androgynouscomputerthing

[androgynouscomputerthing]

Me: *watching some random period drama, what doesnt have to do with jin guangyao.* yea........Ayao needs more babies in the fic. He definitely needs more babies.

[androgynouscomputerthing]

teenage rascals shen jiu and meng yao. them covering for eachother's crimes. meng yao teaching shen jiu to properly cover his tracts. meng yao teaching shen jiu to better handle his anger. Shen jiu not minding being the bad guy in meng yao's plans.

[androgynouscomputerthing]

MDZS onion headlines part 1?

[androgynouscomputerthing]

@omgpurplefattie suggested: How about NMJ hauling both Nice Huaisang and Meng Yao around over his shoulders?

Huasing was supposed to be tucked into Mingjue's side but it messed up the composition. I imagine that would upset him, so I left him out. Also tried to go for a more sketchy style, not obsessing about details too much. I think it turned out quite nice!

Anyways -as I was drawing I imagined some unrestrained summer fun for these two in Yunmeng's lakes. I am not saying it would fix them but I am sure it wouldn't make anything worse at least!

[image ID: A digital sketch of Meng Yao and Nie Mingjue from MDZS/The Untamed. Both are only wearing ancient Chinese undergarments, with slits at the side of the legs. Meng Yao is sitting on top of Nie Mingjue's shoulder, getting supported by Nie Mingjue's arm slung around his legs. They are both wet and smiling. More detailed description in alt text. End ID.]

[androgynouscomputerthing]

In the world of heavy metals, love is denser than hate!

[androgynouscomputerthing]

Yin Yu/Ling Wen overworked and underpaid solidarity…

[androgynouscomputerthing]

He poses for gege 💛

[androgynouscomputerthing]

my mom and dad

[androgynouscomputerthing]

Ko-Fi donation ficlet #5:

Pei Ming forgets why he came to the Palace of Nan Yang—only knows that he’s somehow found himself watching an archery drill. Feng Xin sighs in exasperation when a deputy, after nocking three arrows, nails only two moving targets, the third arrow spiking into the grass.

“Not like that!” Feng Xin says. “Hold on. Let me—” He strips his arms out of his top robe so that it hangs around his waist—it is really hot out today—then strips his inner robe the same way, revealing—ho ho—a mess of deep-red scratches clawed into his tanned back.

Pei Ming wolf whistles. “What wild woman did you spend your night with?”

Feng Xin turns, brows drawn together into a deeper furrow than normal. Then, when Pei Ming claws the air, those brows rise in understanding, and embarrassment erupts across Feng Xin’s face. Frantically, he waves his arms back and forth.

“No! No! No! It was—” There’s movement on the edge of the training ground: Mu Qing approaching them with too many layers on for this heat, hands tucked in his sleeves. “It was no one!”

“You most certainly spent your night with someone,” Pei Ming presses, just to see what happens.

“It was no one important!”

Mu Qing freezes. “No one important?”

Feng Xin whirls around. “Mu Qing. Shit. Um. Wait— Wait, wait!” Mu Qing turns on his heel, speeding away. Feng Xin takes off in hot pursuit. “Mu Qing, I didn’t mean it that way. Stop running away from me. Mu Qing! You’re important!”

“Fuck off!” Mu Qing shouts without slowing. The two disappear inside.

Pei Ming looks at the little flock of lost deputies, their bows lowered. He grins. “I’ll give ten gold pieces to anyone who can tell me when those two caved under the weight of eight hundred years of sexual tension. As many details as you’ve got.”

The deputies look at each other.

They all raise their hands.

[androgynouscomputerthing]

Ko-Fi donation ficlet #7:

It’s not Mu Qing’s idea of fun to scour a heavenly party in search of Feng Xin, who’s been drunkenly rambling in Mu Qing’s communication array for a quarter shichen, but here he is: wading through the crowds.

When he enters an armory behind the palace—an armory? really? after drinking?—he finds Feng Xin, surrounded by a group of other officials. Low-level martial gods. A civil god. A few deputies from various palaces. They spot him before Feng Xin does, amused smiles breaking out across their faces.

Feng Xin turns, probably to figure out what they’re looking at, and lights up at the sight of Mu Qing. “Hey! Hey! It’s you! It’s my wife!” To the officials: “My wife is here!” To Mu Qing: “My wife! You came! I missed you!”

The officials burst into laughter.

Among them: “A hundred merits on Xuan Zhen.”

“Eh—a hundred on Nan Yang just to make it interesting.”

