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bottleblondefeelingconned · 1 year

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I left this as a reply but I'm also making a separate post to expand because have Feelings, and I really just love fanart of Merlin holding Artoria's corpse.

Because it's not just about a vassal holding their king, or a wizard their charge, or anything about kings and knighthood and ideals.

The bottom line is that this is a father cradling his daughter's corpse.

A daughter who willingly went to the slaughterhouse. A lamb willingly tearing away her flesh for the nation to feast on. A daughter he both could've saved but also never could because the tragedy is Merlin's Merlin and Artoria's Artoria. Because anything else could have changed the story, but this is the only way the story ever could have gone.

And now she's dead, and he has to live with that.

Merlin always knew that this girl would sacrifice herself to be an Ideal, to be a King, because saber is a Saber and that's just what they do. But can you imagine cuddling your little girl at night knowing what awaits her? Teaching her to swing a sword knowing she'll use those skills to slay her own child?

How many times did Merlin see Artoria nap under a tree and just felt Dread? When she first met Bedivere was Merlin secretly desperate for them to go their seperate ways? Did Merlin take Lancelot to taverns hoping he'd meet another beauty to catch his eyes, trying to prevent something that could never be prevented? When he met Mordred, did he ever think of his as a grandchild?

In Apocrypha when Mordred saw his father grab that sword, Merlin covered his face. When Artoria took that sword from the stone to chase her ideals, when Artoria stopped being Artoria and became King Arthur, what expression did Merlin have then?

A wizard preserves their King for the future return from Avalon. A father is hunched over his daughter's bloody corpse weeping.

"Let me tell you of the tale of the King," the ancient wizard says. It sounds better then "my child died."

I guess both Artoria and Merlin know what it's like to be complicit in the death of their child.

#I had Feelings okay??#fate stay night #fate series #artoria pendragon #saber #merlin #merlin acts like he doesn't care and isn't capable of genuine love but we know that's a lie

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witchercommentcrawl · 2 years

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Crawl Call 02: Hurt/Comfort Fanworks

New to the Crawl? Check out our event guide! Our commenting window for our second Comment Crawl will take place from Feb 1st - Feb 8th. This is our community coming together at the same time to enjoy these amazing fanworks, but you're welcome to leave a comment whenever you have the time.

We received so many community submissions for our Hurt/Comfort round! Thank you all for sending in your incredible recommendations! Below you will find a selection of fanworks featuring a ton of angst, whump, and emotional and physical comfort!

Enjoy your hurt/comfort! 🤕❤️💬

WCC #2: Hurt/Comfort

Spreadsheet View of Crawl Fanworks. (optional) save a copy to your Google drive. Contains ratings, notes, canon & color coded for fanwork type.

AUDIO

you wingless thing podfic by kittona, fic by xia drabbles (xianvar). 11:08 minutes. Teen. Geralt/Jaskier. AU, grief/mourning, not really character death. Instead of Borch, it’s Jaskier who trips off the mountain.

FANART

Emhyr comforting an injured Geralt in bed by @omaano.

Jaskier playing the lute with bloody hands by @fleshwater.

Geralt carrying an injured Cahir by @astaldis.

Fringilla supporting an injured Yennefer by @thence-we-came-forth

FANFIC

Holding Fire by Gavilan. 275 words. Gen. Coën/Lambert. People thought Lambert was a fire, and they couldn’t understand why Coën kept coming back to get burned.

i hear you call my name (and it feels like home) by ElasticElla. 607 words. Teen. Triss/Yennefer. Stupid. Stupid to underestimate the latest would-be assassin. Triss takes care of an injured Yennefer.

Savior by @limerental. 671 words. Mature. Fringilla/Francesca. Imprisoned by Emhyr, Fringilla escapes to her mind and gentle memories of Francesca.

The Men That Wound Us by SebDoesWords. 989 words. Mature. Implied/References to rape-noncon. Ciri/Ves. Both Ciri and Ves have experienced abuse at the hands of men throughout their lives, and they are both haunted by them. What begins as a sexual encounter turns into a violent flashback for Ves, but Ciri is there to comfort her through it.

Traveling Companion by MagdelaneSingerin.1308 words. Gen/Choose Not to Warn. Geralt/Jaskier. Emotional hurt/comfort, whump the bard. Geralt and Jaskier discuss the feelings between them.

I Didn't Come For Answers by BrighteyedJill. 1951 words. Teen. Teen, grief/mourning, suicidal thoughts, alcohol, past character death. Ciri and Lambert. Lambert never wanted to be a witcher in the first place, so it's a cruel fucking joke that he's the last of the wolf witchers. At Samhain, he returns to Kaer Morhen to rage against the hopelessly unfair situation.

carry on in the morning by EchoBleu. 2444 words. Teen. Witcher Blood Origin. Brían/Eredin Bréacc Glas. On Saovine, Brían looks to the sky, hoping for a glimpse of a masked horseman galloping through the night.

Mismatching Heartbeats by SparrowRising. 2695 words. Mature. Geralt/Jaskier. Cold fills Geralt's insides and he sits very still, pretending with all his might to be meditating. There are some shuffling sounds, sheets being moved, and then a burst of newly-disturbed air fills Geralt's nostrils. Spend and satisfaction, and tears and anxiety. He resolutely doesn't move a muscle. Jaskier will fall asleep again soon and he knows not to disturb –

When Push Comes To Shove by thepetulantpen. 3708 words. Gen. In which Jaskier refuses to leave Geralt after the dragon hunt.

