riwrite

[riwrite]

fuck it heres a starter call anyway!! just know that even if i dont get around to yours it still means i'd like to write with you, summer is just a rough time for me <3

[riwrite]

fuck it heres a starter call anyway!! just know that even if i dont get around to yours it still means i'd like to write with you, summer is just a rough time for me <3

[riwrite]

oh im about to be SO abnormal

[riwrite]

fuck it heres a starter call anyway!! just know that even if i dont get around to yours it still means i'd like to write with you, summer is just a rough time for me <3

[riwrite]

wanna post a starter call or something but i know i either wont finish them all or even do any 😭

[riwrite]

black waters

[riwrite]

a lot of things have happened in the past few days such as my roommates car broke down on the side of the freeway 4 minutes from the border in canada and it then took us 10 hours to get it back over to the us, i am now sick and have to miss a friends birthday party tonight, and we had to completely miss day 3 of a convention due to aforementioned car breaking down, but i also found a qijing charm and beefleaf prints at that con and for once my impatience that made me buy them right away instead of waiting for day 3 like i usually try to do paid off so who's really winning

[riwrite]

from @deiscension. There was no need for the Earth Master to walk her back to the Palace of Wind and Water, even if she just so happened to have drunk enough wine to drown a fish-- which she hadn't, thank you very much! She'd only drunk enough to make her somewhat uncertain on whether or not she could walk in a straight line. So really, no more than she usually has during Upper Court socials. Yet here they, Ming Yi letting her hang onto his arm all the way up to her wing's door. It's... sweet. He's sweet. Has she told him that? Has she shown him that? Actions do speak louder than words. "Ming-xiong, wait a moment! I need to tell you something important." Before she can think better of it, Shi Qingxuan closes the distance between them, raises on tiptoe, and kisses him on the cheek. It's feather-light at first, hardly more than a graze, wine-sweet breath an accompanying caress. Alarm at her own brazenness wrestles with liquid courage. But oh, if she doesn't do this now, when will she ever? And so her lips press firm yet gentle, every tender thought she's ever held for him concentrated where skin meets skin. One second passes, two. Her heart is singing. Can he hear it too? I could stay like this forever When she lowers herself back down to the flats of her feet, she grins wide enough for cheeks to dimple. "Did you get that, or should I say it again?"

he xuan has gotten used to acting over the years. not to a dramatic degree, because ming yi never had the chance to show the heavens his personality and thus he xuan thankfully does not need to pretend to have one separate from his own, but he knows how to temper his emotions well. he contains his rage when he sees the water master, his disgust when he bows before the heavenly martial emperor, and his grief that threatens to eat him whole every moment of every day. it is not often he's caught off - guard enough to fail to steel his expression — but his eyes widen, face frozen in a look of mild surprise.

shi qingxuan is affectionate. this is something he's used to. she'll give him the most radiant of smiles, she'll curl her fingers in the crook of his elbow as they walk side - by - side like mere moments ago, she'll loudly announce her pride for her best friend to the heavens and the earth. he knows the feeling of her fingers carding through his hair, and soft looks reserved for only him. but this... the wine on her breath scalds his cold cheek and he feels, inexplicably, impossibly, like he is about drown.

an echo of something long since gone touches where his skin meets shi qingxuan's, the top of his head, his lips. memories of love received lifetimes ago. he aches, hollow chest reaching for something it can no longer find and thoughts struggling to find a way this makes sense — struggling to grapple with the fact that it does make sense.

he is not stupid. he knows what the look in her ever - bright eyes means, he knows what it means when he bends to her whims despite himself. she has proven before that her naïveté has made her ignorant to certain matters of the heart, but the specificities don't matter. what does is that her smile is enough to make him for a moment feel as though he's forgotten he's dead, and what does is that she, drunk and full of too much affection to contain, saw fit to give him something he does not deserve. he will break her heart one day. he will break her heart, and then, if his ever - dwindling strength to do so holds out, he will kill her. he will feel her divinity running red over his fingers, and he will find comfort in the unwitting recipient of his own fate finding her long - awaited cruel end.

what comfort is there to be found in snuffing out the brightest light in the heavens ? but he owes it to his family. he owes it to himself. for everything that happened to them, for all the lives taken by one selfish man.

he wants to push her away. he wants to follow her into her wing of her and her brother's palace and never leave. he wants her to never kiss him again and he wants her to kiss him every day for eternity. he thinks of the woman he was to marry and a noose tightens around his unbeating heart.

eons pass between them before she parts from him, sinking back down to her natural height with a smile dazzling enough to blind, cheeks flushed and looking every part the goddess she wasn't supposed to be.

she's drunk. she is often drunk — the young lord who poured wine is one of her titles, after all — but he xuan reminds himself that she wouldn't likely have done this sober. ( and what does that change ? she did it at all. )

a beat of silence. another. he may not speak aloud much, but he always has something to dismiss shi qingxuan's impulsions. it's a rare moment in which he flounders for words.

