#Qi coil

[yandere-wishes]

⋆.˚ 𝔻𝕒𝕣𝕜 𝕍𝕒𝕔𝕒𝕪 ⋆.˚

𐙚Yandere! Qimir X Reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ He steals you in summer. Castaway on a planet with no name. But the way his eyes shine under the hot sun has your heart beating out of your chest.

⁀➷ Does this count as "That's that me, espresso"?

🪐 Yandere behavior, obsessive tendencies, Stockholm syndrome, blood, and gore.

⁺₊𝄞₊⁺ Espresso by Sabrina Carpender

Dark Vacay by CAS

The heat licks at your neck dangerously. The scathing red glow cleaves through flesh, through bone.

Warm, warm, warm.

The sort of swelter befitting rampant volcanos and rebirthing suns.  

The man, no, the Sith has you pinned to his chest. His force,a dark pulsating thing, coiling through your body, keeping you rooted.

Sol's voice echoes through the canopy. Sending ripples through the blood-matted forest floor. "Release her." His saber is drawn, pointed.

Blue vs red.

Hot vs cold.

"Give me the relic." The voice lacks emotion, empathy. It demands, it takes. There is no room for formalities here, no chivalry you've long believed in. This monster deals only in dark. Taking and taking. "And I won't hurt her".

You try to push him away, to fight. Your force against his, clawing at the dark ether around you, hunting for an aperture, a splinter anything to infiltrate. But he is resilient, strong the way most volcanos are.

Impenetrable.

You moan against the tightening noose. He demands and you must obey. Such a dark thing can even make your master bow, make him give up the ancient blood-red relic. "You have your relic, now release my pupil." Behind you the monster chuckles, an airy noise overflowing with malice, "I said I wouldn't hurt her, not that I'd give her back."

The lights dull. Neon fading into a fuzzy mess of colors too tangled to decipher. Voices weave bending to the blaring buzz echoing from within. The world grows darker, you try to clutch onto something, anything. The cool colors of saber light, the soothing tone of your master's voice. The monster's dark cadence. But it's no use, the darkness prevails, pulling you under its crushing waves, burying you in a sea of nihil.

The world is dim upon resurgence. The air tastes of salt, fresh and dry upon the throat. The earth you lay in is warm, not like the smoldering heat of a bloodborne saber, but the warmth you imagine a mother's embrace to hold. Soft in every way that counts.

The place is alien and abandoned. No family, no monsters. Just rock upon rock and makeshift furniture to further the illusion of a makeshift home. The pounding upon your temples has yet to cease, you wonder if the outlines of a bruise have yet to bloom.

Slowly, you emerge from the cocoon of worn blankets. Bare feet scraping across the jagged floor. You feel the monster's presence linger, his essence strong within this place. You remember the dragon dens you used to read about in fairy tales. The gold-adorned caves where little princesses were forced to dwell.

It's funny you should feel like one now.

There are clothes sprawled across the floor. Vanilla ice cream in shade and shape, they feel too pure to have been chosen by a man like him. Too pure to have been tainted by the darkness of his fingertips. It's only now that the dress glares back that you notice your bareness, Jedi robes stripped and discarded.

That fiend...

You feel skinned, alone. No saber to grasp, no golden drapes. Nothing to paint you as Jedi. It's with reluctance that you lace yourself into the sweet dress, with utter reluctance that you step out onto the beach of rocks awaiting outside.

You spot the man,

the sith.

Qimir

His name reverberates within your head. You lick each letter, rolling them across your tongue and drinking in their condensation. "Qi-mi-rr" the name shouldn't taste of exotic fruits blended and bled. It shouldn't taste like fruit cocktails and coconut cubes but it does.

It does and it's disgustingly delicious.

He walks with the steady strout of a man who knows he is the most dangerous thing on this beach, on this island, on this entire planet. A volcano among mountains.

You follow behind bare feet on smooth rocks. Fumbling across the beach.

Chasing shadows. Chasing monsters.

He sheds his robes like skin, peeling away sabbath vestments to reveal cutis. Tanned and scarred, marred flesh risen like volcano veins cascading across his spine.

You shouldn't admit how desperately your fingers ache to trace the tragic thing. You glid your nails across the notched igneous rocks. Dreaming its soft flesh, his soft flesh beneath your touch. He would shutter under your fingertips as you pull apart his secrets. Nibbling on them like picnic cookies.

He's stripped bare, soft skin caught in the dim sun. His open wounds glisten under soft gold rays. You skate away from the sight, that forbidden sun-drenched sight. Eyes averted and hidden behind the rocks, twice locked, to avoid a rogue glance.

He is nothing if not haunting, forbidden in every way.

Odd how the memory of his bare ankles is what lingers. Carved too steep and too deep in a way that looks too marble. They merge into long robust legs. You can't help but imagine the sculpture of his thighs after, the thing at the end of those perplexing ankles. They too must be strong, carved to define each muscle. You imagine being trapped between them, their forceful push against your meaker body as his ankles intertwine with yours.

"You can open your eyes now."

You taste his darkness in your mouth again. Potent tropical fruits laced with sea salt. He couldn't have known you were trailing after him, you'd been quiet, silent like a whisper.

"It's improper to strip out in the open. What would you have done if someone should have come upon you?"

He treads in the water like a pearl unearthed. Shimmering alongside the blue-green of the lagoon. "You came upon me and nothing happened."

"That's because I had the good graces to avert my gaze from such a sight."

"I'd prefer if you'd look."

He pours water over his face, sparkly droplets cascading down sharp cheekbones. Eyes wide with an odd groggy wonder. The sky and the sea and him ethereally in between. He shouldn't look so magical. Some water nymph playing spike ball with the sun. Drinking in the clouds and blue. Before diving back down into his aquatic galaxy.

"Join me"

"I'd rather impale myself"  

he's treading closer, water shielding his body like liquid lapis lazuli. "I wonder what your lips will taste like blue?" and it's the first time you've ever thought of your order's regalia as something so macabre.

His eyes are half-lidded, licking over your body like a melting Sunday. Or maybe he actually is, you can feel something wet and sinister sliding across your body. Slipping over and under the dress, sucking at pulse points. Anticipating soft vanilla.

You want to rip out his tongue and harbor in your mouth. You want to devour him as if he were ice cream on a summer day. Butterscotch cone with drizzled caramel and star sprinkles. Your teeth ache desperately for just one small bite.

He's standing, growing into a full man, no longer just a boy nymph memorized by soft whites and bright blues. The water droplet clutch greedy to taut muscles, refusing to leave such a Promethean thing.

The wet thing freezes. Running water to ice cube. His force evaporates from you, you bask in the mist of him. Before the shadow roots behind you impenetrable all over again. Qimir steps closer and you close your eyes on instinct. Stepping back, following the flow of sand in breeze.

Such sights are not for us to love.

It tips you off balance, You can't see Qimir but you can feel him. He's closer and closer. That's why you're stalking back. But the plasmic thing behind you nicks your ankle. Lurching you back. In the blink of an eye and the start of a scream, you're suspended in mid-air. Floating above the sands, save in the gossamer of his black mist.

"Careful" Qimir jests

And you crack your eye open just enough to see his outstretched hand.

"I want to take a shower"

"The lagoone is over there" he throws over his shoulder all so causally. like spelling out sea cemetary.

the warmth of the cave is suffocating. Lacing through your body making it breakout into little pearls of hidrosis. You roll over, watching Qimir, solder the cracks of his helmet. The rampant sparks cast him in a galactic white halo. Some intangible creature from the far reaches of the universe.

You wonder back to the incident by the lagoon.

You wonder if his tongue, his real tongue, would feel cool against your flaring skin. Muscle-bound ice cube rolling across your arms, your chest, drinking in your essence in half kisses and open-lipped moans. Sucking tenderly on the veins of your neck.