One of My Favorite Pastimes by WitcherTits. 3978 words. Mature. Geralt/Dandelion. Geralt rescues Dandelion from the gallows in Flotsam.

dance like there is no tomorrow by xianvar. 5000 words. Teen. Witcher Blood Origin. Brían/Eredin Bréacc Glas, modern AU. As much as Eredin loves dancing, it has always meant pain and discipline. When it all comes to a head at a harrowing weekend at a dancing competition, Brían is there to pick up the pieces, and help Eredin rediscover his love of dancing.

i gave you my love by hazy_daisy. 5064 words. Teen. Geralt/Jaskier. Spy AU. Jaskier realizes that maybe hooking up with Rivia on the side wasn't the best choice in their line of work, especially with his propensity to develop feelings for anyone and everyone.

perennial by nikozaur. 5472 words. Teen. Ciri/Cerys. The queen of Skellige and the Empress of Nilgaard also happen to be childhood friends. When they meet after the years, something blossoms between them. But some things that bloom within you bring only pain.

a festering, heavenly scar by seasofglass. 6279 words. Mature. Injured and alone, Rience struggles to understand what's wrong with him as he desperately tries to make it back to the safety of Vilgefortz' rooms. With the realization that his burn is more severe than he had thought, he has to endure the agonizing process of being healed.

Far From Home by NeverlandPoet (do_androids_dream). 8492 words. Teen. Geralt/Regis, modern AU. When Regis unexpectedly shows up at his door, it's like a glimpse into a past Geralt had tried to forget. But some memories are not so easy to bury - and sometimes, they mean a new beginning... Or: Geralt gets hurt, and Regis does not only provide comfort, but also a realization - the only question is, is it too late?

And quietly lay the frozen lake by Molanna. 9334 words. Teen. Geralt + the Hansa (Regis, Cahir, Angouleme, Milva). After having crossed the Malheur Pass, Geralt's company finds a cosy little cave by a beautiful frozen lake. Angoulême wants to have some innocent fun on the ice, but not all is as quiet and peaceful as it seems. And Cahir has to bear the consequences...

TOTAL LENGTH & DURATION

Wordcount: 57385

Audio: 11:08

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incorrect-missionimpossible · 3 years

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Uh I don't know if you're still taking prompts but I'm dying to read something where Ethan finds out Benji has tattoos (just likes Simon's) and Ethan is all ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡(ӦｖӦ｡) I even have some fanart in my blog or at Instagram @ biablioteca xoxo

hi!! thank you for the prompt :D this took me a while to answer, my apologies for that hhhhhhhh. the fanart is here if anyone wants to check it out, it's really good!!

without further ado, the fic, 1448 words long. enjoy!!

read on ao3!!

[---]

tattoos [that i didn't know you had]

“Hey,” Benji whispers. Ethan tilts his head towards Benji, acknowledging him. They’re curled up in the back of a van with Jane; Will’s driving and Ilsa’s sitting next to him. Jane is asleep on Ethan’s shoulder, the white bandages around her leg bright in the dim light of the van. They’re returning from a mission, a long, exhausting one and it required all of Ethan’s team, excluding Luther, who was on his honeymoon.

“I think I’ve been shot,” Benji tells Ethan quietly, and Ethan jerks up, all thoughts of sleep forgotten. Jane groans as he dislodges her.

“What?” Ethan hisses. “Benji-”

Benji understands. “Bullet went through me. I’m bleeding quite a lot. Um, it was numb, but not anymore. I’ve got a cloth bunched up against it.”

Ethan knocks on the sliding door between the storage and driver’s seat. “Will,” he says loudly. Ilsa slides the door open and pokes her head through.

“What?”

“Benji’s been shot. Drive faster.”

Ilsa’s eyes widen; she’s clearly too tired to police her emotions. She nods and a moment later, the van moves faster with a screech.

---

Benji’s almost passed out by the time they reach the safe house. Ilsa helps her girlfriend limp inside the house, while Will rushes inside to get the first aid kit ready. Ethan half carries Benji, stumbling through the cold night air into the house as lights flicker on inside.

Jane’s collapsed on a chair, her face pale and sweaty. Her bandages need changing, and Ilsa notes Ethan’s glance at them before grabbing a pile of bandages and handing Jane a flask of whiskey she downs in a gulp.

Ethan winces as Benji moves away the bloody cloth he’d been clutching to his side, revealing his bloody flannel. It’s soaked through.

“How did it take you so long to tell me about this,” Ethan asks, concealing his anger.

Benji shrugs. “Jane was shot. Her wound was more lethal. Forgot about mine.”

“You forgot- how did you-” Ethan runs a hand through his hair, frustrated beyond measure. How did Benji just, forget about his fucking gunshot wound. Ethan wants to punch something.

Will enters the living room, carrying a tray with needles, thread, scissors and alcohol. “Remove your flannel,” he says testily. He looks harried, in a way Will rarely does.

Benji looks up at Ethan, and Ethan, helpless in the face of his eyes, removes the flannel gently. He blinks in surprise at what it reveals, Benji has tattoos.

Ethan stares at them as Will stitches Benji up, Benji’s hand crushing his. They twine around Benji’s left shoulder and the top of his arm, not going beyond where a shirt would. They’re designs Ethan can’t quite make out, but they’re gorgeous. There’s another on Benji’s collarbone, surrounding the delicate bone. It’s partially covered by Benji’s tank top, and Ethan shocks himself with how much he wants to see the rest of it, and any other tattoos Benji might be hiding.

“Done,” Will interrupts Ethan’s train of thought, and Benji lets go of Ethan’s hand, his head falling back, exposing the long line of his neck.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, and Ethan lets out a chuckle. “I’m never getting shot again.”

“I think that would be a bit difficult, with our line of work,” Will says, amused. He lets out a yawn, and so does Benji.

“Bed?” Ethan asks softly. Benji nods. Will takes his leave, heading up to the room he’s claimed as his own. Ilsa waves at them before picking up Jane, who’s too tired to protest, and climbing up the stairs.

