#I sincerely believe that changing your mind over something is genuinely the most honourable thing someone can do

[kyouka-supremacy]

i’m gonna be honest when i first got in to bsd sskk wasn’t my thing 😭 but i followed you on a whim and now i’m fully crazy over them. like they take up all space in my mind. they mean everything to me. thank you for recruiting me o7

We got another one girls

[blu-joons]

Telling Him You’re A Virgin ~ BTS Reaction

Jin:

The moment your friend decided to make a joke about you being a virgin as you sat to dinner with Jin, and your friendship group had you livid. It was a conversation that the two of you had been itching to discuss until you finally made your way back to his car as your evening came to an end, desperate to clear the air.

Just as you went to speak, he managed to get in first. “I don’t care that you’re still a virgin, I just really want to make that clear to you.”

“I’m sorry,” you then confessed, “it wasn’t her position to say anything, but I’d understand if you were shocked or maybe a little taken aback.”

“I was a little, but mainly because I thought someone would have snapped up someone like you,” he admitted, “it’s not something that I feel negatively about though, in the slightest.”

“Really?” You questioned of him.

“Whilst I definitely think there was a better way of me finding out, it’s no big deal as far as I’m concerned. What’s most important is that you lose your virginity when you’re ready to, not when anyone else tells you that you should.”

“That’s actually really good advice Jin.”

“I’ve followed that my whole life, not just with sex,” he quickly assured you, “it doesn’t change the fact that I still very much want to be with you.”

“I’m glad it doesn’t, because I still very much want to be with you too.”

Yoongi:

You were expecting a remark or a moment of frustration from Yoongi when you told him that you were still a virgin, yet instead he remained silent until you were finished speaking. As you did, he simply shrugged back at you, staring at you as he tried to figure out why you’d got yourself so overwhelmed by it all.

His arm wrapped around your shoulders, “still being a virgin is no big deal at all, you shouldn’t let it be such a big problem for you Y/N.”

“You make it sound like it’s not a big deal,” you smiled, “but plenty of people have made me feel like it should be a big deal for me.”

His head shook in frustration, “this is what I hate, that such a stigma is put on being a virgin, when there really is so much more to life than the fact that you may or may not have had sex.”

“Don’t get angry,” you whispered.

“I’m not angry with you,” he quickly reassured you, “I just hate that so many people and things have made you feel like you need to have such a difficult conversation with me about this when it’s nothing at all.”

“I didn’t really know how to tell you.”

“You should be able to tell me though,” he continued to groan, “I don’t care, virgin or not, that doesn’t change the person that you are or the person that I like.”

“I know it doesn’t, but that doesn’t stop me being relieved to have told you.”

Hoseok:

It felt strange for you to feel Hobi’s serious eyes watching you as you told him that you were a virgin. The moment the two of you had shared had quickly fallen apart, fear washed over you before you could let your embrace get any further, leaving Hobi surprised, but incredibly understand of everything as well.

He rolled away from on top of you to your side, “why didn’t you just say rather than getting yourself worked up like this to be scared?”

“Because I thought I could do it,” you frowned, tilting your head to glance across at him, “but suddenly it all just got very overwhelming.”

He nudged gently into your side, “you should have just said something, I wouldn’t have been mad or anything like that, you know that? I would have understood everything.”

“I know you would,” you sighed.

“I get that the first time is probably quite daunting,” he spoke, appreciating how sudden it all became for you, “if I knew then I wouldn’t have been so intense, that probably can’t have helped the way that you were feeling.”

“I won’t allow you to blame yourself Hobi.”

“I know,” he chuckled, “but now I know, and now I can be understanding next time, and try and move things at a pace we’re both comfortable with.”

“I’d like that a lot, I’m just sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner.”

Namjoon:

You knew as soon as you admitted to Namjoon that you were still a virgin that you were in for a reassuring lecture, and of course, he far from disappointed. You could see him itching to speak as you told him what was on your mind, and as you finally finished, you could barely close your mouth before he spoke up.

His hand held onto your as he did so, “we’ve all been through this moment at some point in our lives, it’s not as big a deal as people think.”

“But you’re not a virgin,” you reminded him, “I just feel like I should have lost my virginity by now, I never thought I’d be like this at my age.”

Namjoon continued to sigh, “be like what? I would never want you to rush into something that you’re not ready doing, at any age, whether it’s sex, or anything else in the world.”

“You’re good at this,” you joked.

“I know,” he smugly responded, “but I get where you’re coming from. I thought my virginity was something that I should have lost straight away, and for a while, it felt strange when I didn’t, but it’s not something to be ashamed about.”

“You’ve made me feel a lot better.”

“Good,” he chimed, offering you a wide smile, “don’t keep things like this bottled up, talk to me, and I’ll be there for you, no matter how stupid you think it is.”

“I’m incredibly lucky to have you, I can’t quite believe it.”

Jimin:

As you glanced across at Jimin, for once you could see a genuine and sincere colour in his eyes. Whilst so many of your conversations were tinted with a joke and a smile, he could see the importance that came with you telling him that you were still a virgin, clearly able to see how it bothered you and left you worrying.

The moment you fell silent, his voice spoke up, “are you telling me this because you’re scared? Worried that I’ll leave or something?”

“That’s exactly the reason,” you admitted, “I always imagined that no one would ever want to be the first of someone who’s never had sex.”

A heavy sigh came from him, “you couldn’t be more wrong,” he responded to you, “if, it’s me, or anyone else, it would be an honour to be your first, and something so important.”

“Really?” You shyly quizzed.

“Of course,” he whispered down to you, pulling you into his chest, “it’s nothing something you should feel ashamed or embarrassed about. Everyone loses their virginity at different rates and moments in their life.”

“I wish my moment would come.”

“We’re not going to rush anything,” he replied, implying he hoped your moment would be with him, “but I’m not going to go anywhere.”

“I’m relieved to hear you say that Chim, thank you for being there.”

Taehyung:

The blank expression on Taehyung’s face as you confided to him that you were still a virgin had you confused. He looked back at you as if you’d told him nothing, far from telling him something that had been eating away at you for so long. As far as he was concerned, you’d told him something natural, nothing to be scared of.

After a moment of silence, he finally spoke up. “Why do I feel like you’re expecting me to be mad or something like that.”

“I thought you’d at least judge me,” you admitted, “that’s what so many other people do, and yet you’re sat like it’s no big deal.”

His hand stretched across the table for you to take a hold of, “that’s because all of this really is no big deal. I’d be a fool to judge you based on the fact you’re a virgin, it’s nothing.”

“Do you think?” You questioned.

“Absolutely,” he chimed, squeezing your hand a little bit tighter. “Everyone has been a virgin, some people die a virgin, but I wouldn’t judge them either. What’s important is that you’re comfortable, not what others think.”

“Do you think it’s stupid?”

“No,” he whispered, smiling softly back at you, “but if it’s something you feel insecure about, then I don’t want it to be. I want you to be comfortable with who you are.”

“I am comfortable around you Tae, more than anyone else.”

Jungkook:

As you spoke and told Jungkook what had been on your mind for the past couple of weeks, he simply wrapped a tight arm around you. His head nodded when it needed to, to make sure that you knew he understood, and that he was right there and supporting you as you finally admitted to him that you were still a virgin.

Once you finished speaking, his smile grew, “I thought something serious had been bothering you all this time.”

“You don’t think this is serious?” You questioned, relieved when his head nodded, and soft giggle escaped from him.

He reached across and kissed the side of your head, “being a virgin is no big deal, you should have just told me rather than let yourself get so worked up about something so small.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“Don’t apologise,” he chuckled, pulling you tighter into his side. “I’m glad it’s nothing big that was causing you to worry, but most of all, I hope you know that this is something you don’t need to worry about.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course,” he grinned, “we’re still young, and I think you should wait until you’re ready, there’s nothing wrong with waiting for the right time.”

“I’m glad, because I think maybe I’ve found that right time.”

---

Masterlist

[a-froger-epic]

Interview with a Queen “groupie”

Cross-posted to AO3. I encourage you to leave any comments you have there.

---

I compiled this interview following a long email exchange with J, a very sweet lady who went to Ealing Art School between 1972 and 1974. She knew all four members of Queen personally and was part of their larger circle of friends.

First off, you may find this hard to believe. I don’t blame you. But I assure you I’m not pulling your leg. As well as the pictures I share in this post, I have seen current pictures of J (which I will not share to protect her privacy). There is no indication as far as I am aware that she isn’t who she says she is.

Nastally, hold up. How exactly did you find this lady?

She found me. It turns out that she has been following my story Dawn of Aquarius for quite some time. The story is set in 1969. A lot of research about the era went into it, because I wanted to portray that time period - and Freddie’s and Roger’s surroundings - as accurately and realistically as I possibly could. That was what drew J in. She tells me it brought back a lot of memories for her. One of the reasons I love DoA so much is the nostalgia, she says, which genuinely means the world to me. Eventually, she talked to me in the comment section. Of course, I freaked out!

And then, I asked her for an interview, to which she replied: I will give it a go, but you must remember that I am 65 and there were great drugs in the 70s, and at 16, away from home, I had a lot!

And so...

Here’s what is IMPORTANT TO KEEP IN MIND when you read this interview.

These are one woman’s 50-year-old memories and subjective impressions. J has been incredibly kind to let me pick her brain, trying to recall everything as best as she can. In her own words:

Just remember that when I answer the questions, it is from a 16-year-old who is 9 years younger than Freddie and a little girl with no family and friends in a strange country trying to fit in. The only reason I was there, was because some hippie thought I had a unique art style.

---

J as a teenager.

[I have edited the interview together from our long, and somewhat messy at times, email exchange. Typos have been fixed and some punctuation added for clarity, but I have not changed anything J has written to me. Again, bear in mind these are personal opinions and impressions.]

So, J, how did you end up at Ealing Art School in 1972 and what was it like?

This was the painting done for the Australian school-leaving certificate.

It placed first and gave me a scholarship. I could pick France, the USA or England. As a dual citizen of the UK, the choice was easy. The scholarship paid for board and fees, so had to be and sell whatever for spending money.

This picture is from the dorm. We all had a 10pm curfew and a very thick rule book that, I am proud to say, I broke every one of them, one by one. The rooms were on the 1st and 2nd floor. We were on the first floor, rooms one side and admin staff the other end. We had two bathrooms for 18 girls. One of them had two baths. The walls were your standard half wall, so it was a given that if you had a bath you run the risk of having a bucket of cold water dropped on you. Downstairs was the kitchen and lounge room.

I want to ask you a few things about life in London in the early 70s, to get a picture of what it was really like. For example, was there alcohol at the music gigs you went to?

If it was a school, church or community hall, no. If it was a pub, yes.

Did you and your friends drink as much then as young people tend to drink now when you all went out?

No, we didn't. I think it had a lot to do with money. We didn't have the disposable income, and it was unheard of to still be living at home with the parents after the age of 20.

Was weed and LSD as big and easily accessible as depictions of the 60s and 70s would have us believe?

The drugs! Got to have drugs. Pot (weed) was easy to grow, very cheap. Used to smoke it in bongs rather than joints, more bang for your buck. Trips [LSD] were cheap, I think. About 2 pounds and you were on the high for over 24 hours with no sleep. My drug of choice was hash. Either the oil or the block. It was a nice high, but you could not function well. But if you listen to the music of the time it really does reflect what it was like, to have a group of friends over for a session. Having said all that the most outlandish and shocking drug I ever saw anyone use was the birth control pill. Didn't you have to hide that stuff away?!

