With a small smile, Depa helps them drink the water, but pulls it away quickly when it’s finished. She’s cautious and rightfully so, Grey thinks when they feel something in their head tug.
They must visibly flinch, because so does Caleb.
“Tell me what’s happening,” their general murmurs, putting a hand on their knee.
Shutting their eyes fiercely, they take a long moment to answer. “It’s—It’s hard to fight. It wants me to…to kill the trai-traitors,” they gasp out, finding the unknown force stronger when they speak that word. They open their eyes, horrified. “Shit.”
“You’re alright.” She takes their hand and starts tracing patterns. “Can you tell where it’s coming from?”
“No, but…kark, my head hurts. My head. I think.”
“Stay still,” she warns.
She runs a hand up their temple, her eyes shut in concentration. The Force prods gently at their mind and, when it finds the offending area, something burns. Grey cries out and Depa stops in an instant, pulling back with a fearful look.
“There’s—” Glancing back at her Padawan, she takes a steadying breath. “I believe there’s something in your head that doesn’t belong, Grey. Something physical, but it’s very dark in the Force.”
“Can we get it out?” Caleb asks, his voice smaller than he is, which is saying something.
She stands, frowning. “I don’t know. I’ll set a course for—”
Grey’s face twists as the thing inside their head roars to life. “Don’t—” they manage to growl out.
There’s a lot they can’t explain to Depa in that moment. For one thing, they’d like to tell her that if the Chancellor activated the thing in their brain, he might very well be able to track them or hear their conversations through it. For another, it’s quite possible that if Dark Grey—yes, they’re calling the evil thing in their head by that now—overtakes Light Grey—Cody would be rolling on the floor now. Is Cody alive? Is his general alive?—they might just straight up contact the enemy.
Even though they can’t explain all that, their beloved Depa Billaba stops instantly, her eyes shining with understanding.
“—somewhere we can lay low and find a doctor,” she finishes instead.
Dark Grey shoves, pushes for more information. It stabs at Grey, a physical pain that makes them hiss. Out of their control, they speak.
“Good soldiers follow orders.”
It makes Depa frown. She examines their face, watching as it shifts into something so unlike them it’s sickening.
“Good soldiers follow orders,” they snap again, like a mantra.
Dark Grey does not appreciate their plan.
Grey finally gets a hold of themself, dragging themself into consciousness with a heavy breath. When they look up at Depa, their gaze is determined.
“You need to leave me.”
“No!” cries Caleb fiercely.
Depa holds up a hand. “Caleb,” she warns, a reminder to mind his emotions.
He falls silent, watching his Master and his buir with something akin to horrified bafflement. Force, Grey has never seen him so openly terrified. Ever since he joined their little family, he’s been nothing but brave.
“I’m a liability and a threat,” they say, turning their attention back to Depa. “It’ll be easier to go without me.”
“We won’t leave you behind.”
They frown at her, lowering their voice. “He can’t die because of me.”
She doesn’t dare glance at Caleb, doesn’t dare give their worries away to the boy, who already has the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders. “It won’t come down to that.”
“And neither can you,” they add firmly.
Depa’s expression tells them all they need to know. That’s one thing she can’t promise.
“Heneeds you.”
She huffs a rueful laugh. “So do you.”
If they could, they’d reach out to hold the back of her neck and keep her close.
Hold her neck and break it.
Grey flinches back. “No—”
“Tell me what it’s saying,” she encourages, reaching for them.
An agonizing pain rips through their skull, eliciting a scream. Despite the binders on their wrists, they claw at their scalp. The thought crosses Depa’s mind that she should stop them, but she doesn’t get the chance.
They drop their hands and gaze up at her with tearful eyes.
“I’m not worth it,” Grey hisses through their teeth. “Please. Depa, please—”
Their general, their Jedi, only shakes her head, her grip on their shoulders a death sentence. “I will not leave you,” she says. “Fight the voice, Grey. Fight it.”
