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lifewouldbebetteronmars · 2 months ago

Note

Jumping into your ask because you still seem worried about the new chapter so I don't know how you'd have felt about a tag spam or whole other post.

First, let me set you at ease: I loved it. I love a big swing in fic, and this chapter does that several ways. I was genuinely having a great time reading it and then that massive A/N came along and I remembered that the rest of fandom is a whole other beast lol. Please don't feel like you have to justify yourself to the rest of fandom! I realise people have only gotten more rabid with time but your writing is your writing.

There were a lot of brave choices here that I find really interesting and believable. Lying to each other various ways, Wiress' initial denial, Wiress deciding to keep the pregnancy (or at least not arrange an abortion right at that moment), Beetee assuming she would get an abortion, them both being traumatised about kids but in different directions.

I think you conveyed perfectly clearly how she might move from this isn't happening to oh God oh no this is real to I think I (might) want this child. It's a very real course of events and I do buy that Wiress; especially this younger Wiress; would feel that way. This is her baby, their baby, not a hypothetical problem, and even if in another chapter she does go for an abortion or suffers a loss maybe she needs that hope, to believe that she could create something good, that something good could happen for them, that there is somehow a better future. This could be -- likely is -- the only time she might carry a child. That is a lot to deal with emotionally, after thinking it was off the cards entirely, after the choice itself being taken away from her.

To finally, guiltily and yet hopefully, share it with Beetee and realise they're on entirely different pages? Man, that is painful and delicious. Of course, they're very different ages. He has already had biological children. He has already lost a child (and a wife). He hasn't been carrying the fetus for weeks now. Of course he assumes she'll get an abortion. He's-- I think but correct me (about this or anything, I am saying a lot here about your fic) -- assuming this is his same lovely and logical Wiress, who has seen the devastation wrought upon him by having a family, who knows how bad it can be in Three, how bad the Capitol can make it, who has survived the Games herself, of course she'd get an abortion! she wouldn't want that for herself, for a child, for him. Because it isn't entirely selfish of him to react this way, this would be incredibly triggering for him too, it is his child too, and he has already seen so many small coffins delivered back to Three . Perhaps that is what he sees where she imagines a child, he sees a grave. He hears Joule screaming that it's his fault. He can't go back in time and save Ampert, there's not even anything he can do for Auster, but he can spare this child a more awful death. He can live with that pain to prevent a larger grief. (Wiress being angry at him, looking at him almost like she doesn't know him or as if he doesn't know her? I wonder what sort of pain that brings up exactly, how rarely he's lost like this. Is he more angry or scared and does he even know? She doesn't know how like Joule she is, suddenly.)

I look forward to whichever chapter involves the fallout of all this, I can't predict where you're going to take it and that's exciting.

I also just want to mention that you handled the inclusion of Wiress and clients, medical assault, and sexual aspects of her torture very deftly. Not that I expected anything else, given previous Beetee chapters, but it's worth mentioning.

Also I am hearts about:

Hedy the tortie

the antics of Nook and how much it annoys Beetee

Adalind always (I remember you mentioning that you had ideas for, or were writing, something centered on them and if you ever pursue that I am Very Interested)

Wiress having some grey hairs already!!

The blood test. Such a sad, interesting way to explore Wiress' trauma. Amazing idea.

Beetee all sleepy in the bed, Beetee making a mess of the kitchen when cooking, Beetee helping Wiress work on inventions

Wiress being "a lie detector for men named Latier"

Wiress being Auster's mother and how simple it is despite the complexities, her seeing so much of Joule in him, him just loving her.

For later references, I don't mind long ramblings in notes or seperate posts altogether, and getting asks is fine as well!!! I'm open to most forms of communication on Tumblr lol

Also this is super long so buckle up, I went on a spiel, I'm sorry

I'm so glad you enjoyed it, first things first, and let me just say, this ask really made me feel a lot better about the chapter!!! I didn't get a lot of comments on the OG chapter, so my perception of it has honestly been crazy the last couple of days, so to see that someone else truly enjoyed it just made my day!!!

This was one of my favorite chapters, one of the better ones in this series, at least in my opinion. I love to do long, in-depth emotional, angsty fics so chapters like 2,4,&6 have been like my bread-and-butter. That is what I do well with, and if you couldn't tell, I love a good introspection, so as much as I dreaded the reactions for this chapter, I enjoyed myself while writing it, which is the important part

Honestly, the reason for the very long & rambling author's note was for my own anxiety. I wrote a fic for a different fandom a couple of years ago that was completely misconstrued by some people, and I was 15/16 and I hadn't been writing fanfic for longer than a year or two. And a lot of the problem had been my lack of clarification, so now, whenever I write something that I perceive to be "controversial", I make sure to defend and clarify everything that might raise questions or concerns or hateful comments

And the topic of Wiress & Beetee having a baby is definitely a topic that can be considered a bit taboo, which made me a little bit nervous. The Hunger Games fandom is probably the most terrifying fandom I've ever been part of and I'm always scared that they'll eat me alive. So the long author's notes are really just for my own peace of mind lol

Wiress and Beetee are messy in FMP, they're complicated and so in love and so different and all of these things all at once. They're two very flawed, traumatized individuals that also happen to be in a romantic relationship. They are two people who are constantly in-sync, riding the same brain wave. But they're such opposites at the same time, with their own thoughts processes and feelings towards things, especially in terms of stressors and traumas. And what's funny in this chapter is that they've only known each other for a decade at that point, and been together in a romantic sense for only two years, making their current relationship so relatively new. So they haven't even really worked out all of the kinks in their relationship, particularly in the communication area

Wiress lies to herself, she lies to Beetee. She doesn't want to believe she's pregnant, not when she's never let herself want it or even think about it. She would've been happy never having a biological child or no children at all, Wiress was content with her life as it was. She was happier than she'd ever been in her life. But then she gets pregnant, this impossible thing, and she doesn't want to believe it, not at first, because Wiress is rational and she thinks things through, and she isn't a believer in impossible things. I honestly don't think she even really registers lying to Beetee after she finds out, she just sort of...does it. It's her instinct in that moment, to keep a secret, to lie to Beetee. It's survival, she doesn't want to rock the boat in their relationship. But at the same time, she needs to process this news, this terrifying, unexpected news, so instead she decides to sort through her feelings on her own

She denies that she's pregnant because she doesn't want to get her hopes up because even if she is pregnant, she's certain to lose it. She ignores it until she finally decides she's ready to go see her healer about it. It's easy to deny, to disassociate, it's not real until she says it is. But what about Beetee? This man has witnessed two pregnancies before, he knows the signs. Is he denying it to himself because he doesn't want it to be true? Or does he figure it out before Wiress tells him, letting her come to him instead of confronting her? Does he spend those two weeks thinking about their options and waiting, planning, assuming Wiress would come to the same conclusion? It's all up to interpretation

In terms of Beetee's assumption, honestly in that moment, I don't think he's really seeing Wiress. He's seeing himself at 18, with a pregnant girlfriend and no other options but to marry her. He's seeing Joule, only 17 but resolute in wanting the baby, abortion isn't even on the table and Beetee doesn't have the courage to ask. He isn't seeing Wiress, 28 years old, not yet thirty, he's seeing the girl he met ten years earlier. The stubborn girl who didn't want to show The Capitol weakness, that same girl who understood him when no one else did. The same girl he understood when no one else did

Btw, you worded that perfectly. (I will only be referring to Wiress as the "lovely and logical Wiress" from now on). He has done this before, twice, he's done the wife and kids thing. Beetee lived a life before Wiress. This chapter I felt definitely explored the dynamic of their age difference, their life experiences, and how those factors come into play in their relationship. Yes, part of his assumption is pure selfishness, this fear that he has that won't ever go away, but at the same time, in his mind, it's selflessness. He is selfish for not including the wants of Wiress, not asking her about them, but to him an abortion would be a selfless act, sparing his & Wiress's fetus from a fate worse than death, while at the same time sparing them from the grief of losing a child to the Games yet again

And that is not to say that he doesn't want this child, because oh does he want this child. He wants this baby, this product of him and Wiress. But he can't want this baby, this fetus, not when loving it and wanting it isn't going to matter when he's burying another too-small coffin and bones instead of flesh and blood. In any other universe, this conversation never would've happened, they would've been happy and hopeful, this baby would've been their miracle. He is wishing this is any other universe where it is safe enough to want this baby, but they live in Panem, in a world of Hunger Games and rebel plots, that universe may never exist

I think of this quote I saw on here once, "Mary did you know? That your womb was also a grave?" when I think of Wiress and Joule, the two women who've been with Beetee, who have been mothers to his children. Wiress cares about her baby's fate, of course she does, but at the same time, is it worth it? Is it worth loving a baby, carrying them inside of you and keeping them safe, only to send them off to a death you can't prevent, a death you know is your fault? The Capitol took Wiress's family from her, in more ways than one. They took Wiress away from herself, or at least they tried. Would she let them take her child too? Joule, who never considered her sons' fates, or maybe she did, and just pretended they didn't exist. Fate can't touch you if you ignore it. But that didn't happen to Joule, no, she watched her first son get torn apart on live television and her second...she couldn't look at him, not without seeing the fate he would undoubtedly share with his predecessor. Did they know their wombs were graves? Did they care? Or did they ignore their fates? They knew death would come for their children, but they loved them anyway

I really wanted their conversation regarding the pregnancy to mirror his arguments with Joule in chapter 4, to parallel this time in Beetee's life where he didn't feel in control of anything, where he was lost and his marriage was in shambles. Absolutely in that scene is he having flashbacks to Joule, screeching at him to fix it, to save their son, the look in her eyes that said she didn't know him anymore. And now there's Wiress-his beautiful canary, his brilliant livewire-, looking at him the same way. That look of hurt, of disappointment, all of it all at once. He is stewing in his pain, in his memories. And Beetee so desperately wants to fix all of it, he doesn't want to ruin another woman, not the way he ruined Joule. And he sure as hell won't damn another child. This is a very painful chapter for my man Latier, because even from Wiress's perspective, we can see what he's feeling and gauge his reactions because despite everything, they do know each other. Better than anyone, actually

This conversation between marks the beginning of the most rocky, tumultuous, lowest point of their relationship. No matter how it ends (it being the pregnancy) (no spoilers obvi), this time is a very dark time for them. I won't say anymore, but it will be talked about in a later chapter and in an expansion fic I'm working on

One point I did want to mention is that unlike Joule, who was all hellfire and anger in the end, who screamed and yelled and fought and hated Beetee, Wiress does love Beetee in that moment. Instead of leaving without a word, she reassures him that she will be back because she'll always come back. She's saying I love you, I'm sorry but I can't be here right now, I'll come back but I need space (in not so many words). That is the difference between her and Joule. Beetee and Joule were both runners, they both run from their problems, but while Joule wallowed and allowed the negativity to overrun her, Beetee grows numb and compartmentalizes until he breaks. Wiress isn't a runner, she isn't one to ignore her problems, but in that moment, she leaves but she's coming back. With Joule, Beetee always feared her never coming back until the day she didn't, with Wiress he doesn't need to have that worry. Even though she's angry with him, Wiress still takes the time to show she cares about Beetee, to explain why she's leaving and to reassure that she will be coming back

The biggest point in FMP is the recurring theme of "never let them know your next move", which is so fun to do with a non-linear narrative and I'm having a lot of fun playing with the boundaries of that. I literally just write what I want and then post it according to the outline I made for myself lmao, like I have every chapter planned to a 't' but nobody knows the order except for me. For all anybody knows, the next chapter is going to be Wiress and Haymitch running around in chicken costumes while Beetee and Effie try to stop them

I really did want to bring in Capitol-induced trauma, particularly Wiress's. I had hinted at her torture in chapter 2 & how bloody it had been, because I believe her torture to have been a brutal mix of psychological and physical, the type that left both visible and invisible scars. And then I wanted to touch on the "clients" and forced prostitution because I know a lot of people tend to ignore it, since its not a pretty topic. I think that Snow did a lot worse to the Victors than we're made aware of as readers, as we only know what being a Victor is like from Katniss's perspective and in comparison to the rest of the known victors, she & Peeta got a better end in the deal. Obviously, not to compare traumas, but from her perspective, we won't ever fully know the true horrors that the Victors face post-victory. Even from the perspective of Haymitch, the small glimpse we get is enough to know that it is worse than it appears

I'm going to quickly (not really quick, I like to ramble) address the bullet points-

Hedy the tortie is based upon my own cat, the lovely Boo (I tagged her tag below, if you want to see her antics), at least appearance-wise. I was told she would have a tortitude, but was lied to, she is the sweetest cat on the planet, when she's not screaming at me. Boo based both Nook & Hedy, with different parts of her personality, since she's literally the only cat I've ever actually been around. But both Nook & Hedy will be making more appearances, alongside their brother Hubble, who has not yet been adopted

Beetee has a very contentious relationship with Wiress's cats, especially Nook. Nook is a cock-blocker, excuse my French, he always knows when they're going to be intimate and happens to find his way in between them. Beetee is not amused. Hedy just hides under the bed and claws at people's (Beetee's) ankles when they're hanging over the bed or the couch or anywhere she can hide under. Hedy is the one who often gets into the workshop and has a habit of peeing on Beetee's papers, and Beetee's papers only

Ada and Rosalind are my Roman empire in the FMP universe, I do in fact have so many ideas surrounding them right now!!! Most ideas focus on their years before Bee & Wire, but a couple will take place in the FMP timeline. Also little fun fact about their dynamics with Wiress & Beetee. Like how Katniss is Haymitch's girl and Peeta is Effie's boy, Wiress is Rosalind's girl and Beetee is Ada's boy. They're all close, but they share different bonds with one another. Rosalind is the mother Wiress never had and they relate to each other a lot, their personalities mesh really well together. Wiress is how Rosalind imagined a child between she & Ada would've turned how, had they ever been able to have one, and for that reason, she always felt more connected to her than with Beetee (whom she loves like a son, just to be clear). Ada is like the cool aunt figure to Beetee, motherly-adjacent, but she cares with her whole heart. Their games and how they ended were very similar (to be elaborated on at a later date) , which caused them to bond, as well as the fact that they are both firsts in District 3, with Ada being the first Victor and Beetee being the first boy to win

That was actually a complete accident lol. When I originally wrote chapter 6, it took place in 69 ADD, the year of Auster's last Reaping, and everybody was a decade older than they are in the chapter, so a lot of the circumstances in the first two parts were different. I ended up keeping the grey hairs in, as well as a bunch of other discrepancies that I'm slowly editing out. I was editing that chapter at like 2-3 A.M., so a lot of things slipped through the cracks

Wiress likes to fix problems in Panem and at that moment in time, creating a more accurate quick pregnancy test was important to her. Because even when she's hurting, she still wants to help others, she doesn't want others to go through what she's gone through. I do not have a brain for STEAM/STEM, so that was the most basic idea I could come up with

Beetee Latier is so adorably domestic when he's in love, let's get that one thing clear. Nobody can deny how much he loves Wiress and their family. He is a secret family man, nobody would expect it, behind his bluntness and almost-cold mad scientist exterior, but that man lives for his family and being soft. It was a little treat for all of the angst I was about to deliver

She's a complete bullshit-detector, Wiress absolutely knows when someone is lying just by looking at them. Beetee Latier is no exception, except he's worse because he can't even attempt to lie to Wiress, she knows him too well for that. And Auster? She's his mom, she knows when he's lying. It's like the mom superpower, to always know when you're not telling the truth, and Wiress has that in spades

It's so natural for them, because Wiress has been there since day one for Auster, it's not complicated at all. That's the most simple thing about her relationship with Beetee and it always was, because even if they didn't work out, she would always be there for Auster. Joule's death hurt Wiress too and she doesn't ever want to erase the woman responsible for letting Auster be in her life, she may be Auster's mom but so is Joule. Wiress had her own issues with it, obviously, because she was so young, but at the same time, it felt natural to be considered Auster's mother. Out all of them, Beetee probably had the most complex feelings about it all lol

Thanks for the ask lol!!! This got a lot longer than I planned it to be, but it's okay!!! ❤

#ask answered #mutuals #feed me promises (keep my heart well)#beetee latier #wiress pallweber #beeress #beetress #beetee x wiress #wiress x beetee #riley’s boo chronicles

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like-rain-or-confetti · 1 year ago

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I have to ask, why are you so deadset not to write for Twilight? I tried to see if you already gave an explanation, but I couldn't find anything. Especially when you have so many requests for it. Don't you like Twilight anymore? I have to say it's a little odd 😕🧐

Ooft that explanation is about 2-3 years back now.