Ethan presumes they’re heading to the second bedroom. He smiles at Ilsa and moves to the sofa, pulling it out and working on turning it to a bed. “I didn’t know you had tattoos,” he starts, keeping his voice as casual as he can.

Benji starts. “These little things?”

Ethan wouldn’t call them little, exactly, they cover Benji’s shoulder and collarbone, and there’s another one on Benji’s right arm. “Yeah.”

“I got them at Oxford,” Benji says, a light smile dancing on his face. “Stupid dare. Asked the artist to do them so they’d be covered by my t-shirts. Looks like he did his job pretty well, huh? The best spy in the IMF didn’t know I had tattoos.”

Ethan grins at Benji, enjoying the twinkle in his eyes. “Not my fault I’ve never seen you in anything but geeky shirts and flannels.”

“You just had to ask,” Benji says, careless as anything, before turning bright red. “I- not that I would just undress for anyone, I mean, like, it’s-”

Ethan pats Benji’s shoulder. “Benj,” he says warmly, and Benji stutters to a stop.

“Thanks,” Benji says, relaxing.

Ethan helps Benji up and into the bed, before sliding in next to him. “I think they’re cool,” he whispers.

A flush overtakes Benji’s face. “Thanks,” he replies, sounding pleased.

Ethan offers him a small smile, before leaning over to flick off the lights.

---

The second time Ethan sees Benji’s tattoos, they’re on a mission slash vacation in Costa Rica. Ethan’s team had been sent to track the movements of an American on the CIA’s Most Wanted list, but he’d left before they could catch him. The hotel they’d booked was for a week, and Ethan managed to coerce the IMF into allowing them to stay and make use of the money that went into the mission.

Jane and Ilsa had their own room, of course, and Will claimed a single for himself. Ethan and Benji had a double to themselves, with two queen sized beds.

“Heaven,” Benji groans, from his bed. He’s sprawled out on it, his shirt riding up a little, revealing a sliver of skin. Ethan swallows and looks away.

“I’m going to hit the beach,” he tells Benji, who makes some grunting noises, not moving from where he looks like he’s trying to bury himself in his bed.

Ethan chuckles and shakes his head, fond, before heading to the bathroom to change and gather his things. He leaves Benji, who’s curled up in a little ball on the bed, to his own devices, and thinks he deserves some sun and a good hour or two with his paperback.

---

Ethan’s about 40 pages into his book when he sees Benji. His eyes widen, and his mouth drops a little, because, well, wow.

Benji’s shirtless, and he’s built [which isn’t a shock, really; Ethan’s always been able to see the lines of his lean body under his tighter t-shirts], but it’s the tattoos that take his breath away.

They cover his entire torso and chest, curving around the muscles carefully. Ethan is pretty sure the tattoos are vines, and they look stunning in the sunlight, enhancing Benji’s build. Ethan is up and moving towards Benji without a second thought, and Benji grins at him.

“Hey,” he says, once Ethan is in earshot. Ethan doesn’t say anything, and Benji’s smile turns a little bemused. Ethan stops once he’s close enough to Benji that if he took one more step and leant forward a little-

Anyways.

His hands flutter around Benji’s skin, not touching, just, hovering. “Little?” Ethan breathes in disbelief.

Benji realizes Ethan’s looking at his tattoos. “Oh. Yeah. Those ones happened later. Took me about five sessions to get it done. Extraordinarily painful.”

Ethan exhales slowly. “Can I-” he moves his hands jerkily. He’s just understood how close to Benji he’s standing.

“Yeah,” Benji nods, studying Ethan with a small frown on his face.

Ethan touches the beginning of the first vine with a finger, and when Benji doesn’t say anything, he continues, tracing the path of the twining plant around Benji’s body. He’s careful, avoiding the scars and bruises. Ethan ends up on the design on his collarbone, and he looks up, into Benji’s eyes.

He can’t read them; he doesn’t know what Benji is going to do or say. Ethan moves to step back, but Benji whispers “Ethan,” and he stops.

Benji slides a hand under his chin [their height difference makes it easier for him to do that,] and tilts Ethan’s head up a little.

Ethan gives in to his impulses. He leans in, and presses his lips to Benji’s.

Benji kisses back immediately, sliding his hands around Ethan’s waist and closing the tiny distance between their bodies. Ethan gets a hand on Benji’s cheek and another pressed on his chest

Later, Ethan will trace the tattoos again, Benji will tell him the stories of how he got them, and Ethan will place a light kiss to all of them. They’ll share a queen-sized bed.

But for now, they stay there, kissing deeply, the sun burning the back of Ethan’s neck.

[---]

yes i KNOW the ending isnt very great hjfhkjshdsjk but here u go anyways :)

thanks for reading!!

#benthan #mission: impossible #mission impossible #mi #benji x ethan #ethan x benji #my writing #prompt answers

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destielfanfic · 4 years

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Happiness isn’t in the Having

Happiness isn’t in the Having - 15x18 coda fic rec list. Castiel’s love confession and sacrifice has shaken and reinvigorated destiel fandom in a way that no-one expected. The collective creative outburst of destiel fan works brought together new and old, returning names. Our sister blog @destielfanworks has a new tag for post 15x18 fanart - #destiel 2020, check them out! And then, there are almost 400 destiel fics on AO3 tag Episode: S15e18 Despair. I couldn’t read them all, so here’s but a small selection. The fics are listed starting with the angstiest, followed by the ones with more or less happy endings. Please heed the tags on AO3!

Episode 15x18, Despair, coda fic recs

the stages of despair by LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch [T, 1,115 word count] Dean POV, grief

As Empty Now as at the First Note by domesticadventures [T, 1,200 word count] Dean POV, grief

Dean takes stock. This is what he has left: one incomplete picture, a bloody handprint, a decade plus of regrets, and two other people in the whole world to wait with him until God finally calls their numbers.

