#in absentia
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As I'm doing my leisurely line annotation of mdzs I'm impressed by many things and one of them is how thoroughly it's spelled out that Wei Wuxian is, by nature and personal inclination, an incredibly difficult person to piss off. He just does not care about most insults.
Like. Wen Ning thought he was going to be mad at him, the day they met in Qishan, because Wei Wuxian stood up to a bully for him and then Wen Ning's nerves made Wei Wuxian look like a fool in front of all their peers, which while unworthy would actually be a fairly normal reaction. But in fact this never even occurred to him; he doesn't care about that kind of thing. He doesn't get mad on his own account and once the cut heals he forgets it was even made (idiomatic expression but also in his case possibly literal), these are defining attributes.
So the fact that two definitive chapters of his life wound up getting defined by his taking brutal revenge really serves to underline the level of provocation he was subjected to.
Also there's something there about him going off on Jin Zixuan the way he did back at Cloud Recesses. Because that was, actually, somewhat uncharacteristic behavior! He is not generally a punching first kind of guy!
Just about every other time we see him start a fight, or try to, he's either the one doing the shit-talking or there's someone there in immediate need of protection.
He punched that guy in the face not in the moment for being rude about Jiang Yanli, and not I think even for insulting Jiang Fengmian or treading on Wei Wuxian's own sensitive places, but because he hit on the statement that would be most painful to Jiang Cheng.
#hoc est meum#it's not coincidence jzx knew to say that either#not that he was targeting jiang cheng just#he clearly heard that from his mom#who heard it from jiang cheng's mom#which means *jiang cheng's mom* is managing to continue her campaign of psychologically sabotaging him for his own good#in absentia#i'd be pissed off too#mdzs#wei wuxian#mdz meta#character meta
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reading surreal fics at 1 am sure is an experience
(some very quick doodles inspired by MalkyTop’s serirei fanfic “in absentia*”, loved this one so much!!!!! And it’s so funny too???)
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For the first sentence game: "Whatever Maedhros had imagined upon meeting Arafinwë for the first time during the war, it was not that."
He watched, tired eyes stinging, until the steaming plains swallowed the unassuming figure of his half-uncle upon his horse.
He looked down at the copper circlet still dangling from the fingers of his left hand and read the message engraved on the inside in fine tengwar: For Maitimo, from Ammë.
"She hoped it might help you remember who you were," Arafinwë had said as he'd handed it over with veiled eyes.
What did she know of who he was? Maedhros cast the circlet into the mud and turned back to his tent.
#ask games#first sentence prompts#thank you for the prompt!#maedhros#finarfin#nerdanel#in absentia#ANGST
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A little Mother's Day drabble, set in the same reincarnation AU as this ficlet by me and this (by @lansplaining)
tl;dr Lan Huan visits Meng Shi to tell her about his intentions with A-Yao
Somehow Lan Huan ended up gardening with Meng Shi today, because the community garden is the only place where he can reasonably intercept her without her son around - and well, if someone is gardening right in front of you, you ought to roll up your sleeves and help.
He has occasionally visited her with A-Yao before, and he got to bask in their easy, comfortable banter even as a bystander. But today he has to ask her something that A-Yao is not privy to yet.
When he approaches her, she smiles with a glint in her eye. “Lan Huan! What a surprise! I’m sorry you have to see me in this state.”
“I happen to think Ms. Meng looks great in dungarees,” Lan Huan replies. “I hope A-Yao will follow her example sometime.”
She giggles pleasantly and stands up from her crouch with a little effort, eyeing him up and down. She seems to have already guessed that he has something to say - A-Yao takes after her, without doubt. “Well, don’t stand on ceremony.”
Rather than stopping what she is doing, she hands him a plastic container. “Help me pick these strawberries. Isn’t A-Yao with you today?”
A gentle platitude, because she likely knows where A-Yao is at all times. Lan Xichen has spotted the mother-son text chats on A-Yao’s phone several times, with a mix of envy and fondness.
He squats obediently and sets to picking the strawberries very carefully. “I am going to pick him up at six today. That’s why I wanted to speak with you before then.”
Meng Shi gives him a curious side glance, just this side of inquisitive. “I am all ears, dear.”