But shouldn't the tongues of monsters be spiked? cutting deep in search of blood?

Qimir swats the sweat from his temples. Pulling up the back of his shirt in an effort to fight the humidity. His scars transcend so low. Rivers weaving through him, overflowing with treasured secrets. You suck in the force through your lips drinking in its cold confidence. Marching up to stand behind him, only half admiring the rugged skin below the sandy shirt.

"Ahem" Spine straight, head held high. Your stance is practiced, sculpted in the confidence that the order demands. Lightside in every way.

Jedi, Jedi, Jedi

"I know it is futile to ask a treasonous sith like you to abide by the laws of common decency. But I'd ask that you do not come to spy on me while I bathe" Your hands ball into firsts. Glaring death and shark teeth at his blemished back.

He leaves the workbench with all the grace of a crushing tide. Elegance carved from salt rocks and years of walking through stars and shadows. But this time you refuse to step back. There is no dishabille to fear, no sand lines that may be passed.

But he doesn't confront you. He doesn't bask in his rage and stands proudly in front of you. No, instead he paces, or rather almost floats. He's in front of you one minute and behind you the next. The eerieness of it all only comes from the feeling of entombment. He is your cage, your coffin. Burying you under the sand with his precious secrets and red relics. Your nerve beats out of you in little droplets.

Qimir's fingers lace with your own, his hot breath fans the shell of your ear, "How can I make such promises when you act so cute" his voice is coconut shavings upon white sand. You aren't even sure he spoke. " I thought Sith only dealt in absolutes?" his laughter cuts like fractured seashells. Cutting through heartstrings. You want to hear it again and again until you've memorized its melody. "That's what we want the Jedi to believe."

His teeth graze the nape of your neck. That's the last straw, gravity crushes your nerve, and you take off running.

The pearls that shine within his sockets are entirely too dark. You shouldn't be thinking such this as you disrode. But the glimmer of pure drown isn't a worldly sight, it's something unplaceable.

Sith can not be trusted, even if, until mere days ago they had been things of fairytales like dragons and sea monsters. Mystical monsters used to frighten little padwans into finishing their plates. But the stories are true now, they've ripped open the holobooks and sprouted from the screen. Your fingers flex, feeling the weight of his hand in yours.

The monsters are real...

You keep your undergarments on as you descend with the sparkling tides. Qimir may appear at any moment. And you wish to confront a Sith in a Jedi's skin, or what little is left of it.

You're sinking into the watermelon greens and crystal blues, sinking into him... because even so far from the grotto his presence haunts your thoughts still.

"You wouldn't mind if I invite myself in?" The water laps at his feet, he's standing over the liquid threshold.

"What are you doing here?! I told you not to come."

he shrugs and you can't help but notice the definition of his muscles. "It's hot in the cave. Plus you don't own the beach."

He pulls the shirt over his head.

You scream for him to stop.

But this time as he pulls the waistband down you notice something underneath.

Swim trunks.

Bell-bottomed and shaped like a nebula, but only midnight in hue. The cuffs glimmer with red intricacies, patterns from a different time, a different solar system. Each stitch tells some tale of horror or history. Sith things that you'd rather not know. But why engrave them into a swimsuit? Why paint a tapestry on something so jejune?

He treads through the water, deadset on you. And again in every step, you notice a mettle valor that can only come from having killed and kissed your greatest fears.

The rocks are slippery beneath your feet, running, swimming, gliding whatever gets you further from him. But the rocks form barricades of their own. Igneous confines housing prey and beast.

"I meant it when I said you were cute." He has you pinned to the mineral mountains, eyes prying you open, studying your inner workings like a gutted bot. "So fragile so malleable..." You feel his power rolled over your neck.

You didn't expect the kiss. The taste of coconut shavings and caramel. Your heart hammers as he tugs on your hips, pulling you closer. Your lungs burn, filled with salt water and dark force energy.

But suffocating is a small price to pay when he parts your lips and pushes iced star fruits in your mouth.

That night Qimir had tried to feed you soup. Boiled fish and herbs in a cauldron that looks, entirely witch. But the refusal comes not from the perturbation of poison or the primal mistrust shared between star-crossed enemies.

No the refusal comes because you simply do not like fish.

"Just try a spoonful, it's from a rare breed. Considered a luxury on most planets". His entreaties fall on deaf ears, outvoiced by the stubbornness of a crashing tide. You retire hungry, and maybe it's hunger that stirs you in the dead of night.

Or maybe it's the heartbeat echoing from his mask.

He called it cortosis. But it looks more terror than diamond.

You sink to your knees in front of the haunted heirloom, cradling it gently within your palms. The iron flavor upon lips makes you part them, tongue fleshed tracing every welded scar. Sucking in the solder and crystal and every other poison.

You want to be a part of it, to pry open your ribcage and shove the empyrean taj within.

Let its darkness mingle with your blood. You want to feel it's royalty in the marrow of your bones.

In the morning you do not speak about the pulsating thing within. But the mask stares at you as you eat mint and bread from Qimir's hand.

It knows...

It knows things you can never admit.

You'd been planning on narrowly avoiding him. Tiptoeing across the cave to evade stirring him. But the plans die when first light breeches the aperture.

Qimir's gone.

And in his place, he's left yet another raiment.

The dress is summer and doll. Bowed in the back and studded.

Bar'biee in every way.

The hysterically placed designs parody the crisscross of twilight roses and all their thrones. Checkered in shades of obsidian and ink.

But the black of your dress doesn't quite match the ebony of his robes.

It simply plays testament to your ripeness. You're starting to feel like his little doll.

He lies on a beach towel overlooking the sea. So ordinary it makes you choke. Beach ball in the corner by his feet, waiting to be played with.

Fearless.

You wonder just who he had to kill to reach this hubris?

You float down the little exclaves toes barely touching the ground.

He's adorned the rocky beach with a comically large parasol too dark to even have a name. Another towel, a picnic basket, and little coconut cups with straws. Despite his black tainted sunglasses, he knows you're watching him. Caught in the bosom of this haunted shore. Awaiting your capturer's orders.

"You can sit if you want." again he's saying words without realizing how crushing they truly are. Their full weight pulling your bones until they slip from skin.

Might as well have said shark attack and death at sea.

But you obey because despite everything, the towel looks nice and so does the drink.

"The sun doesn't come out very often. But I figured we could at least enjoy it today."

"Thanks," you mutter chewing on the pink straw. You shift your limbs rigidly. Plastic doll coming to life. Pushing tense bones straight as you rest your uneasy head. The waves hum in your ear and you swear you hear the rocks buzze like star songs.

"Why did you bring me here? Why not kill me."

"Well, you're not really any use to me dead" He offers you a melon slice.

"So I'm bait." Qimir sighs, your query exhausting. He simply sips from his own drink. You notice the jounce of his throat with each gulp. How you'd love to ring to those bones, feel them crack between your fingers.

He turns to you, lips a breath away. He hasn't kissed you since that day in the lagoon. But you wish him too so very much.

This isn't the Jedi way...

What?

Qimir's fingers trace over your thighs and hips. Finally, they land heavily on your shoulders, pushing you into the rocks with zeal. He blocks the sun and you can't help but think he's lovelier than any red goliath in the macrocosm.

Qimir's teeth gnaw at your throat, kissing the blood and smearing it with his tongue. Traling open-mouth kisses to the plinth of your neck.

Your nails, rasp curiously at his back, tracing scars, tracing cortosis veins.

His fingers dig into your ribs, painting it in seastars. Kissing starlights and pearls in your bones. His body is hot, scolding. And you wonder if the minerals he surrounds himself with were all nursed in the womb of a violent volcano.

