#feiyuie

[sanctissimx]

@feiyuie​ —— one kundiman, one balitaw for Amihan, primordial avian milf

Nasaan ka, Irog at dagling Naparam ang iyong pag-giliw? Di baga sumpa mong ako'y mamahalin? Iyong itatangi, iyong itatangi magpahanggang libing Subalit nasaan ang gayong pagtingin? Nasaan ka Irog at natitiis mong ako'y mangulila At hanap-hanapin ikaw sa alaala? Nasaan ang sabi mong ako'y iyong ligaya't Ngayong nalulungkot, ngayong Nalulungkot ay di ka makita? Irog ko'y tandaan! Kung ako man ay iyong ngayo'y siniphayo Mga sumpa't lambing pinaram mong buo Ang lahat sa buhay ko ay hindi maglalaho't Magsisilbing bakas ng nagdaan 'tang pagsuyo Tandaan mo Irog, Irog ko'y tandaan Ang lahat sa buhay ko ay hindi maglalaho't Magsisilbing bakas ng nagdaan 'tang pagsuyo Nasaan, ka Irog! Nasaan ka, Irog?

[numinousdread-a]

WHAT FLAVOR IS YOUR SOUL ?

VANILLA

oh heart of ice and mind of gold, what am I to do with you? you are only good in small amounts, bittersweet fledgling, you are hard for most to swallow. your spirit is strong, your wit is potent, your biting essence drives even the most daring away. but why are you hiding your sweetness? I know within you, you are soft, but humanity has made you bitter. you mask your pain and sorrow with spite and sensibility. you say you do not care about trivial things, but don’t you? sweetheart relax. you can let down your drawbridge, the waters are not poisoned. I know you have looked monsters in between the eyes and scoffed at them, but please, relax. you think your armor protects you but it is smothering you slowly. little owlet, when will you learn, words can only get you so far? feelings are what makes this world pulse. do not suppress your feelings. your heart can still thaw my dear. trust.

tagged by: @gusubun 

tagging: @starbiter (xcy or hxy!) @feiyuie​ (lqg or cwn!) @celestieu @fractempyreal @destructivour​ @fadedpath​ (your pick!) + @malkhes​ !!

[bloodrainbloom]

@feiyuie

where is my money, hm ?

twitter / ig / inprnt / shop

[feietouhuo]

birthday gift for @feiyuie​ !!!!! i lOVE THEM EVEN IF ALL I DO IS CLOWN THEM ON THIS ACCOUNT <3 THANK U FOR ALL THE FUN & FOR ALL THE CURSED MOMENTS I HOPE UR LIFE IS GEWD

[shenzuns]

@feiyuie​​  sought:  ❛  i  will  wash  your  hair  at  night  and  dry  it  off  with  care.  ❜   /   lqg  :)  .

𝙾𝙽  𝚃𝙷𝙴  𝙴𝚅𝙴  of  summer  sky’s  end  a  blissful  purple  does  adorn,  a  warm  blanket  behind  a  tall  brush  of  greens,  bamboo  trees  which  tower  lofty  and  sway  above  with  each  brush  of  evening  wind  where  shen  qingqiu’s  gaze  strays.  strays  from  the  hesitant  brush  of  lithe  hand  ‘gainst  calloused  hand,  one  battle  ready  and  prepared,  his  ever  the  opposite;  with  an  artists  hand,  scholarly  and  refined,  made  to  pluck  strings,  to  ink  word  unto  paper,  to  cautiously  inch  closer  with  every  passing  second  —  fingers  touching  but  it’s  not  quite  enough,  the  frivolous  warring  within  him  to  push  forward  or  to  pull  back.  