They sob and some part of their brain burns with the knowledge that little brown eyes are watching from the corner of the room. They scream, pulling against their bonds and the twisting darkness in their head. “I can’t. I can’t—”
Something that isn’t Grey crawls under their skin and it speaks, twisted, Dark.
“Traitors.”
They lurch forward. Depa thinks they’re collapsing, but Dark Grey has other plans. They involve the vibroblade tucked into her boot, which is now in reach.
She never liked weapons that weren’t kyber-powered, lightsabers and lightsaber rifles in particular, but after a Separatist assassin nearly suffocated Grey right next to her, she became paranoid. Working through her fear was difficult, so her partner thought having a weapon under her pillow might put her at ease. For the most part, it worked. No one knew of its existence except Grey and she preferred it that way.
And now, CC-10/994 turns that trust against her.
With a fierce yell, he barrels into the Jedi traitor, ripping the vibroblade from its hiding place as she goes flying.
“Master!”
Before the other traitor can react, CC-10/994 flips the first over his shoulder, slamming her into the wall. Then, he flies at the smaller target, vibroblade tightly grasped.
The Jedi yelps and ducks his flurry of blows.
“Grey, snap out of it!” he says desperately.
CC-10/994 doesn’t flinch and leaps forward again.
“Buir! Buir, it’s me, Caleb!”
A single slash of the vibroblade has the traitor shrieking, falling back with an arm over his face. Before CC-10/994 can attack again, the Jedi Padawan throws out a hand, sending him soaring across the room. He slams into the wall with a vicious crack, all the air pushed from his lungs in an instant. For a split second, Grey rises again, ready to fight themself off, but it’s unnecessary.
Depa is there, shoving them into the cargo bay’s cell, ripping the vibroblade away, and locking the door behind them.
Grey collapses inside, gasping for breath and trembling as they stare at their own hands in horror. Blood stains their gloves. The sight makes them nauseous, so they tug the gloves off and throw them to the other side of the cell, desperate to get away.
It’s Caleb’s howl that makes them look up.
Depa is at his side in an instant but not fast enough. He pulls his sleeve away from his face and—
Grey throws up that time, into the corner of the cell.
Their blow struck true, slashing Caleb’s face from his right temple to the bridge of his nose. It’s a deep cut, one that goes into his right eye and bleeds profusely. The other eye, untouched, is blinded by tears.
“I can’t see,” he sobs, reaching for his Master, who reaches back. “I can’t—Master, I can’t—”
CC-10/994 lifts his head and smiles.
“Death to the traitors,” he spits. “Glory to the Empire.”
*
(Dark Grey uses he/him because Dark Grey follows orders, including gender assignments.)
Vladimir rubbed his eyes and stood up tiredly before he walked over to the closet. Finding a simple white button-up shirt and some slacks, he changed out of his pajamas. Then he made his way into the bathroom and glancing at his reflection. Blue eyes tiredly noted the strange hairstyle he was sporting and a hand fingered the now rough and stray hair laden braids, he began untying them.
It took quite a while to unwind the tangles and he attempted to phase the black hair tie out of his hair only to feel a pull of resistance against his abilities. ‘That’s right…Walker gave my Ophelia Blossom.’ Pushing against the wall like energy restricting his abilities Vladimir managed to phase the tie out. Then he leaned against the counter and stared at his bed-headed reflection. A hand-rubbed his cheek tiredly only for him to groan at the bristles. ‘ And now I need to shave.’
Brushing the tangles out of his hair, he piled all of his hair up into a loose ponytail. Vlad sighed at his weary image as he combed back his bangs and gelled them in place. Despite the unusual amount of sleep the last two days his body was still adamantly craving more rest. Reaching into the medicine cabinet he grabbed his straight razor, his cream brush, the wooden bowl, and the shaving soap. Making a lather, he began the task of applying it to his face.