The result of destructive habits is knife bites called kisses and a heart that's finally exploded.

When he pulls off, he poises himself on his knees before falling back to his side, searching for something in the basket. You stare, dress distorted, and breath hitched. You taste the exotic fruit blend again. Burning, caramel, and coconut that linger across your body.

"Hey, can you put this on me?" reality blurs back in, he's dangling a yellow bottle in front of you. "What" he shouldn't have this ease with you. He shouldn't be playing make-believe lovers on the beach with the girl he kidnapped.

But he does.

And you play along too.

"it's sunscreen, believe it or not, I burn easily."

"No"

"please"

"N-"

You don't control your hand as it pours the cream onto his chest. He touches you with such familiarity, the force on this planet is just an extension of him. But you shy away at the thought of running your fingers across his muscle bound chest. What is the force if not a child's toy? If not another doll.

He notices the shyness. Or rather reads it from the air. His force pokes at your arms, laughing at the discomfort. Before you know it he's harbored between your thighs. Large hands holding your wrist.

Firm yet delicate.

He moves your hand over his chest, charting every bump and muscle. Coating the blocker over his skin. It feels like piecing together armor. Preparing him for a battle you've never been invited to.

You don't want this.

Well not quite.

You want to feel his body jolt under your touch and hear the sweet little quips he offers to lighten the mood. You want to capture the fleeting moment where he bites his lip and preserve it for eternity.

But more than anything you want to peel away his armor, his flesh, and bury yourself beneath. Become another one of his secrets and staying inside him. Safe and warm forever.

"Qimir"

He makes pomegranate soup that night. As he nestles your body over his lap. Kissing the half-healed bruise on your forehead. He brings the spoon to your lips and gently nudges your mind to let him in. You part your lips, welcoming him in with the shyness you've been raised on. Blushing little bride-doll.

Legacy. You realize when the seeds erupt inside your mouth.

He's feeding you his secrets, his bequest. Boiling you like the fish and the fruit. And birthing you anew.

You sleep with your head buried in the crux of his neck. Listening to the lullaby of his tattered heart, singing psalms of conquest.

That night you dream of a river red. You blame it on Qimir, the pomegranate seeds were too maroon in color and flavor.

From the crimson water the helmet surfaces. Bobbing in the waves, beckoning you. You cup your hands inside the river, guzzling down the water and licking your fingers after. You let the red kiss your lips and fill your lungs choking you by essence alone. You want to die drinking from the bloodlust. Die in front of his helmet.

So maybe he can call it love.

Or Devotion.

Or anything else equally sweet.

The river doesn't taste like pomegranates, or fruit cocktails, or iced coconut.

It tastes of salty iron, volcanic diamonds and Qimir's lips.

You plunge into the red...

He's thinking about you again. You know it from the moment you awake. His voice is loud inside your head. Reverberating from wall to wall until it is the only thing you hear.

This time the garments are waterproof. Swimwear. Two pieces in black, just black. And adorned with red trees on the seams.

Right, because you beat me in the forest.

Clever.

He has left bangles too, jagged and bruised purple with veins of white. cortosis. Accompanied by a golden necklace that looks like a beating heart, ripped freshly from someone's chest.

"You look beautiful," he remarks after you've dressed in his colors. When did he come in? You need to get better at hearing the man born from shadows. The man who's walking between worlds unseen, unheard his entire life.

He pulls you close, nails picking at the soft flesh of your tummy. Scratching skin and leaving red crescents. He kneels and licks and bites, claiming this new chart of unmarked skin.

This has always been about possession, domination, damnation. "Qimir" you moan and it feels so wrong and so right. Like saber to the heart.

Oh force, how far you've fallen.

Qimir laces his fingers with yours pulling you outside the cave. The sun shimmers off his lopsided smile and he really does glow brighter than every star in the known cosmos.

The lagoon is red.

It shouldn't be red.

"You killed them" Since when have such dire words spilled so easily from your lips? Sol, Jacki, Yord. Are they in this pool? shimmering translucent awaiting a vengeance you do not think you can deliver?

"Yes...But not your Jedi, not yet. These were just some self-pious knights who got in my way."

He brings his arm up showing you a fresh saber cut, before pulling you into the water. It's so warm boiling, lava meets water. You think your skin will peel off.

But you stand your ground. Force directing your every breath. Spine straight head high. Darkside in every way

Sith, sith, sith

You grasp at his forearm, pulling it to your lips. Your tongue finds the slit in the skin and dives it. Mapping out the muscles and drinking in the red.

Exotic fruits bled and blended.

"I think I'm finally getting through to you," Qimir says, brown pearls glazed over with pride. "My sweet little acolyte."

You giggle at the term. It tastes so bitter, like a raw espresso before dawn.

"Oh, master" you moan. As you pull him under the red waters. Lips and legs entwined.

ᯓ♡ : @feedmestraycats @moonlovefairy  @wicked0clouds @phoenixes-and-wizards @peridedarling @morax-on-my-mind @magikmaik @lov4gor3 @manchuria @bucksdonkey @embersofimagination @hauntedhedgehogs @peter-laufeyson @papitas-con-sal @f0odie @boredtone @bluechissbrain @yourfilthydevil @n0t-skywalker @xsister-serpent @gabriqllas @zionysuss @i-love-my-babygirls @pagingoswin @jxp1ter @faebirdie @deezhutts565 @thesithdiaries @pagingoswin @hauntingwolf @scentedbanditlampwobbler @uwingdispatch @mask-knife-is-buggys-girl @lunarsvertigo @scintilla-morningstar @carpinchootaku @penny44224 @suburbanlegendzzzz @jihyos-wifey @reylo-imperium @ladyofyourdreams @sassybananaweaselpsychic @96jnie @@jxp1ter @sunnymoonxx @scintilla-morningstar @carpinchootaku @smutmaniac @alena1100 @marice23top @ohdearmaggie @strawberrycat69

[tamapalace]

Mothra Tamagotchi Modified with LED Backlight and Wireless Charging

We love seeing modifications! Syamon1224 on Twitter recently posted that they modified their Mothra Tamagotchi to include a backlight to increase visibility of the screen in the dark, and wireless charging!

First is the LED backlight. Four tiny LED lights were added and power off of the LR44 batteries that fuel the Mothra Tamagotchi. There is no changes to the actual size of the Tamagotchi, however this does decrease battery life to fuel the four tiny LED lights.

On another Mothra Tamagotchi, wireless charging has ben added. Maybe Bandai will add this to future Tamagotchi’s! Syamon1224 added a small lithium ion battery and a wireless charging coil. The battery will fuel the Mothra Tamagotchi for a month of standby, and you can use a Qi wireless charger to charge your Mothra Tamagotchi. It can also be used while it’s on the wireless charger. No need to insert new batteries and reset your device.

How awesome are these modifications? Which one interests you the most?