𝙸𝚃’𝚂  𝙸𝙽  𝚀𝚄𝙸𝙴𝚃  𝚆𝙾𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁  that  seafoam  greens  return  to  peer  down  at  their  hands  amid  the  soft  rustle  of  leaves  and  crickets  alike,  the  silent  readiness  that  he’s  always  known  liu  qingge  to  carry,  peerlessly  loyal,  peerlessly  steady  and  prettier  than  anyone  he’d  ever  known  (  everyone  else  besides  ...  )  —  he  digs  his  fingers  into  soft  soil  beneath  him,  (  solemn,  always,  always  returning  to  that  one  thought,  /  but  strangely,  here  with  nothing  but  themselves  and  the  day  falling  into  finality,  he  finds  the  bitter  easier  to  swallow,  sweeter  in  the  warm  comfort  of  liu  qingge’s  presence  ),  and  he  relaxes  his  fingers,  eases  them  closer  to  delicately  overlap  the  bai  zhan  peak  lord’s  own  with  the  untold  hope  of  stealing  some  of  that  steadiness  for  himself,  a  comfort  he’d  never  openly  ask  for  (  don’t  think  too  much  on  his  boldness  liu  shidi  !  were  he  to  hesitate  any  further  ...  he’d  rather  impale  himself  on  his  sword  than  die  from  embarrassment  ).

𝚂𝙾  𝙾𝙵𝚃  𝙻𝙾𝚂𝚃  𝙸𝙽  𝚃𝙷𝙾𝚄𝙶𝙷𝚃  he  barely  catches  those  blissfully  gruff  words  tinged  with  the  lightest  hints  of  nerves  were  he  to  listen  to  carefully  (  and  how  could  he  not  ?  ).  very  nearly  misses  tender  greys  glancing  at  him  and  he  catches  that  strong  gaze  with  his  own  before  they  can  turn  away,  soft  lips  parted  in  a  silent  kind  of  surprise,  as  if  at  any  moment  he  might  realize  he’d  misheard  what  liu  qingge  had  said,  as  if  at  any  moment  liu  qingge  might  pull  back  with  an  embarrassed  shoulder  brush  that  shen  qingqiu  had  started  to  notice  and  they’d  forget  everything  because  he  couldn’t  possibly  ...  (  he’d  once  thought,  still  thought  really,  himself  hardly  a  match  for  the  famed  bai  zhan  war  god  /  he  was  too  fanciful,  messy  and  lazy,  there  was  no  need  for  graceful  pretenses  when  it  was  just  them  /  and  yet,  he  was  always  left  surprised,  endeared  )

𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃  𝚆𝙴𝚁𝙴  𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚈  ?  he  didn’t  quite  know,  didn’t  dare  ask.  he  wasn’t  quite  sure  if  he  was  ready  to  know  in  spite  of  his  suspicions,  but  he  was  content  to  stay  like  this.  unknown,  quiet  with  him  and  the  promise  of  much  more  together,  with  a  shaking  in  his  lungs  and  dusty  roses  littering  the  skin  of  his  cheeks  (  just  side  effects  of  without  a  cure  obviously  ...  happy  side  effects,  that  only  ever  activated  in  the  company  of  liu  qingge,  but  side  effects  none  the  less  !  ).

❝   liu  -  shidi  ...   ❞,  he  croons  with  the  smallest  curve  of  lips,  a  secret  smile  he  reserved  for  few.

❝   don’t  make  promises  you  can’t  keep,  ah  ?  if  that’s  the  case,  i  expect  you  to  be  here  tonight  to  let  me  return  the  favour.   ❞,  he’s  sure  he’ll  regret  his  words  later,  can  already  feel  the  ever  cloying  squeeze  of  anxiety  grip  him,  but  it’s  all  worth  it  when  he  sees  the  startled  fluster  as  though  liu  qingge  were  a  shocked  cat  all  puffed  up,  and  laughs  with  fingers  absentmindedly  interlocking.

[bloodrainbloom]

@feiyuie​​ ——   🔫  you know what this is binch 

His steps are unhurried, languid in pace as he moves through the wide corridor of trees that fete him with an ablution of maple-red leaves. Autumnal leaves that crunch cleanly underfoot, yield to the weight of heavy boots that assert their purpose as he follows the trail to the terminal of a wide cove. 

Fire illuminates the sinister dark, where an army of ghosts cast a contention of shadows that augment the wild worriment of the already-frenetic fray within the lair. Their anticipation of him is expected; he hadn’t bothered concealing himself as he approached, encouraging the panic that was sure to ensue with every nearing step.

