jar-of-vicissitudes - Tumblr blog

[jar-of-vicissitudes]

happy new year y’all!!! :3

i still am lost in my papers that i have to hand out soon, then i have a week to study for my exams but i think i should be able to write something for the new year in-between. i haven’t forgotten you or my wips, guys

hugs and kisses, may this year be less eventful

[jar-of-vicissitudes]

Happy New Year 💕

And I mean, yes, a LOT of 2020 sucked, BUT! There were many good things too and I think we could all take a moment to remember that!

So. Thank you to my friends and roomates for making lockdown a genuinely great time. Thank you to my sister for (finally) getting me motivated enough to learn Russian. Thank you to my tumblr mutuals for getting me into CQL and the subsequent Cdrama rabbit hole I fell into, and from there indirectly getting me to learn a LOT about Chinese culture and oh, look, a new language craving I will hopefully get to sate in 2021! Thank you to my shrink for helping me feel At Peace™ (I know) for the first time in... forever? Thank you to estranged friends for using the Quarantine Boredom to reach out again. Thank you to my thesis director for her patience, her kindness, and for letting me graduate! Thank you to @cortue for hours of meta rambling and great fics. Thank you to @thereismusicinmysoul for yet more meta rambling, a shitton of amazing fic and drama recs, and generally being a lovely friend! Thank you to everyone who helped vote Tr*mp out. Thank you to my godmother for being the best human being on the planet. Thank you to the people keeping me updated on whatever the fuck is going on with Spn. Thank you to my cat for being, objectively, the cutest and most adorable fluffball to ever grace this Earth. Thank you to my new collegues for becoming new friends. Thank you to all the wonderful and talented fic writers I discovered this year (namely @guqin-and-flute, @sarah-yyy, @ariaste, @jar-of-vicissitudes, @bloody-bee-tea, @robininthelabyrinth, and sadly probably many others whose @ has escaped my terrible terrible memory) for many, many, many hours of Emotions™ that bordered on hysteria more often than I care to admit.

You all managed to make lot of 2020 really not so bad, and that is quite an Achievement.

So, congratulations everyone for making it through That Mess and thank you for helping others make it through!! I hope all you lovely people have a as-wonderful-as-possible new Year and wish you all the best 💕💕💕

[jar-of-vicissitudes]

But his fragrance will endure

The night is still. Even the snow has stopped falling. There is only a black figure near the trees, walking slowly under the bright moon. Only the white sword on his back separates him from the darkness. The snow is crunching under his stiff steps, breaking the quiet of the frosty night. No voice, no word, no song, no other sound.

Nothing is alive. Not even him.

The silence does get to him, sometimes. Song Lan regrets being so greedy with his own voice, his own words. He regrets the last words that he gave to Xiao Xingchen. He regrets not telling him to stay. He regrets that his own last words were to someone not deserving the solemnity they should have had. He mourns the what-ifs, knowing that nothing can change anymore. He is trapped in time and silence, condemned to err in loneliness.

Maybe he is not really alone in this, but his companions could hardly pass for more than mere immaterial presences in their pouch most of the time, lost somewhere between the Earth and the Heavens.

A-Qing is remarkably active during the day, and never during the night. Song Lan likes to think she is maintaining her old human habits and has a hard time giving them up, the same ones he himself abandoned years ago. But they both know it is not the truth.

The night belongs to Xiao Xingchen.

Sometimes Xiao Xingchen is hiding in the moonlight. A soft wind delicately brings back the memory of his voice, long since distorted by time. Song Lan swears that the pouch is warmer when it happens. Most of the time, there is nothing. No sound. No movement. Just the bitter cold. However, on three occasions, Song Lan heard a heartbreaking scream. He knows he will hear it again, probably countless times in the future.

Song Lan may be the only one with a body, but he is not the only one imprisoned in a never-ending cycle.

Between A-Qing the undead dead for good, Xiao Xingchen the broken soul, and himself the undead corpse, Song Lan ponders if the situation aggravates his loneliness. They all exist in an obscure territory, at various levels. They probably broke their own life cycle, and none of them would be reborn. At least, Song Lan selfishly thinks, Xiao Xingchen and he would never be separated further. Not that it means anything when Xiao Xingchen does not tenderly smile at him. When their arms do not brush against each other. When Song Lan does not hear “Zichen” in Xiao Xingchen's soft voice. When Song Lan is a walking corpse. When all that is left of Xiao Xingchen is a spirit torn in too many pieces.

Tonight however, Song Lan finds comfort in the silent winter night. A gentle breeze caresses his face. He closes his eyes, stops walking, lets the delicate wind embrace him. It nearly feels warm against his cold body. Song Lan puts his hand against the pouch.

Tonight, Xiao Xingchen is here.

