nekrospompos

[nekrospompos]

The more hate Jiang cheng gets…. The harder lan wangji is gonna fuck him so. This is on yall.

[nekrospompos]

Can you ever forgive your worst enemy ?

"This one is plenty of people's worst enemy, after all. I can't un-kill people, and neither can my enemies. Plus, every guy i've ever really hated has died. So." "Lucky me!"

[nekrospompos]

What would you like to achieve before you die?

"Hahh, technically i've already died! In this lifetime though.. I think i've done all I can ask for. I want to see more of the world, watch Sizhui grow up.. I sound so old! I've got this array i'm working on, which organizes qi into a cylindrical formation..."

[nekrospompos]

@lanctiflora || Tainted Offering, Hollow Prayer. (Starter)

After your heart stops, your brain can persist for up to ten minutes. Normal men are granted the crooning mercy of a waiting room, the soft hushed welcome that blankets fear into nothingness before their body expires. For a cultivator, excess qi can be supplemented for oxygen, allowing a man to experience vividly the coming death that licks his nerves numb. Countless li away from the oceanside kingdom of Yunmeng lies their former second prince, eyes bloodshot and glossing by the second. Someone yanks out the blade that has bisected his heart and drags Wei Wuxian by the hair. He would come to regret not glancing over and seeing who exactly had slighted him, so he might haunt them as a vengeful ghost, but It’d been such a tiring year. Even his fearsome eyes can't bear to roll an inch more, stuck to a spot on the sky where light cracks from between soft clouds. He is waiting for a storm that does not come. Wei Wuxian dies under a clear and sunny sky.

────────────

Not everything that lurked within Binan Suo was dead, despite its rumor-given title of a ghost mound. Gui, yao, guai and mo. All combinations of orders gave uninformed labels to the men who shoved each colorful and sharp-toothed thing into some few boxes, missing completely the marvel of harmony they’d all managed to achieve. Refuge was once an old pit, say the beasts that crawled through Xinjiang border’s rich soil. Something had cleaved through the old city in its prime, rumors changed the culprit from calamity to god, all agreeing that the earth mixed with rubble and mercury so thoroughly that the land and its devastation became one. Like worms, the resentment-thick ruin became a paradise to all evil that hid in the gaps of air below stained earth, barging into beds and half torn kitchens that caused daily uproar over territory disputes. If they were grander things, larger and sharper, then the ambitious maggots might do as their nature asked but already there were too few shelters for the vulgar and filthy.

A century ago, Mount Tonglu shivers. From its cinnabar womb is born a man masked in simple bronze, delicate hands clean and pure, swathed in robes of ash. With no survivors, gossip relies on the minor ghosts who dared not enter too far. They speak of a horrible song with a melody so enchanting that the mountains themselves had been charmed, that the newest calamity did not play or hum a tune in his exit, that the lingering melody was the last obsessions of each spirit he had slain, too enchanted to recall anything else as their fires flickered and died. The soul twisting maestro of ash, hisses the wisest of cowards, a foul brute who domineered any opposing ghost, bending their unwilling bodies to break until they were broken themselves. He did not have to lift a finger.

A century ago, the Xinjiang Ruins found themselves hosting a man who introduced himself as Lian Ren. A decade later, a city blooms from sickly roots, bright and busy.

────────────

“You hear that crap ‘bout elders not showing respect to the kids at these things? The livin’ folk would just leave my kid’s body there! Too good to bring home their own sons!”

A child’s funeral is hardly a point for celebration, but each death within Binan Suo’s gates could be a point of jealousy. If there was one thing the town’s keeper excelled at, it was opulent rituals, laughing with a loose grip on fluttering joss papers that they have the coffers to spare. Today’s celebration is that a full week can be properly devoted to mourning and celebration; A short life is still a life lived, thus one worth honoring. The old ghost is given enough warmed liquor to forget about crying and every festive stranger intends to keep it that way.

“Yeah! And make sure not to dress ‘em in red! Wouldn’t want the little guy coming back as a ghost! HAH!”