I'll explain again from what I remember after 2-3 years. I should start by saying at just point I had been writing for twilight for about...6 years maybe?

I was slowing down and getting into a writers block and then drama happened.

Long story short the final nail in the coffin was being accused of being racist because I preferred the Romanian coven over the Egyptian coven and it made me sick to think people could going through my writing at the time and tearing it apart looking for any kind of evidence to prove it. So with the drama and all that I said "fuck this. I had a good run. See ya later. I'm not sticking around for this shit."

And it put me off of twilight completely. I stopped reading fanfic. I deleted all of my old WIPs for twilight and focused on me, my mental health -and Jonathan Crane and Edward Nygma but shhhh 🤫-

My experience with this blog back then is the more followers came more attention which led to more of the bullshit. As I have seen with all platforms. On tumblr, I saw other blogs being called out left right and centre for one thing or another. Some valid, some not valid, and now it was my turn... again...for something else because the other ones didn't stick. However, 3 years later and being in other fandoms, I realised something.

In the twilight random, I've been accused of being a body shamer, a manipulator because of my follower number, racist, pretty sure sexist a very long time ago, and the list goes on. All from the twilight fandom. No other fandom, and I've noticed those accusations stayed in the twilight fandom. And every single one made me wonder wtf was going on. And you'd think I'd forget these accusations. The people who point the fingers seem to forget. I don't forget. I remember the feelings of confusion and terror when I got accused for every single one. So i wasn't very pleased when the reason given for my 'racism' was an assumption that I preferred the Romanians over the egyptian coven was because of their races and it must be my deep rooted racism that makes me prefer one fucked shit over the other. Both covens did fucked shit. I just had more curiosity and interest of the Romanians over the Egyptians and that got twisted into what was then called my inherent racism. I'm a sucker for villains if we haven't noticed. 🤷‍♀️

Now, 2 or 3 years later, I'm not completely against twilight. I'm over the drama. However, it does make me want to stay in my own lane, really. I'm kinda done trying to be friends with everyone because I know not everyone is on here to be friendly. There are people on here who haven't said shit to me and don't like me because X,Y and Z. So now older I realise I came in with the wrong mindset. People come online for entertainment, and entertainment comes in all shapes and sizes and there's nothing more entertaining than coming after someone in the name morality. Of course someone is gonna jump on, see the writing and make assumptions.

Its why I made the rules in the pinned comment. I'm not gonna share my political views or anything like that and fiction stays fiction over here. I have no patience for the argument that my writing gives insight to my very soul anymore. In this blog, we're here to have a good time, let the imagination pop off and have a good giggle. That's all.

So twilight was the beginning and taught me a really hard lesson, probably a necessary one too. Some people are just here for a fight on the Internet. I'm not the first or the last to be accused but I'll say one thing. It's been nice not having to look over my shoulder on every post I made for the last 3 years incase someone assumes the worst.

Would I come back? I've honestly been considering it. As much as there was bad there was twice as much good. I got a lot of love and support. I've met wonderful people from that community and a bunch of them have stuck around and had my back. Something I can't begin to thank them for. I'm very grateful to them and have no regrets. I'm not thoroughly put off of twilight anymore and I'm pretty much done trying to be understanding and civil to people who don't have the same intention.

Btws the irony isn't lost on me that I've said I'm over it but put out this massive thing but I figured my stance is still the same and so since people have the guts to accuse me of fucked shit then I shouldn't have to be quiet on their account later on. :)

#vanity needs to stop talking #twilight

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pangaeaseas · 6 months ago

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Fic Writing Tag Game

tagged by @wisteria-lodge

How many fics do you have on ao3? 36, most of which are one-shots.

What's your total ao3 word count? 82,319

What are your top 5 stories by kudos?

1. bring out the coffin, let the mourners come is unsurprisingly my top fic as it rides the regulus black wave. the summary is something like 'regulus dies, Sirius finds out' and that's exactly what happens. it's not my finest work (I don't think it does anything particularly striking with the material) and i'm not particularly proud of it, but I'm glad people enjoy it!

2. remembering past enchantments and past ills is my first hp fic on ao3 and since it does have a more interesting idea I am quite proud of it. it's about ginny as a parselmouth. It seems to have been the fic that pushed the Parselmout Ginny tag into full reality, lol.

3. A Fistful of Miracles was written for a fic exchange and is probably the most successful piece of romance I have written thus far, though there's growing pains. Got me into Narlily! My current WIP is influenced by it but will hopefully be better. The title just kind of came to me and had to be shoehorned in, lol.

4. but I am not resigned is possibly the fic I'm proudest of thus far. It does much more interesting things with regulus black tbh than any of my other fics with him. I've also gotten good comments on this one from people who picked up the themes because it has themes yo! mostly holds up very well except for the random JFK assassination conversation lol. and it's actually about Hermione.

5. Misery With Company is one of the longest things i've ever written at a whopping 6000+ words and is almost entirely ginny and Sirius, two of my absolute favorite characters, talking to each other. some of the dialogue is a bit stilted but I'm still pretty proud of it. and they somehow managed to never mention JFK. good for them. gave me a whole new brotp.

Do you respond to comments? Yep, all of them, even the ones that are just a crying emoji. I love talking about my fic!

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending? Hmmm I have to think about this one. Honestly it's probably the Anna Karenina one (high school was a dark dark time don't ask why I was writing fucking pretentious af ao3 fanfiction about Tolstoy characters...) because the patriarchy cannot be defeated in the way Voldemort can.

Or it might be the cauldron of morning, which features some of the darkest character headspace i've ever been in. especially given I was purposefully trying to make the ending brutally ironic.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

Ummm uhhh...probably remembering past enchantments and past ills because it's all about self acceptance and healing or A Fistful of Miracles which is actually canon divergent, or maybe Indoor Quidditch, my canon compliant Andy and Narcissa fic, which is ultimately about finding hope and healing after very dark times. Honestly them coming to a better place with so much to work through might make me happiest bc it's about pulling yourself up from the lowest lows. so yeah the fic where one of the main characters is mourning her husband, daughter, and the sister who killed her daughter might be my 'happiest ending'.

Yes, I love angst.

Do you write crossovers? ....Does the Tolstoy thing count?

When I was a kid I had an extensive HP/PJO crossover universe that never came to fruition. Honestly not sure I would do many crossovers, especially with universes that are mutually exclusive (for instance, a HOTD/HP crossover would be pretty pointless since they're on different fucking planets and putting Rhaenicent in HP would make them completely different people).

So I guess if I think there's something to be gained from crossing over, or if it's a shared universe kind of thing (same author, etc). But not often.

Have you ever received hate on a fic? No, but I did get someone who said they hated me and elaborated in the next comment it was because I had inflicted emotional trauma on them with my fanfiction. Scared me for five minutes lol.

Do you write smut? Nope.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Hope not.

Have you ever had a fic translated? No, but I did have a podfic once, it was great!

Have you ever co-written a fic before? No, but I've edited other people's fics, which is quite fun! Also I gave my friend a bunch of OCs once. In public.

What's a wip that you want to finish but don't think you ever will? I came up with an extensive plot and wrote about 500 words of a crack fic where Draco Malfoy has to be Delphi's teen mom which is sadly unlikely to ever see the light of day.

I also have a very very ambitious longfic project with several thousand words of worldbuilding and the complete plot of...the first book of a necessary several. that one maybe i'll come back to once I have more life experience lol.

What are your writing strengths? I can do pretty prose if I work at it. I'm pretty good with voice. I also write and come up with good scenes. Oh and ideas. Premises.

What are your writing weaknesses? PACING and actually finishing things lol. Occasionally dialogue? Sometimes I think I'm good at dialogue, sometimes I hate all my dialogue. I use too many similes and run-ons. I tend to exposit a lot in the name of pretty prose rather than actually fucking scening it out. I need to work on showing and not telling lol.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? Never done it, unlikely to do it since a) I only speak one other language and that not very well and b) it's fic and it feels a little mean to make the reader of the thing they are reading for fun for free go look up some French words. Maybe if I knew how to code in the little hovering insta-translate thing. Or spoke better French.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to? Ship: Romione (the aforementioned unwritten longfic WIP has Romione romance as a major subplot). Wolfstar, which bizarrely I have never written. Honestly I could buy a Draco/Harry/Ginny polycule, or either Drarry or Drinny. Possibly Lilypad. Bellamort would be a substantial challenge.

Fandom: Can't wait to finish Game of Thrones (TV) so I can mock its ending in fic LMAO. More seriously I want to write Scholomance fic, but am a little intimidated by the quality of Naomi Novik.

If I was really crazy and also had a PhD in Russian literature I would write the incredibly deranged fic idea that haunts my brain and begs to be written about shatov and kirillov lying on the floor of that hut in America, which sadly has never been made into slash fic as far as I know and absolutely should be.

This was fun!

tagging: @slitheringghost, @copper-dust, @thistlecatfics, @nyx764, (please feel free to ignore this lol) and anyone else who wants to play!

#writing #writing thoughts #fic writing thoughts #my fic #my fic writing #fandom #tag game

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kamkairo · 4 years ago

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who is this sad strange little man and what is he doing here

I think I have this violation of the natural order figured out enough to share stuff about him (even if you don’t care one bit, I’m gonna make this everybody’s problem)

Info under the cut (multiple mentions of death, just a heads up)

ALDOUS ARKWRIGHT Gender: Male Height: few inches shorter than Sasha Nein Occupation: Tailor / Undertaker

Aldous comes from an old bloodline going back to at least the 1500s, consisting primarily of British nobles and merchants. His father, Boyce Arkwright, immigrated to America shortly after marrying his wife Emmeline, establishing his furniture making and her tailoring services in an old town not too far from a place called Shaky Claim. They would settle and have their first son, Aloysius, who would grow up to become a successful architect, followed by their daughter Celandine, who had a penchant for flowers, and ending with their youngest son, Aldous.

At that time, seven-year-old Aldous was too young to have to worry about making a career for himself, so he was able to enjoy a great amount of his childhood doing whatever he wanted, especially when he was always playing with an odd boy with odd abilities, who would quickly become his best (and only) friend, up until around four years later when the boy suddenly disappeared. Unfortunately, things would only get worse from there.

When Aldous began pursuing an interest in becoming a tailor like his mother, the old town would be hit by a sudden wave of illness, taking out many of the townspeople, especially the very young, old, and the weak. Due to the hospital being overwhelmed with the dead, the Arkwrights were made to do double duty as undertakers, with Boyce having to build coffins instead of furniture, Emmeline dressing the bodies, Aloysius taking up the work of a gravedigger, and Celandine growing flowers for the gravesites. Being young and free of care for many things, Aldous had not given any thought to the idea of death, at least until now, and it was the most frightening thing he had ever had to learn in his short life, especially the dark truth that it was an inescapable fate for everyone, and he would be no exception one day.

Since then, the boy was constantly haunted by nightmares, becoming more traumatized the more he was exposed to all of this. There was nowhere for him to hide from it, no escape in sight... except within his own mind.

The Arkwrights began to worry about their youngest family member when he became noticeably more quiet and withdrawn. They initially feared he was becoming ill, but after about a month, Aldous began to perk up again…

But not in the way they were expecting him to.

It was as if their dear little Aldi had been replaced with a dark imitation of himself, displaying behaviors that were not normal to him. He began to show a morbid fascination with the process of preparing corpses, and the construction of the coffins they were put in, to the point of learning how to do these things himself. At first, the family thought that he had simply become used to it all by now, but that would turn out not to be the case.

In a desperate attempt to suppress his intense fear and vulnerability, and to hopefully desensitize himself to the reality of death, Aldous had retreated into a persona of sorts as a coping mechanism. He had initially intended for this to be a temporary thing until things died down (so to speak) and he could go back to living his life and becoming a tailor like he had initially planned, but instead, he relied heavily on it to get him through the years to the point it slowly became out of control. Aldous began following people around like a vulture waiting for prey to perish, becoming inappropriately excited over somebody dying or showing symptoms of illness, and taking unwanted full-body measurements of others, ‘just in case’.

As he got older, he set aside his ambition for tailoring and took on the occupation of an undertaker, having somehow convinced himself that it was what he was best suited for despite the fact that in reality, he strongly despised it. Some days, this persona would go dormant, often for days at a time, and his family began to show hope that Aldous would return to normal, but as soon as someone in town dropped dead, that thing masquerading as Aldous resurfaced.

In his mid 20s, having lost almost all color in his hair from the constant stress of trying to hide his anxiety and vulnerable, unstable emotions, the Arkwrights were terrified for his well-being, and finally sought out a psychologist, asking what course of action he recommended. After turning down the suggestion of an ice pick procedure, their only option was to send him away to the mental asylum down in Shaky Claim in desperate hopes that it would help him come to his senses. That would be the final day Aldous would ever see his family again. At first, he was subjected to psychotherapy from the orderlies, but this didn’t last, as it was decided that he was better off clinging to this new identity he had conjured so many years ago, as his true thoughts and feelings were highly distressing, especially to him. Since then, most of the other patients avoided him, being extremely put-off by his disturbing mannerisms, and many of the orderlies didn’t seem to want much to do with him, eventually writing him off as a lost cause. It wasn’t all bad though... Aldous at least finally found his best friend from childhood again in Thorney Towers, though he looked a little worse for wear.

===

- Since being committed to Thorney Towers, Aldous has taken up tailoring again as more of a side hobby, using any fabric he could get a hold of for his projects. The orderlies at the time initially decided against trying to stop this, as it was ultimately a harmless activity that kept him relaxed and occupied for a long period of time. That didn't fully stop him from harassing the other patients and even the staff for their measurements, however. But, no matter how many times they tried to confiscate his supplies, he always procured replacements somehow

- Put Houston Thorney ‘to rest’ shortly after he jumped off the roof many decades ago. Aldous had said the coffin he made was a lot smaller than the measurements he had taken before, because there really wasn't a lot left intact from the impact of hitting the ground from that high. He claims to have seen worse

- Because of his "death anxiety" and nihilism from being exposed to the grim concept of death so early, he doesn't know how to actually appreciate life and all that it has to offer. Instead, he simply dreads each day, wondering when it will be his last

- Has a strange dentition, with very prominent incisors almost resembling those of a rodent. His movements are often described as those of a spider, and he will sometimes crawl over furniture and large objects in a manner resembling one

- Took up the habit of smoking in his late teens, which also contributed to the loss of color in his once black hair. He can often be found lingering around windows and lighting up cigarettes on a constant basis. How he manages to procure such contraband is unknown, and due to the asylum's current state, nobody really cares enough to know

- Often laments about his family, having not seen any sign of them since he was first taken to the asylum, and doesn't know what became of his siblings, but knows his parents are long dead by now. The lack of any form of closure with them exacerbates his broken mentality, and he has slowly begun to put the damaging idea into his head that they were better off without him in their lives, having been a burden to them due to his dark behaviors

- Has a dislike for particular flowers, specifically white hydrangeas, poppies, marigolds, and lilies. Ironically, these flowers are some of many that his sister Celandine used to grow

#psychonauts #psychonauts oc #shit i drew #i'm sorry you have to see my mess #don't look at him

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made-ofmemories · 3 years ago

Text

When Life Tears You Asunder, But You’re Not Alone

(Chapter 14/18)

General Warnings/tags: Found family, implied Wayne/Susan in future chapters, Max & Eddie have a sibling like relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort, Lumax and Steddie make appearances throughout the chapters but the primary focus is on the familial bonds between characters

Chapter specific warnings/tags: Band practice with the rest of corroded coffin and some more found family content between Susan, Max, Eddie and Wayne

Word count: 1391

Summary: Billy was a pretty shitty brother, there was no denying it, but Max still finds herself mourning for the sibling relationship they never got to have. With him gone she thinks so are her chances of ever having the big brother figure she’s always wanted. Then in a turn of events that she never saw coming, Eddie Munson waltzes into her life. Or more like, almost runs her over.

Notes:. Co-written with the wonderful @ladydorian05 and crossposted on AO3. Updates every Friday.

