#artist lu ten

[shrewisweird]

Big cousin Lu Ten helping the kids on a hard level

I like to think that he was a lot like his dad, spending time with them and showering 'em with affection.

[madigan-thompson]

Leaves from the vine Falling so slow Like fragile tiny shells Drifting in the foam Little soldier boy Come marching home Brave soldier boy Comes marching home

[dianorayasiri]

Prince Lu Ten has tasted the bitter taste of betrayal, the adults have told him to tire out the children, he did not know, he was included.

[moss-on-a-pebble]

More Azula and Lu Ten stuff because I grew to like this au more than I thought I would 👍

[skeletonspirt]

Calling artists avatar animatic idea.

Starting before previous animatic (find here https://www.tumblr.com/skeletonspirt/763095633404067840/animatic-idea-its-zuko-singing-you-know-who-you) zuko is curled up on the deck of his ship or some raft. He’s looking out at the destruction Agni has caused with tears in his eyes ready to give up saying it was pointless and other self doubt stuff(artist can pick)A spirit come from behind him, gently touching his shoulder. It’s Lu Ten. Gently smiling he crouches down and cups Zuko’s face and starts singing.

“I know a boy from island. He stands apart from the crowd. He loves the world and his people. He makes his true family proud(show images of the gaang and iroh, maybe Hakoda,Mai and Ty Lee as well) Sometimes the world seems against you(image of zuko’s struggle) The journey may leave a scar(Lu gently brushes his hand against zuko’s scar smile turning sad and tears well up) But scars can heal and reveal just where you are(Lu stand up and gestures to the spirit world and an image of the fire nation healing) The people you love will change you(zuko smiling and laughing with his real family at Iroh’s tea shop) The things you have learned will guide you(show his transformation from ponytail to fire lord) And nothing in this world can silence the quiet voice still inside you(zuko is standing at this point,Lu puts his hand on zuko’s shoulder and a faint outline of pre scar zuko appears behind zuko) And when that voice starts to whisper Oh zuko, you’ve come so far. Dear Zu listen, do you know who you are.(Lu is standing in front of him and is placing both hands on zukos shoulders).”

Zuko looks down and bites his lip (faint outline of zuko alone starts appearing)and he says “Who am I? I am a the boy who loves my nation and the boy who love the world. It calls me. I am the son of fire lord. We are descended from warriors(image of the sun warriors)(Zuko walks away from Lu and to the front of his ship,looking the world)who found their way across the world. They call me.( spirits of his ancestors start to appear in the background either riding dragons or sailing)”

He turns around and face Lu, hand clenched in a fist. “I’ve delivered us to where we are(pointing the place the artist decides to draw) I have journeyed farther(side by side image of zuko where he is and his 3 year sea journey) I am everything I’ve learned and more still it calls me( he runs up the deck up to wher he caught the helmsman’s in the storm. He reaches out to the sky) And the call isn’t out their all it’s inside me. It’s like the tide(or sun artist can pick) always falling and rising(zuko closes is eyes bright smile, suddenly he jumps down and runs to Lu who’s watching him with a proud smile) I will carry you head in my heart you’ll remind me(he hugs Lu as he sings this;both smiling while crying. Zuko pulls back and goes to the front again) Come what may, I know the way! I am Zuko!!

The ancestors appear fully in ships or dragons. Roku leading them all. Their all dressed in various fire nation clothes ranging from sun warriors to Zuko’s era. All smiling or having looks of pride for their descendant. Roku nods to zuko and holds out his hand for Lu to get in the dragon. He does and they salute zuko and salutes back. Fang roars and let’s loose rainbow flames and zuko,still grinning,shoots his own to join the dragons.

End.

I’m not an artist so if anyone want to make this a real animatic go ahead but just let me know and send me a link to the work

[lovely-p-issues]

I have this fanfiction idea for times when my English will become acceptable: (it was in my drafts for months and tbh if I didn't post it today like this, with mistakes and stupid parts, I wouldn't have posted it at all, so, sorry ig)

Book 1: The war

How it all started

Let's make Azulon not madly-evil, but just regular-size-evil: he didn't plan to kill Zuko, because it's a stupid idea to get rid of your possible heir, he just wanted to take a son from Ozai - so he decided to make Zuko Iroh's heir, de facto making him Iroh's son (let's not focus on formality, just assume that you can switch your fathers if you are highborn enough)

(Zuko's life isn't in danger, so Ursa doesn't kill Azulon and he'll be ruling at least to the end of that book)

It may seem a great idea (especially in comparison with killing Zuko) but we can't forget that Iroh just lost a son and is still in grief, absolutely not ready to take care of another kid. He still needs to learn how to find a new path and calm his spirit and now he needs to do it with Zuko around him.

Iroh decides to take Zuko with him for his journey - Azulon approves this, seeing his son (and heir) needs to learn how to live after losing Lu Ten and thinking that Iroh may finally teach Zuko some actual fire bending

"I do not want to want to leave, Azula. I'm sorry, little sister."

"Whatever, Zuzu. At least you won't be distracting me from my lessons. Finally, something good comes from this whole fuss around you."

(In fact, she's not happy. Not at all)

______

At this point, Iroh is not yet the nice old man you know from ATLA. He's a broken man, trying to find a purpose in his life, triggered by Zuko's alikeness to Lu Ten and tired of being imposed on things like taking care of a teenager.

He's not Ozai, he's not cruel or even just bad, he just can't force himself to care.

They don't really talk, only sometimes to establish a plan for their further journey. The worst moments are when Iroh calls Zuko Lu Ten's name and then suddenly stops, looking at him in shock. After that kind of incidents, they stay silent for days.

Zuko starts to blame himself for being, well, alive, when his much better cousin is dead. He convinces himself it would be better if he died and Lu Ten lived.

Zuko spends most of his time alone. He hates making Iroh sad and upset so he chooses to stay away. He doesn't know what this all thing with White Lotus, he just likes the idea of his uncle/formal-dad having friends.

Yet, they travel all around the world and for the first time in his life Zuko sees what sharing progress and civilization by Fire Nation looks like. And he doesn't like that.

He's still loyal to his family, so he doesn't believe that his grandfather knows what is happening.

He decides that he needs to make a proper report (soul of writer, ya know).

He makes notes and talks with people, even if he hates how awkward it is. He believes that it's necessary to help them.