   " don't be stupid. you didn't say anything. " it's weak, but so is he. he has seen her home safely, he is no longer needed here. he turns, black robes swishing, and walks away.

[riwrite]

hx is so funny at the beginning of bw arc actually. xl immediately suspects him and of course hc knows whats going on so he subtly teases him about it and hx is just like. nooo i didnt do anything idk why any of this is happening :( <- is the only one who could have done it

[riwrite]

i need swd to be beheaded again

[riwrite]

drunk and in love and full of food i think only the torturer eel could harm me

[riwrite]

hey if anyone else is doing artfight this year, lmk and i'll try to attack you!! my profile is here <3

[riwrite]

terror flickers across her face, a brief apprehension that crosses features even mortality couldn't dull. satisfaction twists cruelly beneath his ribs, and guilt curls in after. he thinks of this face, tear - stained and screaming, desperately trying to comprehend a betrayal written in the blood of her ascension, and almost as soon as he feels them, those warring emotions calm to nothing. no guilt, no satisfaction. just the simple fact that she remains scared of him.

she would be foolish to not be. he is a killer, a liar, a nightmare made dead flesh. he is hungry shadows and blood in the water, a tale told to send shivers down spines and scare children away from dark shores at night. he is her brother's murderer — he is her would - be murderer if only her years of attention hadn't stilled his hand.

it's not too late. he could reach for her now and wrap bony fingers around her neck and press until her spine snaps, drive a hand through her breast to puncture her heart and feel blood pumping beneath his nails, curl a fist deep into her tangled hair and pull until muscle and bone give way and her head is tossed aside. like brother like sister. he stands, hands at his sides. lightning illuminates his looming figure for just a moment, but all he sees is the flash of brilliance across the underfed lines of her face.

she trembles in the cold, she masks her obvious fear, her eyes shimmer in the way that speaks of restrained tears, and still she is playing a game with him. and still he plays along.

   " have we ? " he says in the same dismissive way he used to utter an annoyed ' are we ? ' in response to an indignant ' aren't we friends ? '

   ( have they met ? have they met, really ? shi qingxuan does not know he xuan. she knows a mockery of ming yi. she knows black water sinking ships at his most vengeful. she does not know he xuan.

but, oh, does he xuan know shi qingxuan. )

   " it was easy to follow you here, " his tone is dark, pressing in that silent way so characteristic of him, asking for something he's not asking for in words. this is your last chance to run. this is your last chance to push me away. if you're not scared enough to want me gone, then what else could i do but stay ?

   " or do you not make it this easy for any old ghost that stalks you ? "

     ⌜◈⌟    ▌ ──  He speaks, and the skies weep as though to spare her the disgrace of crying too soon. Her heart, treacherous thing that it is, strains against its confines, first away from the terror before her, then towards the one person she has so selfishly wanted ( and wants still, because she never learns her lesson, does she? ), beats like a fist against a locked door: let me in, let me be, either kill me or tell me to leave but do not abandon me to wander this ceaseless twilight in which you are nothing but a shadow that disappears every time I look over my shoulder.

     "Yes, that would make sense, wouldn't it?" she hears herself laugh in that mortifying way she always does when scared out of her mind. And oh, how impressive it is that she sounds only entirely mad rather than utterly incomprehensible! That she does not simply scream and scream and scream! "What I know is-- that is to say, in my own experience-- I... I..."

     She knows what she would say a lifetime ago: Ming-xiong, don't speak in circles! Just ask me what you want to know plainly. We're friends, so let's talk like we are. What could she say to him now? What is it he wishes to hear from her? She, who despite all he has shown her, still knows nothing?

     Her gaze drifts upward ( yet another ascension she is unworthy of ), takes in the severe slant of his jaw, the downward turn of ashen lips, gaunt skin of a veritable corpse unable to rest in its premature grave, and oh god, oh god, it really is him.

     Her brother's killer. Everything she has ever feared, ever will fear. The monster she reaches for in bloodsoaked nightmares, crying for it to please, please help her even as it slips claws sharp as sudden death between her ribs. The man who, no matter who vies to claim consequences for which sins, she killed.

     Habit, as it is so wont to do, makes a fool of her. Raises maimed hand forward as though to fuss over errant strands of hair, prelude to asking if he's eaten yet ( he is hungry still, isn't he? ). Snatches it back, redirects stiff fingers to scratch the back of her head. Jagged fingernails reopen a half-healed scab, and how vile of her to bleed in front of him, even if he is none the wiser to it. She presses her fingertips against it to staunch, and it's as though she has pushed a missing puzzle piece into place.