For Good by imogenbynight [T, 6,200 word count] Dean POV, grief, Dean and Jack reconciliation

Eyes wide open and stinging, Dean stares at the negative space in the center of the room and sees the afterimage of it. The Empty, otherworldly and furious, surrounding Cas and swallowing him like a black hole devouring a star.

Because it is by 60r3d0m [M, 6,000 word count] Dean POV, grief, world after the snap

“You can go, you know,” Sam says, one day out of the blue, when they’re perched on the hood of the Impala, gazing at the night sky. Dean shifts a bit, takes an absentminded sip of beer but keeps his eyes on the heavens, on the star that each night seems to get a little bit bluer, a little bit brighter the more that Dean watches it. .... It’s been years.

The Having by Bookkbaby [T, 3,600 word count] Cas POV, the Empty

"Why do they call this place The Empty? It's full. It's full of sorrow and despair playing over and over again, of angels and demons dreaming about their regrets. Forever." Castiel has a lot of regrets.

Everything is Blue by MalMuses [T, 5,000 word count] Dean POV, grief

Castiel is in the Empty, leaving only his confessions and his handprint behind. To Dean, everything seems black. Until it's not.

stars that clear have been dead for years by xylodemon [T, 2,700 word count] Dean POV, grief

"I love you." There's nothing, nothing, Dean Winchester can say to that.

Lead Me Home by jemariel [M, 2,200 word count] Dean POV, grief

They’re back. They’re all back. Everyone Chuck took—Donna, Eileen, Stevie, Bobby, the other hunters. All of them. Except one. Even when it should be impossible, Castiel will always come when Dean calls.

To Change the Things We Can by cenotaphy [G. 1,900 word count] Dean POV

The thing is, Dean thinks, Cas is wrong about him. Dean is a blunt instrument. He's the hammer he once accused Cas of being, the gun leveled at the poltergeist in the dark, the jawbone-blade cleaving tissue from bone. He's the sword swung on marionette strings by the archangel. He's the best pupil Alastair's ever had. ...

Like Real People Do by prosopopeya [G, 5,000 word count] Dean POV, Cas POV, grief

Castiel experienced a moment of pure happiness, expecting it to be his last. It wasn't.

