#and the wens are dead

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

News spreads fast.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[lady-of-the-spirit]

"JC should have defended WWX and the Wen remnants-" babe he has no political capital right now. He's rebuilding his sect from the ground up after a war. He's been locked out of the Venerated Triad. He's the youngest sect leader. How could he have defended them and not doomed himself and his sect all over again.

[chrliekclly]

[aaniag]

(a deleted shot from the mv.... why tho!??)

how come I just saw this!???? wtf--- HE'S SOOO FUCKING HOT OMG OMG OMG WTFFFFF!!!

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[qiu-yan]

shenshen = qin su

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: before the nightingale sings

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for my batdad blood blossom au, the one where Vlad poisoned Danny with blood blossom extract and Danny ran away from him and ended up tumbling into the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman :). A quick oneshot telling the tale of the tragic deaths of the Fentons

TW: Major Character Death Warning

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Not all deaths are created equal.

That is a valuable lesson in life to learn. One that Danny learns when he is eleven years old, standing in the pit of his parents’ creation; the culmination of their life’s work. The portal to the other side, the realm of the dead. To the infinite. 

He learns that when he’s eleven years old, in a hazmat suit that sags on him, and boots that clunk when he walks because the only ones that fit are his mom’s, and even those are too big. In gloves that he has to clench his fists in because otherwise they fall off. In goggles that slide down his nose even when he’s tightened them the farthest they can go. 

He learns that when he’s eleven years old, choking on giggles that harmonize with the laughter of his friends’ who stand at the mouth of the tunnel. Sam’s holding a polaroid in her hand. They’re just being kids. 

They’re not laughing when Danny’s hand hits the safety lock — the one with faulty wiring, the only one in the tunnel. The only one he could possibly hit. They’re not laughing when the portal buzzes to life, and the lights inside switch on row by row as the generator begins to rumble and hum. 

They’re not laughing when Danny dies. They’re screaming. They’re not screaming when he comes back.

Not all deaths are created equal.  

Some are poetic, beautiful. The satisfying close of a book as it comes to an end, of the hardback thumping soft against the pages like the sound of a door closing. A train run its course.

Some are violent; unsatisfying; unfair. The unexpected shattering of an egg as it rolls off the countertop when nobody is looking, the unmistakable crack as it falls to the floor. It is abrupt and messy. 

But most are just… unremarkable. Unintentional. Clumsy. 

Danny’s family dies one night in late January. He is thirteen years old, barely a month away from fourteen. It is unforeseen. It is preventable. It happens. 

It happens like this: 

Their water heater breaks one Monday in January. It’s old, sitting in the garage, and has dealt with nearly sixteen years of Fenton-grade chaos and shenanigans. Of parents tossing scraps and junk into the garage as brief storage to come back to later. Of illegal tune-ups on their vehicles that result in something exploding. Of little children running around and knocking things over, playing with poles and sticks they find on the ground, on the shelves. Of being lived and used.  

Something had to give. 

Jack Fenton notices it immediately when he comes upstairs that very afternoon — his children at school, his wife downstairs — to grab something from the garage. The very same scrap and used material they store like squirrels to use later. 

He stops what he’s doing to fix it.  

It wasn’t supposed to be permanent. 

Despite what many believe, Jack Fenton is not the idiot people make him out to be. He knows what he’s good at, he knows what he’s not. He knows he can be passionate and obsessive and single-minded about things. He knows that he is a scientist, an inventor; an engineer. 

He knows that he is not a plumber. That fixing water heaters is not something he knows how to do, not safely. And he loves his family. What he does is only meant to be temporary — a fix meant to only last a few days until they can call someone in who can fix it for them. 

So Jack Fenton futzes with the water heater, gives it a temporary stitch to last a short while, and reminds himself to call a plumber later that day to come in and fix it. He turns and leaves the garage with the part he came for —  a sheet of metal for his wife to melt down — and disappears back downstairs. 

He does not make that call; it slips from his mind. 

It is not his fault. 

One day passes, then two, then suddenly it is Thursday. The water heater has still not been fixed, the water heater has been forgotten. It is nobody’s fault.  