Wine spills heavily at every opportunity, already dirtying the robes of the father, red-eyed and making a point to speak his humor towards his son. A small ghoul, the pair had arrived only a week ago with the son cold and muttering of a chasing wisp only he could see. “He’s beautiful,” the boy had murmured, “he’s telling me of his daughters.” The boy said very little after that and his body grew weaker and weaker until one sunrise revealed a cold body, as if his soul and flesh were cut. Most could sympathize with such a tragedy, pulling the father into a crowd as thick in cackles as it was in broken cups.

The master of Refuge is masked and clothed in black, lounging against a tree trunk a li from his city. He lowers his arm enough that the accompanying slender-necked ghost can refill the bronze zhi held carelessly between calloused fingers.

Wei Wuxian had no need to learn of each wedding or funeral but the manner of the boy’s death did not come to his attention until a coffin was commissioned, sending him on a private hunt, tugged along by intrigue and a strange guilt that his warding talismans did not hinder the unwelcome entry. Thinking it might be a variant of a reverend of empty words, Wuxian repaints the alarm seals by Wu time, grabs an assistant, gives his personal condolences, and leaves for the forest by Shen time. Dressed in light grey robes, he hums softly, beckoning the forest's spirits to color and rise.

"My condolences for interrupting your rest, I have to ask, does this story seem familiar? A man rides through the forest with his son, who begins to tell of a chasing wisp..."

[nekrospompos]

@cuckoo-among-beasts || Birds of a Feather

“Wei Ying. Xichen has left seclusion.”

Having been left out of the loop for his last combined years of living and dead lifetimes, it is remarkably charming to Wei Wuxian that his husband works so hard to keep him informed that a single sentence tells the tale of many. With Wangji only stopping by Gusu every month or so in their travels and the formal sect leader in private meditation for a year, all of Gusu Lan’s responsibilities fell solely onto Lan Qiren’s weary shoulders. Messages were exchanged back and forth in the form of origami talismans but Wangji clearly read an exhaustion not made apparent to Wuxian’s reading of each received letter. His uncle is proud, too much to protest when despite all his cold stares, he understands this year of indulgence is the one selfish thing either nephew has asked for in over a decade. “He would. He does not ask, help has to be insisted upon.”, replies Wangji when his husband thumbs the crisp parchment, searching through poised calligraphy for whatever made Wangji’s brow furrow an incredibly animated half-inch. Wuxian feels eyes upon him and he turns, asking an unspoken question to the words his lover leaves out. (Like you.) (Does he know his own limits? Or have you and Xichen always been there in some way?)

When Xichen returns to his role as sect leader, neither men are sure it is because his heart has truly healed. A clan’s figurehead going into isolation is a sign of weakness, there are permissions that would be received as insults if anyone but Xichen answered, and Qiren has been a pace more sluggish. Wei Wuxian ties the head-ribbon carefully, drawing out the time before they part. “I’m certain. Now shoo! A man and his sword is a private thing, no matter how acquainted you are with-” a hug interrupts his parting vulgarities. 

“Be safe. Write often.”

“Mm. I will.”

═══════════════

Without a golden core, several paths still lie open, though the bridges that sprawl through them are narrow and of less offensive use. Wuxian found no need to cultivate any other path when the demonic trail had turned upon its stalking hunter and clung to its legs across bodies. What did make him regret his hollow core was how Wangji had to carry him everywhere by blade which, while an excellent excuse to cozy up beside him, struck him on the nights they had to part that he missed the tilt and give of Suibian. Fortunately, there was a land that fueled swords on the chilled whispers in his veins, one with an old friend. Well.

Were they friends? Huaisang had never done Wuxian any personal harm, he was half of the reason a second chance was given at all. No one remains stagnant through the death of their brother and thirteen years, but some nostalgic part of him, the part that still wishes he had a home with a tree that held more than a night of memories, sees Huaisang and notices his hair still curls in the same places. There is Huaisang, leg bleeding from a superficial cut, eyes determined and horrified. Wuxian blinks and he is there once more, with brighter eyes and an eager voice. Both smelled of ink. 

The ride to Qinghe is not far, mostly because Wangji had insisted on dropping him only a li away from the surrounding Heibei woods. Already worried of Xichen’s state, Wei Wuxian is in desperate need of a distraction. Two arrive, fluttering like a heartbeat and attached on either side to a blurred grey-brown body. Yellow-beaked, the heavens have sent a bird for Wuxian to chase away his thoughts with! Eagerly clambering off Little Apple, Wuxian leaps, swipes, and even plays the part of a coy court, looking aside as if no longer interested before lunging once more. He hardly looks at where he’s going before a silhouette juts out against the coral twilight of the forests, cradling something small and bloody in his hands.