I think it's a wonderful idea to see Zuko interviewing - I mean, investigating-

Zuko's raport list - random traders complaining about the difficulty of staying afloat, - migrants who are fleeing war or have lost their homes to fighting, prisoners of war (this doesn't go down too well, thank goodness Zuko is still a kid and his passion seems adorable so no one kills him), - strange ladies in nice outfits who are paid by horrible men for no one knows what, - malnourished scarred soldiers of the Fire Nation, - children of the Earth Kingdom who teach him their stupid game (once he understood the rules, it wasn't THAT stupid, but still), - crazy old ladies, who won't stop pinching his cheeks, - a young girl with a scar on her face who didn't want to tell him much, but Zuko knew what accidental burns looked like and this wasn't one of them, - a group of artists whose theatre burned down after they refused to perform plays approved by the Fire Nation authorities, - a mother who asks him if he knows what happened to her son who was an earth bender and one day. .. just didn't come home

But we all know that Zuko always prefered to act than think. Pretty often Sometimes he disappears for a night. With him disappears an old, theatre mask.

Son came home and left with his mom. Someone left some gold for the soldiers to buy food. Someone bought the most useless things from traders. Someone left burn ointment made by someone who must have grown up surrounded by fire, on the doorstep of the poor girl. And many other, strange things happened.

Of course no one suspects anything or anyone. Trust me. Not a single soul.

______

Zuko is still training but can't even be angry enough to make a big fire. He's just frustrated and that makes him choke with smoke more than anything.

But with every other day, he feels worse. He gets letters from Azula who started to receive more attention from their mother since Zuko was away. When Ozai's influence is limited, she becomes a little more normal. She's still sharp as a knife and dangerous, but feeling loved by both her parents (even if Oazi is more focused on trying to control her and transform her into a weapon) decreases her psychopathic behaviour.

"Mom asked me to take care of your stupid turtle ducks, dum dum"

She thinks he will be happy hearing that she spends time with their mom, and Zuko, honestly, is happy. It's just-

"Am I even still her son since I'm Uncle Iroh's heir?"

-where is his place now?

For the first time in days, he feels an actual rage. And just like this, his fire bending becomes hundreds of times better, even unhinged and dangerous.

Iroh sees this while coming back from meditation (or whatever) and in a second feels that something is wrong.

He reaches out to Zuko, offering him some advice and lessons, but Zuko, a 13-year-old, harmfully lonely and practically neglected at this point prince, can't hold back anymore:

"YOU WANT TO TEACH ME AFTER MONTHS OF IGNORING ME? YOU'RE JUST LIKE FATHER, HE LOOKS AT US ONLY WHEN WE ARE ABOVE EVERYONE ELSE! WHY DIDN'T YOU HELP ME WHEN I COULD NOT HOLD A LITTLE FLAME IN MY HANDS? I DON'T NEED YOUR STUPID ADVICE NOW! YOU WEREN'T THAT WISE WHEN YOU LOST BA SING SE AND GOT LU TEN KILLED"

Iroh sters at him calmly for a few seconds.

"You are right. I wasn't. I'm trying to do better. If you change your mind about training, you know where to find me."

Zuko comes to his Uncle by night.

They don't really train. They drink tea instead.

And it becomes a habit.

After a few days, they start to actually train.

They need to breathe a lot. It's too much for Zuko, but Iroh is rather stubborn about this one.

After a few weeks, for the first time in his life, Zuko feels that fire bending is soothing and just pleasant. It feels like home.

It can't last forever. Of course.

______

They stayed for a long time in the Earth Kingdom. One day Zuko sees Ba Sing Se and vast fields of previous battles, trampled, dry land and piles of burnt bodies.

It's not the work of some mad general or bunch of scared soldiers fighting for their lives. It's his chubby nice tea-loving uncle's work. This is not an accident, an accidental casualty of war. They are the pride of the Fire Nation. This is their honour. This is their civilisation and progress.

That's what his family is doing to the world. Purposely.

Something is breaking inside him. Thoughts of mourning for Lu Ten. No one has ever mentioned all those bodies, the people who died here too. His uncle, his good uncle, his father, the pride of his Nation, only cried over his son. He never even hesitated to burn to a crisp anyone who defended his home. Against them.

Zuko isn't very smart, as we know. He screams a lot at Iroh. And then he leaves.

He thinks to himself, that Lu Ten, who actually fought in those battles would understand that it was wrong. But Lu Ten would also know what to do about it.

He wanders for days, trying to avoid people, untill

He crushes into something.

"Why are you running, flame-boy? Your pants are on fire?" *wild laugh*

And this is how Prince Zuko met Lady Toph Beifong.

[charlottelie]

oh, lucifer?

chapter i. (or, selkie sees a snake) ✧･ﾟ

tags: reader uses she/her pronouns, fem!reader, reader is a trapeze artist, sinner!reader, reader works at lu lu world, no use of y/n, ducks galore

.

You hadn’t meant to. Your guiding philosophy in life and afterlife had always been ‘Ask for forgiveness, not permission’, and it seemed so sound a maxim that you were usually slightly bemused when you found yourself in the unfortunate position of actually having to ask for forgiveness. Upon your arrival in Hell you had thought, Well, I certainly didn’t mean to end up here. Upon your arrival in Lu Lu World you had thought, Well, I wouldn’t say I exactly intended to join a Hadean circus. You hadn’t meant for either of these moral catastrophes to come about—that is, your sending yourself to the Other Place and your working at a fairground—but, despite all your good intentions, here you were. Rotten luck. 

You also hadn’t meant to be late for your act again, but here you were, late as always. You dusted your hands with chalk, briskly clapping them more out of habit than anything else as you examined your makeup in a misty mirror someone had propped up outside the dressing rooms. A poster on the wall, framed by peeling paint, announced your act in proud block capitals: Selkie, the Flying Seal! They had put you right before the interval. Did that make you the star performer? Third-best, at any rate: best were the acrobats, Belladonna and the Bedbugs, the grand finale, and second-best was Sunny’s balancing act, which opened the show. You could hear someone approaching, and fast. Your boss, no doubt, come to gently encourage you to get the fuck onto the stage. 

You looked at him mildly: Didier, who insisted it was pronounced ‘Didi-AIR’, tall, half-imposing, mostly composed, rarely generous, currently furious beyond belief. 

“Selkie! Where the fuck have you been? You’re on in thirty seconds! Ten, nine, eight—” 

You liked to think of him as sort of a lost soul, someone you’d taken under your wing, although, of course, he had been the one to take pity on you and hire you in the first place, and, of course, it was your soul that was on the line. “I’m sorry, Didi-yur,” you said quietly, and he scoffed. As you watched him thoughtfully, compassionately, he grabbed you by the shoulders and half-pushed, half-led you onto the platform—surely a textbook case of abuse in the workplace, if you weren’t in Hell—and you gave him a final glance of serene benevolence before, at his command, you whipped around, stepped into the blazing golden lights of the great circus tent, waved to the crowd, flashed a smile, and leapt from the platform into the open space before you. 