Danny asks his parents at breakfast if he can stay over at Tucker’s house for the night. Just one night. They’re going to study for their math test and then play video games until midnight, but he only tells his parents that first half. 

He’s been doing well in school. Really well — better than he has in a while. There’s been a delightful lull in ghost appearances for the last few weeks. The living don’t know why, but Danny does. The Winter Truce always calms the dead down for a while, something about how the Zone cleanses itself twice a mortal year and that fresh wave of ecto clears out the old and brings in the new. 

This year Danny got to participate. He’s feeling the effects of it too, and he’s been sleeping consistently well for the first time since the accident. 

It’ll never happen again. 

His parents agree under the condition that he doesn’t stay up late, and Danny harmlessly lies through his teeth and agrees. He goes and throws overnight clothes into his school backpack, and when he leaves for school with Jazz his parents are already departed into the lab. 

The last conversation he has with his sister is in her car on the drive to school. Inane, mindless conversation to fill the air and pass the time. Jazz comments on how relaxed he’s been lately; Danny tells her about the Winter Truce. She listens in rapt attention. 

She tells him that she’s glad to see him so well-rested. She thinks her little brother’s been growing up too fast these days. She thinks he’s been too tense. Too caught up with the spinning of the world around him that he forgets about himself sometimes. 

When they reach school, before Danny can get out of the car, Jazz looks to her little brother and says; “I love you.” 

Her little brother’s cheeks turn an embarrassed shade of red. He makes a scrunched up, grossed-out face, but can’t hide the smile pulling across it. “Don’t be a sap, Jazz. I’ll see you later.” He tells her, yanking his hood up over his head. She hears the bashful, ‘love you too’ before he walks away. 

That is the last conversation she ever has with her brother. 

Thursday is unremarkable, passing by in its normality as it always does. There’s one, maybe two ghost sightings; shades lurking around in curious infancy that are easily spooked away by the presence of a greater being. Danny doesn’t even have to go ghost. 

Thursday evening is even less so. Danny goes to Tucker’s house — Sam has a prior arrangement with her slam poetry club — and the two of them study for an hour before they toss their textbooks aside and reach for the game console. 

Danny sleeps in Tucker’s room with one of the extra blankets on his bed, curled across the room in one of the bean bag chairs. It shouldn’t be comfortable, but to Danny it is. He sleeps throughout the night, the portal shut down by his parents before they’d gone to bed. 

Early Friday morning, before the sun has even risen yet, before it’s even so much as a concept to grace the horizon, the water heater breaks again. It was supposed to be fixed. 

Carbon monoxide is a silent killer. Odorless and scentless, it kills within minutes. It fills the house like a shadow casting over the ground, creeping into the rooms. 

Danny’s family die in their sleep; painless and unaware. 

It’s not Jack Fenton’s fault. He didn’t mean to.  

Nobody wakes up with their alarms. 

Danny wakes up to Tucker Foley’s alarm on Friday morning, and he turns his head intangible and shoves it into the beanbag chair like an ostrich hiding its head in the sand. Tucker gets up before him, and throws a pillow at him as he reaches for the alarm. 

There’s laughter, messing around. The both of them get dressed, and Danny has breakfast with the Foleys that morning. He takes the bus to school with Tucker, and they meet Sam by their lockers. 

To him, everything is as normal as it should be. There are no ghosts for him to fight right now, school is as school does, and he’s on top of all his schoolwork. 

He does not see Jazz at all that morning, he doesn’t notice. Their schedules are so different, their routes on different paths, that it’s not uncommon for Danny to not see Jazz until he gets home some days. That’s if there’s no ghost attacks. 

At lunch, he gets approached by her friends. Worried creases between their brows, they ask him if he’s seen Jazz. She hasn’t shown up to any of her classes. She’s not answering their texts. It’s unprecedented of her; unheard of. 

Danny doesn’t admit to the concern that swells in his gut when they tell him this. He shrugs at them, and says he hasn’t seen her either. But it was probably nothing to worry about; she might just be sick and sleeping it off. 