“Two hundred on Xuan Zhen. He’s going to murder Nan Yang for that comment. Wife? Pfft. Who’d marry him?”

“Hey! Shut the fuck up!” Feng Xin yells, jabbing a finger in the last official’s face. “I married him! He’s a great wife! Better than yours!”

“I don’t have a wife.”

“You bet you don’t! I don’t wanna hear another word out of your shitty mouth! You wish you were as—as lucky as I am!” He turns to Mu Qing, swaying a little. “Hey—I love you. I love you a whole bunch. I love you so much. Let’s go home.”

Mu Qing sighs and closes the distance between them. He can tell the officials haven’t given up on their bet and are waiting in anticipation, for Mu Qing to punch Feng Xin into the nearest wall—but Mu Qing opens his arms instead, and Feng Xin steps inside them, hugging him.

He kisses Mu Qing’s cheek, uncoordinated. “You’re the best wife.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“I know.” Married for a week and Feng Xin has already blabbed about it to a whole room. The entire capital will know by tomorrow. The Mortal Realm? Probably by next month. So much for keeping this quiet until they had a plan for the fallout of the news.

“Do you love me?” Feng Xin asks, flopping all over him, voice sad. “I’m sorry. I made you look dumb. You’re gonna hate me.”

The whole room stares as Mu Qing takes Feng Xin’s hand and guides him toward the door. For all to hear, he says—without stuttering (as much as he can feel his vocal cords tightening up and how heavily he’s blushing)—“I love you, too. Now shut the fuck up before I knock you out and carry you back to your palace.”

With a hearty laugh, Feng Xin sweeps him up into his arms—then falls over, sending them both careening to the floor in front of the crowd.

Idiot, Mu Qing thinks, trapped under his husband’s weight. Then: my idiot.

[androgynouscomputerthing]

nyavember day 7

“All curled up like that, you really look like you just kitted.”

“If you say one more word, I’ll tell Veilpelt to ban you from the nursery for good.”

Thistlegaze narrowed his eyes at Falconswoop and curled his tail over the two balls of fluff currently tucked against his belly. He knew what the other tom was there for - and if he was going to be a piece of foxdung as usual, Thistlegaze was more than happy to make his trip to the nursery a waste of time. Falconswoop nonetheless stepped slowly closer. The nest Thistlegaze had managed to scrape together in the dead of leaf-bare wasn’t much, but it still impressed the tabby. Pine needles and old moss “borrowed” from the medicine cat den, all scrunched together. Even if it wasn’t exactly the softest nest, it would be warm enough for the two… kits.

Kits. There were kits sleeping against Thistlegaze’s warm side. Falconswoop wanted to make another comment, but he decided against it for now.

“How are they doing?” The larger tom craned his neck to try and get a look at them, then lowered his head to take a few tentative sniffs. Before he could get too close, Thistlegaze let out a slow hiss.

“They’re finally sleeping again. Don’t wake them.” His ears shifted back for a moment, but once Falconswoop chuffed and lay submissively down on his belly, Thistlegaze finally lifted away his tail. The two kits were revealed, and Falconswoop’s eyes all but sparkled at the sight. Two dark fuzzy kits, so young and small. When they’d first found them freezing and starved and alone, Vielpelt declared they wouldn’t survive. The clan had no queens (and neither Veilpelt nor Lotusbreeze were exactly the motherly type), and it would have taken too long to contact the other clans and find a place for them. Leaf-bare was difficult for every clan, so it was JadeClan’s responsibility to care for the kits. And so, out of surprise to everyone, Thistlegaze declared the kits would be his. He had found them alongside Falconswoop, so he would take responsibility. Falconswoop argued that he would care for the kits instead, and the two had broken into another of their usual spats with flying paws, bared teeth, and plenty of yowling.

Now, after Veilpelt had assessed the kits and treated them for whitecough (a mercy of StarClan it wasn’t greencough, she had said), she instructed Thistlegaze on how to feed the barely-weaned kits and keep them warm against the heavy snowfall outside the den. Thistlegaze was diligent and stubborn in this duty. He’d barely slept for the past three days, always checking on the kits for movement and alerting Veilpelt if something seemed amiss. Falconswoop could see the exhaustion in his eyes and his posture. But the kits were indeed sleeping, and all was well for now.

“You should rest, too,” he said.

“I can rest when I’m dead.” Thistlegaze rolled his eyes.