[simpinformonkies]

I am absolutely THRIVING for your oneshots

Uhhhh sooo as an angst addict may I request a oneshot with MK where the reader gets severely injured (and dies if you’re willing to write that much angst)

I just listened to Little Fall of Rain from Les Miz and it has filed my need for angst

BRO I LOVE ANGST GUHHHH I HAVEN'T WRITTEN ANY SO HERE'S SOMETHING I SCROUNGED UP REALLY QUICK! ENJOY!

~~~

WARNING: GRAPHIC DEATH, BLOOD, LOSS OF LIMB. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!! ~~~

MK / QI XIAOTIAN

The first time MK calls and you don't pick up, he just shrugs it off- 'They're probably at work,' he thinks to himself, 'they'll call me back when they get time.'

The second time it happens, something coils in his gut and tells him that something is up, but he just shrugs it off as best he can, ignoring the feeling.

The third time, anxiety settles in the pit of his stomach and insecurities knock at his door like old (toxic) friends. 'Maybe they finally got sick of you~' the voices whisper, liquid poison dripping off their lips and leaving burning, acidic scars across his mind and soul, cutting in his heart with sharpened knives and even sharper words.

The fourth time is the one where you answer-

-but it wasn't you.

No, whoever had your phone wasn't you, and that same ugliness rears its head again, and for the first time, MK calls Mei to get her to use the camera she installed on you (just as she had done to all her friends. MK still finds it creepy, but whatever, it's helpful now) to figure out your location.

Mei manages to ping the location, and MK storms in, anger burning in his gut because someone took the one that was HIS. Took HIS moonlight.

And when MK gets there, he is horrified.

There you lay, in-between crates, missing a leg and left in a puddle of crimson, staining your shirt as scarlet as a spider lilies. Your blood stains the ground, and its not warm when he scrambles towards you to hold your body.

No, you were cold. Frigid, more like.

You died long before he even got there, and MK felt a part of his heart tear apart to nothing but withered, torn scraps. MK could do nothing but hold your cold corpse in his hands, uncaring of how your blood stains his hands and clothes, and sob.

~~~

The day of your funeral is not what MK expected.

He expected the skies to open up and mourn an innocent life lost- the life of his beloved, of his moonlight; the one that hung the stars and kept him down to earth no matter how high he attempted to reach.

But no- the skies were sunny and bright.

Somehow, that just made this entire situation even worse- because of course the heavens wouldn't mourn his beloved. Why would they? Bastard immortals.

Even as the sun beats down on his body, MK stands before your grave, clutching your sweater- the very same you had died in, something he had washed to get out the blood and yet the scent of death still sticks like glue- in his hands, staring down at your newly engraved tombstone.

Something ugly and dark curls and bubbles in his chest, and MK's lips wobble weakly, tears burning his eyes even when his gaze sharpens like a newly polished sword.

"I'll avenge you," MK promised to himself, voice nothing but a whisper, yet carrying through the air, "I'll find who took you from me, and I'll take everything from them."

And that was a promise that he was going to keep, no matter what.

[madamemachikonew]

This Mortal Coil - Adeptus Baizhu x Chronically Ill Fem!Reader (3k)

A repost from my old account since I'm not sure how many people actually saw it what with all the visibility glitches. I wrote this for me to commemorate the year anniversary of my MS diagnosis, but sharing with all of you; a lot of Baizhu fans are chronically ill/disabled yet weirdly nobody seems to write for a sick reader...

The frail owner of the Bubu Pharmacy is secretly a snake adeptus, in the final phase of his life. While everyone knows of his quest for immortality, nobody knows the true reason why.

As he watches you, his sick mortal lover, sleep, he is alone with his thoughts and reminisces - both with joy and sadness - on your time together.

+++ Contains much angst and portrayal of degenerative chronic illness +++

It's on AO3 here.

__________

In the still of the night, Baizhu sits perched on the side of your bed as you slumber. With a gentle hand he caresses your brow and head, taking comfort in the feeling of the silky strands of your hair as they run through his fingertips like sand through an hourglass. It reminds him of the precious gift of time. As he watches your steady breathing in the flickering lanternlight, he cannot help but reminisce in this quiet moment of respite from the bustle of the Pharmacy.

Looking down at you through long eyelashes, the glow of the lantern catches his amber eyes, which exude a kindness he shows to nobody else.

As he sits with you, he recalls the first time that you, his favourite patient, had sat in his office and told him “It feels like I’m disappearing.”

He had looked at you with a quizzical expression until you had described your confusion at how your limbs had become numb, tingling and weak, your brain foggy and forgetful. The mysterious numbness had started to creep up your body.

“Like you are disappearing?” he had replied, his voice hollow as he recognised only too well the symptoms you had described.

It had been an apt description, for it was in some respect, true. The incurable illness that was silently ravaging you was destroying your body, and with it, your very essence of self. Not only was it disabling the switches that allowed you to feel and control your body, but your very personality would slowly erode, not just from the weight of your troubles, but because your emotions were also becoming harder to control.

Baizhu’s heart aches at the recollection of how you had wrung your hands in the face of his sombre words that had turned your world upside down. And how his heart had broken that he had been the one to deliver the news that shattered your dreams before his eyes. With a painful look in his eyes, he thinks back to how he had relentlessly tried a multitude of remedies to bring you relief; pushed needles into your supple flesh to release the flow of your Qi energy, given you pills and tinctures, salves and ointments, massaged and stretched your muscles to release their painful tight spasms. And you had borne the discomfort of his treatments without any complaint. Unlike his other patients, not once had you ever complained of the bitterness of his medicines. Over time, he had realised that his desire and passion to heal you was not just that of a doctor, but as someone who loved you.

A loving gaze in his eyes as he beholds your sleeping form, he recalls how you had asked him what his favourite flower was. His heart swells with emotion at the thought of how you had brought him those flowers as a thank you gift for his efforts. He laughs softly to himself at the recollection that he had eaten them because he had not realised that they were a gift to display in his office. His heart had fluttered with joy when, in the course of your frequent charming conversations during your consultations, he had discovered that you enjoyed floral teas and infusions, because it meant that despite him being an Adeptus, you both had something in common.

As the lantern flickers once more in the silent bedroom, he remembers the day he had summoned enough courage to blushingly confess his love for you with soft and quiet words. Back then he had dreamed of you sleeping by his side as you do now, but had never dared to believe that it would one day become a reality.

“You’d love me, even with my illness?” you had replied in shock and disbelief, your eyes filled with tears. “Even knowing what is to come? Even knowing that I will one day lose myself and suffer the indignity of becoming nothing more than a shell?”

Your reaction had startled him, for it had never occurred to him not to love you or take care of you until his dying day. You were no less worthy of love just because your body had decided to destroy itself and it had wounded him deeply to hear you speak that way about yourself, as though there could be people in the world who would see you as a burden.

“You will always be you.” he had replied with misty eyes as he caressed your cheek. “No matter what comes to pass, I will always see you as you are now, radiant and full of life, for that person will always be in here. ” He had pressed a gentle fingertip over your heart before holding your trembling body close as you sobbed on his shoulder at his words, clinging painfully to him as your fingertips dug into his back as though your life had depended on it.

With a slender finger, he wipes his eyes before caressing your head once more, pulling the covers up a little around your neck, around which hangs a protective Adeptus amulet he made for you; his first gift to you that wasn’t medicine.

As he delves further into his vivid memories, he feels the same butterflies as he did on the day that he had revealed that he was in fact an Adeptus. He had done so with apprehension in his heart, for he knew only too well that a snake did not have the beauty or majesty of other Adepti. Unlike a crane or a deer, most people would shudder and recoil at the idea of a snake spirit. And your reaction had startled him once more; you had cupped his face in your hands, repeating his own words to him – that the person you loved was still inside of him, no matter which physical form he took.

A smile blossoms on his face as he recalls the first time he had unveiled his true snake form to you as you had knelt on the grassy mountainside under the moonlight. How you had giggled when he had coiled his large scaly body around you, given your cheek a soft boop with his nose and rested his head in your lap, his flickering tongue tasting your happiness in the air. Instead of running in fear, you had hugged him tightly and called him beautiful. Your gentle hands had given him headpats for hours and scratched under his chin as he purred with blissful contentment and nuzzled against your soft warm body. Your soothing touch, so replete with love, had sent him into a deep, almost hypnotic meditative trance. In this way, chastely holding one another under a blanket of stars, you had spent your first night together, both knowing true peace for the first time in your lives.

