Who: Shen Qingqiu and friends! What/When: A place to organize Shen Qingqiu's December threads Where: Anywhere people gather Warning(s): TBD [12/20]
Thread starters in the comments below. Wildcards welcome!
"What, my mini-me didn't explain that already?" Shen Qingqiu gripes, leaning into Anzu's hand like a cat. "Okay, but you're really going to hate this."
He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to get his thoughts in order. "After I...well, after I died as Shen Yuan, I woke up in Shen Qingqiu's body. There was a voice in my head, a kind of chirpy computerized voice like the ones they make for digital assistants...do they have those in your world?" He shakes his head slightly; not the point. "Anyway, it was obviously an artificial voice, not a living person. Nobody else could hear it, and nobody could hear me when I was talking to it directly. And it said..."
What exactly had it said to him? It'd been so many years since he'd heard those words...he'd spent enough time cursing them out that the exact phrasing had become a bit blurred in his memory. But he could at least summarize: "It said that since I'd spent my last minutes cursing out Airplane's shitty novel, I'd been chosen to fix it and turn it into a 'true classic.'" He makes a disgusted face. "I always kind of figured it was some kind of karmic punishment for wasting my life on terrible literature, but now I'm wondering if maybe in some fucked-up way it actually meant it..."
Anzu bites his lip to stop himself from giggling. This isn't funny. It really is not at all funny.
Except it is. It's hilarious.
Lev buries his face in Qingqiu's hair, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Neither of them risk saying anything, perfectly aware that they're being far from supportive. No matter how ridiculous the situation is, it does sound like it was distressing.
But that just makes it all the more absurd.
In lieu of saying something at length and risking actually laughing, Anzu squeezes Qingqiu's arm in sympathy.
Shen Qingqiu, his eyes still closed, misses their merriment. He just groans and shakes his head, leaning on the nearest person's shoulder. "Xiao-Yuan was right, I just made everything worse," he groans. "Binghe doesn't have even a single wife, not even the Little Palace Mistress...he might even be an adult virgin for all I know. He treats Sha Hualing like his PA, Huan Hua Palace like a military encampment...in the dream I'd been dead for about five years, and he apparently spent all that time fighting duels with Liu Qingge and looking after my body, instead of cultivating like he's supposed to! Oh, and worst of all?"
He grimaces like he just bit into a lemon. "Half the cultivation world thinks he's a necrophile or something. And he's not, but I can definitely see why they'd think that..."
Anzu and Lev exchange another look. For a second or two, neither of them know where to even start. Lev hugs Qingqiu closer, at a loss as to what else to do.
Anzu clears his throat, and says, very gently, "what is wrong with ... nu. Being another kind of confirmed bachelor?"
He's not just talking around the subject solely out of delicateness. He's rather hoping having to think about what he's saying might jolt Qingqiu back into ... well, if not lucidity necessarily, then at least calm. And then they can tackle the whole corpse thing.
Yeesh.
Anzu sighs. He's really not sure if Qingqiu's spirals respond to physical interventions and in the middle of something serious like this is the wrong time to experiment.
It's tribute to how much Shen Qingqiu trusts Anzu, both as a friend and an expert in all things not-straight, that he actually stops freaking out for a moment to consider that seriously.
"You mean like...if he was asexual?" He grimaces, face twitching a little as he considers that further. "I guess that'd be fine, so long as he was happy. But this isn't that. He's completely miserable! And isolated! And..."
He groans, slumping against Lev. "This has to be my fault," he says unhappily. "I'm the only changed variable. I must have...broken him somehow, and now he can't move on."
Anzu chances letting go of Qingqiu, to squeeze the bridge of his own nose. Not so much in frustration as in ... okay, no. It's frustration. Not necessarily with his boyfriend, but definitely with the utterly bizarre situation he now has to unpack.
"So, nu, darling," he says, at last. "Let me get this straight. Thy protege is desecrating thy corpse, and that is, by thee, somehow thy fault?"
Lev shudders.
"Like, why has he thy corpse in the first place?" he mutters; he's clearly put out by the mere idea of having a corpse in a bedroom for longer than necessary.
"He's not really desecrating it..." Shen Qingqiu protests, but weakly, in full knowledge that this is a line of argument he cannot hope to win. "He's just holding on it. And keeping it in one piece. So he can try and stuff me back into it later..."
And preventing its rightful cremation in accordance with the traditions of their sect, and beating the crap out of his martial uncle every single day when he attempts to retrieve it...