He offers to text her and let them know if he gets a response, and that seems to ease her friends enough that they shuffle away in uncertainty. He keeps his word, and does exactly that. He pulls out his phone and opens her contact, and shoots her a message.

‘Where are you?’ 

He doesn’t get a response back, Danny is left on sent. He puts his phone in his pocket, and with a sense of unease creeping in the back of his mind, goes on with his day. He gets no response by the time the final bell rings; and he tries not to be worried. 

The house is quiet when he opens the door. Unusually quiet. He drops his backpack to the floor, it lands with a hearty thunk, and begins to take off his jacket. “Mom! Dad!” He yells. He hangs it up, and slips his shoes from his feet. “Jazz skipped school today!”

A laughable untruth that would get his sister all riled up normally; she should be able to hear him from the front door if she was in her room. The house just stays dead silent. 

He can’t even hear the usual banging and crashing from the lab. His unease returns. He reaches for the intercom that leads directly down to the basement, and presses the button to turn it on. A burst of static, and then he speaks;

“Mom? Dad?” 

Danny lets go, and waits for a response. He gets none back. That never happens, not when the house is this quiet. Not when he knows they should’ve heard him. 

Something sickly and fearful borns in the pit of his stomach, and begins to snake upward. He heads for the lab. The cool metal of the door is familiar in the grooves of his hand, and he doesn’t even need to think about the code as he punches it in;  he simply lets muscle memory guide him. It’s been the same since he was little. 

The door hisses as the pressure is released, and he swings the door open. He takes the stairs down two at a time. Something is wrong. His parents aren’t answering him. His feet pound against the metal. 

“Mom? Dad?” He calls again, more worried, more frantic. More scared. His voice echoes down the stairwell, and he reaches the bottom before it’s fully faded. The lab is empty. The portal is still shut down. 

It was four in the afternoon, they should still be down here. 

Danny races back upstairs, fear-raised nausea coiling in his throat. “This isn’t funny you guys!” He yells when he reaches the top, shoving open the door with more force than necessary. His head swims, his voice cracked. 

He checks the garage, the car is still there. 

“Mom!? Dad!” His voice bellows out throughout the first floor, loud enough that it bounces back at him and rings against his ears. He’s never raised his voice this much — mom would scold him if she heard him. But she doesn’t show up. “Jazmine!” 

Finally, he goes upstairs, and he can’t tell if what he’s feeling is anger or terror. Something is very, very wrong. 

He swings the door of his parents’ rooms open first, and there they are, with the lights still off and the curtains still drawn. As if they hadn’t left their bed all day. Some of Danny’s fear lifts from his shoulders just by the sight of them, but he’s still trembling. Something is still wrong — the room smells… off. Not good, not bad. Just… off. 

He swallows dryly, his throat still thick, and steps into the room. “Mom, dad?” They do not stir. “Didn’t you guys hear me yelling?” 

There is only room static. Danny’s heart shrivels in his chest with a tenfold return of terror, he feels ill. He remembers, just now, that they’re not heavy sleepers, and his dad should be snoring like a freight house. 

Danny reaches their bedside in seconds, hand outstretching for the covers, “Momma? Dad?”

Not all deaths are created equal. 

But many of them are accidental. Unmeditated. Shocking.

Danny Fenton finds his family dead in his childhood home. He runs to his neighbors in hysterics, inconsolable, in tears. Nine-one-one is called, but there is nothing that can be done. They were dead for hours by the time Daniel Fenton returned home. 

He sits on the front steps of the neighbor’s house beside FentonWorks, his jeans slowly becoming wet from the snow that was unable to be scraped off, and watches the paramedics cart out his family beneath white sheets. There are police cars blocking off the street, yellow tape blocking off his house, red-blue lights lighting up the block, an ambulance on the scene. He is wrapped in a shock blanket, and he is missing his jacket and his shoes. His tears are freezing onto his face, he can’t feel the chill. 

Not all deaths are created equal

But all of them are unforgettable. 