Series masterlist

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Max had told Eddie not to bother picking her up from school later that day. It wasn’t unusual, sometimes she had plans with Lucas, was sleeping over at El’s, or just wanted to hang out with her friends. She was more than capable of making her own way home on occasion.

What is unusual is Eddie walking into Gareth's garage, guitar in hand, and finding Max seated behind the drum kit. Gareth is standing beside her whilst Jeff and Carl stand at opposite sides of the drums, their attention on Max.

“Well, well.” Eddie says in that loud dramatic tone of voice he usually reserves for D&D campaigns or speeches given atop cafeteria tables, “What’re the chances of seeing you here, red?”

4 heads whip around to look at Eddie as he makes his entrance. Carl flinches a little at his sudden loud voice, Jeff shakes his head, meanwhile, Gareth and Max are wearing matching unamused expressions.

“Gareth said it was ok.” Max explains “His mom picked us up.”

Of course it was Gareth’s idea, he and Max are the only ones who’d ever dream of crashing band-practice like this knowing they’d actually get away with it. Gareth and Max are friends now, after she started eating lunch with the hellfire club most days their paths had been bound to cross at some point. It wasn’t odd that they hung out sometimes, but Max had never attended band practice.

“You should hear her play. She’s a natural.” Gareth chimes in and it’s followed up by a chorus of overlapping chatter from Jeff and Carl agreeing and Max hissing at them to stop.

“They’re overexaggerating.” Max insists, “Gareth taught me a little while we waited for you to show up.”

“Well… what’re you waiting for, show us what you got,” Eddie says, bending at the waist and giving a sweeping gesture towards the drum kit.

Max lets out a long exhale then picks up the sticks which had been set aside atop one of the drums and adjusts them in her hands.

“You remember what I showed you?” Gareth asks quietly and Max nods.

“Yeah, I got it.”

It’s not great and she knows that given by the grimace on her face when she misses a beat, but she’s not bad either given that everything she knows has been taught in the past 20 minutes.

“Not bad.” Eddie hums approvingly while Max shares a high five with Gareth then Jeff and Carl.

Despite his best efforts, Eddie had tried and failed to get Max to show any interest in learning how to play guitar. She had heard him play plenty, enjoyed listening to him play even, especially during his recovery from their run-in with Jason when she had refused to leave his side and there wasn’t much else to do except strum away at his beloved guitar and watch movies.

But, beyond a few out-of-tune chords plucked out of one of Eddie’s spare acoustics she’d shown no interest in learning herself. Her face hadn’t lit up like it had when she had gotten behind Gareth's drum kit.

“Better watch out Gareth,” Jeff says as the small group that has gathered around the drum kit dissipates, “You might be training your replacement.”

“Shut up.” Gareth retorts, unoffended and used to the friendly teasing at this point, “You’d all be lost without me.”

Carl snickers followed by a sarcastic “You wish.”

“Alright, enough.” Eddie’s voice cuts through the chatter and laughter. He stands impatiently in front of the group, his guitar set up and ready to go in the time they had spent bickering between themselves, “Are we going to play or what?”

After the Jason incident, he hadn’t been able to make it to the past 2 practice sessions and he’s eager to get started. Max takes a seat off to the side, all too happy to be their audience for the night.

They make it through a cover and an original song before Eddie calls for a break.

“You ok?” Max asks, tossing him a bottle of water as he makes his way over to her.

“Yeah I’m good, ‘nother headache.” He explains before gulping down a quarter of the bottle, “Doc said they might last a few weeks, Harrington said they never really go away, but then again he’s had more than one concussion.”

“Wanna leave? I can call Steve to come pick us up if you don’t want to drive, I’m sure he won’t mind.”

“Nah, just need a minute.” He takes another long swig from the bottled water, it doesn’t help much, “Practice probably won’t last much longer anyway. Gareth has plans.”

“He does?” She asks, curiosity piqued, “He didn’t mention anything.”

Eddie nods then winces, immediately regretting the movement, “He’s hanging out with Will. He doesn’t know I know.” He lowers his voice slightly, though he doesn’t think the others are paying attention anyway.

“Will?” She questions, her brow furrowing for a moment before her expression slowly starts to soften the more she considers it, “Oh.”

Eddie chuckles at her realization, “Yeah, surprised me at first, but” he shrugs, “I’ve never seen Gareth like this over someone… ever.”

“They’re always together at school, it makes sense.” She agrees, sounding a little shocked that she’d never noticed it before now, “and anything is better than watching Will pining over Mike.”

“To think that they could have had something if Mike wasn’t in so much denial.”

“You two done gossiping?” Jeff calls interrupting their conversation and supported by the indeterminate grumbling of Gareth and Carl.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” Eddie calls back, brushing them off with a wave of his hand.

“Got any requests?” He asks Max as he takes a few steps back toward the rest of his band.

“Rainbow in the dark?” She asks with a hopeful smile.

He’d let her borrow some of his Dio cassettes a few days ago in exchange for the return of yet another black sabbath album which she had ‘borrowed’, apparently they’d gone down well.

He considers it for a moment, not something they usually play, but, “Yeah? I’ll see what we can do.”

----------------

They find Wayne and Susan sitting on the couch outside the Munsons trailer, cigarettes in hand and laughing, their own version of hanging out. Max is glad her mom has someone, a fellow adult, she can rely on. Someone she can talk to.

"Kids! Dinners ready, we were waiting for you to get back before we eat ." Susan says, snuffing out her cigarette on the ashtray between her and Wayne as Max and Eddie approach them. "No canned soup this time, made my chicken casserole."

"And I picked up some donuts from the bakery for dessert." Wayne says standing up from the couch and stretching his back.

“Chocolate covered?” Max asks with a raised eyebrow.

“That’s right.”

“Awesome!”

It’d become somewhat of a tradition, at least a few days a week or whenever Wayne was able to get a day off work the 4 of them would have dinner together. Sometimes it was in their trailer, sometimes at the Munsons.

“How was school today, Max?” Wayne asks, holding the door open whilst everyone makes their way inside and making sure it closes behind them when he follows Max in.

“Good. We used the lab today, mixed some interesting chemicals to make some foam and a guy got scolded for trying to eat it.” Wayne chuckles at her description and she continues, “Oh! And after Gareth taught me how to play a part of a song on his drums!”

“Sounds like you found your instrument.” He says, ruffling her hair the same way she’s seen him do to Eddie countless times, as he moves past her and into the kitchen.

“Yup, I’ll leave the guitar to Eddie.”

“Eddie, honey” Susan calls from her place by the stove where she’s stirring the food inside the casserole. “Could you please get the bowls out while I reheat the food?”

“Sure, Mrs. Har-” Susan raises an eyebrow at his almost slip, an expression he’s seen many times before on Max’s face, “Susan. I’ll get them.”

“Thank you.”

They sit in the living room together watching Jeopardy! And having fun trying to guess the answers of the show. Max likes this, it truly feels like having the family she always wished for.

#stranger things #Max Mayfield #susan hargrove #wayne munson #eddie munson

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agentofmischief · 4 years ago

Text

Birthstone Legacy Challenge

Ok, I don’t post a lot on here, but I’m a huge fan of the sims. I’ve been playing it since gen 1 back in 2000. So, I’ve been having fun with challenges, especially the past couple years with 100 Baby, and I’ve found online. And after reading hearing and reading up on Lilsimsie’s Not So Berry Challenge, I had an idea of my own challenge. So, I thought I’d share if anyone else wanted to play along.

Disclaimer: These challenges mean nothing in regards to people born in that month. I simply took symbolism and cultural aspects of each stone to create a challenging and interesting playthroughs you might not think to do.

Lifespan requirements: Normal (not sure if it’s possible on Short, but if you want hard mode, do it).

The idea is to start with your month’s birthstone, then each generation is the next month’s stone for either 10 generations (traditional Legacy), or 12 if you wan to do the full year. You could also start on the month after your birth month with a full year play-through, so your birth month acts as a “finale”. Might be helpful if say your birth month is April, and you know your month’s stone is Diamond and to you it sounds like a finisher, or if your birth month is December, and you’d just prefer to start with January’s stone. It’s up to you.

These will just be listed month by month, so they are easy to find.

Like in the other color challenges, you want to model your sim with the stone’s colors in mind. You should also build their house with their stone’s color in mind.

1. January stone: GARNET

Color: Dark Red

Garnets have a high refractive index, which causes them to look as if they are emitting light. Due to this phenomenon, travelers during the crusades would carry them to ward off evil. The stone represents Faith, Love and Constance.

Traits: Good, Ambitious, Cheerful

Goals:

- Complete the Soulmate aspiration

- Complete the Law career as a judge.

- Must maintain career until death (meaning no retirement, quitting, or being fired).

- Must have at least 2 kids after the soulmate aspiration is fulfilled.

- All children must be raised with all green character values and no lower than Bs in school.

2. February stone: AMETHYST

Color: Purple

The word Amethyst comes from the Greek word, amethystos, meaning “not drunken.” This comes from a myth where Dionysus was so enraged, he vowed his wrath on the next human he saw, which was a young woman, Amethystos. To “save” this woman, Artemis turned her to stone (note to self, don’t ask Artemis to save you ever, because her track record sucks). Dionysus calmed at seeing the stone’s beauty, and poured his wine on it, giving the stone it’s purple color. In more recent centuries, amethysts have been associated with piety and rank in the Catholic Church, as bishops are given amethysts when they are appointed.

Traits: Genius, Bookworm, Snob (If you have Snowy escape, replace one of these with Proper).

Goals:

-Complete the Knowledge - Renaissance Sim aspiration.

-Complete the Education Career as a Professor.

-Can not go to bars or nightclubs

-Max out Logic, Writing, and a musical skill (Violin, Guitar, Piano, or Singing)

-Can never marry or enter into an official dating relationship; HOWEVER must have at least 1 kid at some point to continue the legacy. This can be through adoption, which is more likely if you want to play pure piety or you have an Ace sim in mind, and the adoptee must be a child or teen. The other option is through secret woohoos if you want to play the more historically accurate, seedy way. **If you are playing with Risky Woohoos, you can have max 2 kids living with you. All others children must be removed from the house and into a Townie’s home once they become toddlers.

3. March stone: AQUAMARINE

Color: Light Blue

Due to aquamarine’s sea-like color, they’ve long been associated with traveling and the sea. Sailors used to put them under their pillows to calm themselves. They are said to inspire peace and ward off poisons.

Traits: Loves Outdoors, Glutton, Loner

Goals:

-Complete Angling Ace aspiration.

-Eat out of the trash 5 times without getting sick.

-Have an aquarium with 10 fish.

-Catch a vampire squid. ** Or if you have Island Living, you must become a mermaid.

-Must eat and learn to make Pufferfish Nigiri.

4. April stone: DIAMOND

Color: White/Silver

Diamond is the hardest stone on Earth, and is often associated with wealth and treasures. The word diamond comes from the greek word adamas, meaning unconquerable. They are the most popular of the stones, and so recently have been “Lab Grown.”

Traits: Ambitious, Insider, Perfectionist

Goals:

-Complete the Scientist career.

-Complete Leader of the Pack aspiration.

-Find all the crystals.

-Must clone a diamond.

-Become best friends with Judith Ward and have a framed selfie with her in your house.

-Date/marry someone in the Style-influencer career.

5. May stone: EMERALD

Color: Dark Green

Emeralds are an old stone, first mined in ancient Egypt. Cleopatra was known to wear them frequently. They are said to symbolize fertility, wisdom, and Spring. It’s also said to heal heartbreak.

Traits: Jealous, Romantic, Materialistic

Goals:

-Master Gardening skill.

-Date and 100% romance a politician, then break up with them.

-Have at least 3 kids from multiple partners (each must have reached 100% romance first).

-Breed a frog worth over $100

-Must complete Fabulously Wealthy aspiration

-Does not marry, UNLESS you have Strangerville, and can marry an Officer in the Military Branch. However, when they die, so does your sim.

6. June stone: PEARL

Color: White/Cream

Pearls are created by oysters and are considered the “perfect” gem, as it needs no man-mad alterations. Pearls are often attributed to wisdom through experience, as well as innocence and fertility.

Traits: Childish, Perfectionist, Family-oriented

Goals:

-Must have 5 kids before becoming an adult.

-Must complete the Curator aspiration.

-Must master 10 skills. ** If you are using Tiny House perks, 15 skills.

7. July stone: RUBY

Color: Bright Red

Rubies are well known for their blood-red color, earning their association with health and vitality. They are also symbols of love, passion, and prosperity.

Traits: Self-Assured, Romantic, Self-Absorbed

Goals:

-Complete Serial Romantic aspiration.

-Master Cooking, Athletic, and Charisma skills.

-Complete Doctor Career.

-Must Woohoo at least once in each: Closet, Jacuzzi, Observatory, Bush, Spaceship, Lighthouse, Pile of leaves, Shower, Coffin.

8. August stone: PERIDOT

Color: Light Green

Peridot is the stone of compassion, bringing health and peace to emotions and the mind. It inspires eloquence, creativity, and good cheer.

Traits: Creative, Vegetarian, Goofball

Goals:

-Complete the Painter Career.

-Master Painting, Photography, and Handiness skills.

-Paint 5 Masterpieces.

-Craft a bathtub of excellent quality.

-Complete Painter Extraordinaire aspiration.

9. September stone: SAPPHIRE

Color: Royal Blue

With the most famous sapphires being Princess Diana’s iconic engagement ring and The Heart of the Ocean in Titanic, it’s now wonder Sapphires hue long been associated with nobility and power. The stone symbolizes strength, loyalty, and focus through self-discipline.

Traits: Materialistic, Genius, Insider ** If you have snowy escape, Proper takes place for Materialistic.

Goals:

-Complete the Law Career as a Private Attorney.

-Complete the Mansion Baron aspiration.

-Must start a club with Wealthy requirement ($30,000+). *If you start a fraternity/sorority in University, it counts if wealthy is listed as a requirement.

-Max out Charisma, Logic, and Writing skills.

-Must marry another club leader.

-Must get Gold in Wedding Social Event, and pay full $1750. Minimum of 10 guests.

-Must have a son. (He does not HAVE to be the continuation of the Legacy, but he can if you want. Also, if you have a born daughter, but decide to transition her, that does not count. Since it’s a click of a button without game mechanic influence, it’s kind of cheating. HOWEVER, if you decide your born son should transition, it still counts. This is mostly to take the steps during pregnancy to make a boy (since we’ve all watched others influence for a girl 1000x), That or to keep going until “the odds are in your favor.”)

10. October stone: PINK TOURMALINE

Color: Pink

Pink Tourmaline, also known as October rose, represents humanity, sympathy to others, and humanitarian work. It’s believed to carry the virtue of love that is unconditional, offering comfort to children and lasting friendships.

Traits: Unflirty, Gloomy, Outgoing

Goals:

-Complete the Politician career as a Charity Organizer.

-Complete Friend to the World aspiration.

-Adopt 2 kids (Do not have to be legacy continuation).

-Max out friendship/be best friends with 4 sims before becoming an Adult. The friendship must be maintained throughout life.

-Have a rose garden.

-Write 5 Children’s books.

-Volunteer with family 5 times.

*If you get the pop-up asking to donate to charity, you must if you have the money.

11. November stone: CITRINE

Color: Dark Yellow (almost Gold)

Citrine’s yellow stone radiates happiness, creativity, and wealth. Named for it’s citrus like color, it’s no wonder it’s the stone for a month known for it’s food. Citrine is known also as the Merchant’s stone for it’s golden color.

Traits: Cheerful, Foodie, Creative

Goals:

-Complete Culinary Career.

-Complete Culinary aspiration.

-Master Cooking and baking skills.

-Own a fruit and vegetable garden with every possible fruit and veggie in your game.

-Own a Bakery or Restaurant.

-Cook an Excellent quality Grand Meal.

-Learn 10 Food Stall recipes.

12. December stone: Turquoise

Color: Blue/Green (Teal)

Turquoise is an odd one. In European cultures, it’s the stone of friendship and attracts money and luck, but is also frequently used in Evil Eye talismans. Historically, Montezuma II gifted these gems to Cortez, the Spanish Conquistador. The Apache used turquoise as well, as a charm on their bows for better aim.

Traits: Evil, Outgoing, Kleptomaniac

Goals:

-Max out Mischief and Charisma skills.

-Complete the Criminal Career.

-Complete Public Enemy aspiration.

-Start a Kleptomaniac club.