Shen Qingqiu groans, covering his face again. "You don't understand," he whines. "I'm his shizun. That...that means something in that kind of culture. It's like I'm his adopted father. If he's lacking in moral character, that means I failed him...it says so in the writings of Confucius or something."
Lev hugs Qingqiu closer again, and says in his ear, "is there no such thing as an age of accountability? I ceased to be Tatye Velvl's problem at thirteen."
He takes a moment to think over what he just said, while Anzu covers his mouth to suppress undignified giggling. Lev blushes.
"Nu, I mean, like," he mutters, abashed. "In terms of like, mine actions being his aveiras, at least."
Shen Qingqiu manages a faint smile before shaking his head and letting it rest on Lev's shoulder. "Does a boy stop being someone's son, just because he became a man? No, I'm sorry dear. I don't think you can talk me out of this one."
He draws his knees up, curling up into Lev like a sad little shrimp, Snowflake moving to the side to accommodate him before tucking herself under his arm. "I just...I hate that it's come to this. I hate not knowing how everything went so wrong. I hate that my favorite sect brother is getting his ass kicked every single day because Binghe won't let them have a proper funeral for my corpse."
Neither Anzu nor Lev speak, now genuinely thoughtful. But before either can venture any opinion on the problems of raising children and/or disciples, Qingqiu brings up his own unburied dead self. Both Anzu and Lev twitch, visibly discomfited by the mere idea. They'd both briefly glossed over the details of Qingqiu's failures, the better to provide comfort. But now he's had to go and remind them of just how much he might've fucked up.
"Nu, maybe thou did'st fail him, like, just a little?" Lev says. Anzu shoots him a sharp look, but can't actually object here.
"Thou did'st, ah, fail to teach him that a dead man is still a man to whom one owes consideration and kindness, darling," Anzu says, unhappily. "Unless ... ah." He pauses, chewing his lower lip. "Unless thy sect was the kind what drew power from, ah. Transgression? Not ah, not in the Sunflower Manual sense, I hasten to add. Such things are not no true transgression. But ... other ways of transgression. Ah. The sort what take place in and around houses of eternity."
He's wringing his hands. The whole topic is clearly uncomfortable, but he thinks it necessary to ask and know for sure, rather than harbour horrible suspicions.
"Not in the slightest," Shen Qingqiu says with a wince. "Cang Qiong Mountain Sect practices cremation, as thoroughly as possible. There were some incidents in our past, where rival cultivators attempt to steal our dead in order to fashion cultivation tools from them or sell off pieces as relics...quite disgusting. We go to considerable effort these days to make sure that's no longer possible. So for Binghe to do something like this...I'm at a loss."
Or nearly so. After a moment he says quietly, "In the dream...it was as though I'd returned to that world after a time skip. Luo Binghe didn't recognize me at first, but once he did...it seems like he's so obsessed with getting me back that he's forgotten or cast aside everything else. I really have no idea what I did to inspire such an obsession."
"What's that supposed to mean?" he asks defensively. "Look, I'm fond of my parents too, but if they died I wouldn't be trying to learn necromancy to get them back! This is just excessive, even before we get to the kissing." He shudders a little. So gross...So socially inappropriate!
What can he do but groan, letting his face fall into his hands once more. "I hate that you're right," he grumbles. "No, this definitely isn't 'filial son' behavior at all. But seriously, did I do this somehow?" He peeks back up at Anzu, gaze darting between him and Lev. "You know I'm still new to this, I don't know what's a hateful stereotype and what's not. Could I have like, accidentally turned Luo Binghe gay? Just from raising him?"
"I think not, no," Anzu says, after some hesitation. "Nu. Well." He looks sheepish. "I cannot say, darling. My parents are both rose cultivars, nu? I have not no clue if I could've turned out heterosexual in the first place. But ..." he gestures, a little vaguely.
"Does it like, matter?" Lev says, in the meantime. "Like. What if thou had raised him such that he hates eating vegetables? Like some people think that's clearly a terrible failure, but as long as he starves not, does it like, matter matter?"
"I think it would kind of matter if he had such a dislike for vegetables that he'd launched a vendetta against them," Shen Qingqiu argues weakly. "If he was trying to exterminate all vegetables so nobody else had to eat them, that'd be pretty bad. I just..." He sighs deeply, finally letting himself slump back into Lev's lap -- and hopefully, this time he's there to stay. "None of this is what I wanted for him. Nothing's turned out the way I thought it would..."
cw: oblique mention of transphobia/cissexism/transmisogyny
Anzu and Lev both start speaking at the same time, and just as abruptly as they started, both stop. Lev clears his throat.
