This is Shirasade‘s fic and vid recs collection, starting 2015. (Unfortunately my recs from 2005 onwards were hosted on Delicious and went bust with the site, although I found an unsorted bookmarks list from 2010.)
Because I moved from Delicous to Tumblr and now WordPress, the older posts don’t look quite so pretty.
Posts will be shared:
Find everything sorted by Fandom and Pairing in the archive or by searching:
“Of course it’s not serious. Music isn’t supposed to be serious,” Wei WuXian says. He bounces off the bed and grabs Lan WangJi by both hands, pulling him into the room. “Here, I’ll show you.”
He twirls Lan WangJi around the narrow room, their feet slipping on the wood floor. Wei WuXian’s laughter almost drowns out the song, but then the chorus comes back and he belts it at the top of his lungs, eyes closed, just feeling it. They spin through several full rotations before Lan WangJi stops them by grabbing Wei WuXian and crushing him to his chest.
It’s a punishingly tight squeeze. His sweater is soft.
“We are not here to study contemporary commercial music,” he says, intoning it like it’s a proper noun. Contemporary Commercial Music. The wrong path to follow. “Turn it off and go to bed.”
Lan WangJi releases him and Wei WuXian’s heels hit the floor. He hadn’t realized Lan WangJi had lifted him off his feet.
Wei Wuxian read Lan Wangji’s letter again, unraveling each line in his mind. Already he chose some favorite phrases–the day you left was full of weary hours. Rain spreads cool relief upon these heated evenings, which have only worsened since your parting…
“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, who knew you could be so forward,” smiled Wei Wuxian under his breath. The corners of his mouth twisted. A breeze rustled the tree leaves, now full and green in the dawn of summer. “Shameless!”
Ten minutes into the opera performance, a man with long, dark hair and a face as pretty as a woman’s stepped onto the small wooden stage and opened his mouth to sing. His voice was delicate, but the tone and tempo betrayed a banked passion all the more powerful for its reserve. He was covered in large swaths of deep pink makeup outlined in black. The ill-fitting clothes revealed every sharp angle of his body, every firm muscle.
Zhao Yunlan strained to hear him over the raucous laughter of the other patrons as they munched on peanuts and swilled cheap beer.