-Steal an object worth $10,000

-Marry someone with the Good trait, and cheat on them 5 times.

Happy simming!

#thesims #the sims legacy #sims challenge #legacy challenge #birthstone #The Sims 4 #sims 4 challenge #sims 4 legacy #Birth Stone Challenge #birth stone legacy #birth stone #gemstone #gemstone challenge #gem challenge #lets play #color challenge #color legacy challenge #sims 4 color

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ibijau · 4 years ago

Note

Here's a prompt: Lan Xichen somehow dies while in seclusion—or at least that's what the rumors say—and Nie Huaisang deals with the consequences. And heartbreak. As the saying goes, you don't realize how much you love someone until they're gone.

Okay, if that sort of plot interests you, do yourself a favour and check Between the Shadow and the Soul which is exactly that. It's an amazing xisang fic, I cannot recommend it warmly enough!

And now:

Warning in this fic for a lot of references to suicide and depression

It struck Nie Huaisang as interesting that he felt so little about the whole thing. His reaction upon learning the news had been first to dismiss it as a joke in poor taste. Once it had been confirmed, and his presence had been required, he'd been too busy planning his trip to give it much thought. Then he'd arrived in the Cloud Recesses, just in time for the funeral, and gone through the motions of what was expected of him. At most he'd felt mildly when asked to keep vigil, as if there was still any connection between them. He'd only agreed for the sake of appearances, refused to look at the body, and gave his seat to the next mourner as soon as was polite.

The ceremony itself was conducted to perfection, as could be expected of the Lans. Every word was said the right way, every gesture graceful. It was almost a beautiful thing to behold, Nie Huaisang distantly thought. Lan Qiren's monotone voice was better suited for such events than for teaching, certainly. And Lan Wangji had always looked his best when in the throes of loss and despair. Sadness just became those Lans a little too well, as if they'd been born for tragedy.

Perhaps they were.

Nie Huaisang did not dwell on the subject, and allowed time to pass him by until at last the ceremony was entirely over. He would have gone home right then if he could have, his duty accomplished, but it would have been noticed and discussed. Nie Huaisang did not want to get mixed up in the gossip that was sure to spread around after this.

“Did they tell anyone what he died of?” Sect Leader Yao asked in a too loud whisper while waiting for the refreshment promised to the guests.

“I've only heard that because of his seclusion, it took them several days to even notice he had passed,” Sect Leader Ouyang replied. Then, noticing Nie Huaisang standing alone nearby, he gestured at him to join them. Nie Huaisang tried to pretend he hadn't seen them, but it was in vain as Sect Leader Ouyang called him by name until he couldn't be ignored anymore. “Join us please! You were his friend, weren't you? Surely you must know more than us.”

It was a sign of the hollowness that had seized Nie Huaisang since learning of the news that he did not laugh. What friends they had been indeed. Once, perhaps... but no, the word would never have been right to describe them. They were acquaintances at best, brought together out of love for Mingjue, torn apart after his death even if Lan Xichen hadn't known it then.

He'd learned it, in time.

Two years earlier, when Nie Huaisang had finally given a proper funeral to his brother, Lan Xichen had tried to talk to him about everything that had happened. Lan Xichen had wanted the truth, and he'd certainly gotten it. Nie Huaisang, bitter and angry and broken after going through the pain of burying his brother again, had not spared the other man a single detail of everything he'd done, everything he'd learned, everything he'd felt.

Two weeks after that, Lan Xichen had entered seclusion and they'd never met again, unless one counted what little time Nie Huaisang had spent with the other man's coffin.

Nie Huaisang did not think it counted.

“I have not been told anything more than anyone else,” Nie Huaisang said, more careful than the other two to keep his voice down.

“It is just too odd,” Sect Leader Yao said. “A man his age doesn't die without reason, and his cultivation was far too great to allow for sickness!”

“Surely I don't know what Yao-zongzhu might be suggesting.”

“I am just saying it is very odd,” Sect Leader Yao insisted, glancing toward Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji with what he had to consider a knowing expression.

“Ah,” Nie Huaisang said.

They were thinking Lan Xichen had been murdered, then.

It was amazing, he thought, that anyone could misunderstand Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji this much. Perhaps the second's reputation was no longer as pristine as it had once been, due to his open association with the Yiling Patriarch, but he could hardly have been accused of killing his brother when he profited so little from his death. It was to Lan Qiren that the title of Sect Leader went, something which had been decided long ago, and which Lan Wangji would have known. Not that Lan Wangji would ever have wanted such a title. And as to accusing Lan Qiren of murdering his nephew, it was ridiculous. There were few men in the world whose honour Nie Huaisang believed in, but Lan Qiren was definitely of the number.

If it was not an ordinary sickness that had killed Lan Xichen, and it was not another person either, then it left only one option.

The Lans tended to easily fall prey to melancholy, Lan Xichen had once told Nie Huaisang, during one of those rare true and sincere conversations between them, when they had both bared more of their soul to the other than they'd intended. And that melancholy was a powerful sort, Lan Xichen had explained, more dangerous than any disease, any war, any demon. The way he had spoken of it had made it clear that Lan Xichen himself particularly struggled with it ever since becoming Sect Leader during the war, a struggle he hid under a mask no less carefully crafted than Nie Huaisang’s. Lan Xichen had told him he thought that melancholy would overcome him someday as it had done others in his family, an affliction no less powerful than that the Nie suffered.

So it was clear to Nie Huaisang that the manner of Lan Xichen's death was...

His whole body shook as he hurriedly fought to contain a sob.

“Nie-zongzhu?” Sect Leader Ouyang said with concern. “Are you unwell?”

Nie Huaisang shook his head. He was fine. He was unaffected. They'd never even been close.

Another sob had to be contained.

Nie Huaisang took a deep breath, and smiled weakly.

“Nothing dramatic,” he said with a voice he scarcely recognised as his own. “A moment of... I have known him for so long.”

“Of course. This must be hard on you. He must have been like a brother to you.”

Nie Huaisang made a noise. A sob, or a laugh, he could not have said, but it was too loud and attracted more attention than he cared to deal with. Having spent the last couple of years carefully working to undo the damage he had done to his own reputation, Nie Huaisang could not have born to be seen crying in public, something he now felt the danger of. He muttered some vague apology to the two men standing near him, and excused himself from the assembly. He managed to keep himself in check until he had left everyone behind, and only broke into tears when he was sure to be alone.

Gone was the numbness that had so puzzled him since hearing that Lan Xichen had been found dead, because the full horror of that loss finally hit him.

Lan Xichen was gone.

Lan Xichen was dead.

He would never again come by the Unclean Realm in answer to a desperate plea for help that never really needed his input. There would be no more praises of Nie Huaisang's birds, his fans, his paintings. No more gentle comforting and undeserved patience.

Lan Xichen was dead.

And if Nie Huaisang had acted with less cruelty, Lan Xichen might not have killed himself.

Nie Huaisang, a month after returning home, wondered whether melancholy was a contagious ailment, and whether one might catch it from sitting near the corpse of a man who had died from it.

He made the mistake of asking Nie Liyan, his favourite cousin and heir, expecting her to laugh or tease him. Instead she gave him a most pitiful look, and told him that melancholy was most often caught in such a manner, especially if the corpse was that of a person held dear.

It had never occurred to Nie Huaisang to think that Lan Xichen might be dear to him. The man was merely there, full of good intentions and blind to the nature of those around him. They had shared pleasant moments together perhaps, but no more than Nie Huaisang had done with others. In fact, Nie Huaisang was quite sure he had laughed more with Jin Guangyao than with Lan Xichen. If asked, he might have admitted that he'd held warmer feelings than he ought to have toward the man who had so cruelly murdered his brother. But Lan Xichen?

Nie Huaisang would have been hard pressed to decide what he felt for the man while he was alive. Only in death was he forced to realise that Lan Xichen too had been an important figure in his life and, yes, perhaps dearer than he would have liked. But it was hard to hate a man such as Lan Xichen, he told Nie Liyan when the realisation became too bothersome to bear it alone. Nie Huaisang simply could not imagine that anyone in the world might have met Lan Xichen and not liked him.

“I've never understood what people saw in him,” Nie Liyan had just replied. “And I've told you as much many times, even before your brother's death. His looks were good but not to the degree everyone claimed, he smiled too much, and he spoke too much like a book.”

“That says more about your tastes than about his qualities,” Nie Huaisang retorted hotly.

“Perhaps. Or it says something about your tastes.”

That insolent answer had not pleasant Nie Huaisang, who had promptly changed the topic, and never breached it again with her.

The melancholy did not ease with time, but instead invited some friends to live with it in Nie Huaisang's heart.

Such as a sharp terror over the concept of his own mortality.

Nie Huaisang had always known he would die early. It ran in the family, and he'd seen it happen twice already to his own relative. Considering his own temper, his weak and unstable cultivation, Nie Huaisang had long feared that he would not even live long enough to see his brother avenged. This had made him frustrated with the slow pace he'd been forced to endure, which in turn had only had a worse effect on his general state. Things had improved after the death of Jin Guangyao, making Nie Huaisang hope he might perhaps make it to the venerable age of forty, something neither his brother nor his father had managed.

The death of Lan Xichen robbed him of that hope.

It was only, Nie Huaisang told himself, that the loss had reminded him people died of reasons other than familial curses or to pay the price of their hubris. Death, even for cultivators, was not an uncommon occurrence, so no man could leave his bed in the morning and be certain he would return to it at night. And if he were to die now, what would he have to show for it except a sect that still wouldn’t be treated seriously, and the blood on his hands?

That consideration was also an important one in making a decision. No matter how hard he tried, Nie Huaisang couldn’t seem to correct the reputation he had given his sect. When people talked about the changes happening in Qinghe Nie, the way it might has started to become reliable once more, they always felt the need to point out that it could be nothing more than a stroke of luck, something that was sure to return to normal very soon under Nie Huaisang’s poor guidance. It was a source of great annoyance to him that people now considered it normal for Qinghe Nie to be weak and useless, when not twenty years earlier it had been greater than Lanling Jin.

It would take a dramatic change for people to accept that Qinghe Nie was returning to its roots.

So Nie Huaisang told Nie Liyan that he would abdicate in her favour.

She was more than ready for this, he told her. They had been working in tandem since long before the death of Jin Guangyao, and she had proven multiple times that she would handle the position of Sect Leader better than he ever would. She was a good administrator, with great martial art skill, a cultivation level that was among the best in their generation. She was also an excellent teacher, and well liked by all the disciples, from young juniors who had never known their sect’s glorious days to elders who’d known Nie Huaisang’s father as a young child. Nie Huaisang and Nie Liyan had always agreed that she would succeed him if he died the way his family so often did, or whenever he would decide to give up on a position he had never wanted.

“Are you sure now is the right time?” Nie Liyan only asked him.

“There is no right time for these things. But Lanling Jin is still not quite stable yet, Gusu Lan is in the hands of an old friend, and Yunmeng Jiang is caught up in the Jins’ business. That means the three great sects won’t give you a hard time as you settle in, and I know you can handle the others.”

“And what will you do?”

“Travel, perhaps,” Nie Huaisang replied without conviction.

He had never planned for what he would do after handing her his title, and realised suddenly that he’d never expected to be alive for that. No matter how often they discussed the possibility of a quiet succession, Nie Huaisang had never really considered he would be luckier than his father and brother. Yet there he was, suddenly forced to accept that tomorrow was something that existed for him while also dreading the uncertainty of his own mortality.

Nie Liyan accepted his answer, and they set out to plan the succession, calculate the best possible date for it, and choose how to announce the news to other sects. They did not talk about Nie Huaisang’s future any further, for which he was grateful. He had a vague suspicion that Nie Liyan thought he intended to kill himself, which would explain why she kept suggesting he took a companion with him when he left.

Nie Huaisang promised to consider it. He even did wonder who in the world might be a travelling companion worth putting up with. Nobody from his own sect would do, as he thought they would quickly grow bored of any destination that might appeal to him. And there was no one left outside of Qinghe Nie who he felt close enough to. It was only a pity, he thought one night, that Lan Xichen had passed away, as he would have been a very interesting person to have on a journey. Someone who shared his sense of beauty and his love of great landscape, who would not complain if Nie Huaisang asked to stop and paint but might instead join him. And perhaps travelling in that manner might have lifted some of Lan Xichen’s melancholy in a way that locking himself up away from the world could never have done.

Perhaps it could have saved Lan Xichen.

Nie Huaisang slept little that night, half drowning on sorrows and what-if that could never come true.

Come morning, he told Nie Liyan that he would travel alone, and she did not insist.

Nie Huaisang left the Unclean Realm as soon as the succession ceremony was over so he wouldn’t have a chance to change his mind. He recently bought an excellent horse, and the animal was packed with whatever belongings could not be put inside a qiankun pouch. Nie Huaisang had money, he had clothes, everything needed to paint and write. He even had a destination in mind at last, one suggested to him by Lan Qiren, of all people. The old teacher, upon learning of his intention to step down, had written him a thoughtful letter wishing him the best of luck in his new life, inviting him to come and stay in the Cloud Recesses if he ever went that way so they might play weiqi together, and suggesting he should go visit Baidi in his exile, where he too might become inspired to write some poetry. Perhaps, Lan Qiren added, a place so rich in history would help him find new meaning to his life.

The idea had something romantic to it. More than that, though, Nie Huaisang remembered that several times over the course of their acquaintance, Lan Xichen had expressed a wish to visit the city, while always failing to find an excuse to do so. It seemed appropriate that Nie Huaisang’s first destination should be inspired by the man whose death had forced him to reconsider his own life.

So Nie Huaisang set out toward Baidi, and promised himself to enjoy his time there, for Lan Xichen’s sake as well as his own.

#nie huaisang #lan xichen #xisang #I guess? I mean it was the original intention but then things didn't go as planned #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes

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lex-malla-non-est-lex · 4 years ago

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Tatiana, Belial, and their plans relating Jesse in the past

I’ve dabbled on this topic a few times but your comment really got me thinking. @delilahssbard

This turned out long so I’ll put it beneath the line.

Like, ever since CoI I’ve been highkey thinking Tatiana intended for Jesse to be possessed, but the specific phrasing you used reminded me of a part of ChoG and suddenly everything fits even more now.

- Chain of Gold

Back then, I honestly assumed Belial was talking about preference here, especially since he’s made it clear the reason he could possess James without destroying his body is they share blood, but that’s clearly different in Jesse’s case.

Considering how it’s repeatedly clarified that the anchor was placed on Jesse while he was a baby, that fact is probably significant. If anything, I’d dare say the anchor seems to be a workaround Belial’s destruction not just because he was literally anchored to Jesse’s soul, but by way of tolerance, especially since James also seems to have drawn a similar conclusion.

- Chain of Iron

There it is. Belial would have the anchor and a body to possess, as Jesse grew older. The anchor was in him since almost day one, and Tatiana clearly knew about the anchor, but what’s to say she wasn’t involved? We know the only one who was reluctant to place the anchor on Jesse’s soul was Gast. At no point is Tatiana mentioned in this until Belial outright says that he owed her a favor.

Jesse is just Nephilim, unlike James and Lucie, so by all accounts, a normal possession by Belial would have destroyed him, but the anchor intervened in such a way that there didn’t seem to be any visible consequences at all to him being possessed repeatedly (unless we subscribe to the theory that Jesse’s ghost started fading faster near the end because of the possession, but as of right now we honestly have no way to be sure about that specific fact).

We know Jesse’s childhood sickness involved fevers, and perhaps weakness, the latter coming from the statements in which he’s specifically referred to as weak. We also now know that the real reason Jesse died was because the rune he was given reacted badly against Belial’s essence inside him. Jesse’s description of his own death is that he collapsed into bed after getting the rune, then woke up feverish and in agony. Honestly, that just sounds like a worse version of his alleged childhood symptoms.

Considering his death was basically the result of a rune’s angelic magic clashing with the demonic essence inside him, it wouldn’t be that much of a stretch to assume his sickness was just his nature as Nephilim having a bad reaction to Belial’s essence, even if he only died because of the rune. I find it frankly impossible to believe that the anchor wasn’t hurting him, because we know under normal circumstances Belial would destroy a body within hours.

And let’s be real, Tatiana knew this. The only question in relation to her is whether she intentionally let him die.

The following are all quotes from A Lightwood Christmas Carol.