Beyond the shifting horizon of their heads, Hua Cheng can see the Savage at their helm. Deformed and defiled in visage, the hideous doyen holds his gaze, hard and unflinching, before flicking a gnarled hand in the ghost king’s direction in commandment of the terrible horde. 

E’ming erupts from their scabbard at his hip, cutting a wide swath through the volley of ghosts that surge all at once, like a thalassic tide. And like a tide do the vivisected bodies crest at his feet, mounting upon each other as blood spills from the dehiscence of their flesh. E’ming’s grim tribute to their master’s whim. 

The scimitar returns obediently to the creche of their master’s palm as the multitude lays felled upon the sanguine-soaked ground, the malignant glint of that silver hilt ensconced protectively within the curl of his fingers. A momentary armistice as he regards the Savage, knowing surrender is the path of the wise.

Their furor pulses dull in the silence between them, throbbing like a villainous heart. A rumination before the ruination that comes when they commit their first step in his direction: serrated teeth bared within their bloodied maw, knotted claws outstretched, reaching for him in inutile desperation. 

E’ming dispatches in a flash of silver that catches the firelight in its flight, describing a terrifying upward arc as it slices neatly across their hirsute belly, vivisecting the Savage in a perfect trine. Blood rains down upon them in a precipitation of gore, pours from the gape of the Savage’s paunch. Hua Cheng watches them with a recondite disinterest, approaching without a word of jest or jeer. The Savage curls into itself, arms hugging the cleave of their stomach, trying to hold the spill of viscera at bay. Lips clamped in a grim line, their tremulous breaths pass noisily through their nose. Hua Cheng stands over them, quietly waiting for the recognition in their dark eyes before the shadow of his boot obscures it.

His foot settles upon the point of the ghost’s jaw, nestled upon it as gently as the sigh Hua Cheng lets out to attest his displeasure. Ignoring, for the moment, the piteous whinnying of the ghost underfoot, Hua Cheng’s boot bears down in portentous measure. “Perhaps next time, you might reconsider the manner with which you disseminate your pig-shit opinions,” he suggests, almost kindly.  An august preamble to the vulgar snap of the jaw crushed to dregs and dross, and the preternatural howl that follows.

Hua Cheng revokes his foot with a disdainful curl of his lip, wipes the daubing of blood that defiles his boot upon the ground. The displeased click of a tongue is all that alerts him to the presence of He Xuan at the edge of the trees, watching with their immutable dispassion. 

It is to their side that Hua Cheng’s steps are drawn; the consummate cynosure to all his manifold desires. But He Xuan’s eyes stare past him, to the remains of infernal flesh he’s only just abandoned. “That was needless of you to do,” He Xuan points out, and Hua Cheng isn’t sure if he’s stating in point of fact, or admonishing him. Either are equally likely.

“Maybe I found it necessary,” Hua Cheng offers, unbothered by the rebuke.

“Crimson Rain.” Definitely censure in their voice now. “I don’t need you to fight my battles for me.”

Hua Cheng grins, pleased with himself despite their distaste. “I know.”

He inclines his head to beg a kiss from pale lips that turn away in rebuke, He Xuan’s eyes lowered in neutral displeasure. Blood runnels down from their temple, follows the curve of their cheek, the hollow beyond it. In his haste, Hua Cheng’s forgotten the rain of blood that beleaguers them, and raises his arm to protect them under the aegis of his sleeve. 

He Xuan turns to him then, turning up their mouth to be kissed now—only to recoil at the sight of his. Hua Cheng wipes the corners of his mouth with the heel of his hand, and finds evidence of blood that he hopes he’s cleaned away well enough. And as he wonders, He Xuan’s rare smile answers that doubt.

“If you’re looking for approval, I won’t give it to you,” He Xuan states plainly, the remonstrance in their voice softened by the hands that set Hua Cheng’s collar to right. Swiftly do they land a kiss to the corner of his. “But reward is another matter.” 