The ice-cold suds helped him wake up substantially. Grasping the thin silver knife, he gently propped the blade at a thirty-degree angle against his cheek and tediously began trimming the unwanted growth away. After reaching to his face and cleaning off the equipment, he numbly reached for a towel and dried himself off. He amusedly snorted as he looked at the glass. ‘ You’re a mess.’
Vlad then went to turn only to feel eyes at the side of his head, watching him intently.
Growling threateningly, he addressed the invisible figure. “ Whoever is hiding, I invite you to reveal yourself.”
No one answered or appeared at his voice and Vlad continued. “ Let’s rephrase. Come out now and I won’t have to beat you within an inch if your afterlife…”
A voice snorted. “ Not much of a morning person are you Vlad?”
Vlad’s shoulders relaxed slightly and his eyes became tired. “ Daniel?”
Daniel’s almost blue-green eyes flickered into view by the tub. The teenager sat down and twirled a glass of water and a couple of pills in his gloved hands. “ Yep, your resident dogooder and pill dispenser.”
Vlad rolled his eyes, “ I could do without the sarcasm, dear boy.”
Daniel smiled warmly and Vlad tensed awkwardly.
Daniel, in an attempt to quell the animosity he had tossed toward Vlad yesterday, complemented, “So you shave with a straight razor, huh? Where did you learn that?”
Vlad shrugged. “ In high school… I never liked the disposable razors and I was sick of getting a partial shave.”
Vlad smiled in memory of the person who introduced him to his blade. “Believe it or not, a woman taught me how to use it.”
Daniel gaped, “ A chic taught you how to use a straight razor?” Daniel’s jaw went slack. Swallowing, he questioned, “How?”
Vlad laughed, “ How else? By sitting me down and shoving the blade in my hands. She couldn’t very well use herself as an example. The woman didn’t have a hair on her that required such a tome.”
Daniel snorted. “ How did that fair for you?”
Vlad chuckled, “ I epically butchered myself under my chin and she yanked the blade out of my hands.”
Daniel raised an eyebrow. “Is that why you allow the facial hair to be thicker there?”
Vlad paused and looked at himself in the mirror. “ Actually? I keep my hair like this because a friend recommended it. The scar I got from my razor blade fiasco healed before I graduated. I no longer have it.”
Vlad smiled slightly. “The razor I use was her father’s. From what I understand it was passed down for generations from father to son until she was born.”
Vlad yawned and looked to Daniel as he questioned. “ How about we go out for breakfast this morning?”
Daniel’s features grew confused. “Why?”
Vlad tiredly rubbed the back of his neck, “ I honestly don’t trust myself right now next to a stove and you’re no better.”
Phantom’s green eyes flashed slightly and then he rolled his eyes. “ To bad Sam and Tuck won’t be seeing us till this evening. They probably could have helped us make pancakes or something.”
Vlad sighed. “ I am never living the pancake thing down am I?”
Daniel grinned and motioned toward the glass and the pills he was holding, “ Just take some of this aspirin already? You look like shit.”
Vlad froze and turned to Daniel, “Language, young man…Language.”
Daniel snickered, “ Does the great Plasmius hate french?”
Vlad snorted, “ Ce n'était pas français.”
Daniel’s eyes went as wide as saucers. “ Did you just speak actual french?”
Vladimir grinned devilishly and took the glass an the pills from the startled teen. Walking toward the door, he quickly tossed the pills in his mouth and swallowed them down with a swig of the water. Before he was out of the bathroom, he playfully questioned, “ Une pilule difficile à avaler petit blaireau?”
Daniel groaned and chased after him. Vlad rolled his eyes. “ Little badger? Staying in Phantom form constantly just because you can won’t do your body any favors in the long run.”
Daniel rolled his eyes and questioned, “ Why?”
Vlad rounded the stairs with his house guest and froze abruptly. “ Daniel? Go get your hoodie.”
Daniel raised an eyebrow, “ Why? It’s not like it’s-”
Vlad smugly motioned toward the ceiling just as a clap of thunder emanated.
Mouth agape, the teenager prodded, “ Can you predict the future? That’s a ghost power right?”