“He is very delicate,” said Tatiana. “Nephilim like yourself wish to put Marks on him, because they are intent on killing my boy as they have killed everyone else I love. You sit on the Council, do you not? Then you are his enemy. You may not see him.”

“I would not force Marks on the boy,” protested Gideon. “He’s my nephew. Tatiana, if he is that ill, perhaps he should see the Silent Brothers? One of them is a close friend, and could come to Jesse at our house. And Jesse could know his cousins.”

Before CoI, lines like these could be shrugged off to Tatiana being paranoid about her son being hurt by marks because he’s sickly, but no, we know now that Tatiana is entirely correct.

And it makes perfect sense that she refused to even let the Silent Brothers examine Jesse. No doubt they’d have been able to notice what was wrong with him wasn’t a sickness. Tatiana made a show out of it to exacerbate her own hatred of Nephilim, but she isn’t unaware of things, she just likes to spin them in a way that can be used to blame her enemies for things.

“Father planned alliances for us, when we were children.” Tatiana shrugged. “How ashamed he would be of you. How is your grubby servant?”

Then there’s her attitude, of course. The implication that she thinks it’s perfectly normal to involve children in alliances and plans. We know she didn’t hesitate to have a dark power forced onto Grace, if anything, it’s implied she requested it. We know Tatiana only sees Jesse as something that is hers, not as his own person, so it’s completely within the realm of possibility that she involved him in her own plans for revenge, even if he was just a newborn with no choice in the matter (or perhaps because he had no choice in the matter, considering how badly she reacts to the fact that Jesse *gasp* has a different worldview than her).

“I don’t care!” Tatiana shouted. “My son is of the blood of two of the oldest of the Shadowhunter families. He is not weak like your son. Go back to your weakness, Gideon. Get out of my sight, get out of my house, and do not darken my door again. I have not missed your company, nor your brother’s, and I am relieved that my child will not grow up under the corrupting influence of either of you.”

Now, this one isn’t so relevant as much as it’s interesting, because while it looks like Tatiana is just flexing and being mean to Gideon, that whole implication that Jesse isn’t weak does compare to how Belial views Nephilim in general.

- Chain of Gold

Belial had the anchor placed on Jesse alongside his protections as a newborn. Humans never get such protections against possession, and Belial still chose one of the Nephilim as his alternate vessel. He was that plan of his as completely viable.

And much like Tatiana, Belial clearly sees Jesse as a tool, as a method to push his agenda.

- Chain of Iron

And assuming Tatiana knew of the anchor from the start, that checks out. Belial wanted Jesse as a vessel to get closer to his goal. If he’s never seen him as an end-goal, then he’s always planned for Jesse to be a temporary vessel. Tatiana wants the Nephilim destroyed. Letting Belial possess Jesse probably sounds like a completely reasonable thing to her. It solidifies her alliance with Belial, makes things easier for Belial, and as Belial himself implied, Belial owed Tatiana a favor.

- Chain of Iron

Seriously, I can say with reasonable confidence that Tatiana knew Belial would use Jesse, perhaps even agreed beforehand to the anchor itself being placed, because to the both of them, Jesse was basically a puppet. (I mean, even the clothes she had him dressed in within his coffin literally scream Belial)

Then of course, what I believe to be the nail in the coffin for Tatiana’s involvement is just what she tells Grace near the end.

- Chain of Iron

She literally has the audacity to claim Jesse was to blame for his own death and basically defended Belial. You know, Belial, who was possessing and controlling her son. Belial, who placed an anchor in the soul of her newborn son and has basically robbed him of anything resembling a normal life or even afterlife. Tatiana is taking Belial’s side on that without any hesitation.

If anything, Tatiana might have let Jesse get runed just to be able to tell him off, like “ha, told you you were too weak to be Nephilim” or something like that, despite knowing damn well the reason runes would kill him was Belial. Tatiana had literal demons to do her bidding, I don’t doubt she could have physically prevented Jesse from following up on his threat to run to Alicante if she didn’t let him get runes, had she wanted to.

Belial probably can control the dead like Lucie can, most likely having far more experience at it. Tatiana surely knew that. Belial said Tatiana called him after Jesse died, and that he owed her a favor, hence the preservation of Jesse. Obviously, Belial benefited from this, but clearly Tatiana saw Jesse’s death as an opportunity to bend him to her will, because he never shared her beliefs during his life.

Now, this is actually where I believe Tatiana and Belial’s views of the situation diverge. Belial outright says raising Jesse as Tatiana wanted wouldn’t suit him. He had Jesse kept in that so-called twilight state that certainly proved useful to Belial, but I don’t think whether Jesse was alive or not mattered pre-Cortana. Not only does Belial clearly not care about consent, he also probably wouldn’t need it, because his anchor was already deep within Jesse’s soul. Jesse being dead or alive was likely irrelevant to the possession, since the one part of Tatiana’s statement that’s correct is that Belial probably wouldn’t have guessed Jesse would die as he did.

Tatiana wanted Jesse resurrected for herself, for her own desire to have her son follow her beliefs and intentions. Belial just cares for Jesse as his vessel. While they’re allies, I don’t think those two usages were as compatible as Tatiana thinks they were, which is probably why Belial outright says reviving Jesse wouldn’t have suited him, and honestly both of them seem pretty angry about losing control over Jesse.

(Belial’s clearly salty that Lucie exorcised him and Tatiana’s mad he’s “in the clutches of a Herondale”, but clearly both of them lost something they valued as an instrument, none of them are actually mad about their loss of access to Jesse as a person, because they’re honestly both terrible people, to say the least).

I know I called that other one the nail in the coffin, but in relation to Tatiana letting Jesse be runed even though that was practically bound to kill him, Belial outright says Tatiana killed him, even despite recognizing the rune was technically the cause.

- Chain of Iron

TL;DR: Tatiana definitely knew about the anchor, Tatiana definitely knew Jesse would be possessed and used by Belial, and Tatiana also definitely let her son die just because it suited her.

#coi spoilers #choi spoilers #chain of iron spoilers #tlh #the last hours #tlh theories #jesse blackthorn #belial #james herondale #tatiana blackthorn

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arcticfox007 · 5 years ago

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The Wych Elm and the Cemetery

Happy Christmas @aibari! I’m you’re secret santa and I hope you enjoy your gift!

Thanks to @destielsecretsanta2020 for putting all of this together :)

Wishlist fulfilled: Angst with a Happy Ending, Case Fic, Weird Small Towns (well city in this case), Weird Angel Lore, Hand holding, and Americana (I tried to work in as much as I could) – if you want specific info on all of the Americana I tied in, check out my endnotes on AO3 😊 Also, @aibari I’m happy to list you as the giftee on AO3 if you have a name over there.

The is roughly set during early Season 12, but I’m not married to canon or anything.

***

Dean wasn’t easily impressed these days, but even he had to admit that the tree growing out of the grave was unlike anything he’d come across before. The historic cemetery in the middle of Missouri had its fair share of trees, but they had come here for this one. Cas stood next to him looking like he was attempting to interrogate the tree with his mind. For a moment Dean was distracted by the angel, smiling a bit at the memory of the time Cas had insisted on interrogating a cat. Luckily, Cas had gotten better at blending in, so at least he wasn’t actively asking the tree questions. There was the sound of someone clearing their throat to Dean’s other side and Dean directed his attention back to the cemetery’s caretaker, Mrs. Paige.

“I’m not sure why the FBI would be interested in something like this.” The older woman sniffed and looked at both Cas and Dean suspiciously. Dean turned on the charm and gave her a warm smile.

“Unfortunately, we aren’t at liberty to discuss the details of the case, but we’d appreciate anything you can tell us about this tree Mrs. Paige, or the woman who was killed, Louisa Abbot.”

We’d also like any information you might have on the person who was buried here,” Castiel interrupted. “Most of the marker seems to be missing, perhaps destroyed by the sudden growth of this tree.”

“Well, I can certainly get you the information on who was buried here, this was one of our more famous gravesites. The man buried here died in the early 1800s, he is one of two Revolutionary War veterans laid to rest in the cemetery, his name was William Abbot. I believe he held the rank of Captain. The Boone Historical Society may have more information about him, but he is one of the earliest burials in the cemetery and a lot of those records have been lost over the years.” Mrs. Paige chewed on her lower lip for a moment, staring along with Dean at the tree once again. “The tree will have to be removed to restore Captain Abbot’s grave.”

“Was Captain Abbot an ancestor of the victim?” Cas’ question caught Dean off guard. There was something strangely mesmerizing about the massive twisting trunk rising out of the ground exactly where the remains of Captain Abbot would have been. Dean registered that Cas and the caretaker were continuing to talk, but Dean stepped away to examine the tree more carefully. It’s roots, on the surface at least, didn’t seem to spread out much. Rather they seemed to go straight down into the Earth. Its trunk was thick enough to have been there for hundreds of years despite having only appeared a few days ago. The tree itself was knotted in appearance, with ugly, twisted branches shooting out in all directions. For some reason it occurred to Dean that the tree looked like it was screaming in pain. Dean jumped when he suddenly felt Cas’ hand on his shoulder.

“Dean. Are you listening?” Dean pulled his eyes away from the tree and turned towards Cas who continued to keep his hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Ah, no, sorry. This,” Dean waved vaguely at the impressive scene before them, “is kind of distracting.” Cas nodded seriously. Dean noticed that the caretaker had left, but was distracted again by Cas pulling his hand back. They always touched a bit longer than was probably normal, but Dean still regretted the loss of the warmth on his shoulder.

“Mrs. Paige said that the victim may have been a descendant of Captain Abbot, but she wasn’t sure. She suggested the Historical Society again, if we needed further information. She did say that she knew Louisa Abbot when she was a teenager. She was one of several teenagers she used to call the police on for breaking into the cemetery after hours to party. Mrs. Paige said she hadn’t really seen her in more recent years.

“Is there any way to tell if the good Captain is still here?” Dean waved towards the roots of the tree. Cas shook his head. “Ah well, I’d be surprised if they were still here. I guess we better find out what exactly Louisa Abbot was into.” They started walking back towards the car.

“I agree. I’d also like more information on the tree. I know it’s a type of elm, but I’m not sure of the significance, if there is any.”

“Call Sam and get him to work on it.” Cas let out an exasperated huff in response to Dean’s delegation of research to his brother.

“Dean. The entire reason we are here without Sam is so he can rest. He needs to sleep to get over the flu, especially since he refused to let me heal him. I am more than capable of finding the information, perhaps while you visit the historical society.”

“Alright. You want me to drop you off at the library?”

“That would be acceptable.” Cas paused to look out over the cemetery again before opening the passenger side door of the Impala. Dean noticed the angel’s hesitation.

“Everything okay man?” Castiel turned towards Dean upon hearing his words and Dean notices the sadness that ghosts across the angel’s face. “Seriously, Cas, what’s going on with you? You seem more, I dunno, out of it than usual.”

“I – this place is a lot like the cemetery where Mary was originally buried. I don’t like the memory of you leaving to die.” Cas looks away abruptly and climbs into the passenger seat. Dean is at a loss for words, so he doesn’t say anything at all. He drops Cas off at the library with all the things left unsaid hanging between them.

***

It’s off season for the small college town, most of the students having gone home for winter break, so the hunters end up with better than normal accommodations. Dean is more than happy to discover a decent grill-themed restaurant practically in the parking lot of their hotel, and Cas is happy to wait until his companion is content with food before telling him what he’d found during his time in the library. Dean talks ideally about the pie store the server had told him about, wondering if they’ll have time to check it out before they leave. Cas lets Dean talk, he finds himself still grateful that he can have these moments, he truly thought he was going to lose him in the attempt to destroy Amara.

Ever since Castiel’s brief time as a human he’s found that the emotions he’d been slowly acquiring over the years have amplified at a rate that he has had difficulty adjusting to. He’d hoped at the beginning that regaining his grace would have given him back some of the control that had spiraled away from him, but he can’t help but dwell on almost losing Dean.

When they reach their room, Dean opts to take a shower before swapping case notes so Cas tries to take that time to compose himself. When given moments away from Dean, where there is a chance for quiet, the angel forces himself to let the feelings he has for the infuriating man wash over him. He lets himself feel the pain at having to let him go up against Amara alone. He lets himself feel the overwhelming joy at seeing him alive once again. He lets himself feel how much he’s fallen in love with the beautiful human being. He recalls talking to Anna at the beginning of what would become his fall, her telling him it only gets worse. He has no doubt now that she wasn’t just referring to his struggle with doubt. An angel that can feel things akin to a human can easily become overwhelmed. They were not built for these sensations, and so, every time Castiel lets go to indulge in the wash of his emotions he pulls on his grace and works to reign them in one at a time. By the time Dean emerges from the shower Castiel has regained some semblance of stoicism.

“So, this lady at the historical society was great. She apparently teaches genealogy classes for free to the public or something, so she was able to pull up the victim’s ancestry pretty fast. Captain Abbot was her ancestor all right, so at least we have that connection. Couldn’t find much out about the family besides that, so we should talk to Louisa’s next of kin tomorrow. I think the police report said she had a sister locally.” Castiel agrees to the plan and pulls out some information he had printed at the library.

“The tree is called a ‘Wych Elm’ and is a common wood used to build coffins, which may explain it’s presence. It’s possible, if Captain Abbot’s coffin was made from this wood, that whatever spell was cast had the side effect of growing a new tree from the wood.” Dean raises his eyebrows skeptically when Cas shares this information.

“It’s called a witch elm Cas; do you really think it’s there because of the coffin wood?” Castiel rolls his eyes at his companion.

“W-Y-C-H Dean, not witch. It means pliable, it’s named for the characteristic of the wood. But no, to answer your question. I doubt it has anything to do with the coffin wood. It’s not a tree common to this area.” Dean waves his hand to indicate Castiel should continue. “You are not the only one to mistake the name of the tree for something else. More recent lore does associate the tree with actual witches as many of them seem to like these trees as ritualistic sites. The rest of the lore associates them with melancholy and death, especially because the trees are known for unexpectedly dropping branches and injuring the unsuspecting people standing below them.”

“Yeah, okay. Does that mean that Louisa was some sort of witch, and grew the tree there on purpose?” Cas thinks about Dean’s suggestion for a few moments.

“Possibly. The other thing these trees are known for is guarding the entrance to Hades, so it may also be a result of an attempt to raise the dead. I cannot be certain as this seems unlike any other necromantic ritual I’ve heard of. I am also uncertain at to the motivation of raising someone who died over two centuries ago, as the more recent dead are usually preferrable to necromancers.”

“Alright, well there’s not much more we can do tonight.” Castiel nods and watches Dean dig through his bag. Dean hesitates for a moment and Castiel begins to wonder if he forgot something at the bunker. Dean shakes his head and pulls a bundle out of his bag, tossing it to Castiel.

“Here, I forgot I brought this for you.” Dean looks expectantly at the angel as Cas looks at the material in his hands.

“Clothing? Dean, I have no need to change clothes.” Castiel’s confusion is evident on his face. Dean sighs rubs the back of his neck.

“I know man. Just try though, you’re more human-like than before with Heaven losing power. I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I noticed that you eat more often, and even sleep sometimes. I think you’ll actually appreciate relaxing in something that isn’t a suit and trench coat.” Cas looks at the clothing in his hands, dismayed that Dean has seen the weakening of his connection to Heaven. He hadn’t wanted Dean to think him less capable but at the same time he’s touched by the thought the man had put into the angel’s situation.

“Thank you, Dean. I will try.” Castiel goes into the bathroom to change and when he emerges, he finds Dean sitting on one of the beds flipping through TV channels. Dean slides over, indicating that Cas should sit down as the TV is only visible from the one bed. Dean complains that the only thing on is a Law & Order marathon because the hotel doesn’t have a streaming service on the TV. Cas doesn’t mind though, sharing the bed to watch television gives him an excuse to watch over Dean as he sleeps without Dean complaining about it. Even nicer is how Dean falls asleep gradually in the middle of an episode and doesn’t seem to notice how he curls into Cas’ side as he does it. Cas smiles and allows his feelings to wash over him again as he thinks about how the softer PJs must be more comfortable for Dean to lay on.