The endearment somehow bolsters Lan Huan’s courage. He had never known Meng Shi… before, only heard stories of her kindness and wit from A-Yao, but he was both relieved and awed to find that she is very, very similar to her son in more than just facial features. The first few times they’d met, he had earned from her the same scrunched up nose, the same squint of polite suspicion that he got from A-Yao when he’d asked him out for the first time.
It had not been quite perfect on the first try. Remembering a past life did not give him perfect insight on the current one; if anything it encumbered him with the fear of messing up and giving himself away carelessly.
During his first date with A-Yao, Lan Huan had learned from trial and error like anyone else. His car was apparently too new (he should have biked!) and his watch was too expensive (it was Shufu’s gift!) and A-Yao had been quietly wary of his intentions. Lan Huan couldn’t blame him, in hindsight. In damage control mode, Lan Huan had asked him if he wanted to split the restaurant bill or if he’d let him take care of it, and A-Yao had relaxed minutely. “You can take it this time,” he’d said. "I’ll pay next time.” Lan Huan had smiled brilliantly in agreement, and the evening had only improved afterwards.
“Are you zoning out thinking about my son? As you should, I suppose!” Meng Shi’s knowing laughter draws Lan Huan back from his reminiscing.
“I apologize, Ms. Meng,” he blushes. “I have a lot on my mind, and it concerns A-Yao as you may have guessed.” He holds out the container full of strawberries and brushes off his knees to clear some of the dirt. “He and I have been dating for seven months now, and I want to ask him to take the next step.”
Meng Shi’s eyes widen briefly and she purses her lips before setting down her gardening gloves and ushering Lan Huan towards the nearby bench. “Have you asked your family already?” she asks, neutrally.
“Not yet,” Lan Huan admits. “Whether they agree or not, I intend to propose to A-Yao anyway. If he agrees, only then I will tell them.”
Meng Shi’s lips quirk up in a smile, a single dimple popping on her cheek. “Why ask me, then?”
Lan Huan folds his hands in his lap, frowning. “I… I want your opinion, Ms. Meng. Do you think he will say yes? You and A-Yao are close. I have not been lucky enough to have such a relationship with my mother, but I admire it. Your opinion holds weight because you have A-Yao’s best interest at heart, as do I.”
Meng Shi observes him quietly for a moment, the declining sunlight making her look older than her years in the half-shade. Lan Huan tries not to think about how close she had come to death only a few years ago. It had been a story like many others; expensive treatment, nebulous chances of success. History almost repeated itself, but medicine had come a long way and her son had not spared any expense to get her treated, putting all of his other plans on hold.
Secretly, Lan Huan had talked to a few doctors and made an anonymous donation through a charitable company, unable to stand aside and do nothing despite his family’s rules about interference. But money could only do so much. He had not been able to hold A-Yao’s hand through sleepless nights at her bedside, or comfort him in any way. They had been strangers, still.
“A-Huan,” Meng Shi says, and Lan Huan startles like a deer. “For the longest time I thought you were too good to be true, and I could not trust you. I’m sorry about that. I have made mistakes in my youth and they have left me… afraid.”
Lan Huan nods quietly. It is not his place to divulge how much (or how little) A-Yao has told him of her life.
“But I believe in the evidence of my eyes,” she continues, patting his forearm with a gentle hand. “You make my A-yao so unspeakably happy, it cannot be a mistake.”
“Likewise, he does,” Lan Huan replies, finding his voice rough with emotion.
“What I want to know,” she continues, careful but not stern, “is how you think you know him well enough to marry, after only seven months. He is too pragmatic and too sensible to jump into something like this recklessly.”
Lan Huan sighs, shaking his head. “If I told you I have dreams of a past life, would you believe it?”
Meng Shi tuts gently and raises her brow. Lan Huan returns her smile, and continues: “Of course not. So it must be fate.”
“Usually people invoke fate when they are not willing to put in the work,” Meng Shi chides, “but you have done right by my A-Yao. Some people have tried to change him, some have tried to advise him, some have tried to take him away. You won’t take him away from me, will you?”
“I would never,” Lan Huan murmurs. “The only thing that would change is that I may visit you with him more often in the future, if it isn’t too much of an imposition. I would… like that.”
Meng Shi smiles knowingly, gently. Lan Xichen remembers the timeless gaze of a deity’s statue, and a shiver runs down his spine despite the warmth of the late afternoon.