Vlad smiled and shook his head no. “ I just could smell the rain coming… That, and sudden storms like the ones we’ve been having change barometric pressure. After you get enough broken bones the spots that are fractured begin to ache when the weather changes.”
Daniel quickly shut his mouth and flew into the guest room he had been occupying for the last two nights. A few seconds later, Daniel Fenton layered in an overly large hoodie and hole-ridden jeans rushed toward the landing. Seeing Daniel’s foot connecting to the edge of the staircase incorrectly, Vlad quickly latched onto his shoulders to prevent him from tumbling down the landing. Eyes locked on Daniel’s now blue and Vlad smirked almost smugly. “ I see why you prefer Phantom…you’re rather clumsy still, aren’t you?”
Then the adult released him and continued walking. Glancing nack over his shoulder at the furiously red teen, he added seriously, “ The reason you stumble into things and have problems finding your footing is that Phantom’s power was used for too long. Your other side is poking its way through your human form and turning things partially intangible when you’re not paying attention to keep up the power flow’s momentum.”
Daniel’s blue eyes widened. Vlad softly smiled slightly, “ You need to learn how to subtly release energy and how to adjust in human form.”
Turning from Daniel, Vladimir stepped into the hall and began walking toward the door. Stopping in the intersection between the entryway and the main hall, he made a detour and turned toward his office. A hand grabbed a trench coat and two umbrellas. He tossed Daniel one of the parasols and Daniel smirked. “ Fruit-Loop? Can’t we just create a shield overhead or something?”
Vlad snorted. “ I think you’re becoming too reliant on your abilities Daniel. It helps to be humble on occasion you know.”
Vlad gently tried pulling the coat over his shoulder only to wince in pain and start falling forward. Dropping the umbrella he was holding, Daniel quickly latched onto the adult to keep him upright. Vlad sighed and chuckled. “ Thanks for the save….” Wincing and numbly holding his chest, Vladimir straightened himself.
Averting his gaze from Daniel, he gently removed his hand and turned toward the door.
Daniel worriedly questioned, “ Are you sure it’s a good idea for you to go out in this weather? I can always fly over to a restaurant and bring back something…”
Vlad shrugged. “ I think the walk would do me some good.”
Daniel stiffened. “ You do realize we are a good forty-minute walk from town and another twenty minutes from any restaurants right?”
Vlad looked back at the teenager with an unspoken challenge. Daniel rolled his eyes and snatched his discarded umbrella before following in pursuit of the gray-headed adult.
Vlad opened the front door tiredly and motioned Daniel out with a curt nod.
Popping open their umbrellas in unison they began walking down the drive. Daniel in a bid for conversation questioned, “ So….broken bones…erm- I have had a broken arm and my leg got twisted a while back. What about you?”
Vlad paused and turned to Daniel with a tired expression. “ Daniel? Let’s put this under one of those really painful topics I would rather not explore with you until a later date?”
Daniel sighed. “ That’s not fair Fruit-Loop. I’m just curious is all… I know you’re pretty scarred and you were talking about the weather affecting your bones…”
Vlad answered. “ I’ve broken the majority of my bones more times than it’s possible to recap. Mostly my ribs. Can we leave it at that?”
Daniel nodded and changed gears. “ Sooooo….where are we walking to?”
Vlad grinned mischievously, “ The Nasty Burger.. Where else?”
Daniel gawked, “ You’re kidding right?”
Vlad rolled his eyes. “ What? Do you have a different preference?”
Daniel went ashen, “ Vlad? You do realize the majority of the teenage population in this town hates your guts right?”
Vlad paused and tiredly rubbed the bridge of his nose. “ Ah…yes… our little prank war.”
Pondering his options for a moment, Vlad cocked an eyebrow and smirked. “I should have just enough energy to avoid anyone recognizing me.”
Daniel opened his mouth to protest and Vlad sighed. “ Fine. Are you good with donuts?”
Daniel grinned. “ Yes…I am good with donuts. You know a place?”