Symmetria by goldenraeofsun [T, 4,000 word count] Dean POV

When all’s said and done with Chuck, Dean takes his time getting used to his new gig as capital D Death. Billie, of course, did not see fit to leave him a training manual. But with his brother-turned-God on his side, and Jack as the new Darkness, they all muddle through. Finally, all that's left is to rescue Cas from the Empty.

~~~~~~~~

If you enjoyed the fic, please drop by the archive (AO3) and let the author know with your comments and/or kudos! And if you found our recs useful, let us know by Liking and/or Reblogging our posts!

#destiel #fic rec #destielfanficnet #15x18 #season 15 #angst #tragedy #coda #short #T #M #su #reunion

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theartistknownaslymond · 2 years

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Welcome to the pleasuredome!

(it’s a Frankie Goes to Hollywood reference)

Here I post aesthetics, reference, ficspiration, fanart, obnoxious playlists, and occasionally fanfic for my cursed 1980s band AU for the Lymond Chronicles.

I always welcome asks and requests! Wanna hear a playlist? Wanna know which character would listen to your favourite band? Want me to stop already? Just ask me and I will play! (but I won’t stop, sorry. I will add more tags if anyone needs them for blocking though)

Below the cut is a list of all the stuff in the band AU so far! I’ll try and keep it up to date.

Pre-series:

Prequel

Sibylla and her children watch the moon landing together in 1969, art by me.

Young Oonagh, illustrated by K

Jerott’s paternal grandmother, Deepa Anand, illustrated by K, with some backstory

Jerott’s mum, Kahina Bensaïd, illustrated by K, with some (a lot) of backstory, partly relating to Jerott

Music is a made-up thing like myth (posted chronologically on Ao3. Hasn’t updated in a while. Isn’t dead yet!)

Freshly victorious at the 1979 Solway Moss Battle of the Bands, young Francis Crawford, aka Lymond, finds himself stuck in an awful contract and an even worse relationship. Things don’t improve as his first US tour approaches and Lymond struggles to find artistic freedom.

Game of Kings

Eloise Crawford illustrated by K

Isolation (Richard reflects on the loss of his siblings)

Gunpoint (Lymond meets Dragut when he falls in with some mafia types)

Bleeding out (More mafia types)

Les gens ne te touchent pas/il faut faire le premier pas (Pune, India, 1981. Jerott Blyth is learning about himself with the guidance of Graham Reid Malett)

Returning to the UK, Lymond has to navigate rumours both personal and political: what role did he play in his sister's disappearance and just how involved was he with the mob in New York? In the meantime, uncertain of his record contract and his inheritance, he has to make a living: he tours relentlessly with bandmates Turkey Mat (drums), Will Scott (bass) and Christian Stewart (guitar).

Queens' Play

Francis in the style of Munch drawn by me

"Don't move" (Lymond wakes up from an accident to find Christian by his bedside)

Trembling (Philippa Somerville thinks her father has just returned - it turns out to be someone quite different)

Humiliation (Will Scott tries - and fails - to humiliate Lymond)

"Stay with me" (Richard pushes his injured brother too far)

West Germany, 1983: Ireland's Eurovision entry, ex-model Oonagh O'Dwyer, is forced to pull out because of industrial action at the Irish state broadcaster. Her partner, the playwright Cormac O’Connor, convinces her they may as well go to on that holiday to Munich and Berlin anyway. The Artist Formerly Known as Lymond, in a techno-goth outfit with Irish producer O'Liamroe, is on hand to disrupt events and keep an eye on young Mary Fleming, part of the British ensemble. But while he's there who can say no to a few illicit cross-border gigs in the GDR? Western decadence at its most provocative...

Disorderly Knights

Laced drink (Margaret Erskine is on hand to comfort Lymond in the aftermath of a heavy night)

Pinned down (Oonagh searches the wreckage in the aftermath of an illicit gig)

Seeking control over his career, Lymond decides to set up his own recording studio and fill it with hand-picked talent. In researching the kind of set-up he wants, he's pushed to get in touch with master producer Graham 'Gabriel' Reid Mallet, who is now a senior figure in the spiritual movement established by Rajneesh/Osho. As the miner's strikes rage on and police response toughens, the role of music in protest comes into sharper focus than ever.

Pawn in Frankincense

Shackled (Jerott Blyth witnesses the carnage at Orgreave picket line)

"Don't try to fix me." (Adam Blacklock thinks he recognises something about Joleta's behaviour)

Bloodied shirt (Everyone is sleep-deprived and grumpy as they leave Dumbarton in the middle of the night)

Stab wound (Lymond is late to a DJ set and misses an altercation)

Joleta and her favourite things drawn by K

Dragged away (Philippa and Joleta go for a night out in Edinburgh)

Scars (Joleta is curious about Lymond's scars)

Nightmare (Joleta stays over with Mariotta Crawford, trouble ensues)

Recovery and "None of this if your fault." (Philippa waits by her friend's bedside after an overdose). Illustrated by K.

It's your choice babe - so you choose well (Archive warning for rape, E. Gabriel/Jerott)

Oonagh and Joleta drawn by K

Oonagh in Rajneeshee red drawn by K

Abandoned (Oonagh O'Dwyer abandons her life in Europe for the promises of a Nebraskan ashram)

Breathe for two (Oonagh realises she's trapped at Graham Reid Malett's ashram)

It's time to try and break America - second time lucky?/Or will America break Lymond? As a front for a final showdown with Gabriel at his ashram in Nevada it's not exactly subtle, but at least Lymond gets to learn something about his family along the way.

The Ringed Castle

Human shield (Marthe takes Philippa into her first mosh pit)

Delirium (Jerott suffers with a combination of delerium tremens and cyanide poisoning)

Adrenaline (Luckily, there's a telenovela star called Dona Maria there to get him out of jail)

Asphyxiation (still suffering from the poisoning, Jerott wakes up at Baron Morgan's motel)

Secret injury (Gabriel doesn't want Jerott to leave the ashram)

This is it, that's the end of the joke (Jerott is at Graham Reid Malett's mercy immediately after his escape attempt).

Jerott in the style of Munch

The only one keeping me sane. (Marthe takes care of Oonagh at the ashram).

Marthe's t-shirts, illustrated by K

Unconscious (Lymond and a small blond boy sleep off their adventures)

Ransom (Gabriel catches up with them in Vegas)

Hallucination (Archie figures out the cause of Lymond's present malady)

Muffled scream (Philippa and Lymond share a Vegas hotel room)

Tear-stained (Oonagh and her son are going home)

Anemone (Jerott accompanies Francis into rehab; he's in denial about a number of things though)

Marthe and Oonagh, illustrated by K

Más é an ceol bia an ghrá (One night stands in Dublin: Marthe goes to Oonagh's leaving party, Jerott stays in the hotel bar)