Can you tell us some 70s slang that isn’t really in use anymore? What in the world does “ultra-blagging” mean? (As written in a letter penned by Freddie to his friend Celine in 1969.)

Abso-bloody-lootely!

Man, I thought I was the bees knees to be on a scholarship in London. But that didn't stop me from jigging or having a skive day. They were the days that I blagged my way into a pub, had too many lagers and ended up chundering in the gutter. That was how you knew your night was ace. I would get a right bollocking if anyone found out. It would be a bugger when all that you could find at a car boot sale was chavtastic, but sometimes you could be Jammy Dodger and tickety-boo you find something brilliant. Bob's your uncle. Anyways, I need to see a man about a dog.

[It seems to me that J uses a bit of Australian slang here, like chundering, which makes sense because she is, after all, Australian. She also provided the translation:]

Cheers

J

It would be my honour.

I felt very privileged to be given a scholarship that let me study in England. But being so young and having no family to guide me, it was often tempting to not turn up or give a false excuse for being sick. (I had a lot of food poisoning). These would often happen if the night before I had been drinking beer and ended up vomiting outside the pub. But in my young mind that was a good night. If any of the teachers found me drinking I would be in a lot of trouble. Often I would have to say I was holding it for someone else. Not having much clothes with me, I would buy them second hand from church jumble sales or other students and, yes, Kensington market (the market). Some of the stuff would not be very tasteful or in good condition. But sometimes you would find something that was cheap and in good condition. I will stop this text now as I must go to the toilet.

PS: Ultrablagging sounds very Freddie. Blagging was used, but not ultra, meaning to persuade someone to do something or act better than you are. They were always rock stars.

Sincerely

J

[It was at this point that I realised I was talking to an absolute legend. She also told me then that the majority of her old photographs had sadly been lost when her house was flooded in 1988, including most of the photographs from her stay in London. Noooo! :(]

When you went out to dance, did you have only live music? Were there DJs yet?

You know, that is hard. We did not have a DJ. Sometimes there would be a band. Often we looked for places with a band or the jukebox. I think pubs closed at 10pm and some stayed open to 12 or 1, but public transport stopped at 9. So if you had not arranged a lift then you had to make the last bus. Most of the time we would be heading back to someone's place to get stoned and then crash there. In the morning you would have to work out where you were. When I got back to Australia, the discos were all the rage. They could have been in London too but it was not cool to like disco.

How many people would show up to Queen’s gigs when they played in pubs or at, for example, the Imperial College?

Depending on the location and the night: 10 to 1000!

So how did you first meet the Queen boys?

I was at the pub talking about a band we saw last week when Brian stuck his head into our booth telling us he knew a better one. Thinking about seeing them at the stall... Roger not often, Freddie quite a lot. Often on different stalls, I think that is why I can't remember the name. [The name of the stall. Other sources confirm that Freddie also worked at Alan Muir’s stall, for example, selling shoes.]

How well did you know them?

Just looking at your tumblr account. [she has had a look at my blog, where somebody asked if ‘groupie’ meant she had slept with the band] No, I never slept with the boys. I would not say I was a close friend, but I started at Ealing Art College in ‘72 and moved in the same circles. I loved the music and could be called one of the first groupies. I had to sneak into the pubs because I was 16. Roger always teased me for being so young. They all did seem to be one very large family, not just the band. It was a group of about twenty regulars, both male and female. Everyone knew that Fred was too gay to function. We were all at the gay rights march in London in 1972, had to run after the march. Lots of sharpies [Australian slang: youth gang, thugs] wanting to bash us. Back then I was in every protest that was going, student union rights, even the secretary protest. Just part of the times, stick it to Man or Woman. I left London in ‘74 for Australia, been here ever since and lost track of the boys but have never stopped being a fan.

What do you remember about them? How would you describe their personalities?

Don’t let the trolls hate me, but I did not like Brian. I found him to be rather full of himself. Space was a subject you never brought up around Brian or you would die of old age before he stopped talking. He was always the first to speak and start a conversation and then quickly passed you off to John, who was always tired and shy. Roger was also quite shy at times. He was very self-conscious of his looks, as he felt being pretty, nobody would take him seriously. Fred, well, he was not yet the big star, so I think he was working on his stage persona. When talking to groups at parties, he had the best stories of things that had happened to him or close friends. They were very funny and very descriptive. He was the life of the party. When he had a few to drink or was the centre of attention, he would take a cigarette out of the closest person’s hand and start smoking. Now remember this is the point of view of a 16-year-old girl that was a fish out of water, trying to fit in and not having much worldly experience.

It is said that Freddie and Roger were very stylish. How did they dress in everyday life?

Fred would do his hair and makeup to check the mail. Yes, he was always turned out, but so were a lot of people. Freddie did go over the top with hats, scarfs and jewellery. With Roger, it is a surprise he was able to have kids his jeans were that tight. And his shirts were always open unless he was in a jumper. I think it could have been so that you knew he was male, as it was the start of the unisex clothing. When I travelled out of London I realised it was a London thing. When I got back to Australia everyone thought I was a show-off.

There are some disagreements about how tall especially Freddie was. I know this is a difficult thing to try and remember accurately. But do you remember?

Freddie was taller than me but everyone was. Roger was shorter than Fred, but I never saw Roger in platform shoes. I did meet up with the band by chance at Sydney airport in 1984, said ‘hello’ but they did not remember me, or if they did then they did not say anything and I did not want to be a dork. At that time Fred was the same height as me (5ft 8in/1.72m), Roger was taller than me. It made me think at the time that he had a growth spurt! John was shorter than me and Brian has always been tall. [I have a feeling the platform shoes - or lack thereof - played a vital role here! Although 172cm for Freddie seems likely.]

You said everyone knew Freddie was “too gay to function”. Attitudes towards homosexuality have changed so much that it can be hard for us, now, to fathom what exactly people must have thought of him. Was it more of a joke that he was so camp? Was it something he would have been teased for? Also, he had a girlfriend. Did you ever meet Mary or the other girlfriends?

In 1972 a whole group of us - and I am pretty sure that Fred, Roger, Brian and Tim were there - were in a gay pride march. [Since then, J has found and showed me a picture of a boy she thought was Tim Staffel, and it wasn't, so Tim was most definitely not there. Whether Freddie, Roger and Brian really were there or if J is misremembering, who knows?] Us youth believed you could not choose who you fell in love with and if it was same sex, so what? However, if it was two girls then it was every guy’s duty to change her!

It was also a time that the gayer the guy was, the more the girls were interested. Also, if a guy was gay then you did not have to worry about him and he was a good person to take with you if you were going out drinking. However, the police, parents, teachers and anyone of authority were horrified and treated them badly. I did meet Mary a couple of times at pubs and once after a gig. This is just my opinion, but I found her a bitch. It could be that I was so young. It could be that I was very Australian. It could be that she felt threatened as my accent was a magnet to people around. And the boys (Queen) were no exception. Brian had a cousin in OZ and was always asking questions. I remember that my close group of friends thought that Mary made the perfect girlfriend for Fred as they were as fake as each other. Having said that about them, I often wonder if I would think the same now and if my perceptions were just because she would not give me the time of Day. Chrissy and Jo were a lot of fun.

This was before your time, but I read that Freddie's nickname at Ealing Art School was ‘Freddie Baby’. Any ideas how this came about? His showmanship or maybe personality traits?

I don't think so. There were an older crowd that would talk like that. I think the slang ‘baby’ was a 60’s thing, like groovy baby.

How long, roughly, did Roger and Freddie have their stall? I can't find anywhere when it closed down. What did it actually look like? Was it a sort of wooden stall type of thing? Or an actual room? What were some of the other things people sold at Kensington Market? Mostly clothes or all sorts?

The markets were little divided shops. The back was brick and the walls wood. I have been trying all day to remember the name. [Of the stall.] I think it was something hard to say. More often than not it would be Freddie's dad in the store. It was still open when I left. Roger and Freddie were both in the store on Saturdays and some Sundays. There was a girl, I think Jill, who was in the store more. And during the week it could be anyone. You name it and you could get it at the markets. Second hand or designer clothes, shoes, jewellery, pot and assortments. Hair cuts, food, bric-a-brac.

Wait, wait. What? Freddie’s dad? Really now?

Yeah, it was an older Indian man. so we just assumed it was his father. It was my understanding that he started the stall then the boys would work it as the whole markets were set up for younger people, but if needed he would work there. I don't think the boys would be able to pay the rent on their own. [I have since found out that the stall closed in late 1971, and Freddie continued to work at the Market until '74, for Alan Mair and possibly others. So the stall J witnessed wasn't their original stall - explaining all the different people she saw there - but she had no way of knowing that it wasn't.] They always had incense burning that was very big in the 70s. I still occasionally bring out the sticks, but it does not last like the candles and diffusers of today. If you could get in touch with Robert Daniels, he ran ChaChaDumDum it was the stall across from Freddie. He would know the dates.

[J says it’s this look, in a picture she happened across while looking at my tumblr] Yep, that is the one. It usually means that he does not believe or agree with something that was said and is working out how to respond, or he has lost the plot.

You mentioned Roger seemed shy to you at times. Was he also quite charming? We read a lot about what a chick magnet he was. Was this the impression you had?

My favorite subject! I had a thing for Roger. Everyone has a type and mine is the blue-eyed blond. Now, before you ask, was he brunet? No, he was a mouse/dirty blond. If it was summer he would have blond streaks mostly at the ends. He knew he was pretty and was always dressed in the latest fashion and had the current hairstyle. So, being my type I was constantly watching him. Everyone slept around during that time. I did not notice Roger doing it more or less. 80% of the time he was with Jo. Yes, he was a chick magnet, but he did not do the chasing. He was always very polite to everyone. If it ever looked like there would be any conflict he would be the first to leave it. It was not that he was a coward, just not into conflict. If he saw anyone that needed help he was right there, and often had to have Freddie's back. I never saw him in a fight. He could always talk his way out of things. He was also very patient and would listen for hours to other people talk. However, he would get this vacant look in his eyes at times.

And Freddie would either click his fingers, change the subject or just give up. I don’t think that Brian noticed, and it would be fair game for John, he would see how far he could push it. Roger liked to drink a fair bit and when drunk he would be hanging all over Jo. If she was not there then he missed Jo. If, however, he thought that he or his friends were not being respected, then look out! It was a verbal volcano heading your way. That is what happened to me one time. I was trying to talk with my friends close to where a drunken Roger was and I yelled at him to shut the hell up, you wannabe blond. We/I coped a mouthful back, all in the same sentence, that finished with: Sorry, I didn't realise you were on your rags (period)! I have to have the last word, so I told him the truth: I don’t get them yet! (I was a late starter.) He went so red in the face and called me JB [jail bait] from then.

You also mentioned Roger’s cat Ziggy having kittens. I read about this but never when exactly it was. Do you remember?

I think it was winter ‘73. I remember being cold when he was asking around the pub. [To find homes for the kittens, I gather.]

Is it quite strange reading fictional interpretations of real people you knew? When did you first find out there was Queen fanfic?

No, we used to make up stories about people all the time, a verbal fanfic. Was looking up Adam Lambert and came across the fanfics. Some had me in stitches! Others, like DoA, had me hooked.

Please, allow me to be a little self-indulgent at the end. What's one thing I got totally RIGHT in DoA?

All the Ibex stuff.

What's one thing I got totally WRONG in DoA?