Hua Cheng chases the retreat of those consecrated lips, catching the swell of their bottom lip between acuminate teeth that snag upon it as He Xuan turns vehemently away. But Hua Cheng cups their face, pulling them roughly to the kiss he offends against their cheek. “I’ll have what is mine,” Hua Cheng whispers, his voice half a hiss, his teeth nipping hard at the point of their jaw. “But it is you who decides what is mine to have.” 

He Xuan pushes him away sharply, in an irritation that he amends with the surreptitious slip of their hand within his. Hua Cheng follows the lead of that hand, that guides him now to the place that has—for these two forsaken ghost kings—come to mean sanctuary, come to mean home.  

[lq-archive]

@feiyuie​​

the sense of belonging towards the junior would always be met with overwhelming guilt.  what right would hanguang-jun be truly entitled to in regards to the boy — his very own child in all but biology.  as truth was uncovered guilt intertwined with fear,  too.  the sheer terror of losing a beloved one again crept up on lan wangji's bones for days and months and years on end.  it would be a challenge to rid himself of such foreboding, only time would be able to tell.

anxiety of losing this one’s son to the revelation of his heritage diffuse the moment the kind smile is to be seen amongst the quiet and green at the games of cloud recesses.  after all,  this is where he belonged, if the young lan wished so.   ❛ sizhui, ❜   lan wangji welcomes him with quietness in his voice and,  beneath a characteristically austere expression,  a warm faint smile.  ❛ welcome back. ❜  his deep voice relents with what perhaps could be perceived as relief to have him home. 

[yuexins]

𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙿𝙴𝚃𝙰𝙻𝚂 𝙾𝙵 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙻𝙾𝚃𝚄𝚂, 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙼𝚈 𝙽𝙰𝙼𝙴:       @feiyuie​​​​                 /                   “  i’m not leaving you.  ” / jin ling @ jc !

this brat.   this goddamned brat.

two fingers come up to pinch at the bridge of his nose,   holding the area tight until pain sparks in minor bursts.   it’s then that he drops his hand,   counts backwards from ten,   &   turns to face his nephew with a hand on his hip,   brows knitting together in slight annoyance.   jiang cheng hadn’t turned to face jin ling ever since the younger had found him on the ground with a soiled fist   &   dirt caking the violet threads of his robes                        he hadn’t prepared himself for the stubbornness reflected within those round,   young eyes.   he hadn’t prepared himself for the familiarity of that stubbornness.

“   you-   ”      jiang cheng barks out,   words failing him as jin ling stands proud   &   tall before him with fairy trotting up to them,   first circling around his own legs   &   then sitting right beside his nephew’s foot.   jiang cheng has to force himself to swallow his laugh when he spots the boy’s composure teetering.   a sigh,   then he tears his gaze away.

he looks just like her.   he sounds just like her.

blunt nails curl into his roughened palm,   carving indentations of thought   &   heavy nostalgia into his skin ‘fore letting out another sigh.   the sound slipping from his lips is akin to a water rushing down a cliff,   pooling at the bottom into a lake;   it sounds heavy,   tired.   how long has it been?   he still cannot get o’er the aching similarities ‘tween mother   &   son,   ‘tween father   &   son.

“   how did you even find me?   ”      it comes out hissed,   slipping out in ‘tween gritted teeth.    zǐdiàn does not have the energy to crackle in anger,   jiang cheng closes his eyes behind the curtaining of his bangs before turning around to toss a practiced glare towards the child.      “   you   ...   did you follow me?!   didn’t i tell you to stay back?!   ”      a few steps are all it takes for the sect leader to close the distance so he can scrutinize jin ling,   to check for a wound or a scar or even the smallest injury.   when he doesn’t spot any,   he raises his hand threateningly only to drop it onto the rightful heir’s head.

the hand stays there for a while,   expression entirely unreadable before it drops   &   rests on his hip.      “   ...   go back,   a-ling.   i’ll come back later.   don’t,   ”      a pause,   accentuating the word with a thundering glare.      “   follow.   take fairy   &   head back now.   ”

FEELSY PROMPTS,                      ACCEPTING.