That night had been the first time in a long time that he had shown his true spirit to a mortal, and even longer since he had been touched with any degree of affection. He had wept hot happy tears at your unhesitating acceptance of his fearsome form. Since then he had been your constant companion as well as the guardian of your health and your heart.

A warm feeling washes through Baizhu as he thinks of how much he loves coiling around you as you sleep, emanating a healing frequency that vibrates and hums through you, relieving your pain and fatigue, soothing your frayed nerves and easing the tension in your muscles. It brings him so much joy to envelop you in the vibrant purr of pure love, knowing you can feel a sense of peace in the knowledge that you can entrust all of your fears, weariness and anguish to him.

With a soft smile, he remembers how you had excitedly asked him about Adeptus cuisine, wanting to make him something he enjoyed, and the eagerness with which you had been willing to try his dishes, no matter how unconventional to the human palate. He had replied that he liked to eat flowers with a pleasant scent for breakfast, as they bring him a good feeling inside, calming and relaxing his soul. You had laughed melodiously and told him how cute it was. He had never been called cute before and it had made him feel as warm inside as an afternoon nap in the autumn sun. He wondered if you knew how cute you had been in that moment, with your bright and honest smile. You had giggled even more when he had bashfully confessed that he had eaten the flowers you had given him so long ago.

In the days when you were more mobile on your feet, you would go for walks and fill baskets with his favourite flowers for him to eat, or infuse them as a fragrant tea for the two of you to share, or stuff them into his pillow so the calming scent would help you both relax as you slept. The scent and the sight of these flowers would forever remind him of you.

As he continues to caress your head, he recalls the nervous flutter in his heart when he had told you all about the four sacred Adeptus love rituals marking the various stages of commitment to one another and his joy when you had shyly asked if he wanted to perform those rituals with you. To mark the first attraction and your burgeoning connection, you had fed each other orchids and lotus seeds at the Ritual of Pink Clouds, so-named after the clouds at dawn and the satin blush on the cheeks of shy new lovers. The Ritual of Flowing Waters symbolised your intent to deepen your relationship, irrevocably entwining your lives and sharing all your joys and tribulations. You had both gathered purest spring water from two different mountain streams and solemnly poured it into a single cup from which you both drank. Then the handfasting Ritual of the Blossoms, tying a cord he had woven himself from auspicious and medicinal plants and flowers, pledging yourselves to one another in this life and all of the lives to come. And then, after he had meticulously prepared the room with incense, lanterns and ceremonial foods, and you had both bathed to purify yourselves in accordance with the sacred tradition, you became an entanglement of limbs on a soft bed of silk and flowers as you consummated your love with his human form during the Ritual of the Red Moon, bringing each other to the heights of divine pleasure with happy tears as you bonded yourselves to one another for all time, the Blood Moon demurely hiding its face to give you privacy as it eclipsed itself in shades of warm carmine. It had been a moment so intimate, it had felt as though your very souls had touched.

Replaying these memories in his mind, it devastates him that your physical vessel, which houses such a kind, loving and honest heart, is disintegrating before his very eyes. It is being ravaged by an illness that has swept through you like wildfire, bringing untold destruction in its wake as it eats your body, mind and soul from the inside, like an Abyss curse. When he had first met you, the Bad Days were few and far between, but lately they have been increasing in number, and starting to outweigh the Good Days. You are but a prisoner inside your own body, which has become your jailer and your torturer. Your own mortal enemy. It is as though your body is possessed of a maleficent spirit with a mind of its own, hellbent on wreaking some sort of revenge for a sin unknown.

As he looks down at you nestled in the cosy bed and hand-knitted blanket, he reflects on how he had encouraged you to be creative, to preserve your neurological function and manual dexterity and help brighten your mood. So you had learned to knit, and had made a purple scarf for him out of the softest yarn, a physical manifestation of your love that he could wrap around himself to keep warm during the winter months, his snake spirit being sensitive to the cold. With great fondness he had run his fingertip over the irregular stitches, where your fingers had faltered; the imperfections making its charm. He had given you baoding balls to manipulate, and the gentle peals of their magical chimes were a source of comfort to him - as long as you could turn them, it meant that things hadn't gone too far.

And now your loving hands are numb and weak, barely able to grasp a teacup or open a jar. The baoding balls have fallen silent. It pains his heart to relive in his mind how you had cried the day you had irretrievably lost the feeling in them in the space of a few hours, but not because of the loss of function. The biggest woe of your selfless, loving heart was that you could no longer feel him as you caressed him. With a tear in his eye, he remembers how he had coiled helplessly around you to comfort you and how you had both wept as you once again petted his head in your lap, unable to feel his ivory scales rippling beneath your fingertips.

While his fingers continue to absent-mindedly caress you, Baizhu’s eyes glaze and become distant as he recalls how, with despair in his heart, he had prostrated himself before the Lord of Geo himself, begging him for help. The stoic dragon king had looked down at him and told him dispassionately that this pain was a sign that it was a most sincere love indeed. But that the pain was simply a natural consequence of living an immortal life. He recalled how, his forehead pressed into the dirt at Morax’s feet, his tears had fallen, causing glaze lilies to sprout from the ground. In his desperation, he had picked the flowers and brought them home to you to grind into medicine, but their taste was bitter and they had had no therapeutic benefit.

In accordance with his contract, Baizhu had protected the mortals of Liyue in his own way – unlike other Adepti he was never a warrior, but a healer.

But the many centuries spent in service of his obligations have taken their toll, and his body is now weak and decrepit, as frail as the mortals he has served for so long. Even more so. Even Rex Lapis himself is not immune to erosion. And yet, the insolent logic of nightmare had brought you – the woman he had waited an eternity to meet – into his life when he was least equipped to protect you, when his healing magic was at its lowest ebb. He spent every day wracked with regret at his past actions. Perhaps if he had been less selfless, he could protect what he truly loved now.

The cruelty of the world pained him. The cruelty of seeing you suffer, the inability to relieve your sickness or cure you in any meaningful way, the tragedy of only finding you when he was at his most vulnerable and weak. He was not even strong enough to carry you to your bed. All he could do was slow the progression of your illness and keep the inevitable at bay for as long as possible, and each time it would sap his own body of its strength. But he would gladly give every drop of his life essence to preserve your joy of living and bodily integrity just a little while longer. Seeing your smile and hearing your laugh echo in the world for just one more day would be more than worth it. How could he know that you would gladly give up your own health if healing you meant losing him?

And now he finds himself maligned by the citizens of the Harbour, their ungratefulness manifest as they mutter behind their hands and mock him for his quest for immortality, besmirching his name with rumours of experiments and cruelty against the apprentice he sheltered from Director Hu. Being an Adeptus, he had known of Qiqi’s story and had felt indirectly responsible for her plight, having seen her mortal form shivering with cold and fear in that cave so long ago, when even he had been forced to reluctantly pick up arms. And so, despite not being a man of high calibre or courage, he tried to relieve his karmic burden by taking her in. Robbed of her memory in her immortal form, she had no recollection of him.

What the two-faced gossipmongers who kowtow to him whenever they need healing do not know is why he seeks to unlock the elixir of immortality. How he longs for them to understand that it is for his true love, so that her fragile mortal vessel may hold her soul to accompany him for the rest of his days. And it is for himself, so that he may live long enough to find a cure for her suffering and, if he cannot, so he may continue to infuse his essence into her weakened body, to preserve her a little while longer.

Tonight, he curls his frail human form around you, spooning you as you sleep, a look of serenity on your beautiful face. Today had been A Bad Day. But not The Worst Day. The plane of unconsciousness is the only place where you have any respite from the daily struggle. But of course, in the morning you will wake once more. With the sun always comes the painful feeling of dread in his heart. Will today bring more deterioration? Will today be the last day that you can feel a limb or walk unaided? Will today be the day that your sight will finally fail, or you will suffer the indignity of losing control of your bodily functions? Every cursed dawn will herald a day closer to your inevitable fate, which is why you both take refuge in the tranquility of the night.