Roger did not have a temper, and I don’t know what the go with his father was, but he would talk about him quite a bit and was always visiting his mum. [Absolutely fair, not only did I change the timeline of Roger’s parents divorce in DoA - for lack of information at the time - but also created a completely fictional narrative around it for the sake of storytelling.]

J, thank you so much for all this, sincerely. Can you tell me a little more about yourself? Are you still an artist?

I don't paint or draw any more. At the age of a 50 the doctors operated on an aneurysm or three, and now my eyesight is very bad, I have no fine motor skills and a tremor. I was married in January 1984 and have just celebrated our 37 year anniversary. I have one daughter who is 30 and two great, although tiring grandkids. A girl, 11, and one boy, 5. I have lived my life as the average middle class Australian with great memories. Talking with you has helped me a lot to remember a time when the world was mine for the taking. When I returned to OZ I started nursing, met my best friend, and we planned that once we graduated we would go back to London to study midwifery. But I fell in love instead.

J's wedding in 1984. As you can see, she found her own blue-eyed blond.

---

Upon request, J has shared some of her past and present artwork with me.

These are from her time at Ealing Art School:

These were done later, back in Australia:

J: Did this just before Christmas as you had inspired me. It did not require fine motor skills!

So there you have it! I hope you found this little glimpse through a 16-year-old girl’s eyes as much of a fascinating read as I did. I urge everybody one more time to remember that J did not have to share any of this, and I think we all owe her a big thank you for delving into her memories. She is likely to see the responses on AO3, so I have comment moderation enabled there as I will not let anybody harass this lovely lady. The tumblr she created is @since72, but she isn’t really an active user and also very new to it all. Again, I can only urge everybody to be respectful.

If you have other burning question for J, feel free to leave them in the comments on AO3. I will either pass them on, or she may want to reply to them herself directly.

[anambermusicbox]

September 29 Day Countdown (27/29): 2021/01/15 Interview with iFeng Entertainment 凤凰网《非常道》

(11:20) Interviewer asks whether he’s more affected by hurtful words or kind words; Zhou Shen then goes on to talk about his relationship with his fans:

ZS: After all, I’ve now debuted for 6 years now- (*more subdued*) my skin has gotten thicker. Before, hurtful words had a very big impact on me. I’d see these words and think (*gasps*) What did I do wrong? Why do they have to say this about me? Do I have to change something? If I do this differently would they not say this about me? 

But later I realized, no (*waves his hand dismissively*) To them, the people that don’t like you, as long as you exist, they won’t like you. So before, I would be affected a lot more by hurtful words, but now its about 51% and 49%, with that 51% being the hurtful words. But I’m working on flipping the percentages. This way, I think, I’m also doing right by the people who support me.

Interviewer: I think there are actually a lot of people who like you. (*ZS bows and thanks her awkwardly*) The other day, I was online and saw your fans professing their love, fussing over you. (*ZS laughs*)

ZS: Oh that’s right, because- a few days ago, I was doing a performance and- I don’t know if this is just what this fan says to singers they like, but they said (*cups hands around mouth*) (*extremely high pitched shout*) “Rest for a bit!! You’re tiring!!! Yourself!!! Out!!!!” (*laughs*) (T/N: It was after he filmed the winter-themed Happy Camp with the Onmyoji movie cast; there’s a video of the exact moment—super hilarious, I’ll put the link in the notes.) [...] I want to tell them, I’m doing fine here, don’t worry—I can take care of myself.

Interviewer: I think the way they talk to you is quite 没大没小 (referring someone to being disrespectful and talking to someone their senior the same way they talk to their peers; Zhou Shen looks quite shocked at her choice of words) They really treat you like (ZS, interjecting: a friend) someone they can throw jokes at, a kind of idol that is very close to them. How do you view the relationship between you and your fans?

ZS: Oh, I really don’t know. To be honest, I really don’t know. [...] Even now, sometimes I think they’re quite stupid. I say this because, sometimes, even if it’s just to see me sing one or two songs, they’ll stand outside the venue waiting for four to five hours on a harsh winter day. I feel really bad for them. But it’s like, to them this is one way they feel that they can give me strength, and I can’t tell them not to, because that would hurt them even more. 

So sometimes I look at them and think, oh look at this stupid group of people, so idiotically supporting me. This kind of stupidity is really quite touching. I want to put forth my best effort to reciprocate what they do.

(14:55) Interviewer: “Do you have moments where you feel pretty rotten?”

ZS: Oh, too many. (Interviewer: Tell me about it, from the past to the present) Wow. Okay then we have to delay the program recording scheduled next (*laughs*) there’s a LOT. I mean, since my childhood, my classmates unintentionally- it was really unintentional, they didn’t have the maturity to know that their words would be hurtful. But to me, they were very hurtful. But you can’t blame them for it, because they didn’t understand anything at the time. (T/N: no you can totally blame them for it, you’re just a nice person shenshen)

And more recently, as an artist, I had my own “cold bench period.” I felt like, I was working so hard but no one was willing to listen to me sing. Not only that, I felt I didn’t have a way to be heard. Because there was a period of time when I didn’t really have any work and, wah, everyday I felt so purposeless; I was just a rain cloud, I was so discouraged (*laughs*)

Interviewer: What about now, now that you’re so busy?

ZS: If I’m tired, I’ll be happy because I’m happy that there are stages that *want* me to sing on them. [...] I worked so hard to stay in this profession because I wanted to be heard by others, and now that this day has finally come, with so many stages I can sing on, why wouldn’t I go?

(16:40) Talks about how he doesn’t mind labels, because that how someone remembers you; ZS: “I saw this one comment I really liked, this person was saying they always thought there were two Zhou Shen’s—a male one who was funny on variety shows, and a female one that sang deep emotional songs—until one day they watched a show and realized, what?? It’s one Zhou Shen???”

(18:30) Interviewer: As I’m conversing with you, I can feel very relaxed, very happy—that’s the feeling you give people. (*ZS bows and quietly thanks her*) But I know from looking at your past that your childhood was quite lonely. What makes you be able to still be so warm—that is, to go and bring others... happiness. 

ZS: I think it’s because I’m really fortunate. Because... (*looks up in thought*) I... I grew up in a very remote mountainous village, but I’m really fortunate to have so many opportunities—coming into the city, being able to learn and come in contact with all the culture I love, and later even being about to devote myself to a career I love. I feel very fortunate.

And I know that, when you feel extremely alone, if you suddenly feel something like a beam of warmth, the joy or the kind of hope that can bring—when you receive it, you’re so happy. I think, I want to do that, if there’s a possibility I could have the honour to do that for someone else. I think it’s so important.

(21:00) Talks about his parents:

ZS: Even now, my mom and dad are still wanting to- still are running their small business that they love; I think it’s very laborious. I keep telling them, you both are getting older, you should take advantage of your age and go relax, enjoy yourselves. They say, no, we want to take some burden off of you, to which I’m like eh? (*leans over and covers mouth to whisper*) Mom you’re losing money every year. *laughs* 

Especially with the pandemic, their lifestyles have had the most obvious impact. Because they’re not like the younger generation that can continue doing things online. All they’ve known is getting up early to open their storefront, staying there until it’s time to close at nightfall.

Interviewer: (21:55) Your parents, before they didn’t support you going into music. What about now?

ZS: They think it’s great now. But they worry because they feel they have no way to help me in this career. [...] They once said- I asked them something like this one day, how they want to help me now. They said they can give me their storefront. I told them, then don’t help me (*laughs*) Because I’ve used to help them watch the store all the time growing up! I used to be doing my homework at their storefront. Ever since I was little, I’ve always really disliked doing business. So I felt like, oh mom dad, no. 

I’m really lucky. Even though my mom and dad don’t have very high education—it’s really quite low to be honest—they still chose to understand me. I’m very grateful to them.

(1:45) Interviewer asks what his first job was:

ZS: After I graduated from high school, my first job was selling phones. (Interviewer: Were you standing all day?) Yup, standing. [...] (Interviewer: So you have experience in the workplace?) Well, to be honest, I didn’t converse with people much in my so-called workplace—I have a very introverted personality; I’m not too fond of or good at talking to people.

Interviewer: Would someone who doesn’t like to talk to people be able to convince people to buy phones?

ZS: That’s why I didn’t sell any. (*bends over laughing*) You really had to say it so directly. (*laughs*) Zhuang-laoshi, you’re an accurate judge of people! (*gives her two thumbs up*) (*Interviewer laughs*)

(3:30) Interviewer tries asking him a question related to emotional intelligence (”qing shang”, 情商) but gets her words mixed up and says romance instead (”qing chang”, 情场); ZS: “Well, if we’re talking about romance, that’s an area I don’t have much experience in (*gets up and pretends to leave*) (Interviewer, laughing: To be honest, that’s the thing I really want to ask about.) Zhuang-laoshi, I really don’t have any experience with romance (*laughs*)

Interviewer: Okay what I was going to ask is, do you think EQ is important in the workplace?

ZS: Super important! For one thing, every workplace involves getting along with people, and part of the way you interact with people depends on your EQ.

Interviewer: But some people say that part of EQ is a skill, a means to an end—would it come off as insincere to others?

ZS: ?? (*blinks*) Can you give me an example?

Interviewer: Like for example, if I compliment you like “oh you’re such a great person (*half-hearted clapping*)” when I don’t truly mean it.

ZS: Oh that was so insincere (*makes faces*) (*Interviewer laughs*) I’m starting to question myself (*laughs*) I don’t think that’s a problem for me though. That’s why you shouldn’t force compliments. I think it’s important to be genuine with what you say—then people won’t think you’re being fake. If people think you’re being fake, that in itself already isn’t a display of good EQ. Be sincere, but try your hardest not to hurt others.

Interviewer: I want to ask another question-

ZS: Is it about romance? (*laughs*)

Interviewer, joking: We’ll talk about romance in a moment.

ZS: no nO NO LET’S NOT DO THAT (*laughs*)

(6:10) About how Zhou Shen didn’t expect to get along so well with everyone else in “An Exciting Offer”《令人心动的offer》:

ZS: On the first episode, every time I put in my own two cents, I had to work myself up just to speak up. My heart rate was through the roof, it was like- (*takes a deep breath*) (*raises hand*) “Laoshi? (*exaggerated suppressed panic*) Can I aSK a quESTION? (*pretends to look back and forth between the others*) (*Interviewer giggles*) I think this is just like, you see, I believe in the workplace, people who are have this personality-” How was I supposed to converse like this? (*laughs*) 

So that was how I was for the first two episodes, but now in the later episodes, I got used to just casually interjecting whenever I felt like it. It was quite wonderful. The other teachers were very approachable, very friendly—it felt like, something you imagined before, but when you really are in such a group, it was like, oh this kind of goodness is something that actually exists. You feel very fortunate, very happy.

(8:50) Interviewer asks ZS if he ever lacks confidence; ZS replies that, even now, he’s not very confident:

ZS: Every time I’m on stage I get extremely extremely nervous. I’ll fear that, I won’t live up to the expectations of those who want to listen to me. But I’m slowly learning to- to get along with, to come to terms with this nervousness.

Interviewer: Then this year, you would’ve been so nervous all the time. Have you counted how many performances you had just this year?