“You’re such a good son,” Meng Shi sighs, “of course I’d love to have you.”
With a sharp inhale of breath, Lan Huan reaches up to wipe his eyes. A frail hand beats him to it, Meng Shi’s cool fingers patting his cheek patiently while he tries to get his breathing in check.
“So, how are you going to pop the question, A-Huan? Tell me everything.”
“I-I was thinking of taking him to the restaurant where we had our first date,” Lan Huan says, a little shaky.
“Oh, that’s going to make him so terribly nervous!” She laughs. “Maybe you should bring him these strawberries to mollify him, he loves them.”
Lan Huan smiles and pushes the basket of strawberries back towards her. “Keep them with you, with some luck he’ll visit you to share good news soon. Besides, he’s too clever. He’d know we talked without him, and I don’t want him to suspect anything yet.”
Meng Shi thumbs a perfect strawberry and nods conspiratorially. “Alright, I’ll keep your secret, my dear.”
#xiyao#xiyao drabbles#meng shi#lan xichen#meng yao#jin guangyao#in absentia#but still#mother's day#shiome fic
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It was a shame Gordon wasn’t with him.
It was the first thought that crossed Virgil’s mind the moment the call came in.
“Aw, man, Gordy would love this.”
Apparently, Alan had the same thought.
“FAB, Thunderbird Five, diverting now.”
Thunderbird Two responded smoothly as he turned the great cargo plane onto her new trajectory. They had been in Bangladesh fishing flood victims out of a nasty storm. It had been a long day for both Alan and Virgil and John had been hesitant to send them onto another rescue, but it had to be done.
Christmas Island was any biologist’s dream, but in particular, a marine biologist’s dream. The native fauna were odd, endemic, and in Gordon’s words…well, Virgil didn’t have that many words in him right now.
And he was kinda missing those words.
If Gordon were here, tired or not, there would be babbling excitement, despite the rescue.
But their fish brother was still confined to the Island, recovering from his injuries. Virgil found himself cursing the Chaos Crew silently through his teeth yet again.
Maybe a special trip out here was called for as a treat.
The sun was on a setting trajectory as they approached the lone volcanic island in the middle of the Indian Ocean. “Christmas Island, Thunderbird Two on approach. We need clearance for air space above the harbour. Freighter in distress.”
“Roger, Thunderbird Two. The sky is yours.”
“FAB.”
He dumped airspeed enough to engage VTOL and manoeuvred his ‘bird to a position directly above the foundering ship, not far off the main docking port of the Island. The boat was obviously off trajectory and heading towards a rocky headland.
If they had been moments later, this would have been a very different rescue.
It must have been fate for them to be in the area at the right time.
“Borkum II, Thunderbird Two here to assist. What is your status?”
There followed a calm and precise outline of a jammed propeller, a malfunction in a computer and a list of failures in an efficient system that left Virgil frowning.
But first to the immediate problem. “Thunderbird Five, John, can you kill their engines? They are reporting a computer failure. I’d rather solve half the problem before Two has to strain against that amount of power.”
“Attempting now, Thunderbird Two.”
“I’m dumping the module on the dock.” Get rid of Two’s weight in order to maximise her muscle.
It took moments, in which Eos reported success in navigating their computer network and gating a raft of viruses, all of which was leading John off in an investigative streak as to where they had all come from.
However, the engines were dead, and Two could do what she needed to do.
Four grapples and two enormous rear rocket engines brought the craft to a stop and stabilised her in the water. VTOL was enough to keep her steady and move her to a dock where she could be secured and her cargo unloaded, rather than strewn along the coast.
“Many thanks, International Rescue!”
“No problem, Borkum II.”
Virgil switched over comms. “Thunderbird Five, rescue complete. Retrieving the module and heading home.”
“FAB, Thunderbird Two.”
“I wish Gordon was here.” Alan was voicing Virgil’s thoughts again.
But those thoughts were derailed as he lined up Two to retrieve her module. One of the grapple launchers reported an error and failed to fire.
Virgil thumbed the dash seeking further information, but Two couldn’t give him anything conclusive.
“Five, we need to land on the Island. Can you get the necessary clearances? Grapple number four is showing a malfunction.”
“FAB, Thunderbird Two.” A moment. “You have clearance to land.”
“Thanks, John.”