The breathless silence. The hot dusty air. The rush in your stomach like an oncoming wave before you lightly caught the bar another performer had flung towards you, adjusted your grip, and neatly somersaulted to another swing. Here a half-turn, here a straddle whip, and here, at the very peak of the motion of the trapeze, you let go, and hung impossibly in the air for a second before you plummeted, as you were wont to do, and were caught by another trapeze artist. Of course the dizzying leaps and the melodramatic plunges were part of the act. You knew the movements, the swings and the sways and the somersaults; you were, admittedly, at home here. The onlookers roared in delight; your heart, admittedly, soared. But as you spun, leant back, shifted your weight, glanced at the audience, you noticed, about three rows from the front, an unprecedented, unsolicited, indeed undesirable arrival: the strangest demon you had ever met. Or, at least, the strangest demon in the past three days. 

The fine kettle of fish was this. Belladonna, Sunny, Pell-Mell, the clowns, the knife-throwers, the knife-throwees, even the Bedbugs, bless their hearts, had all signed their souls over to Didier. He had expected the same of you when you had been given the job. But you, unused to asking, used to getting, were not prepared to quite merrily hand over the one thing that had guaranteed your continued existence to a man in a slim red tie. And so you had taken on a different sort of contract—which could have been hot, but, regrettably, Didier was not inclined to make such exchanges. You were simply paid far less than what you needed. That was all. The prosaic truth. He had you under contract, but nothing so poetic as a soul-binding one. You simply sewed your own costumes, went without breakfast. You scrounged around for whatever you could whenever you could. You had taken up residence in a formerly-disused caravan with the structural integrity of a multivitamin capsule. 

You had found there was little glory in starving, little romance. It was the banality of it that struck you, when you sighed weakly after your taps wouldn’t turn on, or Didi cut off your electricity, or you found you would have to choose between food and heating. It was the endless rolling of the cold and empty days that you suspected would grind you down in the end. But of course they were punctuated by your dazzling nights, your whirling wheeling flights through the grandly lit top tent that drew so many to Lu Lu World. And of course you were resourceful. 

In your life you had always been willing to bend the rules. In your death you were no different. You had the right kind of mind for business, and your business was, up there and down here, remarkably effective. Any con, put-on, cutup, cantrip, flimflam, ramp or scam anyone could think of, you’d done it. You once stole a woman’s shoes and sold them to her husband’s mistress for twice the retail price. Double-joke was on her, because purple was not her color. Only yesterday you had sold a sweet-looking sinner an ‘astral lightning rod’ meant to attract ‘negative interdimensional frequencies��� and channel them into their neighbors’ houses. The lightning rod in question was a refashioned rake you had found in the bins outside the gift shop. To put it plainly, as it were, if it had to be said, you were a, quote-unquote, ‘scammer’, though you and yours would never call it that. You hadn’t meant to end up in this trade, after all. You would like to think you had an entrepreneurial mindset. 

This entrepreneurial mindset had landed you in a stall (without a permit, obviously) in the Lu Lu World food court, having donned a wig and taken on the persona of a charming Texan aunt. Here you sold separately heart-shaped chocolates you had bought in bulk, meticulously unwrapped, and meticulously re-wrapped in shiny pink paper, to whichever passing demons or sinners appeared lonely or gullible or both. You told them all these chocolates, if consumed, would make anyone fall in love with them. To a pale imp in a band T-shirt you had sold three for five times what you’d paid for a box of eight; to a fishlike sinner whose disinterested girlfriend had abandoned him for the fairyfloss stall you sold five at, you told him, fifty percent off (which was three times the usual price). They had told their friends; their friends had flocked to your stall; soon afterwards, your original buyers had come back for more. But now there was a lull in business, as there usually was at this time of the afternoon. So when you noticed a duck demon – literally, a demon the size and shape of a duck, albeit a cartoonishly cute one – with an odd gait and a faraway look in his eyes, you were thrilled to have once again hit the jackpot.

You called him over excitedly. “Hey there, friend, what’s got you looking so glum?” That caught his attention. Hook. “You know, I see all sorts of people come through here. But ain’t none of them got such a positively chap-fallen look on their faces—not to insult you, gorgeous.” He was watching you with wary curiosity. Line. “Come on. Don’t you wanna tell old Mrs. Appleby all about it?” Sinker. 

“You’re not married,” he said. Sinker? That was strange. 

“What?”

“You’re not married. You’re not wearing a wedding ring.” Was he one of those? A flirt? Read: creep? Those were often easier to sell to. 

You pointed at your sign. Mrs. Appleby’s Apple-licious Treats. “Mrs. Appleby. That all that ambiguous?” you said, which won you a small smile from this bizarrely fluffy, bizarrely yellow duck. He flew surprisingly gracefully (you, the Flying Seal, knew what made a graceful flight) towards your stall, perching on the countertop just in front of your merchandise. And as he did so, you felt a dull crackle of power in the air, but, habitually incautious, you ignored it. Perhaps an Overlord-adjacent was taking a piss behind the neighboring food truck. Something like that. 

“It’s just heart-shaped candy,” he said. Usually demons looked like they’d just crawled out of a monsoon drain. Not this duck. He looked like a dapper gift-shop-plushie, the kind that comes with a sweet tag with their inevitably adorable name, written beneath it, Please look after this [relevant animal]! 

“Just heart-shaped candy? Why, this is the best heart-shaped candy you’ve ever had the good fortune to feast your eyes upon! ‘Why is that, Mrs. Appleby?’ Why, I’ll tell ya!” He seemed to be enjoying himself, not least because he hadn’t left. “This chocolate is magic!” That earned you another smile. 

“Really? Is that so?”

“Sure is. Straight from my distant uncle Asmodeus. Just eat one, wait three hours, and you’ll be feeling sprightly as a spring lamb. Two’ll have all the hens—or the men, don’t look so dejected, whatever you prefer—running after you like you’re catnip and they’re a litter of kittens.”

“Hold on now. You’re trying to sell me chocolate…chocolate-ified love potions? Love potion-ified chocolate? Love-ified—” 

You waved a hand at him in pleasant dismissal. “Now, don’t you overthink it, honey. I just saw you needed a helping hand and Auntie Appleby thought she’d take a”—you surprised even yourself with this one—“quack at it.” For a glorious moment he struggled between delight and disappointment. Then he laughed, genuinely, and smiled at you with something like satisfaction.

“Two’ll make me catnip. What’ll three do?”

You paused, then shrugged nonchalantly. “Well, I ate three, and look at me now.” 