“..Huaisang? Sang-Xiong? What are you doing out here?”

More than the scent of iron, his gut twists when a familiar air creeps outwards in wisps. Wuxian recalls the sensation of a cracked spirit, he knows it as well as he can trace the raised soldering of his yin tiger tally. When he speaks again, his posture has shifted completely, voice soft. “Lan Zhan's visiting family, What happened?”

[nekrospompos]

₍ᐢᐢ₎

...Lan Zhan looks good in anything, as expected! Now take it off!! That's too dangerous!!!

[nekrospompos]

@crimsonfllower || Something in the Soul

From a wide brackish window streams a single ray of light that pierces through thick smog, rolling slowly like the hind legs of a great beast and choking the air like a viper. This ashen landscape holds itself aloft for another glorious minute before a soot-stained hand fumbles for the handle of the shop door, failing twice before one victorious click is heard and an old hinge creaks, rushing out smoke as if pushed by a vacuum to flood the streets in rolling plumes. Coughing roughly, this great blot’s herald stumbles out and doubles over to lean his palms on his knees and curse under his breath. “Less.. voltage.” He mumbles, swishing and spitting out what debris he’d swallowed.

Madman, genius, and fire hazard. Of the many titles tossed his way, those three remained the most dignified to repeat. Wei Wuxian always felt his hands were too still in even the labors of his youth, set as an orphan to assemble toys until he’d funneled enough stolen cash to start a proper apprenticeship. His ideas quickly outgrew the regulations of a proper establishment and he leaves early with a handful of stolen clientele. Most famed of his earlier work is a portable flame-powered battery, a lightweight mechanism with the appearance of a paper lantern that struck a fixed lever back and forth to store wound up energy. Made for late night dockworkers, the invention was a hit for its portability and ability to hover attached to a harness so hands were not impeded. After came an exoskeleton for the wrists to reduce joint pain, the messenger drone, and a few more snappily named patents landed Wei Wuxian with enough cash to buy an old metal-shop that he still sleeps in. 

While his regulars saw the merit in his near-weekly bouts of arson, the city folk found his methods and usually disheveled appearance off putting. Most vulturous of gossips push the narrative that his unorthodox methods were more than a danger to those around him, but a danger to ethics, attributing every unsolved mystery to a crazed burglar of metals and bodies alike. What active imaginations! They made for fantastic ghost stories but it made even casual trips to the market terribly difficult! Standing with a hand on his hip, Wei Wuxian frowns and gestures wildly with his free hand, pointing to a stall display of self-labeled junk. “Fifteen? You can’t be serious!!! It’s literally scrap! No one buys these for any reason other than to strip the copper out anyways and there’s hardly a foot in these!” Manned by two, the stall-owner closest to Wuxian stands to lean over, threatening with a pointed finger. “Who knows what you use it for? What if your next big mistake kills somebody! I should charge you more, that’d be serving civic duty!”

Wuxian’s gloved hand taps the table insistently and clatters the heaped wares. “With no due respect, you’d rather go out of business? How many-” “THIEF!!!”

Beside the stood owner sits a woman and the sound of tearing. Her sudden grip has torn eight holes where she was reading the newspaper, eyes squinted and teeth grit. “He stole! Just now, when everything was rolling around! He slipped it into his pocket!” The tinkerer laughs, brows furrowed in offense. “Oh did I? What did I even steal? I was such a loyal patron before, what a turn you’ve made!”

[nekrospompos]

Hii im back from my trip tomorrow, will send out starters n ask stuff then tyy. Here's a Huaisang wip

[nekrospompos]

—I will fall in love with you...Over and over again

#CRIMSONFLLOWER is a multi ft. characters from the novels MDZS & TGCF ™

[nekrospompos]

Ⓐ

Send me Ⓐ and my muse will rate yours

Attractiveness:

repulsive || hideous || ugly || not attractive || unappealing || not unattractive || meh || no preference || ok || mildly attractive || nice looking || cute || adorable || attractive || pleasant on the eyes || good looking || hot || sexy || beautiful || gorgeous || hot damn || would tap that, tapping as we speak || perfect || godlike || holy fuck there are no words There are several words and he's going to damn well hear them