He settled Two down beside her module in the carpark at the main docking facility.
“Now I really wish Gordon was here. He’s going to be pissed.”
Virgil climbed out of his pilot’s seat and his whole body creaked. He was tired, but he couldn’t agree more. “I’m going to check number four grapple. Why don’t you go and snap some holos before the sun sets?” Virgil reached into one of the cabin lockers and pulled out his holorecorder. “Here you go.”
Actually, now he had thought of it, he wouldn’t mind setting foot on the Island himself.
“Watch out for spectators.”
Alan’s eyes widened and he was immediately out of his seat. He grabbed the ‘recorder and jumped onto the hatch. “FAB, Virg.”
He disappeared below before Virgil could utter another word.
Virgil rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help smiling. “John, you got eyes on the squirt?”
“Always, Thunderbird Two.” But Virgil could hear the smile in John’s voice.
Back to work.
Stepping out into the tropical wet season was a familiar feeling. The dock itself was part of a large facility managing imports and exports. On the other side of the Island was the airport and air authority for the region. Christmas Island was part of Australia and despite being a fair distance around the globe from Tracy Island, it still had things in common with home.
He left his helmet in the cockpit, choosing to spend these few scant moments breathing the fresh air of another ocean.
He walked around to the grapple in question and shooting his own grapple gun up at Two’s undercarriage, hauled himself up there and had an argument with the much larger gun’s mechanical systems.
What he found equated to too much monsoon rain and a worn rubber washer that had degraded and jammed the system. A spare washer fixed the issue, but that also prompted the need to examine the three other grapple guns for similar damage.
In the end, he opted to swap them all out and threw off a note to Brains about finding a better material to support the movement of the heavy use equipment.
By the time he finished, the sun was kissing the horizon.
There was no sign of Alan.
“John?”
“He’s signing autographs.”
Virgil blinked. “What?”
“Alan went down to the beach and some locals spotted him. Don’t worry, just five young girls. I’m keeping an eye on him.”
“Girls? Really?”
John snorted.
Okay, maybe Virgil was a little too tired. “Give him five and then call him back. I’m looking forward to dinner.” Maybe a barbecue. Steak, maybe a beer, sit back and watch the moon rise. Maybe he could drag John down and get Gordon out of his room…
Something clambered over his boot.
His boots were sturdy by nature and if the scampering creature hadn’t been bright red in the waning sunlight, he might not have realised it was there. But it was bright red, as large as his hand, and very much a crab.
It was enough for Virgil to step back…hurriedly, not in a panic. It was only a crab, after all.
As big as his hand.
It appeared to be alone, however. None of those massive migrations this Island was renowned for.
Hell, if that had been the case, Gordon would be in his ear. Virgil had already checked; the annual red crab migration of Christmas Island had happened over a month ago.
This must be just a straggler.
Gordon, of course, was the source of Virgil’s knowledge about the red crabs. The one time they had been here before was during Gordon’s hydrofoil accident recovery as a special treat. Virgil had flown him in and stayed with him as the coastline was taken over by swarms of red crabs.
That was the reason why both Virgil and Alan wished he was here this time as well. The aquanaut adored Christmas Island and its crazy crabs.
Tracy Island had its fair share of endemic crabs, but none as spectacular as these hoards.
Virgil would do anything for his little brother and that trip was the proof.
Waking up with six large red crabs in your bed was an experience he had no wish to repeat.
He really, really loved his little brother.
The lone crab scampered across the tarmac and up into a grassy bank.
Virgil shivered despite himself.
And still wished Gordon was here.
He hit his comms. “Okay, Thunderbird Five. Two is secure. Where is that brother of ours?”
“Should I call him back?”
“Nooo…” Virgil grinned. “I want to see these ‘girls’.”
That earned him a snort and directions down to the local beach.
It turned out that the beach was a bit further away than Virgil had expected. The Island was as volcanic as Tracy Island and hence supported the resultant rugged terrain. The walk to the beach involved navigating around a rocky bay until Virgil finally found himself some sand.
The ship they had saved earlier was lit against the pier in the distance while Two hulked in the foreground on a rocky point.
Alan was standing with five girls in the middle of the beach just above the line of sea-wrack. Whatever they were talking about, they were definitely engrossed in it. One of the girls was crouching down and handing something up to Alan. His brother was wide eyed. Another moment and he had the holocam out and trained on whatever they were talking about in the sea-wrack.