And after that it really had been sinker, and you’d sold him a box of ten and wrapped it up in pink parchment and given it to him in a pretty heart-shaped bag with added glitter. You wondered if he’d realized he was being fleeced. There was an air of irony about the way he treated you, but you were pleased to play along. A sale was a sale.

Naturally, though, you tried not to encounter people you’d sold something to after you’d sold it to them. You’d been a little careless today, telling them to wait only three hours. You’d thought that’d be enough to get them out of the grounds, but this duck was persistent. As usual, you hadn’t meant for this to happen. He still had his heart-shaped bag. He was sitting smugly in a seat far too large for him. Did he recognise you? Could he recognise you? The Flying Seal was a far cry from homely Mrs. Appleby. It could have been a coincidence. Perhaps he just liked the circus. It wasn’t strictly unusual to re-encounter your customers. But he was watching you intently, you realized, before you had to maneuver yourself into the arms of your closest friend in the circus, your counterpart, Pell-Mell, the Soaring Fiddler. And then, still incautious, you let the strange duck slip from your mind, and flung yourself from the catchbar again. 

Lucifer had decided to visit Lu Lu World less out of curiosity and more out of boredom and a vague sense of duty. It was, after all, his theme park. He’d been reckless, coming as a duck, but who’d guess this out-of-place, out-of-sorts waterfowl was the Lightbringer himself? Besides, he’d wanted to watch the circus. He hadn’t quite known what to expect. Perhaps he’d expected to be disappointed. 

But now he watched you in what seemed your most natural state. Flying, entertaining. Even without the wig and the bizarre Texan accent he recognised you (he, of all people, knew what made a good trick, a good show). He saw how you fed on the crowd’s cheers like they kept you alive. It was miraculously complex and miraculously simple. You were happy they were happy. He watched you as you rose and dove through the air as your namesake might through water—easily, happily, unembarrassed—and the lights, your smile, the spectacle, recalled to him, dimly, as if seen through rain, something he had felt a long time ago. 

You landed delicately on the platform opposite the one you had arrived from. “Selkie, the Flying Seal!” the ringmaster declared triumphantly. You winked mischievously at the audience. Did you realize they were thrilled with you? Could you realize it? Did the whole performance require a level of obliviousness? You caught the outstretched hand of your fellow performer, a small, slender girl sporting a glossy bob, and lifted her onto the platform. The two of you gave a final bow, and you, beaming, looked not down at the audience but up at the distant lights. 

Lucifer decided half-consciously that he ought to come back.

[kuschelkissen]

Ok so. Actual predictions I make about Yingdu

List under cut

Cheng Xiaoshi dies on screen at least once.

Cheng Xiaoshi dies in a dream and/ or flashback

Xia Fei dies (bonus points if he actually dies in the fire that killed Cheng Xiaoshi at one point. Based on the opening lol)

the two chapters will be split between actual prequel (3 years ago) and the present (current timeline? Or maybe the previous one. Probably somewhere before s1)

(Basing this entirely of 2 things, the 2 different outfits and the fact that Lu Guang said in the first trailer "i think he might be in Yingdu" and "he can't go to Yingdu", which sounds to me like something happened on their overseas trip?)

(Not sure where the flashbacks with the Qiaos or the basketball scene will be in this)

Lu Guang almost drowns (bonus points for cpr. YES I KNOW IT'S NOT A KISS BUT THEIR LIPS TOUCH AND I'M DESPERATE, OK?!)

full scene of the meet cute at the basketball court (but it's not the first timeline)

Vein can control dreams

Xia Fei will betray... someone. I hope it will be Vein and Liu Xiao, but my gut tells me it will be ShiGuang

Xia Fei and the blonde woman are related¹

(If my gf is right and he is her in disguise, I'm gonna scream and laugh, it would be funny)

Xia Fei probably has powers. Whatever they will look like

Vein is not an actual cannibal (praying for this one, I don't want to mute more artists I like)

we will see the Qiaos taking care of Cheng Xiaoshi (bonus points if the whole "I'll give you a ten year loan for rent" is shown as a joke and papa Qiao's way of trying to make cxs think they're not pitying him, so he let's them help him.)

Cheng Xiaoshi gets his powers (gets them or they awaken)

idk if there will be actual backstory for Lu Guang, but I hope so. I wish to see their actual first meeting, though I don't think we will get that in Yingdu. At least not if the white hair theory will be confirmed, what I assume won't happen before s3 when Qiao Ling confronts Lu Guang.

(WELL? We got at least some background on him yet??)

"thank you for your cooperation, sweetie" is said to either Lu Guang or Cheng Xiaoshi after he helped Vein with something that seemed harmless, but lead to something horrible. (Bonus points if he says it to Lu Guang after whatever he did to help lead to Cheng Xiaoshi dying)

we learn something about Cheng Xiaoshi's parents

- a few questions will be answered, but in the end we will be left with more

every episode will end with a cliffhanger so bad I'll cry

I think that's all for now, need to sort my thoughts more for the rest

EDIT after seeing the final PV

Lu Guang's conversation with Liu Xiao about controlling the future has actually nothing to do with Cheng Xiaoshi's death because it hasn't happened at that point. It is the beginning of the Loop, though

Lu Guang's power turns out to be actually different than what we thought it was

EDIT2 after seeing the ending

the man and woman you see from behind are Xia Fei's parents who died in the big fire (blonde woman is his sister and part of me wants to say she thinks she's the only survivor but her brother survived, too. Adding this one solely based on that cipher reading "there is more than one survivor to this disaster". But in the end it doesn't make sense with XF being so prominent as a famous model, so... UGH. There is, again, more to this.)

(still dunno what his agency is though lol)

[skyward-floored]

Hey so any thoughts on people who tag non-LU stuff as LU (despite the creators of said AU aren't connected to LU in any way)?

...They need to stop doing it.

This has been a problem for years, and it drives me nuts because people I follow, and friends, and myself, have all had to deal with this and it’s incredibly discouraging.

I say this as someone who truly loves linkeduniverse— people seriously need to get it through their heads that other AUs exist out there. Often with similar or identical nicknames and/or designs for Links. And it takes all of ten seconds to click on a post and check the original tags to see if the artist meant it as lu or not. it’s not hard!

There are several posts out there that have put it more more elegantly than me, but it’s so disheartening to work hard on an au and put so much work into it and then having people take one look and go “oh it’s more lu!”. But it’s not, it’s something different and I can’t articulate exactly why it hurts so much when something you worked hard on gets tagged as someone else’s work, but it really, really does.

So just... be mindful. Be respectful of other AUs. Take ten seconds and make sure what you’re about to tag as linkeduniverse actually is that.

