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nnozomiI have been having...you can’t even say “health problems” with something this minor, tiny trivial discomforts which upset me only because when they hang around for a few days, I keep thinking “but what if this is the first sign of thus-and-such terrible illness,” etc., you know, the way one does. Distracting myself with cdrama rambling.
An idea coming up from all the very good Guardian meta there seems to be a lot of lately. Shen Wei in episode 8 etc.: I mean, he is horrified to find that modern pre-Kunlun Kunlun is such a disaster all around, but also there’s this amazing unfolding joy at seeing all the aspects of Kunlun that, for various good reasons, he never could ten thousand years ago; even the terrible ones (possibly excepting the fridge) are in some ways wonderful revelations, both in the sense of just getting to know him better and in the sense that there’s so much more depth and complexity to Kunlun than his younger self could ever have imagined, including the bad parts, and for the first time he’s able to imagine the things that have made/are making Kunlun who he is, not just his own youthful adulation. The head-on-shoulder taxi scene is a real moment of his discovering what it’s like to be older than Kunlun, in both years and maturity, and recognizing again that yes, he still loves him that much. And it’s terrifying for him, both because he doesn’t know that (this) Kunlun does or will love him back—and he doesn’t know if he’ll get him back after the timeloop—and also because Professor Shen and the modern Black-Cloaked Envoy being completely, self-overwhelmingly in love is different from the sweet, half-grown Hei Pao Shi of ten thousand years ago being the same.
Also: I swore to myself that I wasn’t going to do this, and then I did it. Here is a little bit of fic which fits in at the end of episode 23 of The Rebel (T-rated, canon compliant, hurt no comfort, essentially nothing happens). Almost certainly influenced by the excellent fics already posted by others, especially achray’s for the same episode.
The glass of water clinks against the table as Lan Xinjie sets it down, her hands still unsteady. Zilu’s breath snuffles a little under the blanket, a small peaceful sound. Lin Nansheng feels as if his own hands are shaking, but when he looks down at them, fingers laid flat over his thighs, they are still. As the adrenaline wears off his shoulder is starting to hurt a lot. Getting his holster off, and on again tomorrow morning, is going to be an ordeal.
He thinks, out of nowhere, that in a similar position Chen Moqun would have had Lan Xinjie take it off for him. For a moment he is groggy with wanting that: standing still, without thought, without tension, while gentle hands ease the tight leather straps off his aching shoulders, letting him open his chest and breathe—
Then the hands in the momentary dream are no longer Lan Xinjie’s small, cold, soft ones, but larger and stronger, blunt fingertips conferring kindness while leaving open the possibility of pain—
Lin Nansheng’s stomach heaves and he swallows hard, shuddering. Lan Xinjie turns to look at him with the animal weariness of resignation. “What’s wrong?”
He tries to say “Nothing” but the word catches in his throat, acid. He pushes back from the table so that he can put his head between his knees, the holstered gun bruising his side, jaw clenched to stop himself from sobbing; his exhausted mind has made another sudden leap and he can’t stop thinking did it hurt, how much did it hurt him, was he frightened, alone in that room.
To say any of it out loud would be to wreak on Lan Xinjie the cruelty she has always spared him, and so he swallows the words along with the nausea.
Lan Xinjie waits until it passes without touching him or speaking to him, which he is as grateful for as he can be grateful for anything at this point. The only thing she does is hand him the glass of water when he sits up again, the room swimming around him. The rim clicks against his teeth. He thinks of poison and drinks deep until he has to stop to breathe, and then again.
Be safe and well.
An idea coming up from all the very good Guardian meta there seems to be a lot of lately. Shen Wei in episode 8 etc.: I mean, he is horrified to find that modern pre-Kunlun Kunlun is such a disaster all around, but also there’s this amazing unfolding joy at seeing all the aspects of Kunlun that, for various good reasons, he never could ten thousand years ago; even the terrible ones (possibly excepting the fridge) are in some ways wonderful revelations, both in the sense of just getting to know him better and in the sense that there’s so much more depth and complexity to Kunlun than his younger self could ever have imagined, including the bad parts, and for the first time he’s able to imagine the things that have made/are making Kunlun who he is, not just his own youthful adulation. The head-on-shoulder taxi scene is a real moment of his discovering what it’s like to be older than Kunlun, in both years and maturity, and recognizing again that yes, he still loves him that much. And it’s terrifying for him, both because he doesn’t know that (this) Kunlun does or will love him back—and he doesn’t know if he’ll get him back after the timeloop—and also because Professor Shen and the modern Black-Cloaked Envoy being completely, self-overwhelmingly in love is different from the sweet, half-grown Hei Pao Shi of ten thousand years ago being the same.