For now, all this cold-blooded reptile can do is absorb your warmth as he presses his face into your fragrant hair, smelling of the flowers he so adores. And weep bitterly.

[thegoldenavenger]

Some LiuJiu sex pollen fic about 3k. Also extremely unresolved tension, hahaha OTL. This was supposed to be about 100% angstier than it turned out but that Did Not Happen. Rating is probably mature but not explicit.

Warnings associated with sex pollen tropes apply, but nothing really happens here. Sqq is non-verbal for the entirety of this, lqg is sometimes a little unobservant and a little too observant, but I don't think there's anything too bad.

Shen Qingqiu gets the lion's share of the burst of pollen. It only hits Liu Qingge incidentally, fast as he is to whirl away from its path. It still sends a burst of liquid heat straight through his core. Shen Qingqiu drops outright, coughing through the fat, fuzzy pollops. Liu Qingge swings Cheng Luan around, cutting through the tattered form of a ghost ant demon.

He has to end the fight quickly, compromised as he is. Shen Qingqiu hadn't been of any real help in the first place but now he's a liability. Liu Qingge grits his teeth and sends a sword glare flinging at another of the ghost ants, this one a big drone of a creature.

He can't meditate to cool his body down so he redirects the heat instead, focusing on the battle thrill. The limber way his limbs follow his commands, the strength in his grip, the coiling of his muscles, the friction of his silk robes against his tense, heated skin. He gasps, flushed and sensitive, and pierces through carapace and ectoplasm. The two other ghost ants abandon the fight.

Liu Qingge heaves breath in, swallowing thickly. He can't pursue them like this, can't leave Shen Qingqiu vulnerable in a field.

He stumbles to Shen Qingqiu, the man's trembling form curled on itself where he'd fallen. The pollen is really hitting him now. When he tries to cycle his qi, it feels like it only spreads faster.

"Shen Qingqiu." His voice is shakier than normal.

A breathy noise comes from Shen Qingqiu's form, his head tilting by degrees the only sign that he is listening at all to Liu Qingge. His inky hair falls around him like a curtain with only the shell of his ear peaking through. It is flushed.

"Shen Qingqiu, stand!" Liu Qingge puts his hand on Shen Qingqiu's shoulders, ostensibly to shake it. Shen Qingqiu is warm even through his seven layers of silk. He doesn't get to linger with the curve of Shen Qingqiu under his palm because the man flips over in a wild spray of limbs. His hair whips around his face as he kicks himself backwards and away from Liu Qingge.

His face is pink and sweaty, his dark ice eyes hazy under the pollen's influence.

Liu Qingge's throat clicks as he swallows and his hand burns.

Shen Qingqiu curses, his fists tightening. Lying like this, leaning on his elbows, he looks bullied. His lips are red and shiny, puffy almost. Liu Qingge blinks hard. Shen Qingqiu's chest rises and falls with enough force to flutter the fine lapels of his diaphanous outer layer.

Liu Qingge clenches his jaw and quickly closes the distance between him and Shen Qingqiu, whose awkward backwards crawling is laughably useless against Liu Qingge's long legs. He grips a fistful of Shen Qingqiu's robes and yanks him up. He sways dangerously, almost comically swooning into Liu Qingge's chest. His strong, thin scholar's hands brace against Liu Qingge's belt.

He can feel them tense and relax against him.

Shen Qingqiu makes a distressed noise, half whine choked with growl, but with the distance closed he doesn't seem able to pull himself away. Liu Qingge can hardly force himself to open his jaw for words, it seems that for once words are beyond Shen Qingqiu at all.

His arms move almost without his permission, locking around Shen Qingqiu, tucking him in closer. The solid length of Shen Qingqiu's body is a line of heat against him and his muscles tense in the effort to not squeeze him tighter. Another discontented noise escapes Shen Qingqiu's mouth even as the man tilts his face into Liu Qingge's chest.

"I—" Cheng Luan sheathes itself, and the sound of it sliding into its scabbard makes them both groan. There is no way that Liu Qingge can focus enough to fly. They should seek shelter but if they do...

Shen Qingqiu's hand has wormed its way into Liu Qingge's outer robe, absently flexing. Even through the layers of fabric still separating them he can feel the shape of Shen Qingqiu's nails. He doesn't even have to imagine their sting; Shen Qingqiu has scratched him in their spars before.

It's a reminder that neither of them will be happy if they fully succumb to the pollen, and if they sequester themselves they will succumb. Even now, Shen Qingqiu is pressing in closer, Liu Qingge can hear him snuffle along his lapels. He's still shaking like a leaf caught in wind underneath Liu Qingge's hands.

Liu Qingge grits his teeth and pushes Shen Qingqiu away.

His whole body aches, bereft of Shen Qingwiu's warmth and weight. The whine he voices is involuntary and embarrassing, but at least matched by Shen Qingqiu who's viper hands have locked themselves into Liu Qingge's robe.

"Let go. We need to get to Qian Cao."

Shen Qingqiu's face looks conflicted and dazed, eyes dewy, eyesbrows furrowed in a sharp angle, his thin lips curled almost in a snarl. Liu Qingge tries pulling him along but he stumbles and winds his way cat-like back into Liu Qingge's space, tripping them both up.

"Stop—Shen Qingqiu, get ahold of yourself!" It's hippocritical of him to say this, of course, his own hands locked around Shen Qingqiu's wrist, his own heart beating double time, the center line of his body yearning towards the shape of Shen Qingqiu. Shen Qingqiu snakes his arms around Liu Qingge's waist, refusing to be budged or dislodged again.

He's mean about it, is the thing. His fingers grip through Liu Qingge's robes to dig bruises with how hard he clings. He uses his sharp chin to jab into the meat of Liu Qingge's shoulder when he tries to unlatch Shen Qingqiu's arm. He stomps on Liu Qingge's instep when his knee shifts the wrong way. It's like fighting, like any of the ambushes Shen Qingqiu pulls on him, but somehow more disorienting. He isn't even sure if Shen Qingqiu is fighting to stay closer or not; keeping his iron grip on Liu Qingge's clothes but kicking at his feet in turns of spitefulness.

Withought conscious thought Liu Qingge's hand slips from its hold on Shen Qingqiu's shoulder and slides down to the small of his back. And it is small under Liu Qingge's hand. Shen Qingqiu's hands become sharp, clawing into him like little dagger points. The pricks of pain send a shudder through him and he closes his eyes but that makes it worse.

He's overly conscious of how small the amount of space is between them, of Shen Qingqiu's knee next to his, of the strong arms around him, of the hot and humid breath Shen Qingqiu gasps against his robes. He has never faltered a single day in his life but his knees feel weak.

Shen Qingqiu's own knee shifts against Liu Qingge's, he is only aware it because it moves away from him leaving a cold space. Then Shen Qingqiu steps forward, doing something clever with the angle of his feet between Liu Qingge's, and suddenly Liu Qingge is on his back and Shen Qingqiu is straddling him.

Liu Qingge really should know by now to not let his guard down around Shen Qingqiu.

Shen Qingqiu looks smug, even with his lip curled to show his teeth in warning.

His robes drape around them like petals of a flower, the bulk of them only exaggerating the small, hesitant twitches of Shen Qingqiu's hips. It looks involuntary, like he isn't even aware of it. The golden puffs of pollen cling to Shen Qingqiu's skin and hair, catching light from the moon. They glint where they're caught in Shen Qingqiu's eyelashes. Liu Qingge swallows and Shen Qingqiu's eyes follow the bob of his throat.