"I found out, when ... like, nu," he begins, and then pauses for a long minute. Anzu picks up Lev's hand in both of his, and squeezes it in encouragement. Lev bites his lip. The touch is reassuring, but this is still difficult to talk about. Even if what happened is not, by him, any kind of shame.
"When I like, came back," he continues. "To let my ex-wife know I yet live. I found out that of the children Rivka and I had together ... we had a son and a daughter, and not two sons. And like. That was ... nu. I suppose I knew then, finally, how Tatty Velvl felt about me. I was ... afraid for my daughter. Afraid of what I knew she might have to face."
Eventually, he says, "I thought ... it might be easier. If she were to be mistaken. I'm ... like, I'm ashamed sufficiently to have held so, for even a moment. But ..."
He pauses. He's unwilling to out his uncle, even if Qingqiu will never meet him. So he says merely, "like. I knew then also, like, really knew that I cannot protect her. Not if I want her to live. Not if like ... I want her to really live."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to get his thoughts in order. "After I...well, after I died as Shen Yuan, I woke up in Shen Qingqiu's body. There was a voice in my head, a kind of chirpy computerized voice like the ones they make for digital assistants...do they have those in your world?" He shakes his head slightly; not the point. "Anyway, it was obviously an artificial voice, not a living person. Nobody else could hear it, and nobody could hear me when I was talking to it directly. And it said..."
What exactly had it said to him? It'd been so many years since he'd heard those words...he'd spent enough time cursing them out that the exact phrasing had become a bit blurred in his memory. But he could at least summarize: "It said that since I'd spent my last minutes cursing out Airplane's shitty novel, I'd been chosen to fix it and turn it into a 'true classic.'" He makes a disgusted face. "I always kind of figured it was some kind of karmic punishment for wasting my life on terrible literature, but now I'm wondering if maybe in some fucked-up way it actually meant it..."
no subject
Anzu bites his lip to stop himself from giggling. This isn't funny. It really is not at all funny.
Except it is. It's hilarious.
Lev buries his face in Qingqiu's hair, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Neither of them risk saying anything, perfectly aware that they're being far from supportive. No matter how ridiculous the situation is, it does sound like it was distressing.
But that just makes it all the more absurd.
In lieu of saying something at length and risking actually laughing, Anzu squeezes Qingqiu's arm in sympathy.
"Nu?" he prompts. "Did'st thou fix it?"
no subject
He grimaces like he just bit into a lemon. "Half the cultivation world thinks he's a necrophile or something. And he's not, but I can definitely see why they'd think that..."
now posted as a reply to the right thread
Anzu and Lev exchange another look. For a second or two, neither of them know where to even start. Lev hugs Qingqiu closer, at a loss as to what else to do.
Anzu clears his throat, and says, very gently, "what is wrong with ... nu. Being another kind of confirmed bachelor?"
He's not just talking around the subject solely out of delicateness. He's rather hoping having to think about what he's saying might jolt Qingqiu back into ... well, if not lucidity necessarily, then at least calm. And then they can tackle the whole corpse thing.
Yeesh.
Anzu sighs. He's really not sure if Qingqiu's spirals respond to physical interventions and in the middle of something serious like this is the wrong time to experiment.
no subject
"You mean like...if he was asexual?" He grimaces, face twitching a little as he considers that further. "I guess that'd be fine, so long as he was happy. But this isn't that. He's completely miserable! And isolated! And..."
He groans, slumping against Lev. "This has to be my fault," he says unhappily. "I'm the only changed variable. I must have...broken him somehow, and now he can't move on."
no subject
Anzu chances letting go of Qingqiu, to squeeze the bridge of his own nose. Not so much in frustration as in ... okay, no. It's frustration. Not necessarily with his boyfriend, but definitely with the utterly bizarre situation he now has to unpack.
"So, nu, darling," he says, at last. "Let me get this straight. Thy protege is desecrating thy corpse, and that is, by thee, somehow thy fault?"
Lev shudders.
"Like, why has he thy corpse in the first place?" he mutters; he's clearly put out by the mere idea of having a corpse in a bedroom for longer than necessary.
no subject
And preventing its rightful cremation in accordance with the traditions of their sect, and beating the crap out of his martial uncle every single day when he attempts to retrieve it...