Song Lan would smile if he was able to. Instead, he opens his eyes and holds the warm pouch against his frozen heart. He glances at the white plum blossoms piercing through the snow. Song Lan wishes he could whisper Xiao Xingchen's name one last time. But he can only keep walking for the both of them. For A-Qing. For the three of them.

And so he does.

[jar-of-vicissitudes]

Thank you so much for 100+1. You captured lwj's pain and longing so well. Grief is never-ending: I liked how much my heart hurt as I read your words.

thank you so much for reading them. i’m glad you enjoyed the adventure despite the heartbreak. i’m sorry i’ve kept this ask for so long but, yes, grief is never-ending indeed. an absence one gets used to until one remembers.

[jar-of-vicissitudes]

The Legend of the Bright Moon and Gentle Breeze and the Distant Snow and Bitter Frost

Bright moon and gentle breeze, as they called Xiao Xingchen. Distant snow and bitter frost, as they called Song Lan.

Xingchen, eager to bring peace and justice in the world, left his master's mountain to never come back home again.

Song Lan came and went from his monastery without rest, chaos and injustice were waiting for him around the world.

The gentleness of the breeze should have broken harshly against the bitterness of the frost. Instead they completed each other.

Soulmates in mind and heart, they would often find themselves travelling in the same places, fighting against the same enemies.

They met between the snowflakes, then swore under the moon. Soon enough they became legendary, fighting together but always parting.

Free of no other obligation than to see him again, they followed each their wind, carrying their honourable duty everywhere.

Following their common dream separately was not worth the price. With their string of fate they played until it broke.

During their last mission together, they pursued restlessly a criminal They were unbeatable, belonging together, black white intertwined in grey.

Once again after a week, an embrace, one last kiss, they took two different roads. They should've never parted way.

For as strong and brave they were side by side, they were so much easier to trick without the other.

Song Lan's monastery was massacred. Himself was blinded, left alone. Anger building in his heart, he foolishly blamed his soulmate.

Once Xingchen arrived, too late, he accepted his soulmate's resentment. As eternal good-byes his eyes he gave to Song Lan.

Of what they have become, Few words have reached us. Xingchen disappeared, blinded and alone, to never been seen again.

Some have witnessed Song Lan, erring around soundlessly after Xingchen, the skin ash grey and two swords on his back.

Both cultivators may have left no more songs to sing, but still together they stand in memories not yet lost.

Their shared dream of justice won't be forgotten as long as the moon shines bright, as the snow falls cold.

[jar-of-vicissitudes]

okay guys so it’s Essay Season so i won’t be able to write something every day. nevertheless, i still have scenes i want to explore more from 100 moons away. i also have a few other ideas but i don’t feel comfortable to share them yet, mostly because i’m not sure where they are going.

with that in mind, i would like to try to post something once or twice every week, and i would like to take some prompts from you guys. would you prefer to send me a situation/song/sentence/theme/quote/whatever yourself with one or some characters or would you prefer that i reblog some list of prompts for you to choose from?

please keep in mind that i gladly write about non-romantic relationships as well as romantic ones, but i don’t do explicit sex or incest, and if i write romantic pairings including xy or jgy, those pairings will be unhealthy, especially in universe. i’m willing to explore that, but i cannot turn them into a beautiful love story. please don’t ask from me something i cannot do, for multiple reasons.

[jar-of-vicissitudes]

Summary:

Lan Wangji's 16 years of grief, love, and growth, told through 100 full moons.

Or one hundred moons without Wei Wuxian, and one with him.

_____

A series of 100 (+1) drabbles, cql-compliant

Chapters: 11/11 Fandom: 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén & Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī, Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī & Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī Characters: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī, Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén, Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī, Lán Jǐngyí, Lán Qǐrén, Madame Lan, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín, and other mentioned Additional Tags: Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, mentions of physical injuries, Mentions of Blood, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, the happy ending is veeeery far away tho, 5+1 but making it 100+1, Emotional Hurt, Drabble Collection, Lan Wangji centred, Yearning, canonical major character death (but also canonical major character undeath), Off-screen Character Death Series: Part 1 of 100 Moons Away

[jar-of-vicissitudes]

100+1

Sitting on their bed, Wangji blinks his eyes to chase the sleepiness away. Finally, a man opens the door and brings the full moon inside the Jingshi.

“Lan Zhan! You aren't asleep yet? You didn’t have to wait!”

“I will always wait for Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying smiles, albeit a bit melancholically. He unties Wangji's headribbon and tenderly kisses his forehead.

“You don’t have to anymore.”

Wangji pulls him gently into their bed and lays down next to him. Wei Ying holds his hand and kisses it.

His bright loving eyes are the last thing Wangji sees before falling asleep.

_____

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[jar-of-vicissitudes]

100

The juniors are old enough to handle themselves. Still, because Wangji intimately knows the cost of youth and death, he stays near, ready to intervene.

Something feels strange tonight. Wangji stares at the moon, looking for answers.