     "To tell you the truth, my memory's not what it used to be, hahaha."

      In the distance, thunder rumbles like the warning growl of a great beast. She shivers. Doesn't stop shivering.

      "That said, I don't recall saying I was the one who was haunted. Gongzi, you're very perceptive. Or have we met before?" Here, she looks up. Here, she dares defy Black Water's final verdict. Here I am, she declares with everything but words, here I am before you. You can no longer pretend. Searing heat pushes against the back of her eyes, tears unshed blurring him to an inky stain. She will not cry. Not yet. She's shown fear before him too soon once before, cried before it was time for bitter weeping. She will not make that same mistake twice.

[riwrite]

to return to mount taicang felt almost like a joke. the silhouettes of the mountain peaks were familiar, but there was nothing else to suggest the import of this place to mu qing's past. the scarlet maple groves, the spiritual fruit orchards, the sprawling sect grounds... it had all been burned in the riots following the fall of xianle eight hundred years ago, and the royal holy temple had been left as a nothing but a memory for a few of the oldest gods. but mu qing's keen memory could pinpoint approximately where he'd been when he'd first nervously spoken to xie lian, where he'd been pushed over amidst the cherry trees, where the winding paths he'd follow every day on his errands for the prince had been. it was here that everything had begun, and it was here that mu qing was reminded what it felt like to be powerless.

he was no stranger to pain nor injury. he was a martial god, and he was one of the finest, which meant he'd pointed his blade at countless ghosts, demons, and monsters over the centuries — and in turn those ghosts, demons, and monsters had given him all they had as they hopelessly fought a god for their disgusting excuses of lives. he knew broken bones, stab wounds and cuts, blunt force trauma, even other burns. but with the high - quality healing elixirs he always kept on him on missions followed by a swift return to the heavens to replenish what spiritual energy he'd spent in battle, he'd gotten very good at concealing the worst of it from all other officials — his own juniors included. a martial god could not appear weak, after all.

but when his head deputy announced her presence at the tent in which he had been bedridden like a sick, helpless child, he was given no choice but to submit once again to the humiliation of allowing her to see him in his current state.

with the heavens being still under repair from the battle with jun wu, there was nowhere to go to quickly regain the power that had been stolen from him by the cursed shackle, and with both mortal faith in the gods having been shaken somewhat in the immediate aftermath, and the severity of his injuries, the most he could really do was sit and meditate in between visits from the few medical officials he would let in, a sad but friendly xie lian, or the only member of his palace he allowed to see him.

he turned his gaze to her, and a familiar discomfort bled through his chest. she was here to assist him, but she took after him too well, didn't she ? she was injured as well, bandages concealing her own burns — including on her face — and yet here she was, standing tall without giving away how much pain she must be in. mu qing hadn't even seen the extent of the damage the fires had done to her, while he was forced to allow her to see the bloody and burnt flesh on his arms and legs. it was a role reversal he was severely uncomfortable with.

   ( he could take care of himself. he always had. except that he could still hardly stand without his legs giving out on him and he had to grit his teeth through something as menial as picking up a brush and writing. he'd never been in so much pain for such a prolonged period of time, but while he loathed having to be in the care of his head deputy, at least he wasn't stooping to the level of having to be carried on feng xin's back again. )

   " they better be good updates, " he muttered with an irritable click of his tongue. not being able to personally oversee reconstruction of his palace was eating him alive, but at least dissecting every mistake that was possibly being made served as distraction from his injuries. embarrassment heated his face, but he extended an arm in the direction zhao xiang knelt and firmly ordered, " get this over with. you can report while you do it. " he'd already been scolded by many ( by her, by xie lian, by more than one medical official... ) when he'd expressed no desire to have anyone change his bandages for him and insisted he would do it himself, so he'd accepted by now that all he could do was be vulnerable, weak, and ugly in front of another person. it was the smallest bit of solace that he at least trusted her most with this — she of all people wouldn't talk about his current state outside of this tent.

@riwrite // plotted starter.

       bandages, dark circles, and clammy skin defined her now. tugging on her outer robe every morning felt like climbing the tallest, most treacherous mountain. the muted deep browns and blacks of xuan zhen palace still carrying the scent of embers and sea water despite a thorough scrubbing and hasty mending looked more put together than the head deputy herself. the standards she committed to memory over three centuries persevered over all else. she barely allowed herself rest, committing every waking moment to the survivors, the reconstruction, and, most importantly, tending to general xuan zhen himself.

       never in three centuries had she bore witness to such injuries on her god. general xuan zhen, wielding the imposing zhan madao, was one of the strongest martial gods in the heavenly court. he returned to the palace time and time again with perhaps only scratches. never has he needed such attentive care.