Liu Qingge bucks his hip up, curling his body like a shrimp and pushing at Shen Qingqiu's knee. He hears a gasp above him, which he tries to ignore. He also tries to ignore the heat under Shen Qingqiu's robes and between his thighs. In increments, Liu Qingge wiggles from underneath Shen Qingqiu and they tussle on the ground for a few more inelegant moments.

Shen Qingqiu scrambles at him in increasingly disorganized and clumsy attempts. The elegant Qing Jing fighting forms fall away in favor of something more base and frantic. It's the same frenetic fighting Shen Qingqiu falls into when sparring inevitably tips towards Liu Qingge's favor: the tricks and low blows Liu Qingge hates the most.

Liu Qingge tries to catch Shen Qingqiu's hands and gets bitten for his troubles, tries to stop Shen Qingqiu's kicking legs from brushing too close against him and gets a line of scratches down his arm. Shen Qingqiu is still panting, muscles quivering, face heated and pink and coated with a soft sheen of sweat that his cultivation should be able to take care of, but if Liu Qingge forces himself to stop focusing on these small, intimate details and take in the whole of Shen Qingqiu...

He's scared.

Liu Qingge has managed to flip them for more leverage and is bearing his weight down on Shen Qingqiu to get him to stop wiggling. He's half between Shen Qingqiu's legs without even noticing, his blood heated and intent on winning. Like this is just any fight between them.

He throws himself backwards and away, something black twisting in his gut.

Both of them lie there, under the moonlight, breathing hard.

The heat still churns in Liu Qingge's body, and he's sure in Shen Qingqiu's as well. Shen Qingqiu shedding extra pollen onto him probably did not help. He really needs to get them both to Qian Cao, even if Shen Qingqiu would abandon him if their positions were switched.

Liu Qingge hadn't even noticed climbing half on top of him. It had been instinct and muscle memory. If Liu Qingge were more compromised... Shen Qingqiu might even be right to leave him behind.

Lucky, then, that Liu Qingge isn't more affected. Shen Qingqiu has started those small, distressed vocalizations. Not quite whining, but adjacent. Liu Qingge can feel it too, the cool night air against his skin where Shen Qingqiu's body had been is almost painful. Shen Qingqiu does not have the coordination to walk, Liu Qingge doesn't have the coordination to fly.

"Hey!" Liu Qingge sits up. "Shen Qingqiu! Come here."

Shen Qingqiu has curled in on himself again, almost looking small. Frail.

"Can you—" the words are getting harder to force out of his mouth. He just wants to growl.

Shen Qingqiu does not come here, so Liu Qingge crawls over to him. Shen Qingqiu tenses as he draws nearer. When the man uncurls enough to glare at him Liu Qingge stops. He wants to go closer, to just pick him up and be done with it. He can still run, it'll just be uncomfortable. Doubly so with Shen Qingqiu struggling.

Instead he makes sure Shen Qingqiu is watching and then turns his back on him.

Quiet, and then Shen Qingqiu makes a curious noise that sounds almost exactly like the haughty little hums he hides behind his fans when Liu Qingge does something stupid but amusing. It does not help Liu Qingge keep still. His training makes him reluctant to put his back towards Shen Qingqiu, the heat coiling in him doubly wants him to turn and face Shen Qingqiu's flushed face.

The crunch of dirt as Shen Qingqiu moves makes goosebumps spread across Liu Qingge's shoulders. He can feel Shen Qingqiu's gaze like a physical weight.

It doesn't, unfortunately, make the heat subside. It seems to magnify it, even, knowing Shen Qingqiu's calculating eyes are on him. That he is being sized up, weighed and tallied. He squares his shoulders under that attention, tries to keep his breathing even.

His can hear his own pulse heavy in his ears.

Finally Shen Qingqiu approaches, Liu Qingge can feel the heat of his body. It seems he'd stood to come closer, standing behind Liu Qingge's kneeling form. Liu Qingge's mouth feels incredibly wet and he swallows again, and again, as Shen Qingqiu just hovers behind him.

When touch comes, it's with Shen Qingqiu's fingers combing through Liu Qingge's gathered hair. It makes him jump, half expecting Shen Qingqiu to pull or yank. Instead he just runs his fingers through it. It is almost as if Liu Qingge's hair has developed feeling, each soft pass of Shen Qingqiu's fingers sending a tingle through his scalp.

Shen Qingqiu sinks to his knees behind Liu Qingge, pressed close enough Liu Qingge can feel every hot, tense line of him through their clothes. It's like descending into a hot spring, the warmth of Shen Qingqiu's body enveloping Liu Qingge's sending a shudder coursing through him.

Shen Qingqiu hooks his chin over Liu Qingge's shoulder, his nose pressing against Liu Qingge's cheek. He rubs cat-like against Liu Qingge, a lilting hum almost a question against Liu Qingge's skin. His arms come around him, and with that a pressing weight as Shen Qingqiu leans into him.

Shen Qingqiu presses into his back, down on his shoulders, against his face. Liu Qingge wants to fold over, to give himself more room maybe. Maybe to feel Shen Qingqiu follow. If Liu Qingge bent a little, maybe if he rested his weight on his elbows, Shen Qingqiu could cover him like a blanket, the sheet of his hair could fall over Liu Qingge's shoulder, blocking him in.

The thought makes his ribs ache in a deeply unfamiliar way.

Shen Qingqiu presses more of his weight into Liu Qingge, shuffles his knees closer, rubs his hands against Liu Qingge's chest. It pushes a strangled noise from him, chased by a self satisfied hum from Shen Qingqiu. Liu Qingge bows by a degree, back curving against Shen Qingqiu's firm chest. Shen Qingqiu does follow, leaning more of his weight against the plane of Liu Qingge's back than on his knees.

Liu Qingge slides his hands backwards to Shen Qingqiu's waist. Shen Qingqiu doesn't protest so Liu Qinnge follows the dip of his waist down to his narrow hips then further to the outside of his thighs. Shen Qingqiu tilts the box of his pelvis into Liu Qingge's back, his muscles flexing as if to encourage Liu Qingge's wandering hands.

Liu Qingge feels almost dizzy, his face is hot and his core is twitching with his own restraint. He lets his fingers grip tight and Shen Qingqiu moans into his ear, soft and sweet. He reaches further back, cupping Shen Qingqiu's thighs, pulling him firmly against himself. It makes another breathy noise escape Shen Qingqiu's lips and Liu Qingge feels on fire. He is sure his face is incandescent in the night.

He waits until Shen Qingqiu moves his hips in a little abortive thrust, enough to unbalance his stance, and then he moves in one big rush: grip on Shen Qingqiu's thighs pulling his legs around him as he curls forward to force Shen Qingqiu's weight higher onto his back. Then he stands, Shen Qingqiu left clinging.

He does it so quickly Shen Qingqiu can't react except for reflexive tensing until Liu Qingge is already standing, finding his balance while carrying another body. Liu Qingge waits for Shen Qingqiu's response, prepared to wrestle his limbs if he starts struggling again.

Shen Qingqiu is a line of tension, having locked up at the sudden movement. Liu Qingge clears his throat. Wets his tongue and manages to croak "Fine" with enough inflection it could be read as a question.

Shen Qingqiu takes a deliberate breath, deep enough it rocks Liu Qingge. Then he relaxes in Liu Qingge's hold. He does pull at Liu Qingge's hair, one sharp tug that has Liu Qingge barking Hey reflexively, that he assumes is meant to scold him. With nothing more violent coming forth, Liu Qingge takes it as acquiescence and bounces a little to settle Shen Qingqiu’s weight better.