***

The following evening found the hunter and the angel at a place called Warm Springs Ranch. When they called Louisa’s sister, she told them she could talk during her break. The ranch ran some sort of Christmas event and Janice Abbot was one of the people in charge of it. Dean tried to play it cool, but he couldn’t help getting a bit excited over the chance to see the Budweiser Clydesdales. He did remind Cas that interrogating the horses was unnecessary to which he had received one of the angel’s full body eyerolls. Dean would never admit it out loud, but he really enjoyed Cas’ sarcasm. He thought the eyerolling was kind of adorable.

Dean hadn’t meant to spend last night half snuggling with his best friend, but Cas didn’t seem to mind so he wasn’t going to worry about it. Dean figured his secret crush on the guy was his problem, not the angel’s – as long as it didn’t mess up their friendship it wasn’t worth agonizing over.

They had unexpectedly spent the morning at the morgue. There was another strange death last night, something had eaten the victim’s spleen. They’d only received a call about it because the original victim, Louisa, had also been missing her spleen along with several other organs and most of her blood. If it was the same creature it certainly seemed to enjoy the bloodier organs of the body. The only other thing the victims had in common was proximity to the cemetery. The most recent victim had visited the cemetery the previous day according to her wife.

After that trip, they had gotten access to Louisa’s duplex and were now in agreement that she had been a practicing witch dabbling in necromancy. Cas had been on the phone with Rowena during the drive to the ranch giving her a rundown on the information they had in the hopes that she could help then understand more of what was going on. Eventually Cas had given in and called Sam, admitting that the younger Winchester had a much easier time getting Rowena’s cooperation.

When they finally arrived at the front of the line of cars entering the ranch, Dean began to understand why there was a crowd. The lights draped everywhere were impressive and Dean was happy to note that Cas seemed taken in by the display. It always cheered Dean up to see Castiel happy, it felt like those instances were all too rare in their line of work. Dean and Cas showed their badges at the entrance and asked where they could find Janice. They were directed to a side road for staff and Dean noticed the small frown of Cas’ face.

“Hey, want to ask if we can drive through the light display if we have time before we leave? It looks kinda awesome.” Castiel didn’t exactly smile but Dean could tell the suggestion pleased him. Dean wasn’t always sure why, but he was much better at reading Castiel than anyone else. Dean drove around to the back to park his car in what he assumed was the employee parking lot. They made their way through the staff entrance and asked around until they found Louisa’s sister.

“I honestly don’t know what I can tell you guys that I haven’t already told the other cops. I’m sorry she’s dead but Louisa and I were not close. She and I have barely spoken since we were kids. She was friends with some really weird people and did a lot of drugs when we were younger. I’m really not surprised she ended up dead in a cemetery.” Janice was clearly frustrated at her sister’s death and the notoriety it had brought with it. They did manage to find out the names of some of the ‘weird’ friends Louisa hung out with but beyond that she had been more than happy to offer them free access to the Christmas event just to be rid of them.

Dean was fairly certain the interview had been a dead end outside of assuring himself the sister wasn’t also a witch, but he didn’t feel their time had been wasted as he watched Cas roam through the stables. Cas attracted the few colts in residence leading to the kids in attendance following him around so they could see the young horses up close. Dean felt a soft warmth spread out from his chest as he watched his best friend talk with both the children and the colts. The children didn’t think anything of Cas having conversations with horses.

They eventually made their way back to the car and drove through the light display. Maybe they should have talked about the case, but Dean didn’t want to ruin the moment. Cas gazed out at the decorations with a look of quiet contentment on his face and Dean reached for the angel’s hand without thinking about it. Cas threaded his fingers through Dean’s without even turning away from the window.

Later that night, after grabbing burgers at a drive thru, they poured through the case notes together hoping to find something they had been missing. Dean didn’t even remember falling asleep until he woke up to Cas rolling him onto a pillow and laying a blanket on him. He mumbled a drowsy thank you and sunk into a dreamless slumber.

***

Cas thought that maybe it was a mistake, but after last night he didn’t want to be away from Dean. Once he had pulled a blanket over his exhausted friend, Cas changed into the pajamas Dean had given him again and laid down beside him. He stayed above the covers and just watched Dean sleep. He didn’t tell Dean anymore that he’d watch over him as he didn’t enjoy being called creepy. Dean didn’t seem to understand that watching was part of who Castiel was as an angel. While he had rebelled and fallen it didn’t change his need to watch over the man he pulled out of hell. It would be like going to long without air for a human. Cas needed to watch Dean, to protect him, to assure himself that he was safe.

He noticed Dean shivering despite the blanket draped over him and Castiel found himself giving into another impulse that he wasn’t sure Dean would appreciate. He pulled on the smallest amount of his grace to give some substance to his wings and dropped one of them on top of the man he loved. They were broken and battered, but over the years they had healed enough to fill out a bit. Dean quieted as he felt the weight of the wing, and Cas saw a small smile ripple across his face. The angel would just have to pull his wings back from the physical realm before Dean woke up, but it was worth the grace to keep Dean more comfortable as he slept.

***

Dean opened his eyes in the morning to find a sleeping angel next to him. He froze as soon as he saw Cas there, more worried that the angel had fallen asleep than about the fact that Dean was all to happy to wake up to his best friend lying beside him. He reached over to see if he could wake Cas up and ran into – feathers? Dean quickly rubbed his hands over his face and woke up more definitively. Yup, those were feathers. Large, gorgeous, black feathers that shimmered like obsidian in the sunlight. It was as if every color that had ever existed had come together to create the shimmering black of Castiel’s wings. While concerned about why Cas was sleeping and why his wings were manifested when Dean had only ever seen shadows, Dean couldn’t help but be enthralled with the things. His hand reached out to pet the one blanketing him before he actually thought about it. He had just enough time to appreciate how amazingly soft they felt before Castiel awoke with a gasp. The wing pulled back suddenly and Cas was sitting up staring at Dean in shock.

��Sorry, sorry! Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean anything by it, they were just so amazing… I’m so sorry Cas!” Dean held up his hands trying to placate the angel as he also sat up. Cas looked at his wings as if he had just realized they were physically present. Surprise travelled over his features and with a roll of Cas’ shoulders the wings disappeared. Dean tried not to look as disappointed as he felt. Cas turned back to Dean and briefly touched his jaw.

“It’s alright Dean. I was just surprised. They were manifested more than I intended and the sensation of you touching them was unexpected.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, like I said it was just unexpected, not harmful. I apologize, I didn’t mean for them to be out for so long.” Dean was surprised to note that Cas looked embarrassed.

“I – I’m glad I got to see them. They’re fucking awesome Cas, the shadows were badass enough, but wow. If I had known you could manifest them like that, I’d have been begging you to show me for years.” Cas laughed and the tension between them evaporated. Dean got ready in the bathroom and found Cas back in his regular clothing hanging up the phone when he’d finished brushing his teeth.

“Rowena thinks she knows what happened, or at least some of it. She’s not completely sure about the role of the Wych Elm, but she did say that it’s likely we will need to use wood from the tree to kill the creature that was raised.”

“Did she say what it is?” Cas nodded in response to Dean’s question.

“She thinks Louisa was trying to make her own vampire. Ties of blood are necessary for control and the age of the corpse increases the power of the risen dead in a ritual like this. Rowena said that no one tries this type of thing though, because the amount of power and control needed are astronomical. She said she wouldn’t try it herself, that there are easier ways to get a loyal servant. Then she said something about how maybe Louisa didn’t have the ‘assets’ Rowena had?” Dean broke into laughter and Cas tilted his head in puzzlement. Dean always enjoyed Cas’ air quotes.

“Don’t worry about it, Cas. Okay, so Louisa was trying to make her own breed of vampire.”

“It would seem so. Obviously, she wasn’t successful, and not just in regards to her lack of control. Whatever the creature technically is, it’s not just drinking blood.” Dean chewed over Cas’ words as the angel did something on the laptop. All Dean could think is that this thing seemed to be some sort of zombie vampire. It didn’t really make a difference though, as long as they had a way to kill it. Or re-kill it as it were.

“So, Rowena said we can use the Wych Elm wood to kill the thing?” Cas didn’t even look up from the screen to answer Dean’s question.

“Not exactly. She said it had to be the specific tree that grew out of the grave. She also said it wouldn’t be enough by itself. I’m looking at the spell now.” Dean decided to leave Cas to it and work on getting their gear together. It was still a vampire after all, even if it was some sort of mutant version.

“Dean. I think this will work. Dead man’s blood should still help to incapacitate it. We also need the ashes of it’s creator and the blessing of the divine.” Dean widened his eyes at that list, but he supposed it was doable. They could steal Louisa’s body from the morgue if necessary. “We use the spell to seal the ingredients into the wood of the elm. Then we have to stab the creature with the elm wood through its heart.”

“So, we have to stake the vampire? Seriously?” Dean was amused at the idea of staking a vampire actually working.

“Yes, Dean. Afterwards I’d still suggest decapitation and burning whatever is left, just to make sure it stays dead.” Cas closed the laptop and pushed it aside.

“Sure. You have a plan for blessing of the divine?” Cas smiled at Dean.

“That’s easy enough.” Cas didn’t even warn Dean, one moment he’s standing there looking at the angel expectantly, the next he has a faceful of feathers.

“Um, I thought you didn’t want me touching them.” Dean couldn’t see Castiel, but he could hear him snickering. Dean pushed the wing away from his eyes in time to see Cas laughing at him.

“I said it was unexpected, not that I minded you touching. Anyway, this will work.” Dean watches as Cas runs his finger through the feathers and finds one that comes loose. In between one blink and the next the wings are hidden once again. Cas hold a single feather in his hand, the echo of his earlier laughter still present in his smile.

“What about the ashes? Do we need to break into the morgue?”

“We don’t need a specified amount; we can get away with most anything. Maybe just hair or something small, we needn’t steal an entire corpse.” Dean sighs in relief, that’s one less complication.

“Well let’s head out then, I’d like this taken care of before sunset. Wait, how are we going to find the thing anyway? You think it’s prowling around the cemetery?” Cas nods.

“Yes, Dean. Rowena seems to think it’s probably tied to the elm and with the other victim also being close to the area I’m inclined to agree with her. Using the tree for the spell may even be enough to draw it to us. If you want to drop me off at the cemetery, I can start preparing everything while you get the ashes.” Dean agrees and grabs his keys.

***

Cas is somewhat relieved to be dropped off at the cemetery. While Dean hadn’t reacted poorly to being draped in an angel wing this morning, or the fact that Cas was asleep in the same bed, he couldn’t help feeling that he had been pushing things too far. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep while also solidifying his wings. He needed to conserve his grace for more important tasks. While Castiel was truly content to just be a part of Dean’s life it was difficult to remind himself that he could not have more, especially with his poor control over the very human-like emotions he now experienced. What was really tipping him over the edge though, was how Dean kept reacting. Dean did not react with anger or defensiveness when he found himself in situations that hinted of a more intimate relationship with Cas. He acted as if it were normal and even welcome. It surprised Cas, but it also gave him some of the hope that he had never really allowed himself to have. It was distracting, which made it all the better that he would be prepping the spell by himself.

Cas collected a branch from the Wych Elm growing out of Captain Abbot’s grave, mindful of the tree’s reputation for dropping branches on unsuspecting passersby. Then Cas took a few moments to make sure the caretaker knew that he and his partner may be around afterhours because of the attack yesterday and was happy to find out that she had already decided to stay with a friend until she felt safer. Cas made quick work of the elm branch, pleased with how easy it was to shape into a stake. The sun would set soon so Castiel got to work engraving the sigil they would need directly into the tree trunk. Once Dean brought the last ingredient it should only take them a few minutes to complete everything. With any luck the vampire would come to them.

He was so absorbed in creating the sigil that he almost didn’t hear the movement behind him in time.

***

As usual, things had not gone according to plan. Dean had arrived to see Cas holding the mutant-vamp at bay, but clearly struggling to gain an upper hand over the creature they didn’t yet have the means to kill. Dean knew better than to jump into the middle of that fight, it was more important to finish Rowena’s spell. He dumped the ashes in with the rest of the material. Luckily Cas had left a copy of the actual spell out by the bowl with all the ingredients. The incantation was pretty straightforward and Dean quickly scooped up the resulting concoction on two fingers and began filling in the sigil carved into the tree. Dean picked up the branch Cas had sharpened into a stake and touched it to the sigil, running through the incantation one more time. In a brief flash of light, the sigil was absorbed into the stake.

“Cas!” Dean threw the stake towards the angel who managed to catch it neatly without even looking. Ducking down as the creature threw itself towards him, Cas pushed the stake up and underneath the monster’s rib cage with more force than a normal human could have managed. Dean breathed a sigh of relief too early, the vamp surged back up and made another run at the rapidly tiring angel.

“Rowena may have overlooked something.” Cas sounded remarkably composed considering how ragged he looked. Dean looked around them desperately for something they had missed. Then he saw how the tree was shivering and pulsing as if trying to reach out to the vampire. Of course!

“Hey asshole, leave my goddamn angel alone!” Dean knew the shotgun wouldn’t work against the creature but it got his attention, and with the impact to its shoulder and the stake still protruding from its ribcage the monster snarled as it barreled towards Dean. Dean was backed up against the tree as Cas turned on him with a horrified look on his face.

“DEAN!” Cas sounded both angry and devastated as he chased after the vampire, but Dean just yelled out instructions, all too aware what this probably looked like from Cas’ point of view.

“Stake it to the tree!” Cas caught on quick and as Dean threw himself out of the way Cas leapt after the thing that had once been Captain Abbot. Cas reached down to where the stake was sticking out and wrenched until the creature’s back was on the trunk of the Wych Elm. Pushing off from the ground Cas slammed the stake further in, until the vampire was stuck to the tree. It screeched as light pulsed from the stake into the tree. The Wych Elm seemed to come to life as it collapsed in on itself, dragging the mutant-vamp back to wherever the tree had come from. Within moments all that was left was a broken gravestone.

“Huh. Guess we don’t have to worry about burning it,” Dean quipped. Castiel rounded on him, clearly not feeling amused.

“What were you thinking? What if I hadn’t been fast enough?” Dean let Castiel rant at him for a few moments, standing up and dusting off the dirt from the back of his jeans.

“I’m sorry, man. I didn’t want to tip it off.”

“So instead, you made it look like you were drawing it away from me? Getting yourself killed for me!?” Castiel’s eyes flashed dangerously blue.

“Yeah, and it worked. For the record, I’d have done that even if it wasn’t to trick the thing though. Better me than you.” Dean was maybe angrier than he expected. He realized he’d been worried about how long Cas would last against that thing as he noted cuts that weren’t healing and the way the angel was swaying as he tried to hold himself upright. He also noticed that the blue in Cas’ eyes was in no way diminishing as he glowered at Dean.

“You. Are. Absurd. You are worth everything to me.” Then, rather abruptly, Cas fell over. Dean’s heart was pounding in his ears, both from what the angel had said and the sudden alarm he felt at a cosmic being fainting. He pulled Cas up into his arms, and damn, he was heavier than Dean had expected. Not just the muscle that Dean could feel, but he idlily wondered if the wings somehow added weight. Either way, Dean eventually made it back to their hotel room, although his back wouldn’t thank him for it later.

***

Cas woke up in the pajamas Dean had given him with an arm thrown over his chest. Confused, Cas turned slowly and realized that they were back in the hotel and Dean was asleep beside him, curled around the angel’s torso. As small rays of sunlight peeked through the curtains Cas could see his normal clothing folded nearby on a chair. He noticed that the wounds his grace hadn’t healed yet had been cleaned and bandaged, and that the blanket was pulled up around both him and Dean. As Dean let out a contented sigh in his sleep and burrowed closer, Castiel thought that perhaps he too was worth everything to someone. Smiling the angel allowed himself to drift back to sleep, happily thinking about how Dean had told the vampire to stay away from “his” angel.

***

@destielsecretsanta2020, @aibari

#destiel secret santa #destiel december #destiel #casefic #case fic #supernatural #supernatural fic #castiel #castiel with wings #dean winchester #sam winchester #rowena macleod #monster of the week #christmas #spn #arcticfox007writes

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robininthelabyrinth · 5 years ago

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Prompt: imagine if Xiao Xingchen could see what Song Lan was seeing after the eye transfer. Like the visual input went to both their brains... Ps! I love your writing!!

Song Lan knew himself to be a fool, and an ungrateful one.