1987, glasnost: Lymond and an ambitious group of artists, experimental sound technicians and musicians are invited to tour behind the iron curtain alongside Ukrainian bete noir Baida and his band. The tour is to be filmed by ex-propaganda director Ivan Vasilyevich. Meanwhile Red Wedge tries its hardest to get the people of Britain to vote in a non-Tory government at the general election.

Checkmate

Stitches Adam Blacklock has had a rough night)

Numb (Richard encounters his brother in Dundee)

Embrace (a version of the Languish Locked in L scene)

Philippa's Raspberry Beret drawn by me.

??Profit?? No really I need to write more of the rest before I know what the fall-out here is going to look like. It will probably involve: Nelson Mandela's 70th Birthday Concert, the opening of the Cairo Opera House and the Fall of the Berlin Wall.

Post-Checkmate

Beaten (Jerott Blyth has been behaving badly)

All we need is music, sweet music (After a successful gig in Calais, Jerott longs to be closer to Francis)

Soap, soup and salvation (Danny teaches Adam to cook for Kate)

Coisich, a rùin [come, my love] (a series of scenes in Francis and Philippa's relationship)

Spoilers for overarching plot NO REALLY POST-CM SPOILERS

Don't wake the house (Jerott breaks down on an half-familiar (OC's) shoulder post-Checkmate)

Jerott, Archie, Adam and Kate get ice cream, drawn by me

A love that seems great beyond growth (in need of rest and recovery, Marthe visits Oonagh in her new life)

"Would you just hold still?" and What I love about many waters (Philippa and Joleta go for cocktails. Lymond helps his wife through the hangover)

"Don't look at me like that." and "When you smile..." (domestic, married fluff with Francis and Philippa).

Pushin' palaces to fall (Thompson the pirate causes trouble for the Crawfords. He gets trouble back)

Morosexual (Danny has a tearful admission to make to Jerott)

If this name wasn't on my lips (Danny/Jerott record collection-based fluff)

Explosion (It's a prequel)

Period-appropriate playlists (links to Spotify, sorry)

A Purely Spiritual Love (you may hear this at Graham Reid Malett’s ashram)

In a position of ascendancy... / ...a knife gripped in each hand (inspiration from Danny and Adam’s Jewish background)

Every Cell Charged with Stark Common Sense (young Philippa’s folk influences)

tant que je vive (Francis/Philippa happily ever after)

A twinge of approval (Danny/Jerott happily ever after)

Nothing but the Cathartic (Francis thinks Sibylla and Richard are dead)

Feared before God and the Devil (soundtrack to The Ringed Castle)

Come to Linger (Adam/Kate happily ever after)

Such Hapless Hap (Francis pining over Philippa)

Hard-wrought with Unleashed Storms (an Oonagh O’Dwyer playlist)

Stop your breath (a Joleta Reid Malett playlist)

By Some Alchemy (an Archie Abernethy playlist. DRUMS!)

#pinned post #housekeeping #the lymond chronicles #lymond chronicles #lymond #dorothy dunnett #the band au #1980s au

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phoenixrisesoncemore · 4 years

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I want 8, the hand-kissing, because I am in some respects extremely predictable :D

(I am shocked. Shocked, I tell you.)

8. Laying a gentle kiss to the back of the other’s hand

In the polygon of morning sunlight on the floor of jingshi, Lan Wangji is three lines.

One is a headband: straight and steady, a wall of rules made of silk, pale and hard as ice; a horizon—a divider of things—Heaven above and Earth below.

One is a guqin string: the first finger of his right hand hovers over an A as it shimmers and evaporates like morning dew, passing from the “is” into the “was.” Such is a language that can speak to the dead.

And the third… The third only Wei Wuxian has seen.

Beneath five layers of white and a sun-shaped scar, a muscle beats steady and slow. He’d dug them out of the raw earth, carved talismans right into ribs, and seen them in their natural state, rotting inside scrimshaw cages. “Keep me alive that I may kill,” he had intoned, his mouth dry with terror and thirsty for revenge as bones popped and sinew creaked and muscles moved anew.

None ever beat, less so like this one. On a mountain of corpses turned to soil, none were solid ground. None raced to look at him or pulsed when he muttered a name.

“Lan Zhan?”

Lan Wangji keeps playing but meets his gaze without hesitation. Wei Wuxian realizes he has no statement or question to follow with; none was really intended, and he fails to contrive one instantly. The thrill of knowing that he can garner Lan Wangji’s full attention with such ease is still overwhelming, and were Lan Zhan really made of thin jade, the whole world, too, could see that muscle picking up speed.

‘May I have the honor of a glimpse from you?’ He had once asked.

It has been a string of hazy early mornings and quiet afternoons since he returned to The Cloud Recesses. Overly quiet. As if something was waiting to be said.

From Wangji rises gentle pops of color: a golden A, the soft green tincture of E, the purple query of G. Sometimes they are soft as rain, sometimes they are momentary fireworks.

There is no end of notes; they spring up like weeds.

But neither had there been an end of corpses.

It was at Nightless City that he had first seen the third, the line that runs from the right hand all the way to the heart, reaching at right angles against the other two down the face of a cliff to catch him, to anchor him to the world when he did not want to stay.

“Let me go, Lan Zhan” he had said.

Now it had reached across 16 years...

“Indulge me, Lan Zhan,” he says. He rises, crosses the room, and drapes himself closer, balanced on elbow and hip, back to the guqin on its low table, and punctuates with a single spin of Chenqing.

Lan Wangji’s hands do not miss a note. “For Wei Ying, always.”

Wei Wuxian purses his lips and worries Chenqing’s tassel, twisting it around his finger. “Shizhui told me something interesting the other day.” He pauses and lets the silence sit between them for a moment. “He said that when he was younger he used to hear you playing Inquiry late at night, and that’s why he asked you to teach him: because it was ‘the saddest and most beautiful thing he had ever heard.’” He spins Chenqing again, suddenly introspective. “I don’t think of Inquiry as beautiful, but then… I suppose that would depend on who’s doing the asking… what is being asked… who it is being asked to.”

He does not need to look: he can feel the sudden and subtle electric tension. “Lan Zhan, were you—by chance—playing for me?”

He had never answered when Wei Wuxian asked about burning money, but the guqin has gone silent, so Wei Wuxian waits, the thrill of expectation rising. Then Lan Wangji plucks a solitary note: E flat.

E flat?

Yes.

Ah, so this is our game!

Wei Wuxian rolls excitedly onto his stomach in front of the dias, beaming, his hands clasping Chenqing under his chin. Lan Wangji’s gaze is demurely downcast.

“Lan Zhan, tell me the truth: did you burn money for me?”

Yes.

Wei Wuxian practically giggles with delight. “When I left this last year, did you miss me when I was gone?”

Yes.

He’s going to hurt himself grinning like this. “Did you truly miss me when I was dead?”