[mxtxfanatic]

For Love of the Patriarch

How caring as Wei Wuxian is towards the dead is how protective of him the dead are even outside of moments where he feels threatened. Here are some of my favorite instances of the girlies and ghoulies baring their fangs for their Yiling Patriarch:

The curvature of Wei WuXian’s lips dropped slightly as he glanced at him. Jiang Cheng had also heard the dissonant tone, “Second Young Master Lan, what do you mean by this?” Lan WangJi’s eyes were glued to Wei WuXian, “Answer me.” The ghoul child and the blue-faced woman began to stir. Wei WuXian turned around and looked at them. They backed off slowly, reluctant, and sunk into the darkness.

—Chapt. 62: Evil, exr

As he expected, Lan WangJi said, slowly, “You should not accompany yourself with inhuman beings for so long.” The smiles of the girls who were tittering around Wei WuXian immediately disappeared. The gauze curtains swayed, at times blocking out the sunlight. The pavilion shifted between light and dark. Now, their snow-white cheeks seemed a bit too pale, so drained of blood that they almost seemed ashen. Their eyes were glued to Lan WangJi as well. Out of the blue came a chilling eeriness. Wei WuXian lifted his hand, gesturing for them to move to the side. ... Without waiting for him to finish talking, Wei WuXian’s expression changed. He suddenly stood up, “Lan Zhan!” Behind him, red light had begun to glow within the eyes of the girls. Wei WuXian, “Stop it.” Thus, the girls lowered their heads and retreated, but still they stared unwaveringly at Lan WangJi.

—Chapt. 71: Departure, exr

Even if one were to argue that the ghoul child and the blue-faced woman are protective over Wei Wuxian because he summoned them to fight, the same cannot be said for the ghost girls in the pavilion who were summoned solely for companionship. Yet both groups respond the same to perceiving Wei Wuxian as unhappy, as if they have a vested interest in his happiness. A man that can inspire loyalty and care in the living and dead is truly one of one!

[lgbtlunaverse]

So I've been wondering about one particuar point on the "Jiang Cheng marriage recquirement" list and it's the one about low cultivation.

Now on its face, except for the "must be nice to jin ling" point, the whole thing just looks like the most standard list of "ideal wife characteristics under a patriarchal society." naturally beautiful, graceful and obedient, coming from a good family, voice not too loud, etc. This leads to either the interpretation that jiang cheng really wants that (doubt dot png) or just... put all the most stereotypical things on a list even though that's not what he really wants.

In that context "cultivation must not be too high" sounds like a typical "men are scared of women who are smarter/stronger" thing. you know, the dudes who feel 'intimidated' when their wife or girlfriend makes more money than them.

...Except wasn't Yanli openly mocked for her low cultivation? Like, wasn't one of the reasons Jin Zixuan was such an ass to her initially because he shallowly assumed her lower cultivation made her an unworthy marriage candidate? Jin Guangshan may hate women who can read but society overal doesn't give the impression that high cultivation in women is seen as something undesirable. I mean... a wife that never looks like she's over 20 even as she starts aging? yeah I have no problem believing a misogynistic society is okay with high cultivation.

So if it's not there just to fit the stereotypical standard of an ideal wife...

Jiang Cheng, are you just describing your sister?

LIke?? Every single point on this list applies to Yanli. All of them. I don't mean this in a freudian incest-y way but in a "jiang cheng are you so unaware of what you want in a partner you just took the only woman you've had an unambiguously good relationship with and hoped no one would notice???" way. Does he know the difference in what you should like about your sister and what you should like in a spouse? Is he even aware he's doing this? Jiang Cheng answer meeeee.

[levemetal]

Local minor heavenly official ignoring instructions to not approach calamity ghost.

Day 5: Caught / Found

Ascended Yue Qingyuan and Calamity SJ! Consider this a continuation of Day 2 :) There's their happy ending, they finally meet again. Fits for both prompts tho I drew this with Found in mind.

memey extra under cut

[oh-dameron]

AU where Wei Wuxian awakens after the soul sacrifice but not the Yiling Patriarch. Because Wei Wuxian died the first time he was thrown into the Burial Mounds and every shred of his demonic cultivation was due to his powers as a resentful ghost; powers he no longer has, you see, because now he's alive again.