A loud, amused chuckle crept from the adult. “ Of course I do. I can’t cook, remember? My best bet is to scope out all the restaurants in an area.”
Daniel snickered, “ You’re what? Forty-seven? Don’t you think cooking would be something you’d prioritize? It’s kind of basic Fruit-Loop.”
Vlad snorted, “ So says the Pop-tart murder. Tell me, Daniel? How did you so poetically catch the toaster and the box on fire?”
Daniel stiffened and turned beet red. “ How did you-?”
Vlad rolled his eyes. “ Jazmine told me a while back.”
Daniel grumbled angrily for a few minutes while they walked. Vlad paused abruptly and Daniel ran into his back.
“ What gives Fr-?!”
Vlad immediately dropped his umbrella and clasped a hand to Daniel’s mouth. In a low whisper, Vlad worriedly instructed. “ Daniel? Be quiet. We’re not alone.”
Daniel stiffened. A few seconds later his ghost sense went off from behind Vlad’s fingers and Vlad hissed in discomfort from the scalding cold. Keeping his grip, he kicked up the umbrella and flung it to their left. The parasol was ripped to shreds in midair. Fine wisps of ebony fabric and metal scraps clacked to the ground.
I initially told myself I would not do wangxian week because I actually have a lot of work to do and I’m falling behind. So naturally, I just reworked my schedule so that I could do wangxian week AND all my work. I hope you enjoy!
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
day 1: running on the roof of the world
Wei Wuxian has figured out time travel. And he went back in time. One problem… he’s unsure of how to go forward. With a younger version of himself chasing him for answers, and a younger Lan Wangji very close to figuring out who he is, Wei Wuxian needs to figure out how to get back before things escalate.
Wangxian week day 1: -Family -Chances -Time travel AU
The golden eyes of the man were focused on the instrument, his perfect skin practically glowing in the moonlight, his long hair swaying in the midnight breeze. Wei Wuxian drew in a breath. Lan Wangji, the second prince Lan, was up on the rooftop at midnight, playing his Guqin. Wei Wuxian was immediately mystified by the beauty of the man on the roof.
And in his chest, though he tried to deny the warm and sudden feeling, Wei Wuxian’s heart skipped a beat.
Wangxian week day 2: -Emperor’s smile -Music -Royalty AU
Wei Ying, his brain said as the man with the blue scrunchie started walking out the store. Wei Ying. His Wei Ying. Lan Zhan quickly jumped the very low door separating his workspace and the café area, much to the protest of the lady who was waiting at the counter. But Lan Zhan didn’t care. Because this man was Wei Ying. His Wei Ying.
day 4: wreckage breaks the peace, but sews us together
“Huanguang-Jun, he got hurt in the arena, they won’t give us medical coverage because Master Wei has a criminal record, Jie-Jie is busy working her shift at the public medic bay, I’m sorry, I didn’t know where else to go-”
“Shut up,” Lan Wangji spat, moving the curtain aside and stepping into his small living quarters. Blood was dripping off of Wei Wuxian now, onto Lan Wangji’s hands, onto the floor, onto Lan Wangji’s clothes. Shit. “Shut up, shut up shut up.”
“And… we’ve come to ask you, seeing as your husband is dead, permission to court you?”
Lan Wangji’s mind went blank for a second, his false pleasantness and miniscule respect towards this man snapping in two, then shattering into small shards, never to be recovered again. Lan Wangji’s eyes widened at the man’s still smiling face, clenching his hands tight, feeling the hilt of his sword shift under the pressure of his fingers. Lan Wangji didn’t even try to hold back.
Lan Wangji died at Qiongqi pass, pierced by a thousand arrows, each one meant for Wei Wuxian. And Wei Wuxian doesn’t know what to do. Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian doesn’t know what to do.
Wangxian week day 6: -Sacrifices -Devotion -Role reversion
“With this hand I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never be empty, for I will be your wine. With this candle, I will light your way in darkness. With this ring… I ask you to be mine.”