Don’t just mindlessly consume, okay?

[xiyouyanyi]

Welcome!

@ryin-silverfish here, also known as "That person who talks a lot about FSYY and fox spirits".

This is my little LMK AU sideblog, which started off as a bunch of disjointed background notes for my fanfics, but developed into its own gigantic thing over time.

I've said elsewhere that, despite LMK (and many other JTTW adjacent works) lifting certain tidbits wholesale from FSYY——like Nezha's backstory or the Golden Dragon Shears, neither the show nor the fanworks really go into the implications of a FSYY/JTTW combined universe.

(For one, Zhao Gongming's three sisters, the Sanxiao, showing up to kick Jin and Yin's butts for stealing and breaking their treasure would be very satisfying, and also hella badass.)

Well, be the change you want, they said. 

So here it is: Journey of the Gods, aka "LMK, but FSYY is also canon and an extremely influential historical event".

Inspired by @digitaldoeslmk 's By the Book AU.

What even is FSYY?

"Ancient China's bloodiest bureaucracy recruitment program, kickstarted by a king who simped too hard for the creator goddess of humanity and the fox girl she sent to end his dynasty."

"I'll write my own God-Demon novel, with blackjacks and fox hookers and no Buddhist allegories!" ——Xu Zhonglin/Lu Xixing/Li Yunxiang

Okay, jokes aside: Investiture of the Gods(Fengshen Yanyi) is the other big "God-Demon Novel" of the Ming dynasty, written after JTTW. It's about the toppling of the Shang dynasty and its tyrannical King Zhou by King Wu of Zhou——but with more Daoism, immortals and demons helping out both sides, and ten billion magical formations and treasures. 

At the end of the story, almost everyone who died in battle were deified and became the 365 gods of the Celestial Bureaucracy, thus "Investiture of the Gods". 

Here is a link to the only full English translation of FSYY, by Gui Zhizhong.

Here is my overview of FSYY's grand overarching conflict, a.k.a. "Why are all the Daoist immortals fighting?" 

Compared to JTTW, it's a lot more formulaic and suffers from a massive character count inflation problem, but also extremely influential in Chinese folk religion, to the point of some modern temples, like Qingyang Palace, basically worshiping characters from the novel! Like, the western equivalent would be a church worshiping Dante and Beatrice from the Divine Comedy.

(Similarly, it is to orthodox Daoism what the Divine Comedy is to medieval Christian theology, and should not be treated as actual religious scriptures.)

Okay, FSYY happened in the LMK universe. So What?

Well, first, it will really do wonders to fill up that eerily empty Celestial Realm we see in the Spider Queen special, and the Celestial Bureaucracy will no longer consist of a grand total of five people.

Secondly, it can solve some major show-not-tell problems and actually give legitimacy to the grievances of the LMK Brotherhood + Havoc in Heaven, as well as fleshing out the Celestial Realm.

Third, so many cool magical treasures.

Fourth, LBD gets an origin story, with a twist.

Fifth, I delight in quality angst and horror, and FSYY had some seriously messed-up stuff and implications.

Sixth, Celestial Bureaucracy office politics.

Seventh, Nezha kicking asses and winning fights like he should.

Eighth, crazy Xianxia shit, as you’d expect from the great-granddaddy of modern Xianxia genre.

Ninth, infodumps about Chinese mythos and history trivias.

Tenth, Underworld lore.

...As you can probably tell, this is mostly just me nerding out and writing walls of texts. I'm not a very good artist and can't do Lego style, but will probably doodle some symbol/character designs for funsies.

I also derive most of my enjoyment from writing fix-its and worldbuilding, not shipping characters. Like, I love exploring individual characters through relationships, but just ain't a fan of romance.

There will be a lot of OCs, but unless otherwise specified, all of them will be based on actual characters from FSYY and JTTW, with a few folk gods sprinkled in for funsies.

With that taken care of: good luck and happy reading!

[five-rivers]

Just One Day (Chapter 1)

During times like this, Iroh glimpses what Zuko could have been if Lu Ten lived.  

It’s easy, almost painfully so, for Iroh to see what he himself would have been.  He wouldn’t have had any reason to change, after all, and he had already been old by the time he’d breached the walls of Ba Sing Se.  But for Zuko?  That’s harder.  

Zuko had been a child, still forming, still being formed, when Lu Ten died.  Zuko’s training would have taken a very different path, if he had been allowed to remain a mere cousin to the crown prince.  

Looking at what could have been for Zuko is like looking into a kaleidoscope.  Even within the confines of the royal house, there are a thousand paths Zuko could have walked.  A diplomat, a priest, a soldier, a scholar, an artist, an advisor.  A spy.  An assassin.

It’s the way Zuko pours himself out of the ventilation shaft, utilizing a economy of motion that could be called graceful that does it.  The utter silence of his movements, the color of his clothes, the brightness in his eyes…  Yes.  Iroh sees what Zuko might have been.  What he might have been used for, in another world.  What even Iroh himself might have been encouraged.

But if Iroh would imagine that world, he might as well imagine any of the dozen others that have crossed his mind over the years.  That countless myriad of what-ifs set on him like a spirit plague.  If he imagines that world, he could instead picture kinder ones.  Ones where the war was over, where Zuko was happy.  

It was immaterial.  What mattered was the here and now.  Here and now, Zuko is none of those things.  Zuko is an exile, a desperate one, chasing after a rapidly narrowing beam of hope that had more in common with the lure of an angler-shark than anything good.

“Uncle?” asks Zuko, voice quiet and rough.  Burnt.

“My apologies, Nephew,” says Iroh.  “You must forgive an old man his woolgathering.”

Zuko’s pinched expression says that no, he doesn’t have to do that and probably won’t.  “You have to focus if-- if we’re doing this.  You can’t be distracted when Zhao is looking over your shoulder.”  His tone is angry.  At least, that is how most people would interpret it.

“It’s alright, it’s alright, I’ve made sure we’re alone.  We’re as safe as we can be.  In the meantime, food!  And more importantly, tea.”

Zuko scrunches his face into an expression that is both delightfully teenage and undoubtedly painful.  His face is covered in bruises and small cuts.  “Uncle…”

“You may wrinkle your nose, Prince Zuko, but every person in the world has at least one virtue, and Admiral Zhao’s is excellent taste in tea.”  He smiles as he sits down and reaches for the pot.  “Although, I am sorry to say that his virtue is a very lonely one.”

Sadly, this does not get the laugh Iroh was hoping for.  Zuko’s scowl may, however, become slightly less pronounced.  He also, once Iroh sits down, falls on the food like a starving man.  He might very well be.  Iroh’s position on the ship and in Admiral Zhao’s retinue has the unfortunate requirement of being in Zhao’s presence, or that of his trusted subordinates, most of the day.  This means that he cannot help his nephew nearly as much as he would like.  