[sanctissimx]

peak rp friendship is letting me talk you into writing lesbian OCs with me

[numinousdread-a]

@feiyuie​ // Liu Qingge said:  ❝  i know i can’t protect you from everything,  but i wish you’d let me protect you from the things i can control.  ❞ GIMME CHHANG GENG from shifu <3

              𝐀 𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍 Chang Geng’s face as he heard Liu Qingge. He really didn’t see where everyone thought he was some heartless or barbaric man. Well, once upon a time as a child he tried to rationalize him as such to soothe his own wounds for being placed upon Bai Zhan peak over all the many other peaks of learning. But no one is truly so black and white. Liu Qingge probably saw himself as such many times, but each time was battered by the forces around him to step out of his narrow path. Chang Geng was certainly one of those unexpected occurrences, from the moment he arrived to now, fighting every day to control a curse threatening to take over his life. Liu Qingge could have just abandoned him -- could have called him monster and slew him. But in all this time ... he cared and just wanted to help.

❝         This is my own burden to handle, shifu.       ❞   Chang Geng replied gently, but reached out to touch the corner of his sleeve, pinching it between two fingers like a comfort. ❝         This is one of those things you can’t control or battle for me.       ❞  

[sexywater]

@feiyuie does the dead fish need to be sent down the toilet? 

[feietouhuo]

“come on! you can’t just sit there stuck in your room!"

❝ i very much can. ❞ 

for a worker in a business reliant on customers, mu qing is unremarkable. he refuses to walk the streets of liyue to draw in patrons; at the day’s end, when people mourn the loss of time & stare at the moving sun in a hope to turn its path back eastward, they’ll come of their own accord.

mu qing expects the same of a funeral business. yes, death is an inevitable endpoint, that pitch he agrees with. but who needs a coffin in their home when it’s barely time!? & everyone needs a coffin eventually, so it’s not like the wansheng funeral parlor is lacking money??

everyone knows hu tao. even mu qing experiences the advertisements, he hears it from miles away. 

❝ why are you at the inn, anyway? people are resting, they’re not ready to hear about your innovations in the coffin-building field. ❞ he crosses his arms. ❝ & where would you even bring me? there’s no way i’m trusting you, a funeral parlor director, to bring me anywhere remotely better than my room. with a nice cup of tea. i’ll get cursed at this hour. ❞

[shenzuns]

@feiyuie​  sought:  ʘ‿ʘ   /   lqg  risking  it  all  just  by  looking  .

❝   ...  and  that’s  why  chikorita  is  the  best  starter  and  grass  type  pokemon.   ❞    

𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙴𝙸𝙶𝙽  𝙿𝙷𝚁𝙰𝚂𝙴𝚂  𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕  𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚢  from  self  assured  lips,  a  secret  joy  that  rose  from  it,  that  rose  from  each  absurd  topic  he  chose  to  drag  liu  qingge’s  ears  through.  there’s  a  layer  of  spite  to  it,  he  tells  himself,  he’s  disgracing  that  qinghua’s  creations  in  ways  only  they’ll  know,  it’s  payback  and  it’s  funny  at  that  (  ‘sides  he  needs  an  ally  !  his  chikorita  bias  was  NOT  bias,  it  was  truth,  but  only  HE  had  good  taste  apparently  ).  

𝙱𝚄𝚃  𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴  𝚒𝚗  𝚝𝚑𝚎  𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚝  𝚜𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐  𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚣𝚎,  with  only  his  voice  and  the  occasional  grunt  from  liu  qingge  to  be  heard,  if  he  feels  a  little  happier  /  a  little  more  at  peace  in  the  melancholic  tranquil  of  it  all,  a  minute  distraction  from  his  mind  and  the  tumultuous  grave  his  heart  laid  in,  a  distraction  from  his  heart  and  face  and  the  suffocating  restlessness  /  he  only  hints  at  such  with  a  half  hidden  smile  from  behind  his  fan.  

𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴’𝚂  𝙰  𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜,  softening  sadness  unbeknownst  at  the  edges  of  seafoam  greens,  a  coyness  to  it  as  he  tilts  his  head  to  the  side  to  peer  at  the  man  beside  him   —   and  if  his  heart  falters  when  he  meets  his  gaze,  caught  so  out  of  place  by  that  furrowed  brow  and  the  starkness  of  that  stare,  long  lashed  and  clear,  pretty  as  he’d  always  known,  complex  and  as  vastly  open  as  the  sea,  he  doesn’t  acknowledge  it.  like  a  ship  out  to  sail,  he  wonders,  and  had  the  vulnerability  of  that  brief  stare,  how  seen  he’d  felt  in  that  shared  instance,  not  threatened  to  swarm  him  like  a  tidal  wave,  he  might’ve  inquired;  hoped  to  carefully  crack  it  like  an  intricate  puzzle  yet  to  be  solved  (  but  he’d  think  on  it  still,  later,  in  the  quiet  of  his  own  room  until  he’d  wound  himself  taut  with  excuses  and  fears  wrapped  up  in  a  neat  little  bow  that  spelled  weakness  ).

𝙷𝙴  𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂𝙽’𝚃  𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝,  merely  schools  his  expression  back  to  something  more  fitting,  rocks  back  on  his  heels  when  liu  qingge  snaps  his  head  forward  and  quietly  muses  on  the  soft  flush  that  decorates  his  cheeks,  how  any  bride  would  be  lucky  to  have  him  as  theirs.  it’s  after  a  moment  or  so  of  quiet  amid  bird  calls  and  tree  sways  that  he  teasingly  reaches  out  to  poke  at  liu  qingge’s  cheek  with  the  edge  of  his  fan,  invading  his  space  with  a  closeness  he  oft  enjoyed  testing  the  boundaries  of,  seemingly  content  to  bury  his  own  thoughts  and  shake  his  mind  clear  in  lieu  of  poking  fun.

❝   liu  -  shiiidddiii,  if  it’s  really  that  boring  i  can  stop.  you’re  not  a  stone  statue,  you  know,  and  not  that  subtle  either.  but  i  guess  a  stone  statue  wouldn’t  be  too  bad.   ❞   —   if  it’s  you.

[bloodrainbloom]

@feiyuie ——sharpen your knives

“Woah…”

Hua Cheng looks up at the barista’s remark, follows the astounded, gape-mouthed gaze that extends beyond him to whatever lay behind: a strident tableau of paparazzi clamoring outside the windows of the cafe, cameras and the goosenecking scrutiny of reporters aiming for a better view of who was inside.

“Wonder what happened,” the barista muses aloud as he counts out Hua Cheng’s change and hands him a suspiciously damp wad of paper bills and warm coins. 

“No idea,” Hua Cheng replies snappishly, immediately regretting his sharpness as he pockets the cash and wipes his hand on a quickly-discarded napkin. Snatching up his coffee and croissant he resumes a hollow smile. “You got a back door?” he asks, trying to keep his voice level in spite of the monumental irritation that pricks at the back of his neck.

“It’s for employees only,” the barista replies. Predictably. 

“Yeah, I figured.” Hua Cheng slaps down a crisp fifty dollar bill and pushes it in the barista’s direction. “But you’d be doing me a huge favor.” 

He flashes a more dazzling smile—not that he needs to. Cold hard cash always says everything necessary for persuasion. As he expects, the barista’s eyes go wide, and subsequently points his thumb in the direction of the small hallway adjacent. 

“You can get to the kitchen by the bathrooms, and there’s a service exit out back,” he offers. “You can take the alleyway to Stoneleigh, and get to either Market or Main from there.” 

Hua Cheng raps his knuckles upon the counter, already making his way towards the kitchen. “You’re out here saving lives, kid,” he remarks, but the barista’s too busy pocketing the bill. 

It’s a quick slip through to the alleyway, where it’s mercifully quiet, a silence disrupted with a preternatural timing by Yin Yu’s ringtone. “What happened?” Hua Cheng asks, foregoing any greeting in light of the exigency at hand.

“Qi Rong’s been arrested,” Yin Yu reports, uncharacteristically exasperated. 

The tone catches Hua Cheng’s notice. “How’s that got anything to do with me?”