“Thistlegaze.” Falconswoop chuffed again and slowly shifted closer. Thistlegaze protested as Falconswoop crawled fully into the nest, large body practically hanging out of it, and curled his tail over Thistlegaze’s. With the sleeping kits tucked safely between their bellies, Falconswoop began to groom the other tom’s face in slow, steady licks. Thistlegaze squeezed his eyes shut and growled, but he didn’t pull away. He’d not been out to share tongues with the other cats since he had secluded himself in the nursery. He only ate when Falconswoop brought him a piece of freshkill to share. So… the licks weren’t unwelcome. He mumbled a few complaints occasionally, chastising Falconswoop’s sloppy grooming methods, and gave a lick in return every so often. Slowly but surely, his head lowered down to the nest so Falconswoop could groom his cheeks and ears and neck. He didn’t say a word when he heard the very quiet rumble of a purr. He simply licked and groomed there in the peaceful quiet of the nursery until Thistlegaze’s breathing slowed and evened out. Falconswoop didn’t mind taking a turn to watch over everyone. His oldest companion and the two kits they now shared responsibility for, sleeping the day away, sharing their warmth against the cold of leaf-bare… He couldn’t help but wonder if this counted as a real family.

nyavember masterpost

[androgynouscomputerthing]

Xianle Quartet is a top tier polyship not only because of the metric ton of emotional baggage (and the sheer volume of sexual tension and awakening possible between 3 virgins and an effectively celibate fertility god), but also simply because they're all from a country renowned for beauty and pretentiousness, therefore treating impossible beauty standards as the norm.

Xie Lian's canon internal thoughts consist of not infrequently calling people ugly. Can we blame him? He was raised constantly surrounded by and continues to surround himself with devastatingly attractive people. Feng Xin, canonically olive-skinned and handsome, archer's figure. Mu Qing, canonically delicate-appearing and pretty. Hua Cheng, growing up to be tall and savagely beautiful.

Meanwhile, Hua Cheng is a literal fashionista, decked out in every possible silver accessory at any given moment, jingling like a Christmas elf and fabulous while doing it. He throws money around on luxury items just because he can, and his taste is impeccable. Mu Qing straight up destroys his own statues if they're ugly, literally described as wearing luxurious robes that he probably made himself because no one could do it better. They're the divas of this operation. They're judging you, hard, and they want you to know it, so you will.

Xie Lian is the equivalent of the naturally beautiful friend who doesn't wash their face with anything but a bar of soap and comes out looking flawless. He needs absolutely zero fashion sense because he could wear a trash bag and people would think it looks high fashion. Feng Xin is the himbo friend who washes with 10-in-1, yet his skin glistens in the sun like an oiled up ancient greek olympian. He does a normal amount of working out and comes out shaped like Captain America. They're simply God's Favorite, so they don't need to try.

Basically, I picture them as the blindingly hot polycule walking around like the Cullens entering their high-school cafeteria. Hair blowing in an invisible wind. Throwing incredible amounts of shade in the communication array.

They're hot. They're judgmental. They're literally the Mean Girls.

[androgynouscomputerthing]

can you write mu qing being nursed back to health against his wishes please. he would never admit it even if it meant dying (cough.. mt tonglu lava scene.. cough) so it's what he deserves

anon didnt specify for ships, so i did what any normal person would do. four of them. whether its platonic or romantic is totally up to you!

"Let. Me," Mu Qing struggles against Xie Lian's vice-like grip with gritted teeth "go." He swings his fist to land a blow on his friend's jaw in an attempt to break free, but his punch is deterred by yet another nuisance.

“Feng Xin,” Mu Qing hisses, vision still blurry. If it weren't for Xie Lian’s hold on him, Mu Qing would have shamefully collapsed head-first into the dirt.

“Mu Qing,” he hears Xie Lian say softly, “you just need some rest.”

“You don't get to strangle me!” Mu Qing retaliates, kicking and screaming like a child.

From beside him, he hears Feng Xin click his tongue. “We’re not fucking strangling you. And if you weren't so fucking difficult–”

“Just leave me alone!” Mu Qing finally manages to shove them both away. Are his eyes playing tricks on him again or is he swaying on his feet? “Why can't you just… let me be?” he catches himself asking before tumbling to the ground.

“Bloody rascal, how on earth did this happen?”

“I think they used a spell to weaken his body. His spiritual powers are still depleted–if might take a while for it to rise up again on it’s own, San Lang.”

“Then, what does gege suggest we do?”