The sudden firework breaks his trance.

*

There are traces of the Yin Iron on the sword.

Once again, bittersweet hope ignites his heart. Once again, Wangji prepares himself to be burnt down to ashes, unable to stop himself. In the moonlight, he pursues the fading sound of footsteps, a familiar fire running once again through his veins.

Wei Ying, was it really you?

_____

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[jar-of-vicissitudes]

99

Wangji forgets.

He forgets if Wei Ying already had a red ribbon in his hair when he was in the Cloud Recesses. He forgets that he still has some of those playful talismans that Wei Ying gave him so, so long ago. He forgets Wei Ying's face, Wei Ying's voice.

Wangji forgets. It is only a natural consequence of time. It is has already happened before. (It still aches when he does not remember Mother.)

He forgets bit by bit, until all that is left of Wei Ying is his mark on Wangji's heart.

Wangji forgets, and time kills twice.

_____

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[jar-of-vicissitudes]

98

Watching the moon from the Jingshi's door, Wangji wonders. How many years has it been, now? Fifteen? No, sixteen. Sizhui turned twenty year old during the winter.

A-Yuan is not a little boy anymore, but a capable young Lan disciple. Wei Ying would probably not recognise him if he came back.

It hurts a bit more than Wangji is ready for.

(Sizhui does not even remember anything about Wei Ying, except the dizi. It pains Wangji even more.)

Urging his mind to rest, he goes back inside and plays the guqin, emptying his heart to the silent moon. It listens.

_____

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[jar-of-vicissitudes]

97

A tree, all alone in the winter night, that wants to escape its loneliness. The tree tries to reach the bright moon with its wooden arms, in vain. Still, it tries.

The moon shining over plum blossoms, covered by sparkling snow. The colours of the flowers pierce through the snow. Despite the frost, they try.

A solitary man, dressed in the same white as the tree, contemplating the landscape. Instead of the red of the flowers, a few accents of blue make him stand out against the snow. Even with sadness hanging over his shoulders like a coat, he tries.

_____

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[jar-of-vicissitudes]

96

There's no hope for an answer as Wangji can tell. Still he plays the same notes again: Wei Ying, are you well?

Rain falls gently, barely hitting the floor. The moonlight traces the shadow of the raindrops through the transparent door.

Inquiry sings of sorrows in the rain. Wangji has made peace with Wei Ying's absence, but it doesn't erase the pain.

He knows what his heart longs for. He cannot give it what it wants; he locks it in his core.

There's no use to dwell. Moons have passed since, none of them brought the sound of a bell.

_____

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[jar-of-vicissitudes]

95

I am older than Wei Ying will ever be. By now, I am even older than Mother. Those are not thoughts Wangji expected to hear before going to sleep. Usually, he does not think about it. He barely noticed time keeping its course for years.

For now, he is sitting into his bed, his chest slowly rising and falling. He can smell the sandalwood incense he burnt earlier. He hears the wind and the leaves.

Wangji opens his eyes on the moonlit room, calmer.

It is merely his same old ghosts, finding restlessly innovative ways to terrify him. Nothing new.

_____

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[jar-of-vicissitudes]

94

With the years, Wangji has learnt not to dwell on what ifs, and to treat them as a poison. A sweet poison running through his veins, contaminating both his body and mind.

Because it is sweet at first, it is so tempting to taste it, because just a bit will not kill him. Maybe he can even build some resistance.

Soon enough, Wangji discerns no more of that sweetness, only the salty aftertaste of his heartbreak and tears.

He now restrains himself at the first thought and pours his heart to the moon instead.

Some nights, Wangxian sounds particularly regretful.

_____

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[jar-of-vicissitudes]

93

Love lasts long in Wangji's heart. He doesn't love a lot of people – doesn't let himself love – but those that succeed in graving their names in its flesh do so for the eternity.

Love runs deep – and fast. Its intensity scares Wangji himself. He cannot think of imposing that on anyone unsure of their own feelings.

Love burns bright for the living. There aren't many of them left – maybe there could be more if Wangji could befriend people.

Love remembers the dead too vividly, too quietly. It never goes dormant, haunting Wangji's mind.

Wangji regrets not understanding his love earlier.

_____

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[jar-of-vicissitudes]

92

Wangji is preparing himself to retire for the night when he hears Jingyi.

“… now that you need something, Hanguang-Jun is dad again!”

“I'm not going to call him dad in front of our class!” says Sizhui on a distressed tone. “He is our supervisor!”

Wangji conceals his amusement and opens the door, interrupting them.

“You may proceed with your request, disciple Sizhui.”

“Dad, please, don't play Jingyi's game.”

Wangji deliberately blinks.

“Would that be all?”

Sizhui sighs and closes his eyes, not unlike Brother. Jingyi cackles.

Wangji hears a long dead voice say you're so funny Lan Zhan. He smiles.

_____

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