He’d lost his entire family, the entire Baixue temple that had taken him in as an orphan to teach him all he knew, at Xue Yang’s hands – not just Xue Yang, but whoever was behind him, egging him on. His master had conveyed as much as he’d died in his hands: Xue Yang had done the work, yes, but as hired help, looking horribly bored even as he committed atrocities and only looking even mildly interested when he announced the supposed ‘motive’ behind it.

And yet Song Lan hadn’t listened. Beside himself with grief, with pain, with the loss of his temple, the loss of his eyes, he’d lashed out against his best friend, blaming him for the misfortune – if you hadn’t insisted on going after him, on finding justice for the Chang clan, then he wouldn’t have come here, he would have picked someone else, it’s your fault. Harsh words, vicious words, words he shouldn’t have spoken, and especially not to Xiao Xingchen, who didn’t quite understand the way the world worked.

The way emotions worked – how humans could say one thing one day, and believe another the next.

And now, Song Lan was forced to hunt down the real culprit behind the destruction of his Baixue temple alone, all while searching desperately for his friend – wanting to apologize, to beg forgiveness – and all the while Xiao Xingcheng…

Song Lan had to stop along the road to bury his face in his hands, in grief –

Grief, and frustration.

Xiao Xingchen just had to find the least remarkable place in the entire world to settle in, didn’t he?

Song Lan knew he had, because Xiao Xingchen had given him his eyes, and Xiao Xingchen’s eyes were –

It wasn’t that Song Lan didn’t know that Xiao Xingchen had descended from Baoshan Sanren’s celestial mountain, armed with a sword and a horsetail whip and a mission to help people find justice. He’d been lucky enough to be the first person Xiao Xingchen met, after all, and he’d been helping him understand some of the nuances of the common world ever since – often things that most people should have known, but which apparently weren’t that common on celestial mountains.

It was only that Song Lan hadn’t realized that Xiao Xingchen’s differences from the common world were not merely experience, but also – physical.

His eyes, for one.

Apparently, Xiao Xingcheng had two sets of eyelids: one external, the normal ones that everyone saw, and one internal – as far as Song Lan could tell, now that Xiao Xingchen’s eyes were his, it mostly functioned to keep dust out of his eyes or to make it easier to see through mist. His pupils, too, were unusual: they could resize themselves as appropriate to deal with the dark, and now Song Lan understood why Xiao Xingchen never tripped over anything even when they had traveled in the darkest parts of the night.

The most important aspect, though, was the fact that they were still connected.

Now that Xiao Xingchen's eyes were his own, Song Lan could see what was in front of him, yes, but he could also see – somehow – what was in front of Xiao Xingchen, and it should have made it easier to find him, but somehow it didn’t.

It just made the need to find him all the more desperate.

When Song Lan first opened his eyes and saw the translucent form of Xue Yang, smirking up at him, he panicked. Translucent meant that it was Xiao Xingchen who was seeing him, and that meant Xiao Xingchen was in terrible danger. Oh, Xue Yang might be too injured to do anything at first, but Song Lan watched as his wounds slowly healed, the way he started to offer to help with things, the way he –

Those poor people.

And poor Xiao Xingchen, too!

After the first “night-hunt”, Song Lan bought some paper and wrote the words, “Your guest is Xue Yang and he is deceiving you” on it, then settled down in meditation to stare at the words until they felt as though they were imprinted on the back of his eyes, hoping against hope that the eyes would work in reverse, that he could convey the much-needed message to Xiao Xingchen.

It didn’t work.

Or, rather, it did – Xue Yang’s ghostly form, reflecting off of the remains of Xiao Xingchen’s optical nerve even through the thin cloth he used as a bandage, came up to him.

“Daozhang, why are you rubbing your eyes so much?” his lips said, forming the words so precisely that Song Lan could very nearly imagine hearing his voice. “Are you in pain?”

He couldn’t heard Xiao Xingchen’s response, of course, and he couldn’t see it, either, but Xue Yang was a remarkably responsive figure.

“You’re the strongest person I know, Daozhang. If you’re sure you want to ignore it, I know you can.”

That was about when Song Lan had given up, because he, too, knew Xiao Xingcheng too well: his friend was stubborn to the ends of the earth, when he thought it was called for, and he must have known – as Song Lan did not – what were the consequences of giving up his eyes.

He was deliberately ignoring the input from Song Lan’s eyes. Very likely in a misguided attempt to give him privacy.

Song Lan wanted to scream.

It had been about what he deserved, though, for having rejected Xiao Xingchen the way he did: now he had to watch, to be tortured by watching, as Xiao Xingchen was led around by the nose by a vicious and cruel Xue Yang, forced to bloody his hands, all unknowing, all while thinking he was doing good. It was enough to make Song Lan weep, and to fear the day that Xue Yang lost interest in this game – the day when Xue Yang had enough, and the last ghostly image he would see would be the bastard’s sword raised up over Xiao Xingchen’s unwary head…

It didn’t turn out like that, though.

Xue Yang the murderer, the irredeemable – he stopped on his own.

Song Lan knew why, probably before Xue Yang himself did. He recognized the way Xue Yang’s eyes softened when he looked at Xiao Xingchen, the eager way he ran to him, the smile that involuntarily appeared on his face when he did something that pleased him – a happy smile, nothing like the cruel smirks from before.

Song Lan recognized it, because he’d seen the same in himself.

Xue Yang was in love.

How could he not be? Xiao Xingchen was kind, gentle, righteous – he was born to be loved, not tormented. Little by little, he crept even into Xue Yang’s barren heart, and found a way to make his home there, just as they had made their home in the little coffin house that looked the same in every town that Song Lan visited on his desperate quest to find them.

And little by little Xue Yang put down his guard, and started sharing stories…

The one that affected Xiao Xingchen the most was the one about the little boy, with his love for candy – Song Lan knew that, seeing as he did Xiao Xingchen finding candy to leave every day on Xue Yang’s pillow. Probably with a secret little smile, wanting only to make his friend happy.

The ones that affected Song Lan the most, though, were the ones about cultivation. About where Xue Yang had learned it, and how.

Xiao Xingchen had been so pure and good, so upset about the fate of his shijie’s son, that he’d never really picked up the nuances of how demonic cultivation worked or what it did, how it damaged the temperament and corrupted the mind, but Song Lan knew.

Song Lan knew how to do math, too.

Xue Yang would have been little more than that stupid child who’d lost his finger as a result of his love of sweets when his first teacher found him – it might even have been immediately afterwards, when he was wounded and in pain and vulnerable, given some of the comments Xue Yang made about how he’d been stupid to follow the first person who offered him revenge.

That first man had had vile intentions. He’d taught Xue Yang demonic cultivation the way a farmer fed a pig: in order to raise him into a tool for his own cultivation. He hadn’t expected that when Xue Yang was still only eleven, he was already such a delinquent that he’d pick up a knife and murder his own teacher when that teacher tried to hurt him – Xue Yang had never gone into exactly what type of hurt, never even officially confirmed that he’d done the murder, merely that he’d broken paths with his first teacher when the teaching methods were too painful and that the teacher had died shortly thereafter, but who didn’t know about the dark history of the delinquent of Kuizhou?

Song Lan had known about the murder, long suspected by the citizens of Kuizhou but never proven, but he hadn’t known why.

Just as he had known that the Jin sect had recruited Xue Yang shortly after he became famous, but hadn’t known that it was specifically to try to recreate the Yiling Patriarch’s techniques, or that they’d given him as many cultivators as he wished to practice on…

Xiao Xingchen probably thought Xue Yang’s references to test subjects referred to practice dummies, and his references to “breaking” them “too often” as the harmless actions of a child.

Because Xue Yang would have been a child.

A street child, with no mother to raise him; taught by a demonic cultivator with vile intentions; taken in by the Jin sect at eleven, maybe twelve; raised there until fifteen, and required to do all sorts of dirty things for them as the means of keeping his place –

Had anyone ever taught Xue Yang the slightest scrap of morality?

The Baixue temple believed in justice, but it also believed in mercy – in mercy, and in redemption. As soon as Song Lan found Xiao Xingchen again, he would apologize for what he’d done, what he’d said, and he’d ask him to join him once again in a quest to bring justice to the world: to seek justice for his temple, for his teacher, from the person who had wielded the sword that was Xue Yang.

And as for Xue Yang himself…

Maybe there was something there that could be salvaged.

After all, he responded so well to Xiao Xingchen’s kindness – it’d been nearly three years now, and the vast majority of the time had been lived in peace and quiet. Xue Yang didn’t even threaten passerby merchants in the marketplace with knives anymore.

He didn’t practice demonic cultivation anymore, either. Three years without it, and Song Lan could see – through Xiao Xingchen’s eyes – how much cleaner Xue Yang’s qi was: how the meditation Xiao Xingchen coaxed him into trying actually helped bring it into a semblance of order, how he was belatedly forming a golden core the way a regular cultivator would.

Maybe there was still something left of that stupid street child who’d only wanted to taste something sweet after all.

If he ever found them, Song Lan would have to find out.

He sighed to himself, shaking his head at his own foolishness. He could dream about what they could do together – the three of them, and little A-Qing, too, the clever little blind girl that accompanied Xiao Xingchen and Xue Yang both – as much as he liked, but first, he had to find them.

Song Lan glanced at the signpost.

Yi City, with the ‘yi’ for coffin home – what a strange name.

#mdzs #song lan #xiao xingchen #xue yang #my fic #my fics #okay this is sort of backwards from your prompt #but it was too late by the time I realized that #Anonymous

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austerulous-a · 4 years ago

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𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 .

1. What does your muse smell like?

Ha, I always seem to ask writing partners this question! Annie herself has a rather keen sense of smell, and likes to be clean. Her body’s natural scent is vaguely sweet but given she perspires considerably during martial training, and hit puberty earlier than most, she became fastidious about personal care at a young age. In the interests of getting as much sleep as possible, Annie tends to wash out of a sink or basin in the morning, and shower in the evening (it’s no accident that this arrangement also means she’s also less likely to have to use communal showers at the same time as anyone else). In Marley, she often retained the scent of the plain soap her father purchased, while in Paradis scented soaps became her secret indulgence. Light, floral fragrances are her favourite, and she likes lilac in particular.

2. What do your muse’s hands feel like?

Having suffered with sensitive, itchy skin as a child, Annie is in the habit of frequently using balm or cream on her hands, which makes them soft and smooth to the touch. That being said, as a result of domestic chores, her silver ring being a permanent fixture on her right forefinger, as well as her military training, Annie’s palms and fingers have some calluses. For as long as she can remember, she has had cool hands (and feet) but inheriting the Female Titan seems to have exacerbated this to the point where they are frigid much of the time. Annie’s hands are dainty, in keeping with a girl of her size and stature, while her fingers are dexterous, slender and deceptively delicate; she is strong, and can deliver a crushing handshake if so inclined (never forget this scene from the Lost Girls OVA).

3. What does your muse usually eat in a day?

Annie has an unhealthy relationship with food, and her eating patterns are disordered; she is the sort to forget to eat or to deliberately skip meals, or to binge when the opportunity presents itself. Given that Annie’s value lies in her physical capabilities, her father was very controlling over her intake, and critical of both her body and her sweet tooth. You better believe Gabe Leonhardt is the kind of man who would slap a biscuit out of his daughter’s mouth. The regular, plain meals served by the military work in her favour then, as they provide some sort of structure and nutritional balance. Of course, her impoverished background (picking mould off fruit and bread was a common occurrence during her childhood, as food close to spoiling was sold at discounted prices) and her appetite mean Annie isn’t a fussy eater. She will try almost anything once, even dishes others might balk at, or consider an acquired taste. Adventurous as she is, Annie carries a great deal of trauma around what she was forced to consume by the Marleyan military, as part of their experimentation on her and the Female Titan. This included cannibalising parts of her fellow Warriors. Living amongst refugees after the fall of Wall Maria, Annie stole food, and would split these spoils – as well as her rations – with Reiner and Bertholdt. Sharing food is one of the easiest and most common ways for her to express affection. Annie does not drink alcohol, her favourite beverage is limeade and she is particularly fond of lavender, lemon and mint flavours.

4. Does your muse have a good singing voice?

Yes, but Annie has little cause to sing, and it would mortify her to be overheard, so she rarely indulges (never underestimate her fear of being laughed at). Sometimes, she will sing in the shower, or while doing chores alone, but she is far more likely to hum quietly under her breath. For the record, I think Misaki Fukunaga’s vocals on Annie’s song (Kanojo wa Tsumetai Hitsugi no Nakade / ‘She Lies Within the Cold Coffin’) is a pretty solid representation of her singing voice.

5. Does your muse have any bad habits or nervous tics?

While she has been raised to be adept at disguising her emotions, Annie does have a number of behaviours that are born out of habit, and can be indicative of her mood – namely cracking her knuckles, or twisting her silver ring. For a time, she had a ‘tell’ during combat where she would blink twice in rapid succession before making a particularly decisive or devastating blow; her father successfully hammered this out of her. While not a habit per se, during her early childhood she suffered from excoriation disorder, and as such would scratch / pick at her skin, as well as pull out her hair and eyelashes. As a young adult, swearing forms one of her more obvious bad habits, along with staring, keeping a wholly irregular sleep schedule and forgetting to eat (or conversely eating too much).

6. What does your muse usually look like / wear?

Whenever possible, Annie will remain in her military uniform both for the impersonality and simplicity of it. Outside of that, she chooses roomy, comfortable and practical clothes in pale and muted colours. Hoodies form her preference (she will pull the hood up when she wants to shut the world out, or to feel alone) but tunics, sweaters and jumpers also appear in her wardrobe – basically anything that’s relaxed in fit, and doesn’t cling to her upper body. She is less concerned with trousers being closefitting, and is content to wear cropped varieties or even shorts in hot weather. Skirts, dresses and more traditional feminine garb usually only feature in her disguises. Annie is tactile and has a strong preference for soft fabrics, partly because for the comfort they offer her touch-starved self, and partly because she suffered with sensitive skin (an issue that inheriting the Female Titan resolved for her). For the sake of practicality, Annie will almost always pull her hair back into her trademark messy bun, and likes a heavy, long fringe to hide behind. Post-crystal, she moves towards wearing her hair down, finding that it helps soften her hard features. Ultimately, Annie isn’t big on experimentation when it comes to fashion or styling, doesn’t wear make-up, and is concerned only with being clean, comfortable and presentable enough to pass inspections.

7. Is your muse affectionate? How much? How so?

There are times when Annie wishes she could be affectionate, but she genuinely doesn’t know how. Her father deliberately kept her isolated, and dominated her formative years as a remote, unfeeling and largely inexpressive disciplinarian. The height of care he showed Annie was silently helping her to wrap her swollen hands and feet at the end of particularly gruelling days, or tending to her when she was sick with fever. His bedside manner was clinical, perfunctory. Where other parents might hold their child’s hand, he would choose instead to grasp her by the wrist, often gripping her tightly enough to bruise. Distance has always existed between them and, prior to the Paradis Island Operation, he placed his hand fondly on Annie’s head only once, and embraced her only once, the traumatic context of both instances sullying the contact. As a result, she watches expressions of affection – mothers dabbing at their children’s sticky faces, friends embracing or tousling each other’s hair, lovers holding hands – with quiet longing and fascination, more often a witness than a participant. Normally only close to others in combative situations, Annie is hardwired to associate proximity and touch with danger and / or pain. It isn’t all doom and gloom, however. With trusted companions or partners, Annie can and will open up, overcoming her concern with boundaries and rejection. Mostly she expresses affection through small, fleeting touches; the brush of fingers, sitting side by side or leaning against those she is comfortable with. Along with quality time, physical touch is one of Annie’s primary love languages.

8. What position does your muse sleep in?

Given the abuse that marked her childhood, it’s no accident that Annie assumes an almost defensive position. Typically she sleeps on her side with her knees drawn up and her hands raised, vaguely mirroring her combative stance. On occasion she will sleep her head under her pillow, or hide her face in the crook of an elbow. While she very often dreams of training with her father, she is usually a deep sleeper and doesn’t move around too much – though the odd slumberous punch or kick isn’t unheard of. Eerily, Annie will sometimes sleep with her eyes open, and she is a frequent sleep-talker.