So.  It is, in fact, very likely that this is Zuko’s first meal today.

Although, Zuko is quite capable of theft, when it serves his purposes and sense of honor.  Maybe he is just being a teenager.  Teenagers are hungry.  

Iroh would ask, but he doubts he would receive an honest answer, either way.  

Then, Zuko stops, mid-bite.  “Uncle,” he says around a dumpling, “have you eaten?”

Then again, Iroh is, perhaps, not a bastion of honesty himself.  “Of course!”  He pats his stomach.  “Have you ever known me to miss a free meal?”

Zuko squints at this, then looks back down at his food.  He doesn’t start eating again.  

“Do you ever…” he starts, before pursing his lips together.  

“Yes?” prompts Iroh, hopefully.  

“Do you ever wish,” says Zuko, quickly, the words tumbling over each other, crowding to get out of his mouth, “that you were someone else?”  He freezes, then, jaw clenched tightly, as if he fears that he has spoken out of turn.  

“No,” says Iroh, glad that, at least, this is a familiar fear.  “No.  Prince Zuko, I do not regret my decision to be with you.”

“That’s not what I mean,” says Zuko, clearly frustrated but keeping his voice at a near whisper.  “I mean…  Do you ever wish that you weren’t-- That you didn’t--  That you were a, I don’t know, a poet, or a priest, or a-- a normal person.  Somewhere.  Someone who didn’t… didn’t have to…”  He shrugged.

Iroh blinks.  Not a fear, then, perhaps.  Well, if Zuko wants to stop his hunt, to disappear from the eye of the Fire Nation and more importantly the Fire Lord, Iroh will do his best to make that happen, and with a glad heart.  Although, it would have been far more convenient if Zuko had his change of heart before he snuck onto this ship…

“I suppose all men do so at times, especially men of power.  Otherwise, why would there be so many stories of kings and lords in disguise?  Why would there be actors, or the masks of the Fire Festival?  I confess, even I have, hm, occasionally pretended to be someone who is not Prince Iroh of the Fire Nation, General and Dragon of the West.”  He paused.  “Do you wish for such a thing, Nephew?” best to not use his title and remind him of the responsibilities attached to it.

“I… I have, uncle.”  He looks up, alarm clear on his face.  “Not permanently!  Not forever!  Not-- Not even for very long!  But sometimes…”  He looks down again, a blush spreading across skin that is alternately pale, scarred, burned, bruised, and scraped.  “I wish,” he says, very quietly indeed, “I could be someone else, anyone else, just for a day.”

In that moment, Iroh can see all the things that Zuko wishes not to be, not to have.  He wishes not to hurt, not to be hurt, not to have this weight upon him, not to have this duty, not to be banished, not to be so far from home, not to be part of this war, not to have these memories, this history, not to be betrayed over and over again.

Although, that is probably not the way Zuko is thinking about it.

“But just for a day,” says Zuko.  He swallows.  “Just for a day.  I know my duty, Uncle.  I love our people.  It’s my honor to serve them.”

Ah.  Perhaps Zuko is not, quite, ready to run away with him to become nameless, faceless Earth Kingdom peasants, then.  Well, Iroh always knew this was going to be, how should he put it, a work in progress.  Or, no, that probably wasn’t the best way to put that.  He’d have to think on it.  

Metaphors took a lot of work that the youth of today just didn’t appreciate.

Iroh put his hand on Zuko’s shoulder and squeezed it as tightly as he dared.  “I understand, Prince Zuko,” he said.  “But I hope that someday, the spirits will grant your wish.”

Zuko blinked hard, then went back to inhaling his meal.  A few minutes later, he was climbing - practically levitating - his way back up into the vents.  

Iroh leaned back, sighing.  They really shouldn’t make those things as big as they did.  

.

Zuko crawled to the bend in the ventilation shaft that he’d been sleeping in while Zhao sailed north.  It was near the showers, so while it was unpleasantly damp, it was warm and he could sometimes overhear the officers talking.  

He curled up, tucking in his knees and pillowing his head on the small bag of necessities he’d been able to put together.  He should sleep.  He needed to sleep.  

But to sleep, he’d have to forget all the stupid things he had said to his uncle.  What had he been thinking?  Ugh.  He’d hit something, if that wouldn’t give away his position and therefore his presence.  

Well.  It might not, at that.  Ships were noisy.  Still.  

Still.  

Still, he hadn’t been lying.  But he knew better than to just say things like that.  That’s what got him exiled in the first place.  

He forcefully closed his eyes.  He would sleep.  He had to be rested, to break into the north pole and capture the Avatar.  

.

The sun slowly rose over the arctic horizon, waking all of the fleet’s firebenders, even if for only a moment, depending on their shift.  In his stateroom, Admiral Zhao woke slowly, and called for his aides to brief him.  Decks below, General Iroh, already awake, ran through a set of katas he had not yet taught his nephew.  In a ventilation duct near the officer’s showers, a teenage firebender gasped, coming awake all at once.  But this teenager wasn’t Prince Zuko.  Prince Zuko wasn’t on the ship.  Prince Zuko wasn’t anywhere.  

In the ventilation duct, Kuzon of Hing Wa sat up.  

.

(The moral of the story is ‘don’t make wishes when you’re in a spirit tale.’)

[einsatzzz]

For the weirdly specific artist ask game, can you answer 3, 4, and 14 ❤️

Heewwwooo Butter!!! Thank you for sending this, yipeee!!! 🥳🥳💖✨ I rambled too much with #3 (What ideas come from when you were little), I'm putting it last.

4. Fav character/subject that's a bitch to draw

I already answered this here, but I'll give you another. Lum/ine, Ae/ther, Ei, Xi/ao, Wan/derer and any of my other faves from any Mi/hoyo game that I play, because goddamn! Just look at their outfits! Back when I was still drawing fanarts for Gen/shin, I will die every time just from drawing the details of their clothing. But I was too down horrendous for Lu/mine to just give up on drawing her. So when I switched to drawing Sp/yFam fanarts right after, my art braincells are just "Thank God, this evil Gen/shin obsession has been defeated".

Not gonna lie, with them releasing Oro/ron and Sun/day so close to each other, I'm starting to feel the urge to draw them again...wtf djfbjsd Anyway, if anyone drawing Gen/shin fanart (specifically) comes across this by any chance, here's a lifesaver reference site that I used for their outfits. It made the experience slightly less painful.