       ( she still remembered how the blood drained from her face when she first saw his burns. for the first time, she felt a deep fear and worry for her god that etched itself into her bones. )

       yet never would zhao xiang turn away when her god needed her. even if the weight of her responsibilities and the brambles of grief, shame, and guilt threatened to crush and suffocate, she bore it all without complaint. she only took a page out of her god's book: she donned a mask. she buried it all, knowing that if she allowed her pain to breach her defenses for more than a moment, she would crumble. 

       ( her pain could wait. the still-healing burns under bandages 'round part of her face that hurt whenever she tried to smile for her god, for her fellow deputies could be tended to in the evenings out of sight. the still-healing burns under robes that protested when she stretched her arm and back too much could wait until the evening. the guilt and shame at surviving when others in the palace did not could wait. her grief could wait ).

       in the crook of one arm, she cradled scrolls and rolls of bandages while managing to hold onto bottles of medicine. the sun was high in the sky over mt. taicang, where heavenly officials established their temporary capital following jun wu's defeat and imprisonment. despite the circumstances, middle court officials worked tirelessly to answer prayers.

       xuan zhen palace, in particular, had much to catch up on, given the abrupt cessation of all activities while their god was under investigation. ( she still seethed with fury at the thought of those horrendous, baseless accusations. just as she still boiled in anger over jun wu's betrayal ).

       zhao xiang entered his tent with only a brief announcement of her presence. at the doorway, she took a moment to attach a silencing talisman to the fabric entrance with her free hand. even if she couldn't spare her god from the disgrace and the vulnerability of needing help from his head deputy, she could at least spare him the humiliation of others overhearing.

       ❝ general xuan zhen, ❞ she abandoned the scrolls on his makeshift table. her visible eye was a molten brown pool of concern as she knelt by his bedside, yet she respectfully kept enough distance to not corner him. ❝ general xuan zhen, it's time to change your bandages and check your meridians. i've got more updates for you about the reconstruction progress like you asked. ❞

[riwrite]

oh btw his dad might not be around anymore but happy late fathers day to the entire cast of m.dzs this kid's uncles

[riwrite]

got sidetracked writing the reply im working on by thinking about how interesting mq's feelings about xl are........

like. he loves him. he's jealous of him. he admires him. he resents him. he thinks he's a naive idiot and at the same time he thinks he's the most brilliant person to walk the earth. everyone was dazzled by the crown prince so why would he be any different. he dared to want to be friends with him when they were master and servant but wasn't stupid enough to voice this. he gets excited when he learns that xl supposedly did things that're wrong because there's something thrilling about finally getting to see him stoop to such a low level. he stretched himself thin trying to keep xl and his parents alive and together while they were on the run despite getting nothing out of it, because he cared about him that much. he wanted to protect him the second he ascended again but was too proud to not do it in disguise. xl himself is suspicious of him at multiple points but mq's loyalty never wavers despite himself and despite their past. he even tried to sacrifice himself for him

[riwrite]

from @starwonderz. " TOYA! " Tsukasa's voice reached from across the courtyard, his energetic steps following in tow. He waved a hand to and fro, as if his volume wasn't enough to catch the younger boy's attention. He skidded to a halt and clasped Toya's shoulder, pulling him into a hug. Tsukasa held him for a few moments before pulling away, big grin splitting across his face. " a - ha, i am sure you weren't expecting that! a gift from Saki and yours truly! it has been awhile since we've crossed paths at the school like this ; one cannot let such a precious occurrence go by without due recognition! you've been practicing quite hard lately, no? are you having any trouble? " He patted his shoulder.

toya's isn't the only head turning towards the loud voice booming across the courtyard, but he is the only one melting into a gentle smile rather than morphing into annoyance, exasperation, or amusement. " tsukasa - sen— " he begins to greet as tsukasa approaches, but he's cut off in surprise, not expecting to be pulled into a tight and enthusiastic hug.

he has a bit of an odd relationship with hugs, but ultimately enjoys the pressure and warmth, from being pulled against akito's side in a moment of excitement to this, being held for a moment or two by his brother in all but blood. it takes a second for him to process, but then he's hugging back, his own embrace far more gentle but no less affectionate, letting the faint scent of his childhood home - away - from - home that clings to tsukasa spread calm through him. then, it's over and tsukasa breaks away, and toya takes half a step back, still smiling.

   " yeah, " he acknowledges with a nod, then shakes his head in response to the last question. " it's been going well, we've been making great progress. what about you ? how have your shows been ? "