ZS: I haven’t counted, but Shengmi, they compiled them all together and, excluding the ones that aren’t aired, there were over a hundred. Every single one of them, I’m behind the scenes like- (*makes loud deep-breathing-for-anxiety-reduction noises*) But I can’t let people see that so- (*dissolves into laughter*)

[jimlingss]

Thank you, everyone, for your words of encouragement. In this short amount of time, I’ve been absolutely overwhelmed with messages of support. I want to reassure you all that I’m by no means as hurt as some of you think, or at least not after so much kindness. I’ve always encouraged all kinds of feedback!! From compliments to constructive criticism. And I’m (supposedly) an Adult™, so I can definitely take someone’s opinion.

Regardless, thank you to everyone who reached out to me. I want to respond to each and everyone of you under this post so I don’t flood other people’s dashes.

Anonymous said: about the anon who said your fics lack emotion, hmm i wouldn't quite agree tbh, i remember reading tears of a villian and deadass crying, it hurt me so much!! also, in "fall in hatred" their feeling are so well portrayed and i could understand why they acted a certain way! to conlclude, there is always some space for constructive criticism but your stories, are to me, something very attentively built and created, it's apparent that you completely enjoy writing, I can feel your enthusiasm!!

--to that anon; pls don't get this wrong way but it's just the way I see it and I've read quite a lot till now

nah deadass crying isn’t good enough anymore, anon. You have to be keening and violently sobbing until you’re brought into the ER for my fics to be considered to have emotion. lol I’m only kidding, thank you for the message.

peachiest-hun said: To that anon who said your work lacked emotions, I beg to differ! I have read Jungle Park so many times I know at exactly which chapter when the heavy angst starts happening and I read those parts when I just want to have a good cry (I still cry every. single. time)! Also Head Over Heels to Hell, The Colour of Our Voices, Love So Shallow (because I so relate with OC), and many more have given me the FEELS (happy and sad ones). 1/2

So what I'm trying to say is that Jimlingss is doing a great job in her craft. She does deliver emotions in her work and the reason I love it so much is that it's SUBTLE and not completely in your face. Sometimes emotions that are subtle and they hit you slowly, but powerfully it hurts even more for me. On another note, I'm loving Sugar and Coffee. In times of darkness which are often these days, I have something to look forward to every week to keep me motivated. So thank you Jimlinggs! 2./2

Istg Jungle Park is one of the most unexpectedly beloved fics on my blog but I love it hahaha I can’t believe you’ve read it to the point of knowing what chapter is what though. that’s an honour. There’s definitely stories of mine that are less subtle than others, but I’m glad that you enjoy the latter of them too :’) Thank you.

Anonymous said: This is my first time ever leaving a message on someone’s tumblr, but I just felt that I HAD to after reading that anon’s comment about your stories lacking emotion. I wholly disagree (in the nicest way possible, not throwing any shade at anyone). I’ve read all of your fics (for the past two years) and I look forward to when you release new material (the highlight of my Mondays right now after I come home from working at a clinic). Your stories have really lifted my mood during this pandemics an

Anonymous said: Sorry for that long tangent. Don’t even know if I made sense. You don’t have to respond to any of this, but you deserve to hear some positive words as well.

Oh my god. Did I just take your tumblr-message virginity? asdfghjkl I’m kidding. but thank you for reaching out to me. I can’t believe you’ve been around for such a long time and that I’m a part of your Monday routine :’) 

Anonymous said: OK that ask about "constructive criticism" was def imo RUDE. You don't just anonymously go into someone's asks and bluntly tell an author that their fics "lack emotion". That is not the way to encourage someone to improve and continue to work hard. That's just flat out mean. That person clearly doesn't care about your feelings or the fact that you write and share your stories for FREE for us to enjoy. I love your stories and appreciate what you've shared with us. Thank you for your hard work ❤️

I like to give the benefit of the doubt to anons and anyone sending me a message online in general. God knows there were times I meant well but it was received wrongly. But anyway, my mind was more boggled than I was hurt, that’s one thing for sure.

joonie-mono said: + it was called love so shallow which genuinely made me see myself in a character, but my point was that your writing has a specific feel to it, it's made me laugh and cry (His Name personally killed me :] ) and that's my opinion. You and your writing are amazing and I'm sorry but that anon was just so wrong.

oof bringing out the evidence. be my attorney please.

Anonymous said: As someone who has read your entire masterlist (and going through it again) i will have to wholeheartedly disagree with that anon. The way you portray SO many emotions in your fics is *chefs kiss* and I honestly thought that the ones that “lack emotion” were meant to be that way, with an open ending, the idea that their love just started, soo.... yeah, I’ll have to disagree.

There are definitely stories of mine that are a bit looser on romance. Such as Kitchen Romance, The President’s Son, The Heiress’ Son, Arcadia, etc. But I have a loooot of fics that are quite emphasized in either despair/sadness or cute fluff.

ladyartemesia said: ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! I am here to disrespectfully disagree with anon who probably doesn’t write effing ANYTHING and has no idea what it takes to produce the content you do. I have followed for months and I’m still not through your masterlist BECAUSE reading your stories is a bloomin EMOTIONAL EVENT. When I read Brass and Strings, I LOST A WHOLE DAY. Like I was so into it, my DAY was gone. Anon is prolly salty there isn’t more smut I guess. That’s whatever for them. (Part 1)

It’s subtle, deep, meaningful, and incredible and you’re one of my favorite authors. I can’t FOR A SECOND let that comment go cause it’s RIDICULOUS. You’re literally so gifted. You don’t need to change a thing. Every artist, no matter their medium, should continue to improve. So in that sense I wish you all the growth in the world as you work towards the perfection of your craft. BUT SERIOUSLY you’re an incredible writer. That anon is loony. I’m so sorry you had to even read those crazy words.

As I answer these messages, it’s starting to feel like I’m the third party mediator of a dispute and all y’all are just HAMMERING it to this anon, LOL. I’m not sure if the anon is necessarily requesting for more smut but if they are, they might be happy this Friday (*COUGH spoiler for those actually reading my responses)

Anyway, you’re too kind. thank you. I am definitely not as hurt as I was earlier.

((and tbh you’re hilarious, you’re actually making me laugh irl))

krystle1990 said: Woah!! Ok first that Anon is absolutely crazy. I literally stalk your page for new work being put out! I probably blow up your notifications daily. I've never been disappointed in any of your work. You always give a heads up if it will take time for the characters to realize their feelings which I absolutely love. It always leaves me ready for the next part and I am glued to my phone with every update. You're amazing and I can't wait to see how you grow with your work. 💜😘

ASDFGHJKL PLEASEEE if it’s someone who’s worried about blowing up notifications, it’s me. To those who have notifications on I sincerely can’t fathom how often I blow up people’s phones. I digress, I always give out warnings to keep people patient since I know slow burn can be excruciating haha thank you for the message.

kigurumu said: Also just want to add that saying you have good intentions or "don't mean to be mean" does not cancel out whatever offensive thing you just said. IT WILL STILL RUDE. Not saying all negative feedback is bad. Criticism can be hard to take no matter how it's phrased, but telling a writer to be more like another writer is like telling them their style isn't good enough which is NOT helpful. Your writing is your own. If the anon wants to read fics that are like gukyi's, they can read gukyi's fics 🙄

Also I've been waiting until Sugar and Coffee is done so I can binge it all at once but avoiding spoilers from all the asks is so hard haha! I keep seeing all these good things about it and I'm SO tempted to just read it now but I've already waited this long so I don't wanna give up kfnrjrofvjskdh guess I'll reread your other fics in the meantime

The message was fine on its own but I think dragging in another writer at the end was definitely not ok. When will comparing writers end. But regardless, gukyi and I are cool with one another - i mean we wrote 100k together so it’s gonna have to take a reverse Zuko arc for us to be on bad terms lol

Anyway, oooh you’re one of those bingers. Can’t say I blame you cause I love binging myself, so it’s understandable for readers to wait till the series is over. and since you were so kind in following up your original message with two more and expressing so much appreciation for me :’), I’ll let you know that the finale of Sugar and Coffee will be posted by July 20th! by then, the entire series will be completed. 

Anonymous said: Tbh i think that neither you nor that anon is wrong. Some people like it more romanticised and cheesy, some people dont. I believe that your stories are more on the realistic side of life. People (whom your characters represent) cant always be cheesy and passionate for love, there are other things in life! Maybe you're just the type who's too realistic for any hopeless romantic things like i am and it's fine. Not all writers can write dramatic romance

Tbh, I agree. It’s a matter of opinion and there’s no one wrong in the fight of opinions. As I’ve said many times on my blog, the cringe factor varies between person to person. What someone might think is fluffy is absolutely cringey to another. What someone might think is a good amount of fluff is not enough for someone else. I’ve written a lot. And I’ve made sure to add lots of variations between the amount of romance in my stories. Indeed, some are definitely more subtle and “realistic” while others are completely cheesy and makes me gag from the amount of sugar in it lol I just think the anon should take a look at more of my stories before coming up with such a conclusive opinion.

Anonymous said: I’ve been reading your fics for over a year now and religiously follow updates every week. Why? Because they make me feel something whether it be joy from fluff or grief from angst. I’ll remember a story of yours months after I first read it and return to it just to feel those emotions again. I understand that emotional responses are usually subjective but I think that anon needs to read your works again, because they sure are missing out.

I replied to that anon that they should check out more of my fics and then come back to tell me if they haven’t changed their minds, so I don’t know if they’re missing out or not lol

I don’t expect my stories to elicit emotional responses or fanatic feedback for everyone. God knows there’s been other people’s writing styles that just didn’t resonate with me no matter how hard I tried to read their stories. But all I ask is that people try. It’s fine if you give up halfway but at least try reading. That’s fair to ask, right?

[ibijau]

Second to last instalment of the Bad Timeline, and seeing how original timeline LXC deals with this :D

BIG WARNING for suicide, blood, major angst, and implied violence against animals. 

The first few days of hiding in Cloud Recesses had been the worst ones. 

Xichen had been consumed with rage and grief and sheer betrayal over what had happened. He had known that Jin Guangyao was not all that he seemed, events had opened his eyes to that long before Wangji and Wei Wuxian barged in with the mangled body of his first love. But he had never imagined that his friend, his sworn brother, the man he'd trusted above any other, would have fallen so low. 

Huaisang’s own betrayal had been rubbing salt into the wound.

Of course, being manipulated into stabbing Jin Guangyao had been a shock… and there could be no doubts about that manipulation, not once Xichen had had some space to think about it. He knew what his husband was like when he lied. 

And yet, he could have forgiven this.

He could not forgive that Huaisang had never said anything about Mingjue’s death. That he had allowed Xichen to remain friends with the man who had so cruelly murdered the man he loved. That he had never trusted Xichen after all, no matter how much Xichen had tried to convince himself otherwise. Or had Huaisang thought that his husband had been an accomplice in his brother’s death? Xichen had pushed so much for Jin Guangyao to play Cleansing to Mingjue, he’d wanted so badly for his best friend and his lover to get along again. Huaisang would have been excused for suspecting Xichen.

But then, it meant everything between them had been fake. It meant Xichen had never become as good at reading through his husband’s acting as he had believed. All that affection and tenderness, those moments of happiness, the way Huaisang melted at the first sign of gentleness… could he really have pretended about that? And if so, what did it say about Xichen that he had taken all of it at face value, so desperate for closeness that he’d fallen for those lies?

By the end of his first month in seclusion, most of Xichen’s anger had calmed.

It was replaced by guilt.

He had failed Mingjue by trying to force that friendship with Jin Guangyao, by refusing to see the warning signs. Mingjue had told him that Jin Guangyao was dangerous, but he hadn’t listened, hadn’t wanted to judge too harshly someone who was so hardworking, who had risen in spite of difficult origins.