9. Could you hear your muse in the hallway from another room?

Most likely not. Courtesy of her martial training, which demands she be light on her feet, and her father’s fervent subscription to the belief that children should be seen and not heard (along with his punishment / correction of any behaviours that he deemed irritating or undesirable) Annie learned to move quietly, to make herself as small and silent a presence as possible. Being diminutive both as a child and as an adult, she never experienced the clumsiness that often comes with growth spurts and the shifting dimensions of a maturing body. There is a natural grace and confidence to her movements, but also something soulless and mechanical that has been instilled in her. Play and the raucousness of childhood was not something Annie was permitted to indulge in at home and it shows; even during her youngest years, she carried herself as an adult might, stiffly and precisely. This inherent stealthiness is part of what makes her so well-suited to covert operations, along with the fact that she is plain and slight enough to go overlooked. That being said, when she is especially exhausted or weary, Annie may stumble or move lethargically, and is more likely to be overheard.

tagged by: @oncejaw like a million years ago – I loved doing this, thank you lovely! ♡ tagging: a ton of people were tagged already, so whoever wants to do it.

#✧ headcanon — ❛ go waist-deep in mist / to break the light ice ❜#cw: disordered eating #cw: skin picking #cw: cannibalism

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2manyfandoms2count · 4 years ago

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You can count on me (I will be there for you)

Penultimate chapter, here we go! Discoveries are made, and they’re not for the best. Hope you enjoy!

Special thanks to the lovely @theanxiouscupcake for helping me figure out the ending :)

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Chapter 8

Ladybug helplessly watches Chat sink out of sight, and she knows he won’t find anything good, wherever he’s headed. It’s less of a gut feeling (what honest person has secret mechanisms lying around their house in fiction, not to mention real life?) than an informed guess based on what she’s holding.

She’d hit the jackpot in Nathalie’s room. The envelopes she found weren’t empty, but they didn’t contain blackmail destined to Ladybug; it was clearly targeted at Hawkmoth and Mayura. Given that they’d all been opened with a paper knife, she doubted that Nathalie had been on the sending end.

The Peacock brooch she’d found in her nightstand, along with Duusuu, had done nothing to help Marinette in her quest for an explanation that could disculpate her.

She knows she's found what she needed, but it really feels like a Pyrrhic victory.

“Chat Noir? Is everything alright?” Max’s voice over the comms snaps her out of her thoughts.

There’s a tense silence as they wait for an answer, which she decides to break after a couple of minutes, for her own sanity.

“So, what did you find?” She asks, eyeing Markov. The robot is holding a USB key, which is unusual, since Max generally uses him directly as a memory source when needed. She doesn’t doubt that he also carries a copy of the data they’ve found, meaning that the information must be very important.

“An annotated digital copy of a Miraculous book, very expensive and regular butterfly orders, Hawkmoth redesign costumes, and elaborate plans to defeat you and Chat Noir.” Her friend enumerates. It all checks out. “Oh, and some music videos starring Hawkmoth.”

“What?” She frowns.

“It’s very disturbing.” Max grimaces.

Her next question is barely formulated in her head when Chat Noir’s voice reaches them. “Guys?”

“Chaton!” She refocuses on him immediately. “Are you alright?”

“I’ve found something.” His voice is strained.

“Don’t move, we’re coming.” She runs towards where the platform had been mere minutes ago, looking around frantically for the trigger mechanism.

Max puts a hand on her shoulder to calm her down. “Could you just tell us how to join you?” He asks.

Chat explains the steps in a monotonous voice that worries Max and Ladybug enough that they decide to ride the elevator together. It’s a little cramped, but the quicker they get to him, the better.

The tube quickly opens and they step out into what looks like an attic in a flutter of white butterfly wings.

Chat Noir has his back to them, his suit looking darker than usual in the backlight. He turns around from the truly impressive window he was looking out from when he hears them, a sad smile pulling at his lips.

“This doesn’t really look like a good guy’s den, does it?” He tries to joke.

“It does look a little suspicious,” she concedes.

“Did Adrien ever tell you his Dad was a lepidopterologist?” Max asks, a butterfly landing on his outstretched hand, as if he’s still trying to find a rational explanation for the situation that doesn't involve Gabriel Agreste being Hawkmoth.

“A what?” Chat looks at him, perplexed.

“A lepidopterologist,” his friend repeats. “Someone who studies butterflies.”

“Nope, I don’t think he has a clue.” He shakes his head and clears his throat. “But anyway, what did you guys find? Anything interesting?”

Ladybug hands him the envelopes and the brooch. His eyes fly over the letters’ contents, his expression indescifrable, while Max repeats his own findings.

“Max, what is the probability that Gabriel and Nathalie are just storing stuff for Hawkmoth and Mayura?” Chat asks gently, folding the letters again and giving them back to her. She sticks them in her yoyo for safe-keeping.

“I’d say about 0,0152%.” Max announces after a couple of seconds.

“That’s not very much.” He grimaces.

“Good thing Adrien didn’t come with us.” Ladybug whispers. “It’s… a lot to take in.”

“Sure is.” He sighs.

“Everyone, there seems to be another shaft here.” Markov interrupts them, flashing a red light to indicate his position in one of the dark corners of the room.

They walk towards him and study their surroundings, Max spotting the associated buttons first. Chat figures that it can’t bring them back to the study; it’s too far away from the first one.

“Multiple levels? What kind of evil lair is this?” Ladybug mutters.

“A professional one, that’s for sure.” Max replies. “Should we check it out?”

Ladybug looks at the time on her bug phone. They’re still doing okay, having been particularly efficient with their search. Or just very lucky that Hawkmoth and Mayura are bad at hiding compromising evidence.

She activates her microphone. “Nino, Kagami?”

“Yes, Marinette?” Kagami’s voice is prompt to reply.

“How are things going?”

“Not too bad, I think. Nino’s keeping Gabriel occupied, and I’m keeping an eye on Nathalie. They don’t seem to be in any rush to leave.”

“That’s good to hear.” She sighs in relief.

“How about you guys? Is Chat okay?”

“Right as rain.” Chat Noir chimes in. “We just have one more thing to investigate and we’ll be back.”

“Okay, cool. Keep us posted!” Kagami replies.

“You too.”

There’s a little static as Chat releases his microphone button.

“Right, so that’s sorted. I’ll go first.” Ladybug states more than she volunteers, calling the lift. She suspects Chat Noir would have liked to lead the way, but he’s a little pale for her liking, and Kwami knows what they’ll find on the other end.

“Are you sure?” He looks at her, contrasting emotions flickering in his eyes. On the one hand, he seems to be relieved that she’s taking charge of the exploration, but on the other hand, she knows he must be worried about her going first.

"You guys will be right down, it’s fine.” She smiles and squeezes his arm lightly, before entering the elevator capsule.

She’s surrounded by darkness for the first part of the journey, but the dim lighting of the lift is oddly comforting; she finds herself thinking that it might relieve Chat Noir’s claustrophobia.

The tube then transitions to transparency, and she’s suddenly looking out onto one of the largest and oddest rooms she’s ever seen, if ‘room’ is even the right word for it. The space looks like some kind of underground church, with its metal nave extending above a body of water and leading to a little garden, centred around a large tubular object. The latter is overseen by a large window that reminds her of the one up in the attic, except the panes are blocked off. It isn’t dark, though; a ray of light shines from above, and dim lights are regularly spaced along the sides of the room.

The elevator doors open and Ladybug steps out unsurely, not daring to venture too far. She feels very small as she waits for Chat Noir and Max, and a little uncomfortable, like she just broke into a sacred place. She untenses a little when they join her.

“What is this place?” Chat Noir lets out a low whistle as he takes in the grandeur of the space.

“It looks like some kind of underground crypt.” Max pushes his glasses back up on his nose. “We’re really not far from the Marais, maybe this was a church that sunk at some stage and was built over?”

Ladybug nods. It seems like a decent explanation.

Chat’s gut twists as he takes a couple of steps forward. He has an awful feeling about what lays at the end of the bridge, yet he’s inexplicably drawn to it. Ladybug and Max follow him carefully as he makes his way towards it.

The tube at the end of the way looks a lot like a coffin, they realise, and as they approach it, they must have triggered some motion detector, for its cover recedes, revealing a seemingly sleeping woman.

And not just any woman.

Emilie Agreste.

She’s dressed in a white suit, a slight smile on her lips, and holds a large bouquet of white and red flowers. She looks so peaceful, so beautiful. So like her portraits. Ladybug half expects her to wake up, green eyes twinkling as she welcomes them.

Next to her, Chat Noir’s breath hitches and his hand extends to touch the glass, a tear rolling down his cheek. It shatters as it lands on the coffin.

“You’re here.” He whispers.

Ladybug shares a look with Max, who encourages her to step forward with a nod. She does, lacing her fingers through Chat’s free hand and giving it a squeeze.

“I didn’t realise you were this close.” Her voice is barely above a murmur as another tear hits the coffin. Anything louder would feel disrespectful. Chat just nods in reply.

From this angle, she realises, Emilie looks just like Adrien; same fine features, same kind smile, same blond hair. She can’t help but understand why it must have been hard for Gabriel Agreste to look his son in the eye, at first.

“Um, guys?” Nino’s voice breaks the silence, making them jump. “I think we’ve maxed out the small talk. Kagami’s trying to hold off Nathalie but Gabe is just openly avoiding me now. Can we give them a bit of a breather?”

“Absolutely not.” Chat’s reply is icy as he angrily wipes his tears with the heel of his hand. “We’ll be right back, just need to call the police. Do not let them out of your sight, especially Gabriel. He might have his Miraculous on him.”

“Oh dude, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He takes a shaky breath. Marinette gives his hand another squeeze and takes her yoyo out. She spots Max taking out his phone out of the corner of her eye and turns towards him slightly, blinking gratefully at him. Chat doesn’t seem to be in the right frame of mind to call the police himself. She calls Rena Rouge.

“LB?” Her friend answers immediately.

“Alya? Are you in my room?”

“Yes, need anything?”

“Could you get the Bee Miraculous in my sewing box, please? I’ll send you the code.”

“Sure. Do you want me to go downstairs and give it to Chloé? Or should I stay put?”

“We’re going to need you downstairs, but make sure no one sees you yet. We need all hands on deck for this.” She takes a deep breath. “And make sure Adrien’s safe for me?”

“Will do.”

She hangs up just as Max calls his transformation.

“There’s a unit on its way here, and another heading for the Château. They’re warning the police officers who are already on site, they’re going to start closing off the exits. They said they’d take the evidence from us over there.” Her friend reports.

“Good.” She says, and she sees Chat Noir nod next to her, eyes still aimed at the coffin. “Let’s go, then.”

Pegasus invokes his powers and jumps through the portal. Chat Noir tears his gaze from Emilie and goes to follow him.

Ladybug holds him back before he can step through. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay, Chaton?”

“I just need to end this once and for all.” He smiles sadly and kisses her forehead tenderly, before taking her hand and helping her through.

He turns around and blows Emilie a last kiss before joining his wife.

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inzannatea-arts · 4 years ago

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#21 Days of Nathan - A Recap Pt 2 Days 11-21

Apparently there was just too much on the other post, so here we go with post #2!

Day 11: One word to describe Nathan

My one word to describe Nathan is "Ebullient" -- meaning cheerful and full of energy. There's also an archaic meaning of boiling or agitated as if boiling. I feel in both watching Nathan's performances and in the few times I've had the opportunity to meet him in person this word is fitting. In person, he is a boundless energy and pure serotonin. Just a genuinely delightful and kind human who CANNOT SIT STILL FOR 5 SECONDS. But that same frenetic energy is contained, if only just barely, in so many of his performances... most especially Jack. You can tell there is something boiling just beneath the surface and it's utterly fascinating to watch.

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Day 12: Play I’d like to see Nathan in

Really the answer is "anything". He has great range. But I think he'd give the appropriate gravitas and hilarity to the role of Septimus Hodge in Tom Stoppard's "Arcadia". He might be a little on the mature side, but he could probably pull it off. Arcadia takes place both in 1809/1812 and the present day with the activities of the modern overlaid on the action of the past. We gradually learn the fates of the past protagonists as the modern actors learn them in the present. It's a very interesting play exploring the nature of evidence and modern theories of history maths, and physics. It brings together themes of romanticism and empiricism, logic and love, sex and sensibility. I think it would be a fantastic role for Nathan and he would knock it out of the park.

Day 13: Favorite picture of Nathan Page from a public event

Event was originally supposed to be the cast and crew preview, part 2 for all the folks who bought that level of movie support, but who couldn't get away for (US) Thanksgiving weekend to the other side of the planet with three week's notice. I like it because I'm photobombing it 🤣 Not only that, it was just such a fun day. @skirtswithpocketsplease is always the right person to stand near in a crowd, fyi. @lechatnoir1918 can also be spotted in this great shot of Mary and Nathan (and bombastic me... and someone's very supportive husband just behind us) from @themissfisherphiles. So hard to believe it's been just over a year!

Day 14: Actor you’d like Nathan to work with

This is another one of those "anyone" answers... However, I would really love to have Nathan and Claudia Black (of Farscape, Stargate) work together. It's probably part of my Tony Tilse love, or maybe just that I could listen to these two talk for hours on end and it wouldn't even matter what they said. They both have amazing voices in addition to formidable acting talent.

Week 3 below the fold

Day 15: Favorite Behind the Scenes moment

This video was shot by Essie Davis’s dresser for series 1&3 Peter O'Halloran. Essie and Nathan are just so delightfully playful together, even when they're supposed to be Jedi-serious. I adore them 💓

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Day 16: TV Show you’d like to see Nathan Page on

I choose Ms. Fisher’s Modern Murder Mysteries. I'd love to have silver fox Jack Robinson come wandering back into his house to find, not the Miss Fisher he expects, but Miss Fisher the younger. He's been on his own long term mission and didn't know Phryne had gone missing... or maybe has been with her and neither realized the world thinks her dead-again. Either way, bring me silver fox Jack in mid-century Mod to drive the nail in Sparrow's coffin.

Day 17: Fav Miss Fisher and the Crypt of Tears moment

There were a lot of moments I really loved, but I think this was the moment that Essie and Nathan really made me swoon. Methinks the Inspector doth protest too much. No. No. No. No.

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Day 18: Favorite Jack Photo

This lovely shot of Nathan probably needs to be credited to DP Roger Lanser since it's a Screen-cap directly from the Kate Dennis directed episode S1E3 The Green Mill Murder. Other crew are certainly to be credited as well, but Roger... man. Roger just has that eye for good light.

Day 19: Question I’d like to ask Nathan, given the opportunity

I've been lucky enough to have a very casual conversation with Nathan and I didn't really have any burning questions to ask him. We just talked about life and kids and the fires that were raging in Australia, and Lola. Mostly Lola. And how he wants to do more bicycle stunts. I guess after all this lockdown what my wing clipped wandedlusting self wants to know is, where have you always wanted to ride but haven't yet?

Day 20: All-time favorite photo of Nathan Page

This is from the 2016 Logies when Essie Davis had been nominated for a Golden Logie and brought Nathan Page along for the ride. All of the photos were wonderful. It was the first time we'd seen them together since Phryne flew away... and it was clear these too truly were friends. Truly just enjoying each other's company. This one is my favorite because of the sweetness of it. Essie looks a touch nervous. Nathan is full of pride for his friend. Beautiful.

Day 21: Best Cycling Moment

Really it was hard to choose. I love the koala 🐨 and all of the stuff with Lola 🐕 It's really fun to get to go barreling down the hills of rural South Australia 🇦🇺 whilst sitting behind my home office desk. It sparks that sense of adventure that seems to have faded to a mere ember in last year of lockdowns and loss. But--with all of those already cataloged elsewhere in this list, I had to go with this image of pure #couplegoals from shortly after the move to Adelaide. It came from the 18 April 2018 edition of "The Advertiser," (hand delivered to me by a certain delightful person who shall remain @geenee27) at #missfishercon 2018 in Portland, OR.

I wasn't sure I could manage to get through all 21 days, but it was really fun to do! Thank you, @izzyandlouie for organizing it! Thank you, Nathan Page for being so generous with your time and care. Thank you to Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries and Every Cloud Productions for introducing the world to our favorite dapper detective. Thank you @adventuressclubamericas for organizing the North American fans and making us a force. Also, also... since 21 days of Nathan is done, check out @adventuressesclubamericas for #Miss Fisher March Madness if you haven't already!

#21daysofnathan #20daysofnathan #nathan page #miss fisher's murder mysteries #Jack Robinson #phryne fisher #phryne x jack #sarah-jane howard #farscape #claudia black #tom stoppard #arcadia

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