Yes. But the note is plucked harder than it should be and it quavers.

“But you find me so boring! Really, how long would it take you to get tired of me?” He crawls up onto his knees and plops himself into a sitting position at the table, guqin between them.

“I know I don’t have much core to speak of,” he pats his abdomen gingerly, “and I’m working on that! But let’s say we both became immortals, would you get tired of me then? 16 years is one thing, but 160? 1600? 16,000 years? Imagine how boring, Lan Zhan!?”

Lan Wangji is silent.

“Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian leans in close and low, trying to catch his eyes under those lashes. “May I have the honor of a glimpse from you?” Lan Wangji looks up at him, and the gaze is so intense that Wei Wuxian feels suddenly vulnerable. “What on Earth did you want to ask me back then?”

Lan Wangji is quiet for long enough that Wei Wuxian starts to think he has no intention of answering, but then...

“If the lotus seeds were ripe. If you thought the day was pleasant. If you heard the birds singing near Cold Pond, and if their song reminded you of the past. If you could forgive me for having only bitter soup for dinner. If you could see the kind young man A-Yuan was becoming. If you could divide for me the black from the white. If you knew the name of the song. But now… Wei Ying, now I think you do; I no longer need to ask that. So I will ask something else.” He swallows suddenly and Wei Wuxian could swear he’s trembling. “May I make this Wei Ying’s home? Will Wei Ying bear the early mornings and quiet hours and bitter soup and cold winters? Will Wei Ying allow me 16,000 years of Inquiry?”

Wei Wuxian is struck dumb. He sits back, slack-jawed and broken open. What can he say? How can he say…? Did he really wake this morning or is he dreaming still? He feels sloppy, wholly inadequate; his lips are clumsy things, his limbs an awkward pile of angles. How can he be worthy of the look on Lan Zhan’s face? Tears well up and surely he will combust.

But there is no end of tears. Tears spring up like weeds.

And there will be no end of corpses. But he is not a corpse. They are not. No, far from it.

Wei Wuxian fumbles with Chenqing and raises it to his lips where he plays a messy and solitary E flat. In truth it is more than that: a polyphonic note in a contrapuntal song that he’s sure only Lan Wangji can hear.

Gently, he reaches for Lan Wangji’s right hand, the one that had reached for him 16 years ago. Pale as a lily, the nails kept long to pluck the strings of his instrument, he wraps it in his fingers as delicately as he has seen Wangji handle his rabbits and brings it to his lips, and if some of his tears mar that perfect skin he has a feeling Lan Wangji won’t mind. The kiss is soft but is not the tickle of joss paper waiting for the fire; it shudders with his breath but is not the brush of a moth’s wings. It’s tender and reverent and warm with the promise of days and kisses to come and is very much—so very much—alive.

“16,000 years of Inquiry… We should get started then.”

He lays the palm of the hand against his cheek. His smile erupts without warning, and to his delight, Lan Wangji is not prepared.

“My dearest Lan Zhan, what would you like to ask me?”

———

In January gifs and meta about The Untamed started rolling across my dash. As interesting as it looked, I was determined not to watch—just no time for that. And then I saw you posting meta about it, and well… you made it sound very good, and I figure you know what you’re talking about. Add to that one particular gif you reblogged: the moment in the opening scene when LWJ’s arm, clothed in bloody white, reaches across the frame towards WWX as he falls. That was the first image of this show that really seared itself into my brain. So, I offer this with thanks for inspiring me to watch this amazing show (and with endless congratulations)!

Notes:

OK, admittedly it’s not a sun-shaped branding iron in The Untamed, but I like the sun shape better.

E flat is what “yes” sounds like to me during Inquiry in the man-eating castle, but I’m also the last person anyone should consult about music.

Still incomplete associated fanart HERE (color illustration on right).

[update: finished fanart can now he found HERE]

#my fic #the untamed #cql #mdzs #wangxian #chen qing ling #mo dao zu shi #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #my writing #fytheuntamed

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gumnut-logic · 4 years

Photo

Thunderfam Appreciation Post

I’m giving this a new post to prevent scroll city, but the original and several reblogs can be found by clicking the above link. Also, it’s an excuse to post a piccy of Virg cos any excuse, really :D

Many thanks to @willow-salix for writing this question list :D

Before I start, I just want to say that I value every member of this fandom. I’m often hopeless at communicating in group settings so I don’t speak to many peeps, but that is my failing, not anyone else’s. You are an amazing group and you have supported me and each other just brilliantly over the last nearly three years that I have been hanging with you guys. Thank you ever so much for all your wonderful support and encouragement. I’ve had so much fun and created so much stuff…you guys are amazing. Thunderfam rock!

Please note that my memory is pathetic and I will fail to mention everyone. Please do not take any offence if you aren’t listed below. That does not mean I don’t value you, I do, it just means I have swiss cheese between my ears.

-o-o-o-

Your favourite writer of your favourite boy.

@i-am-chidorixblossom You are a whumper and comforter after my soul. You speak the Virg :D @vegetacide I adore your turn of phrase and your description is to die for.

The person who's stories you will always read.

I try to read most fics that come across my dash, but there are a few that have me jumping up and down. @i-am-chidorixblossom , @vegetacide , @tsarinatorment , @scribbles97 , @the-lady-razorsharp , @janetm74 Of course, I regularly fail at this as some of you write a huge amount of fic and I am often playing catch up, but fic!

Who wrote the first fic you read in this fandom.

I landed on FF.net back in May 2018. I immediately ran into @the-lady-razorsharp who I knew from another fandom ten years prior and she was absolutely wonderful, drawing me in and introducing me around. I gobbled up several of her fics in the process.

Person you can talk to for the longest without a break.

I am hard to get started, persistence is required, but once started, it is usually hard to shut me up. @scribbles97 @vegetacide and @tsarinatorment have all discovered that. Dangle a Virg, a plotline and stand back.

Person you can't be trusted to be left alone with.