Personality:

grating || irritating || frustrating || boring || confusing at best || awkward || unreasonable || psychotic || disturbing || interesting || engaging || affectionate || aggressive || ambitious || anxious || artistic (Remember your graffiti?) || bad tempered || bossy || charismatic || appealing || unappealing || creative (Clever thinking with the Xuanwu of Slaughter!) || courageous || dependable || unreliable || unpredictable || predictable || devious || dim || extroverted || introverted ||  egotistical || gregarious || fabulous || impulsive || intelligent || sympathetic || talkative || up beat || peaceful || calming || badass || flexible (The application of this word too, is flexible!)

How likely they would have sex with them:

not if they were the last person on earth and the world was ending || fuck no! || never || no way || not likely || not sure || indifferent || I’m asexual || maybe || probably || it depends || fairly likely || likely || yeah sure || yes || would tap that || hell yes || fuck yes! || wishing that could happen right now || as many times as possible || we are already having sex

Level of Friendship:

never in a million years || worst of enemies || enemies (Can you believe I used to think that?) || rivals || indifferent || neutral || acquaintance || friendly toward each other || casual friends || friends || good friends || best friends || fuck buddies || bosom buddies (Because I'm good buddies with your bosom) || practically the same person || would die for them (Shh don't tell him, he'll get mad) || true friends || my only friend ||

First impression of them:

I hate them so much || I don’t like them || I don’t trust them || they annoy me || they’re weird (I thought, "no way someone really lives like that!") || I’m indifferent || meh || they seem alright || they’re growing on me || truce || I think I like them || I like them (You had such fun reactions, how can anyone stand not testing more?) || I’m not sure if I trust them || I trust them || they’re cool || they’re genuine || I think we’re going to get along || I really like them || I think I’m in love || oh fuck they’re hot || I love them

Current impression of them:

I hate them so much || I don’t like them || I don’t trust them || they annoy me || they’re weird || I’m indifferent || meh || they seem alright || they’re growing on me || truce || I think I like them || I like them || I’m not sure if I trust them || I trust them (Like nothing and no one else.) || they’re cool || they’re genuine || I think we’re going to get along (What do you think Lan Zhan?) || I really like them || I think Know I’m in love || oh fuck they’re hot || I love them (!!!!!!!!)

How good of a kisser:

worst kisser ever || terrible || bad || awkward || just okay || alright || pretty good || good || makes me moan (I'm not moaning over a kiss! Now the hands...) || excellent || exciting || oh god they’re good || I dream about it (WE dream about it) || fucking amazing || absolute perfection || we haven’t kissed

[nekrospompos]

Have you ever doubted your own beliefs? (Spiritual, philosophical)

From here

"It's only natural to, isn't it? Some things need to be doubted often so you know where you stand, and philosophy can't really exist without doubt."

"Spiritually, I doubted only when I got a bad reaction, and the reaction lead to misfortunes, but honestly I don't find an issue with my cultivation method at all. It feels wrong to treat the stagnant dead like they're some plague to never be touched, if they weren't passing on before, being ignored is hardly going to change their minds. It's nice to hear from them, there's wisdom in old bones after all!"

"Philosophically.. I think I've made my core beliefs stronger through doubting them and proving that nope, I was right all along! I don't think we have things like fate or predestined roles at all, It makes me feel like my hands give up some power when I say things like that."

[nekrospompos]

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ *ties wwx's wrists* Wei Ying, I want coffee. You're coming.

Ehhh? Lan Zhan? Are you..? You are, aren't you! It's so early! Where did you- I'M COMING I'M COMING AGH!

[nekrospompos]

Difficult Questions for Muses

Please remember to use trigger warnings as and when necessary. | Please specify for multimuses which muse the question is for.

Do you think that you’re a good person?

Do others like you? Do you want others to like you?

What do you think others like or admire about you?

How do you know when you’re in love? (romantic or platonic)

Would you or have you ever killed? What would drive you to kill? 

Do you think that killing is ever justified?

Have you ever done anything that you feel to be very morally wrong?

Should all people be treated as equal and have the same rights?

If you committed a crime, would you accept punishment willingly?

Is suicide ever the right choice?