Shen Qingqiu groans, covering his face again. "You don't understand," he whines. "I'm his shizun. That...that means something in that kind of culture. It's like I'm his adopted father. If he's lacking in moral character, that means I failed him...it says so in the writings of Confucius or something."
no subject
Lev hugs Qingqiu closer again, and says in his ear, "is there no such thing as an age of accountability? I ceased to be Tatye Velvl's problem at thirteen."
He takes a moment to think over what he just said, while Anzu covers his mouth to suppress undignified giggling. Lev blushes.
"Nu, I mean, like," he mutters, abashed. "In terms of like, mine actions being his aveiras, at least."
no subject
He draws his knees up, curling up into Lev like a sad little shrimp, Snowflake moving to the side to accommodate him before tucking herself under his arm. "I just...I hate that it's come to this. I hate not knowing how everything went so wrong. I hate that my favorite sect brother is getting his ass kicked every single day because Binghe won't let them have a proper funeral for my corpse."
no subject
Neither Anzu nor Lev speak, now genuinely thoughtful. But before either can venture any opinion on the problems of raising children and/or disciples, Qingqiu brings up his own unburied dead self. Both Anzu and Lev twitch, visibly discomfited by the mere idea. They'd both briefly glossed over the details of Qingqiu's failures, the better to provide comfort. But now he's had to go and remind them of just how much he might've fucked up.
"Nu, maybe thou did'st fail him, like, just a little?" Lev says. Anzu shoots him a sharp look, but can't actually object here.
"Thou did'st, ah, fail to teach him that a dead man is still a man to whom one owes consideration and kindness, darling," Anzu says, unhappily. "Unless ... ah." He pauses, chewing his lower lip. "Unless thy sect was the kind what drew power from, ah. Transgression? Not ah, not in the Sunflower Manual sense, I hasten to add. Such things are not no true transgression. But ... other ways of transgression. Ah. The sort what take place in and around houses of eternity."
He's wringing his hands. The whole topic is clearly uncomfortable, but he thinks it necessary to ask and know for sure, rather than harbour horrible suspicions.
no subject
Or nearly so. After a moment he says quietly, "In the dream...it was as though I'd returned to that world after a time skip. Luo Binghe didn't recognize me at first, but once he did...it seems like he's so obsessed with getting me back that he's forgotten or cast aside everything else. I really have no idea what I did to inspire such an obsession."
no subject
Lev and Anzu exchange another look, and this time Anzu rolls his eyes.
"Really, darling?" he says, and sighs. "Not a single clue?"
no subject
no subject
Lev clears this throat.
"I think, like," he says, softly, "that ... nu. He might not be viewing thee as a parent."
Anzu bites his lip, and meets Qingqiu's gaze, shrugging.
"Nu," he says, apologetically. He agrees with Lev.
no subject
no subject
"I think not, no," Anzu says, after some hesitation. "Nu. Well." He looks sheepish. "I cannot say, darling. My parents are both rose cultivars, nu? I have not no clue if I could've turned out heterosexual in the first place. But ..." he gestures, a little vaguely.
"Does it like, matter?" Lev says, in the meantime. "Like. What if thou had raised him such that he hates eating vegetables? Like some people think that's clearly a terrible failure, but as long as he starves not, does it like, matter matter?"
no subject
cw: oblique mention of transphobia/cissexism/transmisogyny
Anzu and Lev both start speaking at the same time, and just as abruptly as they started, both stop. Lev clears his throat.
"I found out, when ... like, nu," he begins, and then pauses for a long minute. Anzu picks up Lev's hand in both of his, and squeezes it in encouragement. Lev bites his lip. The touch is reassuring, but this is still difficult to talk about. Even if what happened is not, by him, any kind of shame.
"When I like, came back," he continues. "To let my ex-wife know I yet live. I found out that of the children Rivka and I had together ... we had a son and a daughter, and not two sons. And like. That was ... nu. I suppose I knew then, finally, how Tatty Velvl felt about me. I was ... afraid for my daughter. Afraid of what I knew she might have to face."
no subject
"Were you afraid of how people would treat her?" he asks quietly. "That you wouldn't be able to protect her from the world?"
no subject
Lev nods, and is silent for a little while.
Eventually, he says, "I thought ... it might be easier. If she were to be mistaken. I'm ... like, I'm ashamed sufficiently to have held so, for even a moment. But ..."
He pauses. He's unwilling to out his uncle, even if Qingqiu will never meet him. So he says merely, "like. I knew then also, like, really knew that I cannot protect her. Not if I want her to live. Not if like ... I want her to really live."