Um, @vegetacide and I have plotted out the entirety of Warm Rain together…poor Virg. Add @the-lady-razorsharp into the equation and Virgil ends up with a beard, dressed in leather and riding a Harley – that was a hilarious evening. Between @tsarinatorment and @janetm74 Virgil gets grey hairs and has to go rescue Scott – because Scott inevitably ends up in the story :D @scribbles97 gets the blame for Gentle Rain – expand your horizons she said ::headdesk:: But then there was the time I left one random line about Eos visiting Virgil in the shower and went to bed. I woke up to hilarity and chaos as Thunderfam took the idea and ran with it! Love you guys :D

Person whose fic made you cry the most.

I know there were at least two fics that made me cry, but for the life of me I can’t identify them. I did cry writing my own fic – Flannel – and don’t tend to reread it for that reason. Purupuss traumatised me with A Quiet Day to the point I had to put it down and walk away for a bit ::wails::

Person whose fic made you laugh the most.

I have no idea. I know there are fic out there and I know I’ve read it, but without a complete list of everything I’ve read, I don’t have a clue.

Person whose fic made you think the most.

Aaaargh, I don’t have a master list so can’t remember everything. Staring at my paltry favourites list on FF.net (which was mostly gathered three years ago and never maintained), Purupuss’ ‘Brothers in Arms’ and her whole Quiet series has me wanting to write a Scott-Virgil telepathic fic (and she has given me permission to run with the idea, I just haven’t actioned it yet). Counterpoint by Swallow and Amazon is amazing and likely contributed to Sotto Voce.

Person you have laughed with the most.

I’m really not liking this ultimate one person idea. I’ve laughed with a lot of people in this fandom. I’ve candy cannoned a bunch of you as well :P There has been mad plot cackling, evil conspiring, fic written to stir pots and delight on purpose. Hell, I’ve even written fic that was purposefully a giant virtual hug because I’m so far away that even if half the world wasn’t in isolation, I couldn’t hug most of you. Sure, I talk with some of you more than others, and there is laughter in those chats…oh, god, so much cackling, poor, poor Tracy boys. But then there are also so many smiles both vocalised and not. Thunderfam is one of my happy places. Bring on the belly laughs :D

Your comfort fic that you'll go back and read again on a bad day.

I will often resort to my own fic when I’m really down simply because it helps me get to sleep :D and it is kinda tailored to me ::grins:: (and my memory is that bad I often forget what I wrote anyway – yes, it is that bad) But there are also a few on my FF.net favourites list. Mostly hurt/comfort in a Virg flavour. Cheesycheese, nhsweetcherry, A Small Rescue by Nalina, Breathe Easy and Under the Weather by @loopstagirl – several of hers, in fact – the Virg ones :D Pretty much anything that has Virg fainting and being looked after apparently :D Chiddi and Veggie fic, of course.

Favourite piece of fan art.

I have never been so honoured by artists before. This fandom has some amazing skills and I have been gifted some beautiful works. You guys are amazing (I keep saying it like a broken record, but you are).

Again, I’m stuck on having to list one and I can’t. I think Fanart Appreciation Month in January pretty much summed up my opinion.

Who have you known the longest in the fandom.

@the-lady-razorsharp followed by @vegetacide both wonderful peeps. I can’t miss out on @weirdburketeer either for her amazing support almost from day one.

Favourite OC.

I have to say that I really enjoy reading about Ray from @i-am-chidorixblossom ‘s fics :D He is so gentle and kind and just ::sigh:: Virg likes him lots :D Selene by @willow-salix is, of course, a major presence in the fandom and amazingly written. @hedwigstalons ‘ Claire is lovely.

Person who supports your work the most.

The Thunderfam? There have been some wonderful people who support all the time. @hedwigstalons @cg29 @janetm74 @weirdburketeer in particular have been amazing support liking and commenting on just about everything I write. I honestly don’t know how they do it. Plus several peeps over on FF.net and Ao3 who support me over there.

And then there are the poor souls who put up with me in chat and listen to my wibblies and whining and character checks and field random chunks of writing that get thrown their way. @scribbles97 @vegetacide @the-lady-razorsharp @tsarinatorment @i-am-chidorixblossom @onereyofstarlight @godsliltippy @willow-salix @janetm74 all have had random passages thrown at them at all times of the day and night by a crazy me begging for feedback. Does this work? Is this in character? Am I insane? What the hell is Scott doing? Is this John??? I give up, tell me what to do? Virgil is driving me insane! So, um, yeah

Person who's progress you are the most proud of.

I love those peeps who appear in fandom who start off poking around commenting and generally being lovely and then all of a sudden get out their own pens and start writing and they are frickin’ amazing! Both @janetm74 and @hedwigstalons come to mind in this department. Like holy cow �� ‘here is my first fic and I’m not sure’ ::reads it:: Omigod! Where did you come from? That was amazing. Sit down here now, keep doing that writing thing, bloody hell! I think being brave enough to pick up a pen and join in is a major thing :D

Person who's story you think is underrated and should be read by more people.

If I find fic I like, I reblog it and shout about it. What I like is definitely skewed in a Virgil direction and this dictates often what I’m going to read first. I can’t reblog what I haven’t read. So, this equation will always be skewed by ‘reasons I haven’t read a fic’ which mostly involves either Virgil or the fact I’m juggling RL. So, my answer to this is if I think a fic needs to be shouted about, I shout about it.

Something you think people would say about you.

She’s nutty.

Silliest 'thing' you do with someone.

I’ve been known to write fic on the fly directly into chat windows to try and distract peeps going through shitty times.

Favourite pairing you now Stan because of someone's fic.

Virgil/Kayo because of @vegetacide for reasons I have blamed her for multiple times. @the-lady-razorsharp and @weirdburketeer were accessories to the fact.

Favourite headcanon from someone's fic.

Um, Virgil and coffee? I got that from somewhere and it has infiltrated my fic…a lot.

Ultimately, though, I feel most people I interact with contribute to my fic and how I’m feeling. This has been a wonderful experience. I try to return the support as much as I can, but sometimes it is a juggle between writing more, my stupid fluctuating mood, the demands of RL and my own creative drive. I hope I’ve helped a few peeps, because you guys have certainly helped me ::major group hug::

And yes, I hug a lot, because to be honest, I have no other descriptor to communicate how I feel, so you get buckets of hugs :D

Tagging the Thunderfam. Feel free to grab these questions and run with them. You’re all part of the gang whether you write, read, art, gif, screenshot, chat, babble, stare at Virgil all day...I know I do a lot of staring.

Nutty

(Thunderfam rocks!)

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderfam #thunderfam rock

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