It took a trek halfway up the beach before Virgil realised the wrack was alive and moving.
What the hell?
He stepped back, definitely hurriedly. “Virgil! This is amazing! Gordon is going to kill us!”
What?
But Alan was suddenly in front of him with a handful of….tiny red crabs.
They couldn’t have been bigger than the width of his little finger, but there were hundreds in Alan’s palm and climbing up his arms, over his boots, legs…everywhere.
What the hell?
And they were on Virgil. He scampered backwards up towards the edge of the beach, but there were tiny red crabs on everything. He brushed them off as gently as he could and in the least panicked way he could manage.
Didn’t help much.
He darted up the beach, over the stone wall at the edge and onto the grass. But there were tiny crabs there as well. Perhaps not as many, but they were still crawling up his legs.
“Virgil?”
“Alan, I think it is time to go.” His voice was a little louder than normal.
“But all these baby crabs…Gordon will love this. Can we bring him back here tomorrow?” Alan was attempting to film his handful as they climbed over his everything.
Several of the girls were giggling at Virgil.
Great.
He pulled a little crustacean off his baldric. It was quickly replaced with another one.
“Alan, we’re leaving. Anticontamination protocol is in effect.”
“Aww, really?”
“Professionalism, Alan.” The one he pulled off his shoulder was bigger than the rest. Definitely bigger.
There followed a happy-unhappy drag of a little brother off the beach. It involved whining and a swapping of at least three phone numbers.
Unbelieveable.
“I’m flying Gords out here tomorrow. He has to see this!”
Virgil had no doubt.
But the problem was, he wasn’t willing to leave Gordon’s care solely to their little brother. Sometimes heavy lifting muscles were needed.
Even ones covered in baby crabs.
It took some compressed air to make sure they were both clean of the endemic wildlife. Virgil even ran a mediscanner over the both of them to doubly make sure.
He had no wish to remove the crabs from their island habitat or hurt them in any way. They could just stay on their island and he would stay on his.
Of course, Alan babbled all the way home. Apparently, he had some fantastic footage of the babies that Gordon would just adore. There was also some extensive planning for a full family day trip the next day so everyone could see the baby crabs.
Virgil had no doubt that both John and Scott would be absolutely thrilled.
Not.
But they all loved Gordon, so chances were that they were all going to Christmas Island as soon as practically possible.
Alan already had John arranging the appropriate paperwork.
Virgil loved his littlest brother as well.
Damnit.
By the time he brought Two into land, Alan had worked enough on him that he was actually looking forward to the planned trip.
After all, they were only tiny crabs, weren’t they?
Two sighed as he killed her engine and let the turntable do its work. He relaxed back and let his shoulders drop.
Food and some well-earned sleep.
And hopefully no dreams about crabs.
“Hey, Virgil, what’s that?”
He turned to his little brother. “What?”
Alan’s eyes were widening and not in joy. He pointed towards Virgil’s chair.
Virgil looked down just in time to see a claw the size of his hand reach around the edge of his pilot’s seat.
What the-?!
But the thought didn’t have a chance to complete its profanity as Virgil was out of the chair and halfway across the cabin before he could swear.
A massive, brown crab took up most of the back of his pilot’s chair. It had to be at least a couple of feet across.
“What the hell is that?!” It was waving one of its huge claws as it clambered around the now empty seat and took Virgil’s place.
“Um, I’m sure Gordon knows.” Alan was clambering backwards out the other side of his seat.
Both operatives evacuated the Thunderbird at a considerable pace.
Gordon was consulted and amongst the laughter at their expense it was revealed to be a robber crab, yet another common arthropod inhabitant of that island that Virgil had very little wish to revisit but had now apparently been lassoed into landing on again tomorrow.
It was either that or Robbie the Robber Crab was going to take up permanent residency on Tracy Island. Something that was never going to happen while Virgil was an inhabitant of said Island.
Red crabs the size of his hand in his bed, he had handled. Baby crabs crawling all over his body in the hundreds – he could possibly handle those. But giant crabs up to a metre wide? He only had so much love for his little brother.
Maybe he should wear his exo-suit tomorrow.