14. Any favorite motifs

Motifs where there are opposites of light/darkness and sun/moon, but not exactly presented in a black/white way where you know from a glance which is the absolute good and which is the absolute evil. It's more of like ying yang, where there's "complementary and at the same time opposing forces" or that "in kindness, there's evil; in evil, there's kindness". I believe the gray blur where each of these sides converge is the best place ever to explore in fiction.

3. What ideas come from when you were little

The concept itself of making a comic! When I was around...I guess around 4th to 5th grade? Around ten years old or less? I remember drawing this comic of an original story I had back then. I think the setting is something like a historical drama in Ko/rea.

That's because even in the late 2000's and early 2010s, kd/ramas were popping off so hard in PH, almost every adult I knew were watching them. It would always play in the background whenever I'm doing homework or when my mother is tutoring me. The titles I can remember were Je/wel in the Pa/lace and Queen Se/ondok (<-OK I GOTTA CONFESS THIS ONE CHANGED MY BRAIN CHEMISTRY).

Anyway, my younger self got so into this original comic story, I probably ended up drawing up to like half a ream of papers? sdjfbjshvfshd It's all traditional drawings with short bond papers with just a shitty ballpoint black pen. I was ten years old(?), so it definitely looked not so good. It's a secret project so I'm the only one who knows about it and I also hid it under our cabinet like it's some lemon fanfic hahaha (it's more action, tragedy with a bit of romance) I think it's because of that bit of romance that I hid it out of embarrassment, also the papers were actually supposed to be for when we need to print something for school projects, so I think I thought I was gonna get scolded for "wasting" them. I'm not about risk myself getting whooped with either a slipper, belt or broom bro 💀💀💀

I think what happened after that is for when your art perception improves but ur art skills can't catch-up, so I kind of had an art block and wasn't satisfied with it anymore. Then I ripped the pages and threw the entire thing away dsjvfhdsfvshdf 🗿🗿🗿🗿🗿 I wish I didn't 🗿🗿🗿🗿🗿 I have no start point to compare my current art with anymore and I can't even remember the story or the OCs that I had in there anymore.

Anyway, I'm making up for it now by making comics seriously fr fr and I won't be deleting it even if a ten-wheeler art block truck hits me and runs me over.

This question made me look through the oldest fandom account I can remember, for possible old arts and it's actually so funny/embarrassing how passive-aggressive 14 year old me is. Someone commented "I don't like this ship! This character is only mine!" on a rarepair ship fanart I showed to the group and 14-year old me replied "I understand your feelings, but you're not his only fan so keep that to yourself next time ^_^" ajvfsghdcghsdcds other interactions are also full of haterism energy it makes me go GHURL STOP!!! 😭😭😭😭 THAT'S SO MEAN!!! This 14 year old is a wholeass different person, who does this bitch think they are?!

[rachedurst]

TAG GAME: Ten People I'd Like to Know Better

Tagged by @kontadodju ! Ty!

Last Song: 炜WARD ROMANCE / Weiward romance by Flavor Foley! I wanted to hear the fucking "I just didn't think it'd be chinese is all" sample in the end again. funny as hell. let it be known my gf associates this song with Hong Lu/Bao yu really hard

Favorite Color: Red! Although I switch between Red, indigo and purple regularly...

Last Movie: Tokyo Godfathers. My gf wanted to watch it as a christmas movie :) I quite enjoyed it. I've been looking at the artstyle because I really like how the east asian ethnic traits are drawn - they look like they're actually asian unlike a lot of anime characters imo. So I wanna see if I can integrate that in my art too....

Last Book: Excluding academic books for class, for leisurely time I've been reading 20.000 leagues under the sea by Jules Verne for my take on Captain Nemo. I haven't had the time or motivation to continue though so It's a slow progress but I like it a lot, it's interesting to me how like. progressive a lot of these sailor-set books are for the time they were released, looking at this and moby dick.... They have plethoras of issues but they're way more well intentioned than one would think

Sweet, Spicy or Savory: Spicy..... Spicy beloved......

Last Thing I Googled: "Danganronpa fan executions", I saw a youtube thumbnail with that one makoto fan execution and had like. visceral flashbacks to when I saw those when I was a kid obsessing over danganronpa and thought that fanart row was so good. And it still is! Turns out it's from a SDR2 official fanbook, and the artist is Orima.

Current Obsession: I'm like trying so hard not to fixate on Danganronpa but I've been thinking about it and had the urge to redesign it and do my take on it so bad. But I shan't, I have to keep focused on Uni and the art i have to get done for comms and the game im working on....

Looking Forward To (but nervous about): Next month I'm in the US to visit my gf and meet their parents! As I will have to be stealthing and their parents also suck I am quite nervous about failing in interacting with them. But I shall do my best pretending were a cishet couple ORZ

Tagging (no pressure, just ignore this if you don't like tag games): @andromedako @horrocious @cherophobic-worm @devivi-lish @felikatze @burninghubris @lampriformity @leomidas @liolowell @bunniesfield @sharkgirldick

[demaparbat-hp]

4, 24, and 35 for the artist ask meme!

4—Piece you wish got more love?

My pieces usually receive such huge amounts of love from you guys, and I consider myself so lucky! If I had to choose one I wish could have gotten more attention, though, I think it'd be this Lu Ten artwork for my ATLA fanfiction For the Spirits.

I had such a fun time working on it! And I really like how it came to life. Lu Ten is one of my favorite characters, and I loved drawing him.

24—What's a compliment about your art that has always stuck with you?

Someone once told me, upon seeing one of my paintings, that it felt as if it would crawl out of the canvas and haunt them for life.

My physical artwork tends to be more visceral and personal than what you guys see over here. It really struck me that it felt alive, breathing, dangerous, to someone—communicating emotion through art has always been one of my goals, so it felt wonderful to be told as much.

35—If you had one piece of advice to give your younger artist self, what would it be?

Cut yourself some slack! Not everything you do needs to look or be perfect. Nobody is asking you to be the best at what you do—and if they are, kindly tell them to get lost!

Your art is what you make it to be. It is the form you will it to take. If an instalation or a performance or conceptualism doesn't call out to you, don't do it. If you want to spend the rest of your life painting like the old masters instead, then go ahead! Be happy, be content, be satisfied with your art.

Nobody will give you peace in life. You must seek it by yourself. Be bold, be prideful, be unapologetic. Be true.

[zipzapzopzoop]

There's a Great Big Beautiful Tomorrow

Chapter 37: Close Encounters of the Third Kind

(Warning, this chapter contains dark themes such as kidnapping, violence, and descriptions of injury and illness. As always, take care and read at your own risk)

His heart was in his throat.

“Get him, get him, get him!”