[sasukimimochi]

The sound of low, raspy humming of a familiar tune took his attention away, lifting his head to gaze into the nearby forest of Yiling. “Wei Ying?”

Following his siren song, Lan Wangji shook as he brought himself to his feet. He grimaced in pain, taking a few shallow breaths but never able to breathe too deeply. The ache in his back forced him to stop routinely, but he couldn’t give up now… The melody was so close.

He pushed forward, stumbling into dense foliage and pushing it aside painfully. “Wei Ying…?” His body froze, pupils shrinking in shock.

Sitting upright against a tree in the distance was a corpse holding a young child, and not just any corpse and child. It was Wei Wuxian with Wen Yuan. Calmly drifting around the corpse was a thick resentment, moving like a living thing protecting its young. The moment the two were stumbled upon though, the humming came to an abrupt halt and the resentment curled around the two protectively.

Despite Wei Wuxian not turning his head nearly as quickly as he usually would to figure out who had stumbled upon them, the resentment reared itself almost like a feral animal in defense, giving the two a wide berth from the Lan.

“...Wei Ying…A-Yuan?” Lan Wangji managed, his heart falling to his feet.

He was too late.

this first art for TDKW! What do you guys think? v//w//v i rly like this one im proud of it

See More for TDKW below the line!

“The Dead Keep Walking” / TDKW - General rating* *maybe Teen if gross things are described, tbh more likely to be teen but not sure.

TDKW is a short project I have planned centered around LWJ finding the dead body of WWX and A-Yuan is with him- but WWX is undead and walking. WWX may be a corpse, but he is conscious- a bit more like TGCF in that sense for plot reasons, but I may provide a sort of "as canon as possible" answer to fit more into mdzs properly. maybe something like a tag he attached to his skin or something before death combined with resentment from his living body.

WWX is not completely right in the head; he repeats things a lot, has lost the ability partially to actually debate with people (he will just repeat himself when he knows he's correct or wants something) has an uncharacteristically flat expression because of his state and his movements aren't always too fluid. he is however still good at protecting, as his resentment still resides with him in death. he has become more unapologetically feral as a result.

There's not a lot of information I can share yet for this fic, but I wanted to share it since I have been thinking about it for quite some time!

A R T:

Broken Lullaby Sparkles and fretting

Music Playlist!

Find more MDZS art/projects on my masterpost! ❤

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Heartfelt Reunion.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[arohuacheng]

imagining the story from pei ming's perspective is rlly funny i think. this god from all that time ago ascends again (you were there for the first two times) and immediately waltzes into a situation that fucks something up for your descendant (putting both of your reputations on the line, messing up how hard your descendant worked to become a god and how hard you worked to ensure that he would have that chance) and then refuses to let you smooth the situation out and on TOP of that your friend's little sister (who hates you and who you are trying to look out for by request of your friend) is on your case about it too. so you've gotta work all that out and then like. you chill for a little bit (still kind of upset about your descendant) until your friend undergoes a heavenly calamity. and then in the space of like A Day the god from earlier shows up again with a fucking ghost king, your friend dies, the little sister you're supposed to be looking out for disappears, and everything just kinda goes to shit. so you're like. grieving. trying to process everything. until your OTHER close friend goes off the fucking rails with the spirit of that guy she murdered, and then you get called out to the spooky ghost mountain where you're confronted with the girl whose death YOU were essentially responsible for and have never really come to terms with, and then like. you just kind of hang out with these gay people until everything resolves itself. fight some ghosts. fight the heavenly emperor. get your friend to stop being evil for a little while so she can fix the filing systems. and then you just have to keep being the god of love i guess

[sirenofthegreenbanks]

Zhou Zishu in EPISODE 32 & Wenzhou in EPISODE 09 finally the gifset to the fmv???

It’s your privilege to find me incomprehensible. I gave you my minutes; let them remain ours. I hope I haunt you. —Theodore Roethke, Straw for the Fire: From the Notebooks of Theodore Roethke

[lezleonardo]

Wen ning and wei wuxians bond is so so very special to me.

Where the yilling laozou may be the ghost general won't be far