Maybe he had failed Jin Guangyao as well, by not seeing how life in Lanling Jin was changing him. In spite of all evidence, Xichen still believed that his sworn brother had been a good person once. Perhaps all this tragedy could have been avoided in Xichen had just known how to offer help the right way. Jin Guangyao too had suffered from his efforts to maintain the friendship between him and Mingjue. Who knew if he would have turned to murder if they had just been allowed to drift away from each other.

Above all, Xichen feared he had failed Huaisang. They were married. They were cultivation partners. They were friends even, or so he had thought. And yet, Huaisang had never come to him with what he had found out about Jin Guangyao. He had preferred to take revenge alone rather than to share anything with his own husband.

How to blame him, when Xichen had failed to protect those he loved before.

Somewhere near the end of the second month of seclusion, Wangji came home, Wei Wuxian trailing behind him.

Xichen, at first, refused to see him, just as he refused to see anyone. Guilt was harder to wrangle than anger, it ran deeper, it was more insidious.

But when Wangji insisted and returned several days in a row, Xichen gave in. His brother was not one to come knocking on his door without good reason.

Wangji was the same as ever. He sounded worried when he inquired after Xichen’s health, but when his concerns were dismissed, he simply went straight to the reason for his visit.

"I discussed your marriage with uncle,” he explained. “Gusu Lan can afford to repay your dowry, should you wish it." 

Xichen stared at his brother, trying to make sense of what was offered. Then, at last, it hit him. 

He could divorce Huaisang. 

He would never have to see him again. After everything that had happened, it should have felt like a gift, a blessing from the heavens. A kindness to both of them, when their marriage had turned out such a failure. 

Instead the thought was more painful than the betrayal had ever been.

Huaisang was a liar, a manipulator, a murderer, a monster whose crimes were no lesser than Jin Guangyao’s. 

But he was also Xichen's husband. He was a man who had opened up to Xichen over the years, letting him see parts of him that no one must have seen since his brother's death. They had laughed together, run their sect together, been happy together. Xichen refused to believe it had all been faked. Nobody could have been acting so perfectly, so consistently. Something had been real 

And whatever his crimes, at least Nie Huaisang had never committed them for personal gain, but only to avenge a brother he adored. The means had been questionable, but the intentions were honourable.

Besides, even though he had never known how far they ran, Xichen had long known there were deep shadows within the man he loved. 

And he still loved Huaisang. 

That thought shocked him, just as he had been shocked when he had first realised he felt that way. 

Even after everything, he still loved that odd little man he was married to. 

Even after everything, he did not want to lose him.

Xichen looked at his brother, and smiled in the polite, controlled way he had learned to do in unpleasant situations.

“I am very grateful that you would offer this,” he told Wangji. “But that will not be necessary. I need time alone at the moment, but unless he asks for it, I have no intention of separating from my husband.”

“Hm. He hasn’t asked.”

That lifted a weight from Xichen’s shoulders, freeing him from a tension he had not realised he was holding. After everything that had been revealed, Huaisang could easily have asked for a divorce as well. Nobody in the cultivation world would have blamed him for rejecting a husband who had been so close to his brother’s murderer. If Huaisang hadn’t asked for it, there might still be hope.

Xichen knew some of their relationship had to have been genuine.

Feeling a little lighter, his smile turned more sincere.

“I hear you’re married as well now?” he asked his brother. “Eloping, at your age… that’s not very serious, Wangji.”

Wangji smiled, unapologetic. He looked happier than his brother had ever seen him, and Xichen felt another weight leave his body. Even if Huaisang and him did not manage to reconcile, some good would have come from this disaster.

A little after the four months mark, Xichen felt ready to face the world once more. The guilt had not fully eased out, and the anger still returned sometimes, but he was growing too restless to stay in Gusu.

He thanked his uncle and brother for letting him stay this long, for respecting his need for isolation.

Then, at last, he left for Qinghe.

He left for home.

-

It was oddly pleasant to fly to the gates of the Unclean Realm at sunset and greet the guards. They all seemed very happy to see him again. Xichen realised the opposite was just as true. After ten years there, Qinghe Nie had become his sect, even if something of Gusu Lan stuck to him. 

This really was home. 

"Our Sect Leader will be glad you're back," one of the men said. "He's been moping around like a lost soul since he returned with…" 

The other guard elbowed him sharply in the ribs. Xichen pretended not to notice. 

"My husband can be a little dramatic," he agreed, feeling both guilty and pleased that Nie Huaisang might have missed him. "I hope he has not neglected his duties too much, or I'll have to scold him. Do you know where I might find him?" 

He expected to be directed to the gardens or the aviary, unless Huaisang had gone for a trip. Xichen would not mind waiting a little. 

"He's in his room," the first guard explained, glancing at his comrade who shrugged. "He's been there since early afternoon. He gave orders not to bother him for a few days, even if guests came, but… Master Lan, I don't think that applies to you." 

"Yes, go ahead and knock some sense into him," the other agreed. "He's been moody lately, it will be good for him that you're back." 

Lan Xichen thanked them for the information, and crossed the gate. It worried him a little that Huaisang would decide to isolate that way. Even though his cultivation had improved over the duration of their marriage, he did not think Huaisang had ever made efforts to practice inedia so far. Hopefully he was not pushing himself too hard. 

In spite of the guards’ hints that Huaisang appeared to have missed him, Xichen felt a growing tension seize him as he walked toward his husband’s room. Anxiety, he guessed. He hoped that Huaisang would want to see him again, that the guards were not mistaken, that he had made the right choice in coming home. Even if they could not reconcile, at least they should talk, there was so much they had never told each other. They needed to talk. They would talk. Xichen would not leave Qinghe until things were finally clear between them. He would…

It was only when he arrived at the door of Huaisang’s bedroom that Xichen realised the odd feeling he’d had since stepping inside that building might not have been nerves alone.

He could feel intense resentful energies coming from that room, strong enough to nearly gag him. Whatever was going on was so powerful that it should have been noticed by passing disciples and servants… but nobody ever came near Huaisang’s bedroom without his permission, and if he had specifically requested to be left alone…

Overcome with fear, Lan Xichen hurried to open the door.

The stench of blood hit him immediately. No surprise there. Several animals laid on the ground, some of them still twitching and agonising.

Xichen barely noticed them.

His full attention was on a pale shape on the floor, surrounded by words hastily scribbled in blood.

A naked man, his wrists and throat slashed open.

Xichen shouted as he ran toward Huaisang, falling to his knees in the pool of blood and pulling the body in his arms. It was still somewhat warm, but growing colder with each passing second.

“What have you done?” Xichen cried, holding his husband close. “A-Sang, I was coming home!”

Xichen could feel no heartbeat, not breath, but still tried to regain enough control of himself that he could share his energy with Huaisang in a desperate attempt to save him.

“I was coming home,” he sobbed. “I was coming home.”

The body in his arm did not react.

Xichen cried harder, never letting go, never giving up his attempt to heal his husband.

“I was coming home.”

[pessimisticlatte]

Glass Roses ~ Chapter 17

Adrienette ~ MariChat ~ Lukagami ~ Chlobrina ~ Ninalya (DJWifi, I don’t know the ship name) ~ Platonic Marigami ~ Platonic Chloinette ~

Long awaited but here it is! Chapter 18 is in the works!

Toying with the kiss clasp of her purse nervously, Marinette waited out the front of Francois Dupont college for Chloe. Six months ago, if someone had told her that she would be heading out on a shopping trip with Chloe Bourgeois she wouldn’t have believed them but here she was, equipped with her sketchbook, measuring tape and other essentials for designing a dress, waiting for her ex-bully to arrive. Light footsteps tapped down the concrete staircase behind her, Marinette turned slightly and was met with the broadly smiling face of her new friend as she descended the stairs.

“Hi, I’m sorry I’m a bit late, I had to call Daddy to make sure he’d taken his heart medication,” Pushing an escaped lock of hair from her fringe behind her ear with her fingertips, Chloe seemed almost out of breath. “He’s been on it for two weeks and he’s just so busy that sometimes he forgets to take it.”

“It’s alright, Chloe,” Mari smiled warmly at the other girl. It was sweet to hear that Chloe was taking care of her father and that he, in turn, was taking care of her. Adrien, with Chloe’s permission, had told Marinette how Chloe’s mother had responded when she’d come out as gay, so it warmed Marinette’s heart to know that at least one of her friend’s parents was supportive, even if he wasn’t in the best of health. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he’s okay, just really busy with mayor stuff, you know?” Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Chloe stood awkwardly for a moment before Mari pulled her into a hug. “Oh,” There was a single moment of hesitation before Chloe wrapped her arms around Marinette and hugged her back.

“My Dad always says that everyone can use a hug sometimes and I thought that you could use one right now,” Squeezing Chloe briefly before pulling away, Marinette grinned at her.

“T-thank you, Marinette,” Not that she’d ever admit it but Chloe was beginning to feel the sting of tears in her eyes. She’d been so awful to Marinette in the past but the other girl had just shown her such a level of affection she had never thought she’d be worthy of.

“Hey,” Mari rubbed Chloe’s arm before looping it through her own. “Your past doesn’t define you, it’s what you choose to do in the future that does.”

“Sabby said the same thing,” Chloe laughed as they began to walk down the street toward the boutique district. The girls had agreed to look at the colours that were in fashion for this season before they began picking out fabrics for Chloe’s dress.

“Great minds think alike, I guess,” Nudging Chloe with her shoulder, Marinette giggled. 

~~~~~~~

“Yellow looks really good on you but we have to make sure to pick the right shade,” Pressing her sketchbook to her chest, Marinette scanned her eyes across the reams and reams of fabric stacked up before her. There had been such a wide range of colours and styles on display in the boutiques that Mari and Chloe had decided to stick to the basics, which, for Chloe, was yellow and silver. They’d sat in the park together for about an hour before coming to the fabric shop as Marinette showed Chloe the design she wanted to use for her dress and Chloe described any things she wanted added or changed about it until both girls had agreed completely on it. 

“What do you mean?” Chloe was so overwhelmed by the sheer amount of fabric packed into this one room that she’d had to take a seat on the small, leather chair pushed into the corner of the room behind where Mari was standing.

“Well, you look really good in cold toned yellow but there are so many warm toned ones here that it might be hard to find the right one. We don’t want a patterned fabric because you’re already stunning enough as is and we don’t want to drown you out,”

“Oh, okay,” A small blush began to tinge Chloe’s cheeks. Marinette thought she was stunning and, with how new this friendship was, it was strange to hear her say so. “What about that one?”

Mari followed where Chloe was pointing to with her eyes, the tip of her finger indicating to a pale yellow silk two shelves above where Marinette was looking. Standing on her tiptoes, Mari grabbed the edge of the cardboard roll the fabric was wrapped around and tugged it free of it’s confines. Holding the soft fabric in her hands, Marinette rubbed it between her fingers and admired the shifting shine of the fabric in the warm lights of the shop.

“Can you come here for a moment, Chloe?” Pushing her phone into her pocket, Chloe got up from the chair and crossed over to Marinette, dodging crates of fabric cluttering the floor. Holding the fabric out, Mari rested a corner of the fabric over Chloe’s wrist, chewing her lip. “I think this one might be it.”

“I totally agree,” Eyes wide, Chloe admired the shift between lemon and butter in the fabric, the small swatch looking as though it had been made to bring out the honey-golden tones in Chloe’s pale skin. “And I’ll wear silver jewellery with it?”

“Yes! The silver will make the yellow look brighter,” Rolling the ream back up and slipping the rubber band she’d taken off it back into place, Marinette grinned at Chloe. “Let’s get this then get back to mine so I can take your measurements.”