The first shot missed, the second one hit.

Almost ten feet he plummeted, crying out when he landed painfully on the asphalt, completely entangled in netting and unable to fly.

He scrambled to get to his feet but would only end up getting tangled up further and pulled back down to the floor like an animal caught in a trap.

He began to hyperventilate, and yet it felt like he was getting no air at all. There were shouts from people standing over him.

“Alright, we got the target in the net, over.” “Get him in the car!”

There was the sound of a car trunk being opened.

He began to yell for help, but there was nobody else around. His heart slammed against his ribs as he clawed and kicked at the netting. He didn’t have anything sharp on him! He dropped his paint gun when he was shot with the net and fell.

This isn’t happening.

This isn’t happening.

Suddenly, there was the sound of barking, and whoever was dragging him let go. There was some cursing and the sounds of a scuffle nearby.

Then a gunshot.

Laszlo jolted awake.

The artist looked around wildly, but stopped upon noticing Buster laying on his chest. 

He had woken him up. It was a dream. Buster had noticed him twitching in his sleep and woke him up. 

Laszlo’s heart was still racing, he needed to calm down. He reached over and pulled on his goggles, slipping them down over his eyes.

“Thanks, buddy…” Laszlo whispered and pet the terrier with trembling hands. “I don’t know where I’d be without you…” That wasn’t completely true. He knew he’d be in the back of one of those SUVs that had been chasing him and Tiny.

“Hey Lulu…?”

Laszlo rolled over, only to find the spot she was sleeping in empty.

“Tallulah?” He sat up and looked around the room. She was nowhere to be found. 

Dread began to pool in his stomach. 

What if she got taken…? 

What if she was in the back of one of those SUVs right this moment?

Being taken who-knows-where?

Logic told him he was being paranoid, but experience told him to find his sister before it was too late.

Without thinking, Laszlo rushed out of the camp, down the lab stairs, and into the hall.

“Tallulah?!”

He heard a pained groan from one of the rooms to his left. The door was cracked open.  

“Lulu…?” He nudged the door open. 

“...Lasz..?” 

The artist froze when he saw his sister collapsed on the floor, kneeled over a trash can. She looked terrible. She was pale and had a blanket haphazardly wrapped around her, like she couldn’t decide if she was too hot or too cold.

With that, older brother mode kicked in instantly and he was on the floor by her side.

“What happened? Are you sick?” He felt her forehead with the back of his hand.

“Jesus, Lu. You’re burning up. What’s going on?”

His sister shivered and put her head down on the edge of the trashcan.

“Everything feels terrible…”

“Terrible how?” He ran a washcloth under some cold water and wrung it out before kneeling back next to her and wiping her face clean.

“Gaston, Uncle Bud, and I were being chased by those security guys, and our car went into the canal…” she began, her eyes still shut. Lasz listened patiently while he washed the cloth clean and wrung it out a second time. 

She began to take deeper breaths like she was going to be sick again, but it seemed to just be a false alarm. She sighed. “I hate this…”

“What happened when you went into the canal?” Laszlo gently prompted.

“We broke the window to get out. And while I pulled Gaston out, I cut my back pretty badly on the window…” she murmured tiredly. “It’s been hurting bad since…”

“Hang on…” Laszlo shifted the blanket to see the wound. His eyes widened when he saw it.

“Tallulah… this is really infected. Like that canal is filthy,” her brother’s voice was serious. She didn’t respond. Laszlo flinched when she began to slump to the floor. “Lulu…? Tallulah?”

Laszlo felt like his heart stopped when he realized she was completely unconscious. This was bad.

“Help… Help! I need help!” He laid her on her side and jumped up to get somebody. Laszlo ran out of the room and froze like a deer in headlights.

A younger Bud and Lucille stared back at him.

------------

Check out the chapter on my Archive!

[altarfates]

@rhaazt

At least Cheng Xiaoshi had been doing a convincing job of acting like he was totally, utterly and completely absorbed in his mindless scrolling ! He had not missed the fact that Lu Guang’s eyes had traversed those same ten lines in a perfunctory effort to look busy for the last hour. Not subtle at all dude, you’re being totally obvious. Was it because he was so adequately versed in the faint differences between Lu Guang’s expression — or were those tedious, antiquated texts so vapid that even his astounding brain had been rendered flat and lifeless. Oh, how he is in quiet mourning for your poor mind Lu Guang, how long will recovery take ? He can only surmise it would be quite some time considering the convoluted passage he had glimpsed in passing made a total of zero sense. He could almost hear the other fondly calling him an idiot for having no concept of artistic intrigue at all but he was far too preoccupied with the task at hand to be concerned about that.

❝ Wha, No ? come on man, you were so totally bummed when we had to return — elizabeth.❞ he still has to restrain a traitorous huff of laughter at the dignified name he had wanted to bestow upon that tiny, ginger menace. Not that Cheng Xiaoshi was much less of a nuisance but he had thus far thrived in his own brand of chaos and Lu Guang was still here and hadn’t fled to the opposite side of the country so that had to count for something ! ❝ So I did some thinking, don’t look at me like i’m in physical pain like that.❞  it dwelled in the creases at the corners of his eyes, the corners of his mouth, the glint in his eyes that conveyed just how much of Cheng Xiaoshi’s abysmal acting he had seen through. 

❝ Anyway, you want one right ? you don’t have’ta hide that from me. ❞ he is all but easing into his auspicious spiel about cats when the book thunks against his forehead and he is left to momentarily reel from the impact. As his phone is confiscated a hand rests across his forehead in feigned distress, there was a red mark and all ! look what you’ve done ! that was so unfair lu guang. However, he’s more immersed in the way his eyes skim the screen, deliberating on where reticent yearning verged upon indifference, already having beheld the fervent way he had played with, cared for and fed their temporary house-guest. He rubs at the grievous injury he had sustained with the tips of his fingers as the phone is promptly disposed of in the middle of his chest. He levels lu guang with a steady gaze as his fingers finally withdraw and he is given the opportunity to give his input. ❝  we still have the litter box right ? I don’t think it was thrown out and I remember to feed you don’t I ? I could totally take care of a cat, with the two of us — is anything really impossible ? ❞ his grin was effervescent and like all things destined to invert and detonate it dissolves with that accusation, pointing his finger at him as if it were condemning. ❝ I’ll have you know I changed the toilet roll twice this week, TWICE, that’s a real low blow lu guang.  ❞ and now he’s quite possibly beginning to pout about it, he was doing this because lu guang gazed wistfully out of the shop as the cat had left and had been doing so into nothingness ever since ! was this not a profound display of friendship on his behalf ? he was hurt, really hurt, truly hurt.