Is euthanasia ever the right choice?

Is it right to have an intimate relationship with somebody you don’t love?

What could make you break your own moral code? 

Have you ever doubted your own beliefs? (Spiritual, philosophical)

Would you always be loyal to your loved ones even if they wronged you?

What would you consider a fate worse than death?

Why do you love the person or people you love? (romantic or platonic)

Do you agree with capital punishment?

Could you ever forgive your worst enemy?

What would you like to achieve before you die?

[nekrospompos]

Send me Ⓐ and my muse will rate yours:

Attractiveness:

repulsive || hideous || ugly || not attractive || unappealing || not unattractive || meh || no preference || ok || mildly attractive || nice looking || cute || adorable || attractive || pleasant on the eyes || good looking || hot || sexy || beautiful || gorgeous || hot damn || would tap that || perfect || godlike || holy fuck there are no words

Personality:

grating || irritating || frustrating || boring || confusing at best || awkward || unreasonable || psychotic || disturbing || interesting || engaging || affectionate || aggressive || ambitious || anxious || artistic || bad tempered || bossy || charismatic || appealing || unappealing || creative || courageous || dependable || unreliable || unpredictable || predictable || devious || dim || extroverted || introverted ||  egotistical || gregarious || fabulous || impulsive || intelligent || sympathetic || talkative || up beat || peaceful || calming || badass || flexible

How likely they would have sex with them:

not if they were the last person on earth and the world was ending || fuck no! || never || no way || not likely || not sure || indifferent || I’m asexual || maybe || probably || it depends || fairly likely || likely || yeah sure || yes || would tap that || hell yes || fuck yes! || wishing that could happen right now || as many times as possible || we are already having sex

Level of Friendship:

never in a million years || worst of enemies || enemies || rivals || indifferent || neutral || acquaintance || friendly toward each other || casual friends || friends || good friends || best friends || fuck buddies || bosom buddies || practically the same person || would die for them || true friends || my only friend ||

First impression of them:

I hate them so much || I don’t like them || I don’t trust them || they annoy me || they’re weird || I’m indifferent || meh || they seem alright || they’re growing on me || truce || I think I like them || I like them || I’m not sure if I trust them || I trust them || they’re cool || they’re genuine || I think we’re going to get along || I really like them || I think I’m in love || oh fuck they’re hot || I love them

Current impression of them:

I hate them so much || I don’t like them || I don’t trust them || they annoy me || they’re weird || I’m indifferent || meh || they seem alright || they’re growing on me || truce || I think I like them || I like them || I’m not sure if I trust them || I trust them || they’re cool || they’re genuine || I think we’re going to get along || I really like them || I think I’m in love || oh fuck they’re hot || I love them

How good of a kisser:

worst kisser ever || terrible || bad || awkward || just okay || alright || pretty good || good || makes me moan || excellent || exciting || oh god they’re good || I dream about it || fucking amazing || absolute perfection || we haven’t kissed

[nekrospompos]

go to Pinterest and type in your muses name core aesthetic and create a moodboard using nine images.

Tagged by @lanctiflora

[nekrospompos]

ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴀɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ ᴅᴏ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ?

ROLEPLAY PAGE || Semi/Lit and Art for replies

CARRD + VERSES DNI if underage.

I will respect your time and appreciate your patience if you do the same, my life is very busy. I respond to asks with art, if an ask is meant for a version of WWX from a verse, please specify so.

I am Chinese but on the rural side and I do my research where i do not know. I am unfamiliar with Tumblr Rp but have been rping for 9+ years. Mutuals feel free to ask for discord. I am Hypnos (he/him)

TAGS , MXTX art blog , i interact from @gumsbiter

If you interact with this post I will take it to mean you are interested in planning and dm you.

[nekrospompos]

TAGS

#Tribute - Inbox/Things I was tagged in

#Curtain Call - In character

#Invitation - Prompts + my responses

#Empathy - My asks and their responses

#Art tag - Take a wild guess

#Sleepwalking - Mun Talk

#Listings - Memes

Characters

#Rejoice! (WWX) - Wei Wuxian #Hanguang-Jun (LWJ) - Lan Wangji #A-Cheng (JC) - Jiang Cheng

Threads will be tagged as Thread- (Thread name) I will occasionally tag warnings if something is excessive.