The rest of the night was spent talking about crabs. Watching the holovids Alan had taken of the baby crabs and listening to a dissertation on the crab inhabitants of Christmas Island performed by Gordon Tracy, Aquanaut and Marine Biologist.
John refused to come down.
Scott suddenly had a business meeting tomorrow.
Kayo didn’t come home either. Virgil had suspicions that John was a tattle-tale.
Virgil glared at all of them.
But the joy in Gordon’s expression destroyed every protest he could possibly think of. And Alan was as eager as the fish.
Virgil sighed and resigned himself to his fate.
Gordon dug up some online footage of robber crabs overturning trash cans.
Virgil just stared.
Gonna wear the exo-suit.
Definitely.
-o-o-o-
Scroll to the bottom of this post to see what Virgil was tackling.
#thunderbirds are go#thunderbirds#thunderbirds fanfiction#Virgil Tracy#Alan Tracy#Gordon Tracy#Fishtank#in absentia#fishtank week 2023#christmas island#nuttyfic reblog#yeah I'll write something new at some point
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Prodigal - Porcupine Tree / for @uncontrol-freak /
#porcupine tree#steven wilson#prodigal#in absentia#prog rock#my edits#i'm still kinda rusty after such a long break but i was trying my best!#hope you like it <3
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In Absentia (Smalt Blue - Violet - Luminous Red - Sky Blue), Acrylic on canvas (2016) by Wanda Koop
The In Absentia series explore the connection between urbanism and the natural landscape.
Wanda Koop lives and works Winnipeg, Manitoba, where she has been based since early childhood.
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I won't shiver in the cold
I won't let the shadows take their toll
I won't cover my head in the dark
And I won't forget you when we part
Collapse the light into earth
Collapse the light into earth
I won't heal given time
I won't try to change your mind
I won't feel better in the cold light of day
But I wouldn't stop you if you wanted to stay
Collapse the light into earth
Collapse the light into earth
Collapse the light into earth
Collapse the light into earth
#Quando domani suoneranno questa finalmente piangerò tutte le lacrime che innqueati anni non ho pianto#Collapse the light into earth#Porcupine tree#In absentia#2002#Prog metal#Prog rock
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4:05 AM EST December 13, 2023:
Porcupine Tree - "The Sound Of Muzak"
From the album In Absentia
(September 24, 2002)
Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm
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"Burn", this week? (Is the answer "Loyalty"?)
Correct! And here's a snippet:
When you reach Larkspur's house, there are two pixies waiting outside of the door. "Larkspur's not taking visitors today," says the one on the left, before the one on the right stops him.
"These aren't travellers. They're his friends. Two kobolds, a human, the one with the eyes…"
"Two kobolds and a goblin, it's supposed to be. Not two kobolds and a miniature dragon!"
@jtl-fics lad's here
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Now, now, boys. Don't fight. There's plenty of Dick to go around....
#bruce wayne#batman#slade wilson#deathstroke#dick grayson#in absentia#don't be jelly Bruce#you know Dick still comes home to you#the level of plumage brandishing is off the charts
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#steven wilson#porcupine tree#prog rock#in absentia#grace for drowning#progressive rock#prog metal#progressive metal
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So, I’ve been absent...
My wife had knee surgery and I’m attempting to play nursemaid. I have my own medical issues, so it’s wiped me out. I just want to fall on my face, but I have to put on my fake smile and get the stuff done.
But, anyway, I found this crumpled photograph, taken pre-Victorian - okay so it’s not THAT old, but it looks it.
These things are not the same...
Give up?
One of them is not me. (I’m the good looking one.)
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listening unbelievingly to the strip the soul 'demo'. demo forsooth, mister steven wilson
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hello!
i really like your works on ao3 (i've read them ALL like a junkie in a span of few days), so i wanted to ask whether 'in absetia' will be continued?
Oh wow. Thank you!
So, short answer: I’m not sure?
Long answer: I’d really like to. Chapter 7 is fully drafted. And about 75% of it is in the second draft. It all needs to be edited. I have an outline for the remaining two(ish) chapters. It just needs to be written. I’ve had some big life things happening lately so I’ve had considerably less time to write but hopefully I can get back on it this year and finish it… eventually.
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#UnDiscoPerLaPausaPranzo - #1497 - 10 Luglio 2023 - Porcupine Tree - In absentia - 2002
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