Mu Qing winces when something wet presses against his abdomen. His eyes flutter open, yet all he sees is solid darkness.

“He’s waking up!” he hears Feng Xin say. “Mu Qing, can you hear me.”

Of course I can hear your, oaf, is what Mu Qing tries to say, but his voice catches at his throat.

A cold palm presses against his forehead and Mu Qing wants nothing more than to slap it off.

“He’s burning up.” Hua Cheng. The hand moves further down his face, fingertips brushing against his eyelids. There’s a brief moment of utter vulnerability, as if Mu Qing is giving up his soul for another. But then his vision clears, and he sees three very different expressions on familiar faces.

Xie Lian’s temple is creased, his mouth downturned as he stares at Mu Qing’s face. And upon glancing down, he sees Xie Lian’s hand squeezing his own. A face of unhidden concern; pity. Something dark brews inside as he processes that–being a damsel in distress, the General of the Southwest. Ridiculous.

Feng Xin is kneeling on the mat beside him, a damp cloth in his hand. His thick brows are furrowed as he scowls at Mu Qing. Strands of brunette hair fall over his face, his usually somewhat-neat bun now undone. He looks tired, annoyed. At Mu Qing. For what, wasting his time? For being so infirm and demanding attention? Nobody asked him to take care of Mu Qing, that imbecile.

And then there's the beast of a man, Hua Cheng. Hands folded across his chest, he looks as nonchalant as ever. His eyes sear into Mu Qing, bored and degrading.

Mu Qing feels the headache he had woken up with aggravate.

“Why am I being gawked at like some pathetic critter?” It comes out coarse and rough, his throat still aching and sore.

“Pathetic, indeed,” Hua Cheng sneers.

A knot tightens in his gut, the humiliation finally settling in. Gathering the strength to do so, Mu Qing lifts himself so his elbows support his weight. A sharp pain surges through him and both Xie Lian and Feng Xin scramble to grasp his arms, preventing the demeaning fall.

“Careful, Mu Qing,” Xie Lian chides. His fingers dig into Mu Qing’s skin–wait, where are his clothes?!

As if reading his mind, Feng Xin says, “Your clothes are ruined. Covered in fucking blood. We took it off so we could dress your wounds. Which are fucking bad, by the way.”

“Fuck you guys, that doesn't mean you can strip me of my robes. I’m not a doll.”

He feels Xie Lian’s hold on him weaken, a flicker of hurt passing through his eyes–did Mu Qing go too far?

“I don't mean–I… that's not. What I. You know. I’m–”

The bed dips on his right, and Mu Qing trails off. From his peripheral vision, he sees Hua Cheng taking off his own upper robe.

“If you're so uncomfortable,” he says casually, “you can put this on, general.” The ghost king drapes his red upper robe over Mu Qing’s shoulder, and his touch is so gentle, so tender, Mu Qing actually trembles.

“Cold?” he asks, right into Mu Qing’s ear. Mu Qing’s head tips forward to bypass Hua Cheng’s warm–how is it warm when he’s dead–breath. When he glances up, he locks eyes with Xie Lian, who pouts with his eyes wide like a deer’s.

“We’re not strangers.” his palms cup Mu Qing’s cheeks, and he finds himself leaning towards the touch. “We’re your friends.”

“Yeah, jackass. Stop pushing us away with every inch of your fucking life. It’s fucking annoying,” Feng Xin just has to add.

Mu Qing turns his head to glare, but Feng Xin smiles like a maniac instead of glaring right back. It’s fond and adoring and completely unlike him.

Hua Cheng scoffs from beside him. “It’s really not that hard to let yourself be spoiled, just for a little bit. You're too hard on yourself, Xuan Zhen.”

“Fucking hate to agree with Hua Cheng,” he hears Feng Xin mutter.

“Ugh…” Mu Qing hides his face with his hands, embarrassed. He’s sure he looks nothing less than a tomato.

Xie Lian’s chuckle fills the air and Mu Qing thinks that maybe this isn't so bad.

This is nice.

He might not want this again, or he definitely will want this again.

[androgynouscomputerthing]

I heard you guys wanted some more of my silly lil motorcycle drivin’ modern Hualian AU idea so… made something a little more polished… I hope you all enjoy! Maybe I’ll do some more if people want it!

Y’all just KNOW E-ming would be the best motorcycle ever… they’d be so careful, especially when Xie Lian is a passenger.

[androgynouscomputerthing]

[androgynouscomputerthing]

have you guys seen this

[androgynouscomputerthing]

800 years.