Also: I swore to myself that I wasn’t going to do this, and then I did it. Here is a little bit of fic which fits in at the end of episode 23 of The Rebel (T-rated, canon compliant, hurt no comfort, essentially nothing happens). Almost certainly influenced by the excellent fics already posted by others, especially achray’s for the same episode.
The glass of water clinks against the table as Lan Xinjie sets it down, her hands still unsteady. Zilu’s breath snuffles a little under the blanket, a small peaceful sound. Lin Nansheng feels as if his own hands are shaking, but when he looks down at them, fingers laid flat over his thighs, they are still. As the adrenaline wears off his shoulder is starting to hurt a lot. Getting his holster off, and on again tomorrow morning, is going to be an ordeal.
He thinks, out of nowhere, that in a similar position Chen Moqun would have had Lan Xinjie take it off for him. For a moment he is groggy with wanting that: standing still, without thought, without tension, while gentle hands ease the tight leather straps off his aching shoulders, letting him open his chest and breathe—
Then the hands in the momentary dream are no longer Lan Xinjie’s small, cold, soft ones, but larger and stronger, blunt fingertips conferring kindness while leaving open the possibility of pain—
Lin Nansheng’s stomach heaves and he swallows hard, shuddering. Lan Xinjie turns to look at him with the animal weariness of resignation. “What’s wrong?”
He tries to say “Nothing” but the word catches in his throat, acid. He pushes back from the table so that he can put his head between his knees, the holstered gun bruising his side, jaw clenched to stop himself from sobbing; his exhausted mind has made another sudden leap and he can’t stop thinking did it hurt, how much did it hurt him, was he frightened, alone in that room.
To say any of it out loud would be to wreak on Lan Xinjie the cruelty she has always spared him, and so he swallows the words along with the nausea.
Lan Xinjie waits until it passes without touching him or speaking to him, which he is as grateful for as he can be grateful for anything at this point. The only thing she does is hand him the glass of water when he sits up again, the room swimming around him. The rim clicks against his teeth. He thinks of poison and drinks deep until he has to stop to breathe, and then again.
Be safe and well.
no subject
Date: 2021-08-12 10:31 am (UTC)It blows my mind that Shen Wei, who had never been allowed to be anything but the Black-Cloaked Envoy, decided at some point after he woke up that he was going to become this whole other person, and he actually made it happen.
This so much! I do think Shen Wei throws himself into anything he does fully, but the learning curve must've been so steep. Not only was he learning all the stuff in his courses (and plenty others besides, probably, since he has to catch up history, culture, science advances etc.), he was also learning how to function in Haixing and how to pretend to be someone he's not until he literally becomes that someone, makes that identity real. Did he have role models at the university he looked to? Did he read a lot and try to emulate what he found in books? And how did he decide on biology specifically?
no subject
Date: 2021-08-13 04:54 am (UTC)Now I really want to know all this, oh dear. I wonder if the SID or its predecessor was involved in setting up the original identity for him, if he always planned to study biology (to understand more about being Dixingren?) or what, what it looked like inside him--was there a point when "Hei Pao Shi pretending to be biology-student-Shen-Wei" tipped over into "Hei Pao Shi who is also biology-student-Shen Wei" or what?
We just need more fic, that's all there is to it!
no subject
Date: 2021-08-13 08:04 am (UTC)Now I'm wondering if it maybe caught Shen Wei off guard too. He started as a student because he needed an identity in Haixing and he likes learning (and feels keenly that he needs to learn A Lot to cope in modern Haixing), but then he finds that he actually really enjoys it? And suddenly duty has a counterweight - never ignored, but there's something else to live for now, too.
no subject
Date: 2021-08-14 01:33 am (UTC)♡♡♡
no subject
Date: 2021-08-15 09:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-08-15 03:07 pm (UTC)