~~~~~~~

Pacing around her office, Nathalie wrung her hands until the skin was tinged red. Ladybug and Chat Noir hadn’t contacted her for a while, Adrien’s party was in two weeks and Gabriel seemed to only be getting more and more fixated on all the things he was going to do once he had stolen their miraculouses. She’d sent them messages telling them not to come to the party, saying that their plan to sleuth Nooroo away from him wasn’t going to work because he would be paying just as much attention to them as they were to him and there wasn’t a chance in hell that they’d be able to sneak away without alerting Gabriel to what they were doing. Nathalie couldn’t explain why she had a feeling deep in the pit of her gut that said that Gabriel knew that Ladybug and Chat Noir were aware of his secret identity but it was there and it wouldn’t go away.

A shallow knock sounded from the other side of Nathalie’s office door, startling her out of her worried stupor. 

“Who is it?” Pausing her pacing, she looked at the door with wide eyes. 

“It’s Adrien,” The young man on the other side of the door responded with a smile in his voice. “Can I come in?”

“Uh, yes,” Crossing the room to the door, Nathalie disengaged the lock and pulled it open to reveal Adrien standing just beyond the threshold with a brown paper bag in his hand. “Come in.”

Holding up the brown paper bag, Adrien grinned at his father’s assistant. “I got us some eclairs from the Dupain-Cheng bakery,” Moving behind her desk, Nathalie gestured for Adrien to take the seat in front of her so they could eat together. “I got you a caramel eclair, your favourite.”

“You’re very considerate, Adrien,” Smiling warmly, sincerely, Nathalie watched the young man she saw as her son open the bag and pull out the most perfect caramel eclair she’d ever seen, as was expected from the Dupain-Cheng bakery after all. He handed her the eclair before he pulled his own one out and folded the bag neatly on the desk. “Was Marinette not at home when you went to the bakery?”

“Oh, I didn’t go to the bakery to see her,” Adrien laughed, taking a bite from his chocolate eclair, smearing whipped cream over his top lip which he licked off with a grin. “She was home, but I wanted to get us some afternoon tea because I feel like I don’t spend enough time with you lately.”

“That’s very sweet of you,” Nathalie took a hesitant bite of the eclair to hide how her cheeks were flushing from the sheer sweetness surrounding this little tete-a-tete with her boss’ son. The last time she’d felt this loved, Emilie had been sitting across a small iron table from her at a cafe on the Champs Elysees as they shared a citrus tart.

“I also thought it would be a good time to ask you to sign these,” Adrien’s cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment as he pulled a stack of papers out of the knapsack still slung over his shoulder and placed them in front of Nathalie as the woman herself wiped a small bead of caramel syrup off the corner of her lips. 

“What are they?” Wiping her sticky fingers on her fine, silken trousers, Nathalie leaned forward to inspect the papers. Normally, she would’ve been horrified at the thought of wiping something as sticky and staining as caramel on anything that wasn’t a washcloth but at this point in time, she didn’t care.

Adrien paused for a moment, eclair still held in his long, pianists fingers. “Adoption papers,” Nathalie’s eyes blew wide and flew up to meet Adrien’s gaze. 

“A-adoption papers? W-w...Why would I need t-to sign adoption p...papers?” 

“So you can be my mother legally too,” Unbeknownst to the person sitting opposite them, the words so I have someone to take care of me when Gabriel goes to prison for the crimes he’s committed as Hawkmoth rang unspoken in their minds. “You don’t have to sign them if you don’t want to, Nathalie.”

Tears had started to prickle in Nathalie’s eyes as she shifted her gaze between Adrien and the adoption papers before her. Reaching forward to grab the papers, sadness roiling in his gut, Adrien found Nathalie gripping his hand in hers as sparkling tears began to streak down her face.

“I’m going to sign them, Adrien,” Placing the eclair on her desk gently, Nathalie grabbed Adrien’s hands in both of hers, a coating of sticky residue remaining though neither of them could care right now. “I promise you that I’m going to sign them.”

“Why’re you crying?” He looked genuinely worried as Nathalie held back a happy sob.

“Because I’m happy, Adrien, I’m incredibly happy. This is the best gift anyone could have ever given me and,” She choked slightly, squeezing the young man’s hands. “And I would be honoured to be your mother.”

~~~~~~~~~

Heart lighter than it had been in much too long, Adrien, as Chat Noir, skipped over the rooftops of Paris. Nathalie was going to sign the papers tonight and take them into the mayor’s office tomorrow to make the adoption official; he and Marinette were doing great; Chloe was happy and was becoming the person he always knew she had the capacity to be; and they were going to stop Hawkmoth; things felt like they were beginning to fall into place. Reaching the rooftop across from the Dupain-Cheng bakery, Chat Noir leaned against a chimney pipe and watched the beautiful dark haired girl sitting on the balcony as she worked. He could watch her for hours, the way she sewed was mesmerising, from the small wrinkle that creased her forehead to the way her tongue poked past her lips slightly as she deftly passed the needle through the fabric at an impressive speed for a stitch so intricate. Heart constricting from the sheer enormity of what he felt for the young woman sitting and sewing, he felt a smile creep onto his lips as she looked up and eyes of depthless blue met ones of mirthful green.

Extending his baton, Chat carefully crossed the street and landed softly in front of Marinette, who had gently laid down what she was working on and stood. 

“Good evening, Chat Noir,” She teased, wind carefully ruffling her fringe as the loose hair drifting around her shoulders picked up like an inky curtain.

“Good evening, Miss Dupain-Cheng,” Slipping into the personality of Chat Noir that he’d once seen as nothing but an escape and a side of himself he’d never get the chance to show anyone, he circled Mari with his hands clasped behind his back and his tail swishing gently. “You’re looking stunning tonight.”

Cheeks staining red, Mari let Chat grab her hand and press a kiss to the back of it with soft, slightly chapped, lips. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Chaton?” Giggling, Marinette interlaced her fingers with those of the blonde boy before her and squeezed his hand with measured strength. 

“You owe yourself the pleasure of this visit,” Hands still interlaced, Chat spun Marinette around so that her back was pressed against his chest and his free arm was clasped around her waist as they looked out over the twinkling lights of Paris. Pressing his cheek to the side of her head, feeling the girl into his arms melt into him, Chat inhaled the smell of fresh linen and caramel that seemed to follow Marinette wherever she went. “Because if you weren’t here, then I’d have to go to where you were and this would be a very different visit.”

“How’re you feeling? I know you came by the bakery today, Papa told me, but you didn’t ask for me,” Tilting her head back slightly, Mari looked up at her boyfriend with the smallest of pouts on her lips, the expression enough to send his heart racing all over again.

“I was getting afternoon tea for me and Nathalie-,”

“Nathalie and I,” Bumping him with her elbow, Marinette corrected his grammar with a barely restrained giggle.

“Nathalie and I,” Chat squeezed her slightly harder as she dissolved into a fit of giggles in his embrace. “And I asked her to sign the adoption papers.”

They were silent for a moment, Chat Noir’s chin resting on Marinette’s head as they stood together in the chilled Paris air, bathed in the light from Mari’s room and the caged fairy lights dancing around them like fireflies in the spring.

“She’s going to sign them,” He pressed a kiss to the crown of Mari’s head as she hummed happily, her own heart racing beneath their joined hands. 

“I’m so happy for you, Adrien,” She couldn’t express just how happy she was for him with words or with actions but she was happy because he sounded happy. “You know that you’ll always have a home with my family too, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Chat pressed another kiss to Marinette’s head. “But I also know that I have a home wherever you are.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” Mari was glad that he couldn’t see the crimson blush creeping up her neck and onto her cheeks from his words.

“Exist,”

~~~~~~~~TAGLINE~~~~~~~

@lady-charinette @maniic-pixie-dream-girl @mochegato @katieykat513 @aussie-lesbian @itwasmydog @nifflerstorm @imgaydontshoot @beauty-and-her-books @camelliaflwr @a-star-with-human-name @hnbutt @severalverysmallmangoesinabasket

DM me to be tagged!

[gurguliare]

this is the longest chatlog, catie and emma have to read all of it

Em: poor lin shu all ‘i loaned the book to jingyan but it’s fine he never notices anything - wait SHIT these are VERY PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE DESSERT BOXES.’ Gogol: yes Gogol: i love the idea of like Gogol: baby lin shu horrible at observing his own dietary requirements Gogol: consort jing unfortunately has NO CLUE as to the myriad of new dietary requirements he has developed Gogol: since being poisoned. Gogol: just thousands of thrilling intolerances to ignore Em: he doesn’t have a digestive system anymore, he donated it to fei liu Gogol: yes Em: i do genuinely want btw Em: telepathic jingyan fic Gogol: and then there's his allergy to "air colder than room temperature," and "walks"---NO IT'S SO GOOD Em: telepathic jingyan and it doesn’t help Gogol: i meant to compliment you on it did i not. absolute perfection Gogol: i love it presumably because all the thoughts are like. exactly what mei changsu is saying with his mouth, but meaner Gogol: interspersed with occasional comments on jingyan's hair Gogol: it's not that mei changsu is any more conniving or ruthless than lin shu was. he just doesn't swear enough. Em: right literally that Em: lin shu: says exactly what mei changsu says, but adds ‘you stupid fucking water buffalo’ at the end of every third sentence Em: jingyan: i know that i am on the right path, because the spirits of the honoured dead are with me Em: mei changsu: ...right. Em: lin shu’s ghost, presumably: jingyan you’re so lucky you’re pretty