“It doesn’t, really,” Yin Yu agrees. “But you just won that high-profile case against all those officials, and Qi Rong’s been linked to our office for that summer he interned with us. So. You know how that goes. Somehow his personal collection of Hannibal Lecter-inspired photography is our fault, I guess. According to the news.” 

Hua Cheng swears under his breath and emerges from the alley onto a fairly quiet street. “I’m not far from the courthouse. How long until you can pick me up?”

Yin Yu lets out a breath. “In this traffic? I can’t even imagine. I can send a car for you, but no guarantees when it’ll get to you. Can you find somewhere to lay low until then? Maybe a hour? Two, maybe, with this holiday traffic.” 

Just as Yin Yu asks, Hua Cheng spies a restaurant opening for the evening. “Yeah,” he replies, looking both ways down the busy street and dashing across it. A quaint little bell rings as he enters. “I’ll send you my location.”

A fresh-faced young woman greets him with a warm smile, takes her place behind the host’s podium with a polite bow. “Hi! So we’re not quite set up for service yet,” she explains cheerily. “It’ll be about ten more minutes or so until we’re properly open, but I’m happy to seat you—” The bell on the door rings again, allowing a rush of a small cadre of journalists in. Only a handful, but noisy and brash enough to surprise the host. They’re stopped by one of the waitstaff, who prevents them from getting any further than the foyer.

Hua Cheng leans in, keeping his voice low. “You don’t have a private room, do you?” He sets down a heavy black metal credit card that lands with a particular clink. “Something private. I don’t care how much it costs, as long as no one can get in.”

He can see the immediate panic on her face. “Um, our private room is for exclusive tasting menus prepared by our head chef, and usually requires twenty-four hours’ notice—”

Hua Cheng pulls an honest, frustrated smile. “Please.”

The host looks nothing less than distraught. But she nods, gesturing to the main corridor. “This way,” she says, unsure. But she’s leading him into a room with heavy doors that scrape ominously as they close behind him, leaving him in a blessed, unearthly silence that he treasures with a sigh. 

[honghuas]

🦋 @feiyuie​ / Hu Tao !! :  using her polearm as leverage to lean on as the last of the fire billows to the sky , she levels him with a suspicious expression , pointing an accusatory finger at him with her free hand and saying , with a brusque lilt to her voice, "aren't you supposed to be dead?" 

         𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐒 𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐖 , pausing in the slow meticulous carving of a fence he was working on. Standing straight, Hua Cheng casually pushes his sleeves back up his elbows and tosses his crooked black braid back over his shoulder. ❝     And what about it ?    ❞

[woxingwosu]

closed starter for @feiyuie​

In the wake of mid-autumn, food is no scarcity at Puqi shrine. The days leading up to the festival had villager after villagers—some even from the surrounding villages with no proper shrine—bringing plate after plate of food in offering to pray for good health (not good fortune, thank the heavens, they listened to fervent discouragement) and his continued protection of them.

Similarly, following the Heavenly Banquet, Xie Lian found several qiankun pouches thrust into his arms by an unyielding duo in Feng Xin and Mu Qing—insisting no one else would bother eating these leftovers, so he might as well take them so he didn’t starve.

Even showing them the small mountain of offerings he’d received from the villagers, their only response was to produce more qiankun pouches with which to keep the villagers food fresh for longer. He laughed at the time though... truthfully... he was beginning to feel overwhelmed.

He knew full well the qiankun pouches would preserve the food perfectly for months, years even, and yet...

Perhaps that was why when a familiar barely-there presence crossed over the light security wards he set up over the village perimeter, Xie Lian found himself smiling. He began setting out the contents of two very full qiankun pouches along the length of his table—now distinct from his altar—gently pushing small pulses of qi into the dishes to heat them as he went until each of them were steaming.

He was only about halfway done setting his desired amount of plates out when he felt that carefully near-invisible presence hovering just outside the shrine, beginning to circle it.

“ Perhaps, ” he called out, just loud enough that he was sure the other being would know Xie Lian knew they heard, “ Lord Black Water would allow this humble one the honor of sharing a meal with them? ”

He paused, ready to lapse into silence before a thought occurred to him and he continued, “ This one assures you, none of it is my own cooking. ”