Gogol: ok but so the most important part of this right is lin shu also hearing jing's thoughts and assuming that this is just a sign of his own incredible perspicaciousness Em: oh my god Gogol: lin shu: my powers of extrapolation know no bounds Gogol: jingyan: uh huh Gogol: lin shu: exactly what he WOULD think! Gogol: my vision is eventually just full outloud conversations intermittently in response to thoughts while everyone around them wonders what the fuck is happening Em: oh please can he overhear. jingyan’s tremendous personal shame at feeling attracted to mei changsu. Em: specifically his shame about ‘desiring’ ‘happiness’ Em: yes definitely also this is exactly how they conversed as adolescents Gogol: YES Em: they have always been like this Gogol: THEY'VE HAD THE TELEPATHIC BOND THE ENTIRE TIME NEITHER HAS EVER QUESTIONED IT FOR A /VARIETY/ Of REASONS Gogol: i like the idea then also that it just has like. a forty mile radius limit or something completely physiological and normal Gogol: so then for the twelve intervening years it was just like Gogol: every so often mcs would go on a dumb adventure near the frontier and jingyan would get weird static and assume he was just, like, insane Gogol: which jives completely with the rest of his experience of those twelve years! so nw Em: oh my god Em: no he doesn’t assume he is insane he assumes he is being HAUNTED Em: the ghost of lin shu is yelling at him about flute boats Gogol: --ok Gogol: point Gogol: he would recognize the voice. Gogol: it's not like lin shu was ever on-topic in life. Gogol: this does raise the weird question of whether mcs' internal voice sounds like lin shu or mcs Em: ...I want to say lin shu Gogol: ia and i think the rest of the series bears you out on this lol, not to spoil except you've ALREADY READ ALL MY SPOILER PLAINTS Gogol: his is not a fast-adapting mind Em: on the other hand ‘i have been hearing your voice in my head for twelve years what the fuck’ has a certain charm Gogol: omg. yes. v different fic though Gogol: mcs: gives prepared speech about wading through a river of blood. jingyan, frowning in great concentration: six years ago did you once spend an hour trying to get a cat to let you rub its belly Em: i’m on episode twenty nine and I can already tell that mcs is PAPER thin Em: as a personality Em: lin shu: who are you Em: mcs: i’m you but slower Em: ...I feel like ‘I’m you but slower’ is probably the best characterisation opinion i’m going to have on this show Gogol: it's VERY GOOD. Em: related: jingyan has his suspicions about mcs but changed his mind after they started sleeping together. this man is clearly not lin shu. lin shu never had sex lasting longer than six minutes. Em: he tried but he got bored. Gogol: to be fair mcs falls asleep sometimes but that is because of his illness Gogol: it would be churlish to hold him to blame Em: jingyan is just. very boring in bed. Em: very tender. very sincere. likes prolonged eye contact. Gogol: the thing is i imagine that he and lin shu legitimately had a lot of fun, ill-advised, death-defying sex which doubled as just, like, you know, resilience testing for the product, but i also assume that jingyan has NO IDEA how to dick down an ~invalid Gogol: and is constantly thinking about this Em: asdfghjkl Em: all the time Em: thinking about it Em: which brings me back to Em: their telepathic bond Gogol: FUCK Em: jingyan: please advise me, sir su. Em: mcs: goes ahead and gives him sex advice for the question he was thinking instead of political advice for the thing he said. Em: or, no Em: jingyan comes to believe Em: that the ghost of lin shu is telling him how to bone this invalid Gogol: "i have his blessing!" Em: his detailed and specific blessing and his recommendations for positions and creative use of supportive pillows Gogol: "i can't believe i have his blessing. truly the dead must be incapable of love, or i lost his love through my slowness in seeking justice." Gogol: wait no i don't think jing is THAT dumb but i do feel like he would be a little resentful about "ghost" lin shu pushing him into mcs' arms, whether because he thinks the ghost is a hallucination and just a weaker way of telling himself what he wants to hear OR because lin shu's invasiveness about his love life was always annoying Gogol: anyway, whatever the case, best love triangle. Em: jingyan tenderly making love to mcs in a faintly resentful way because he’s annoyed lin shu insisted on getting involved in his love life is a beautiful image Gogol: YES Gogol: mcs: finally. that's the stuff Gogol: then: ow. turns out he talks big but doesn't actually enjoy his nonexistent biceps being SQUEEZED, what are they, barbarians Em: jingyan to mcs: sometimes i wish xiao shu was less involved in my love life Gogol: mcs presumably a baby about hair-pulling---fjdkslJGL:KSGOD... THE THING IS THIS IS SO. CLOSE TO THEIR. CANON CONVERSATIONS ABOUT "XIAO-SHU" Gogol: we really have just hit on a deeper vein of canon i think Em: I think all I really want is for jingyan to lovingly wrap mcs in a blanket and just. keep wrapping. Em: burrito him good Em: and carry him somewhere nice and quiet Em: and let him do his scream therapy until he tires himself out and goes to sleephappy ending Gogol: i would love for mcs to be nonharmfully sat on Em: unfortunately it’s impossible Em: his bones would snap Em: the ghost of lin shu has warned jingyan about this. mcs must always be on top. but he cannot be expected to do any work. jingyan had better practice his crunches. Em: shut UP xiao shu, says jingyan, out loud. their telepathy is functional over a medium distance. mcs isn’t even in the room. Em: lin shu, half a mile away, glances up from his tea and remarks: ah. prince jingyan feels frustrated just now. i deduced that. Gogol: the one question i then have is. who or what does mcs think "lin shu's ghost" is Em: oh he. doesn’t notice. Em: he’s just talking to jingyan, what about it. Em: ‘but jingyan is behaving strangely’ is he? he seems pretty normal. Em: until of course. jingyan confesses the truth to him. because he’s worried that either he is truly insane, in which case maybe? mcs shouldn’t make him emperor? or! he is perpetually haunted by lin shu telling him to do things! Em: in which case mcs DEFINITELY shouldn’t make him emperor Gogol: oh my god Gogol: fuck Gogol: SORRY JUST THE VISION OF Gogol: jingyan earnestly explaining to mcs that lin shu was his dear friend and could in no way be trusted with a nation Gogol: sure he wasn't capable of TREASON Gogol: but ANYTHING ELSE Em: yes exactly Gogol: anything, sir su. he once hid our baby cousins in an unused oven Em: just now his ghost told me SO WHAT Gogol: IT WAS UNUSED!! Gogol: said his ghost. you see my issue, mr su. Em: sir su, he is a man who even after twelve years of death can not understand why you do not put children in an oven Gogol: he is also extremely narcissistic, as demonstrated by the fact that he keeps responding to questions directed at you Em: and i am incapable of refusing him Gogol: and he is incapable of not exploiting my devotion, as evidenced by the fact that he just yelled, GOOD. Gogol: ....with your mouth. oh! that i would see the day my old friend sank to possessing the living! Em: this is the only au where lin shu sits jingyan down and explains the truth in small simple words Gogol: this is my favorite au.

[sillyshiro]

Throk and Lotor- in another reality (enemies to allies to friends)

Instead of assigning him to the far corner of the empire, Lotor finds Throk’s acceptance of his defeat and willingness to acknowledge him as leader both sincere and oddly endearing. Throk has been raised in the heart of the Empire, he’s had fearless loyalty and unquestioning service drilled into him from birth. And, while Lotor’s well aware Throk has some misguided views as a result, he’s also demonstrated humility and the capacity to accept change. He has the respect of his peers, he’s brave, and… oh, alright, fine, he can stay…

Lotor invites Throk to train with him- if anything, to prove himself wrong. There’s only a small part of him that believes someone so closely aligned to his father’s values can be turned around, and he almost wants to squash the hope for good. Instead, Throk takes his advice and doesn’t need to be told twice, he doesn’t talk or question when swords will do both. He keeps his cool when Lotor attempts to frustrate him- though Lotor knows it’s working- and he won’t admit he’s exhausted when Lotor can clearly see he’s about to collapse. Lotor finds himself on the training deck more and more- particularly after a setback, or when he needs to think. It’s on these occasions that Throk seems to pull out all stops and very nearly gets the better of him, not because Lotor’s not there, not fighting, but because Throk knows, just for five minutes, that Lotor wishes he didn’t have to.

Against all odds, the best Lotor can equate it with is friendship. On one occasion the armory is deserted, and Throk looks like his mind is elsewhere. Lotor takes the opportunity to leap out and surprise him, throws him into a cross-body hold and delivers an impromptu lecture on being alert at all times. He means this entirely in jest, but Throk’s expression is so aghast that Lotor spends the whole night pacing about worrying about it later. He’s tired and a little out of sorts the next day, and just when he’s replaying the incident for the hundredth time, the last thing he expects is Throk leaping out from the supply station and dropping him to the floor. Lotor hits the ground with a cry, his arm splays in a direction it definitely shouldn’t go and he hisses, makes a choking, spluttery sound as Throk falls to his knees swearing. Throk’s leaning over, hands outstretched, his voice has a note Lotor’s never heard before as he tries to catch a glimpse of Lotor’s face beneath his hair. Lotor meets his eye, and in the split-second before he pops his arm back into place, Lotor offers the tiniest wink, his mouth twitching at one corner.

“Oh fuck, you fucking brat!” Throk yelps, and Lotor pins him effortlessly, he’s so amused he can barely maintain the hold. “Why, why, why?” Throk is shouting, he can barely struggle for laughing too. “You- your arm- you even made that fucking noise, I swear, I was-”

The rest is lost as Lotor collapses next to him, he’s laughing enough that his apology sounds all high-pitched and blurry, which makes Throk laugh even more. Throk’s shaking his head, he wishes he could swallow the stupid expression he knows is all over his face… but he doesn’t, and Lotor doesn’t, and they lay like that, grinning up at the ceiling, for far longer than two high-ranking Galra ever should.

The only time Lotor ever loses it- genuinely loses it- in front of Throk, is when Throk makes a stock-standard comment about how he would sacrifice himself for Lotor in battle. This kind of talk is commonplace in the Galra ranks, not just expected but fundamental to the codes of order that have furthered the strength of the empire. Lotor’s hardly unfamiliar with the ideal, and yet at that moment it gets right under his skin, he snaps something cutting before he even means to speak. Throk stiffens- he hasn’t risen this far to be told his sense of honour is meaningless. But he’s sworn Lotor his loyalty, which means, in this case, his own thoughts do not. When Throk only raises his fist to his chest, Lotor looks like he’s been struck, he dismisses Throk without another word.

Later Throk does something that is entirely against the code of order, though it’s Lotor who finally has to throw open his chamber door and order Throk inside, since Throk can’t bring himself to knock.

“I won’t die for you, then,” Throk says heavily, voicing it hurts more than he’ll admit. “So you don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

Lotor gives a curt nod, unreadable. Throk moves to leave, then suddenly turns back.

“I just... that was a lie,” he gasps, despairing. “I could never bring myself to take an action against the interests of the empire. Or you, Prince Lotor.”

There’s a silence. When Throk finally looks up, he realises Lotor is sitting, he doesn’t meet Throk’s stare.

“How I wish I could tell you,” Lotor says quietly, “that you’ll never have to.”

Lotor isn’t able to deliver the news directly, but when Throk comes hurtling toward his ship at full charge, Lotor knows he knows.

“The Ulippa system?” Throk splutters, he’s waving a datapad in one hand and some odd piece of tech prototype in the other. “I’m to oversee the Ulippa outpost?”

“Correct,” Lotor answers. “That’s what your assignment chart says, isn’t it? I don’t believe I made an error.”

“No, no,” Throk says hurriedly, he’s breathing hard, eyes watering. “But the Ulippa outpost? The most dangerous and critical post in the empire? The fort at the very heart of the resistance? A- a chance- for me- to-”

He swallows as Lotor offers his hand, his grip steady and surprisingly gentle.

“-thank you-” Throk whispers.

“You’re really the only one who’d take it,” Lotor mutters, but Throk grips his arm tightly in return.

And then, just for a second, Lotor softens, and for what he knows will be the last time, Throk gets there first. He ducks and shifts his weight, has Lotor pinned in a double arm-lock before either of them quite realises it, Lotor’s mouth falls ajar in astonishment.

“Whatever you’re planning out there,” Throk grins, and Lotor suddenly finds himself laughing, his smile pulling crooked when he can’t find the words.

“Don’t make me come and rescue you?” Lotor teases, and Throk lets him go, waves a hand as if to say, well, something like that.

Throk watches as Lotor’s spaceship clears the base, he doesn’t raise his fist to his chest, just in case Lotor needs to look back. Lotor waits until he’s almost at hyperspeed, until the base is barely a speck among the stars. And then he does, just once.

And it feels okay.

[rakuraiwielder]

Wind flower, wind daughter

Anemone petals fall off his lips, //Two sides of the same coin.// Anemone petals stains her eyes. V route

Ray/MC Oneshot

Also on AO3

Foreword:

im currently only on Day 4 but I already smell the flags for these two since Day 2. angst train has no brakes choo-choo

*Day 2 and 3 spoilers. This fic contains future interpretations of scenarios that may or may not happen

Vague creative liberties since I’m not done with his route yet

“I’ll never betray you.”

Her words, quiet but firm, jerk him stiff as he freezes. The room spins as his heartbeat stutters, and for once he is speechless, thoughts of anemone petals dissipating in the wind. There is a ringing in his ears, and he is vaguely aware of it being white noise as he presses his phone so close to his ear it burns.

She had continued her little proclamation while he wasn’t listening, turning softer and more uncertain when she heard no reply. The minute lilt of her voice was a chorded song, and he strains to catch the last of it, curve tugging at the edge of his lips.

“-hy should I? You have done nothing to make me doubt you. I thought it was strange when I had to come here just to play a game. But you have been nothing but kind to me. You… …Ray?”

Silence.

And at last:

“Um, are you listening?”

“Yes.” His voice cracks at the end when he struggles to sit upright, free hand unconsciously moving to clutch his chest. “You have no idea how happy you’ve made me.”

The first person he wanted to be close with. The first person who he allowed close enough to his side. And she was here, saying she wants to stay.

“Ray? I… I haven’t been this happy in a long time.” Her voice, now borderline timid but genuinely sincere, clamps up at the end as though it had just chosen to disclose a deeply kept secret with no small amount of difficulty. As though she believed it would be safe in his knowledge.

It tears a ragged chuckle from his throat.

“Thank you, thank you. I have never felt this happy in my entire life.” Lightness floods through him as he grins, an uncharacteristic flush on his cheeks. “You, you are truly, you are so thoughtful… thank you. From the bottom of my heart.”

I trust you.

So, this was what it meant to be truly happy.

x

x

“I have been thinking about what you said, about the language of flowers.”

“Oh?” He lifts his eyes from her unknowing gaze to the golden rose cupped delicately in her hands, contemplating. “If it’s something you are interested in, I’d be honoured and delighted to teach you.”

She stifles a delighted laugh, and he takes pleasure in the crinkles that form near her eyes. Another new discovery that sends a thrill through him. Just when he thought he’d figured it all, she reveals yet another new secret of hers, making the pang in his chest ache further. The limited time they share only makes it worse, and he prays time would slow at least a little more during the moments they share.

The moon was high in the sky when they passed the rose gardens, and where the beams of light illuminate the roughness of his silver locks he presses a daisy into her hair. She hums and nods when he whispers the language of his friends to her, but her eyes stray, and before long she slips past him to bend closer to the earthy soil.

His brows furrowed as he follows her gaze, seeing her eyes cloud over to a distant past, fingertips reaching out to touch the soft petals of a folded bulb.

“You know, I knew an old lady back home who tended to a little garden. It’s nothing compared to this one, but all sorts of flowers grew there too.” A pause, before a wistful smile spreads across her face. “Out of all the flowers I remembered the anemones most. They were always so beautiful for something that gave off no scent among the other sweet-smelling flowers.”

“Ah, it is strange is it not? Flowers make use of their sweet fragrances to attract attention to themselves, regardless of colour or type. And yet the anemone flower does not, even though using a sweet scent would make it even more popular among the bees and butterflies. It doesn’t try at all,” He lowers his head, expression disappointed and sorrowful. “almost like a fake.”

“I don’t think that’s true at all.” An amused sigh, and she is shaking her head before he could finish, glancing up to face him properly. “You know, these flowers mean many different things too. Thinking of it as just betrayal is just too sad.”

A pondering look crosses her face, and he wonders where her mind had gone to, if he could ever follow. If he could have his way, he would make it so that she would never wander again, lest nowhere he could not follow. Because no one else but him would be needed to make her stay.

Surprise colours his eyes when she beams up at him, tender and grateful.

“I hope one day when you see anemones, you think not of betrayal, but of something happier and more important to you.”

x

x

The letter on her bed is what sends him into a frenzy, panic and worry overtaking his senses until he could barely think. The watchful believers under him had given their warning a little too late, and now she was lost from their sight, disappearing into a section of the outer gardens they were not yet quite eligible to enter.

Orange rays burst through the hard windows as he races down the hallway, clutching the letter of her promised location in gloves clammy with cold sweat. His rushes into the garden just as the alarm in his phone beeps; a reminder for a duty he could care less for the moment.

She was resting against a pillar next to a clump of daffodils, staring at the setting sun, fingers playing with stray petals of fallen blooms. Her eyes dart up to him when she hears him near, and the welcoming curve of her mouth almost belays the anger that awaited beneath his relief.

“There you are!” He grounds to a stop before her, panting harshly as he checks her over with frantic eyes. “I thought I told you not to leave your room. It’s not good for you to be alone, during this period of time.”

His heart refuses to slow when he feels her pat his shoulder awkwardly; a meagre show of support as he catches his breath, but if he closes his eyes he thinks he can feel the warmth of her touch. A foolish thought, even for one trying to be bold, and he feels the flush of his exertion refuse to fade though his anger dissipates.

“Even if this is a safe place, not everyone here knows you yet.” Not yet. Well, that would change tonight.

“I’m sorry.” Her tone was apologetic at least as she steps away, turning back to the sky. “It’s just, I was feeling a little suffocated. I, I needed to think.”

Her hand reaches to the sky, fingers curling to grasp the sunset.

“Someone once told me to watch the sky, if only to remember how small we are in this world, how little we mean to the universe as a whole, yet still an important part of something bigger. Out here in this wide-open space I feel…” She glances at him, smile small and at peace. “I feel free.”

Her words were familiar, but for the life of him he could not remember where he had heard them before. Instead he heaves exasperatedly, moving to the other end of the pillar to lean beside her.

“I’m sorry. I know how hard it is to be confined inside all the time but tonight is a special case. A special ceremony will be held tonight, and everyone is busy preparing for the celebration.”

She does not reply, and when he turns to face her she pulls away, walking away from the daffodils to stand on the main path. A freshly fallen flower was in her hands, blue petal edges furling in from both rot and night. He can’t tell if it’s a rose or anemone—there were neither in this part of the garden.

“Do you like the stars, Ray?” She says quietly as he wanders after her, following her gaze to the sky. The sun had set, and the purple-hued sky was starting to blink with little specks of diamond.

“Honestly, not really.” He does not look at her when he says it, mint eyes darkening as the evening shadows lengthened. “I prefer the day and light, where everything is bright and warm. I didn’t see the sun a lot when I was young, maybe that’s why I feel an affinity for it.”

There is a lull as their conversation draws to a stop. A breeze blows, disturbing the quiet, and with bated breath he takes a daring step closer.

“Do you want to know a secret?” She jerks her head up when his shoulder brushes against hers, lashes fluttering as her mouth quirks in surprise. He smirks. “The darkness used to unnerve me a little. It reminded me of my childhood. I, I didn’t have the best memories of those times. But when my saviour took me in and I spent my nights in the cool darkness of my workspace being useful, being assured that every step forward took me closer to my goal, and now being able to spend these nights with you and maybe more…” His hand strokes the bloom in her hands, lithe fingers skimming over the arch of her thumb. “I wouldn’t trade any of my childhood for this moment.”

He links their fingers together as he pulls away, nudging her back towards the building. She startles, and with an airy laugh he lets her go, the teasing gleam back in his eyes.

A searching look, then-

“These four days were the happiest I ever had in a long time.” She smiles, but it was a wistful, dimmed under the shadows.

“They don’t have to end. Stay with me, and you can be happy forever.” He does not see her waver, instead his tone insistent as he shifts a distracted gaze to his phone. “Ah, let me take you back to your room. You need to rest for the ceremony.”

“Ray?”

“I’m so excited. After tonight, you won’t have to feel sad or pained ever again.”

“…Hey, listen. I, I don’t think…”

“I can’t wait for you to-“

“Ray!”

Her outburst jolts him into realisation, and apologies spill from his lips in distressed verses. Her eyes widen, and guilt washes over him anew; he’d scared her.

“…S-sorry, I’m sorry I. I got too excited again.”

“No, no its not you its- I’m, I’m not…” She looks to the ground, hestitant. “It is true?”

“Hmm?”

“It, it’s just a game, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is. Of course they are.” An assuring smile blankets his face, a mirror of all previous times. “Because you are here with me, not them.”

“Still, they may be AIs, but why do they have to suffer? I just wanted everyone to get their happy ending. I didn’t think it would hurt that much.”

“Their happiness is a superficial one. And sometimes, some suffering is necessary first for one to gain eternal happiness.” A tick of annoyance twitches within him; her heart was too soft, and the AIs have taken advantage of that. How else could she have grown so attached? “Please, don’t stay sad my dear. They won’t be able to help you and your grief won’t help them either. But I can. If you let me. You are precious to me and I don’t want you to be sad.”

She looks at him with unknown emotion for a long time, but finally a smile spreads across her face and she nods. “You are… you are important to me as well.”

“Oh…” His heart soars then, and euphoria blinds him to everything but the woman who stood before him. “I’m glad, so glad. Thank you. Thank you…”

He leads her home, and in the midst of his lighthearted flutter, does not see the light in her eyes fade as she gives a backward glance towards the marble pillar.

Behind it, a figure wearing the believers’ cloak clutches his hands close to his sides and begins to grieve.

x

x

She was backing away from him now; no longer smiling, no longer looking at him with sincerity. Fear and pain brims and overflows from her shaking stature, reflecting a similar ache within him. He forces it away with a feeling of disgust. Once upon a time the hurt he felt would have overcome everything, a desperate plea of his body to get the person precious to him back, tears swelling in his eyes. Now, it flounders, drowned beneath frothing waves of simmering fury.

She was shaking her head, denial drawing gasps out of her muffled mouth as she shudders, legs locked and stiff as she stands surrounded. Red flashes as she swipes her arm roughly over her eyes, and a growl leaves his lips when he sees the concerned touch of a man he never trusted tap her back in a lame attempt to comfort.

Beside her V -faker, faker, you ruined everything!- stands before him and the advancing crowd, hands trying in vain to shield her from the mass of impending followers; helpless frustration plain on his face as he yells for the saviour to listen to him!.

The latter declares something that makes his face pale, and Ray Saeran imagines the pleasure he would derive from punishing the man as retribution for infringing Paradise later.

Movement alerts him into swiftness, and he looks up fast enough to see the beta-tester kick a reaching arm of a handsy believer viciously away. Rage clouds her eyes as she pulls V behind her, back arched in warning as he cries in alarm. The scene makes his blood boil even further, and he almost leaves his perch by his saviour’s side.

Amid the chaos, their eyes meet.

Betrayal scorches his veins like an almost-lover scorned as he stands by his saviour, despair a swirling reminder that he wasn’t good enough.

Liar, her eyes flash back at him defiantly, trembling lips spilling petals as she cries out from grief, a gullible fool who just wanted to try.

I trusted you.

Somewhere far away a bouquet of anemones remain forgotten in the inky darkness of a control room, magenta petals closed and unfurling.

x

A/N

magenta is both a red and purple shade; red anemones symbolise forsaken love, that is betrayal, while purple symbolises protection, two vastly different meanings. It also fits saeran’s character to a T as well as his desire to both protect and possess.

interestingly, anemones flowers close up at night and open back up in the morning. much like morning glories.

this route was a mistake. everyone is suffering. but man if i dont love the thriller elements. unpopular opinion but currently i love how unfocused on romance the story is and more on the cult.

a lot of day 2 -4 chat and flower refs all over the place lolol i would love it if you guys started listing or tell me what you think ;D