That makes Shen Qingqiu hiss. Shen Qingqiu's arms flex where they grip, and he pants against Liu Qingge's ear. Liu Qingge gamely ignores the damp puffs of air and his own burning face to start walking in the direction of the sect.

Though this position seems to work best for both of them—Liu Qingge isn't looming over anyone, they are headed towards the sect, the pollen's effect is mitigated by the press of their bodies together—Liu Qingge had failed to take into account the actual logistics. Each step he takes rocks Shen Qingqiu into him.

Shen Qingqiu's thighs flex around his waist in time to his steps like Shen Qingqiu is riding him and Shen Qingqiu has buried his face into Liu Qingge's collar hiding his small gasps. Liu Qingge's foot catches a dip in the ground and he skids through the next step, jolting Shen Qingqiu against him. Shen Qingqiu whines, reedy and wanting, before he bites sharply at Liu Qingge's shoulder, ruthlessly muffling the noise. The burst of unexpected pain makes Liu Qingge stumble, his groin twitching hard.

"Shen Qingqiu!" Liu Qingge hisses, stilling himself. Sweat has gathered at his hairline, his lip, he can feel it drip down his neck. Shen Qingqiu's open mouth is hot and wet and sharp, his arms are heavy and clinging. The layers of silk that slide between Shen Qingqiu's length and the curve of Liu Qingge's spine are damp.

His teeth pulling back from the bite is almost as bad as getting bitten, the pain blooms under Liu Qingge's skin like a budding flower, and the cool air stings at the teethmarks Shen Qingqiu left. Did he draw blood? The thought briefly makes Liu Qingge's eyes unfocused.

Shen Qingqiu bucks his hips forward, too intentional to mistake for anything but a rider spurring their mount. He tugs at Liu Qingge's bang, telling him forwards. The flare of heat catches him by surprise, and Liu Qingge starts walking. Shen Qingqiu shifts against his back, his chin settling in the bruise he'd left. Liu Qingge can feel the smug radiate off of him.

It's a long walk back to Cang Qiong.

[lansplaining]

I keep thinking the actual funniest way for YQY to qi deviate is if SY in a moment of little brother reflex calls him Gege or any variation of that, especially at a peak lord meeting. YQY would feel such confused bliss he’d yeet out of his mortal coil.

he died doing what he loved most…… simping

[sombredancer]

Derailment thoughts

The first 2/3 of Derailment were marvelous. I truly enjoyed the part when Qi Lian couldn`t understand why Jiang Xiaoyuan treated him like a stranger and attempted to be just friends with her:

And the next coil of a spiral, when he learned she was a transmigrator who possessed the body of his teenage sweetheart. It`s a very interesting question: who are we if we are stripped of our memories? Are we still the same person or another one? What if your lover is gone and replaced by other personality, but this other personality has the same appearance, temper, habits and gestures? Could you fall in love with this new personality again as you previously did? This topic started to unfold when Qi Lian came the whole path back from being scary and mean to her to mutual pining, but never was unfolded till the final point, because screenwriters went to other topics (and came to nothing at the end).

The last point I liked here was a drama inside a drama about their relationships at school. There is my second favorite trope "us vs the world" so I naturally enjoyed it and would like to watch the whole drama about it (but obligatorily with Lin Yi as a main):

Do you think I don't know what's on your mind?

The end of drama was ill-conceived though, so I can`t say that I like it as a whole thing.

[starsfic]

Something happens that reminds everyone nezha has a plant body

It happens in an instant.

One second, the demon is lunging towards Li Nezha. The next moment, Qi Xiaotian is catching his head. His body stumbles back and collapses. In a moment, it poofs into pink lotus petals. The head stays.

Xiaotian can't help it. He screams, torn between the urge to drop kick it and the urge to cry. Nope, the crying is stronger. Tears are already rolling down his cheeks.

He can't help it. Nezha was his friend and now he's gone and-

"Ugh, I hate when this happens."

Xiaotian can't help the next scream because holy shit, Nezha's head is in his hands and it's talking.

"Apologies, Xiaotian. I forgot how jarring this can be." Nezha, or Nezha's head or whatever, says. "Please hold on a minute."

It happens in a minute.

Green sprouts right where the neck ends, coiling and braiding together. Xiaotian released Nezha's head and it stays in place, suspended. The vines continue to coil and move and braid, pink lotuses popping and sprouting before they discolor, turning to the color of skin and hair and...

Two minutes after his head was just chopped off, Nezha stands there. He cricks his neck as the last flower sinks in. Xiaotian gapes. "Again, apologies. The sight is rather strange." Nezha's spear appears. "Now, let's finish this, shall we?"

The demon whimpers.

[greenflamedwriter]

little prompt; How to train your Shizun

A new story where Shen Qingqiu has his qi deviation but has a failed transmigration sy did not overtake his body but instead he had an insight to that world like a ghost print on his mind.

For a moment he didn't think it was real. But the fake manual and everything...maybe? Then Sha Hualing attacked and SQQ realised with horror that it was REAL that glimpse into that weird world was real. And it was true. Luo Binghe was a demon but not one easy to kill even one whose demonic power didn't awaken.

So Shen Qingqiu gets a spiritual dog.

Well in name only but its actually a therapy dog, and makes Binghe take care of it. “You're a beast maybe you’ll understand it.” He sneered but wanted binghe to find comfort in it.

At one point, Shen Qingqiu was bitten by the dog as he was being overly loud and yelled at the mutt, and realised with horror what he had done.

This was how Luo Binghe found his Shizun on all fours with a soft voice.

"I'm sorry, this one didn't mean to hurt you, please come out...I'm sorry..."

"Shizun?"

He realised what a mistake that was when his Shizun looked at him and Luo Binghe realised he should not have said anything he should just run.

"Beast, come here." Shen Qingqiu spoke and Luo Binghe gulped but approached hiding his shaking. Shen Qingqiu stood up and moved away. He pointed "You retrieve him."

And Luo Binghe flinched before doing so, as Shen Qingqiu took a step back further.

Luo Binghe crouched and looked under the bed.

“He bit me,” binghe gasped “Why did he-“

“My fault, I…” Shen Qingqiu covered his face “I was too rough I had t realised, a-Yuan I’m sorry” yes he called the dog Ayuan. He could t very well call the dog cucumber could he?

 When the dog crawled out Shen Qingqiu held his hand out and the dog whimpered shying away and even peed on Binghe a little both froze.

But Shen Qingqius face was blank, as both Binghe and a-yuan trembled before him. Shen Qingqiu pressed his lips together. He was awful at this, he found his knees buckling beneith him as he placed a hand to his face.

If he couldn't even treat this dog right- how could he even treat Binghe well? No matter what he- being soft spoken was not something that came naturally to him.

"I know this one has a temper, this master is trying to recitify that." He spoke to both and himself. Binghe finally relaxed then shuffled closer.

"Shizun? Do you want to try again, now?" Shen Qingqiu gave him a dry look then to A-yuan.

He raised his hand

"Let him come to you."

Shen Qingqiu almost snapped at him but held back keeping his hand steady then slowly his gaze opened in wonder when the beast licked his hand he stroked his head softly feeling something uncoil.

But he couldn't be left alone or he might fall back into bad habits, he glanced up at Binghe and stiffened to see the dark look on the boys face that disapeared with a blink.

Shen Qingqiu hid his trembling hand in the dogs fur that started to whine and kept licking his hand.

He found himself babbling “I’m sorry, I wont hit you again, I didn't mean it.”

but the dark look on Binghes face was trained at the dog, feeling that tight coil of rage that a common beast was given more respect than him. Shen Qingqiu knew what binghe could become and knew he had to change or else him and everyone he loved would perish.

Binghe had a way with the beast and it was his therapy dog, his new concious from that world that voice in his head that sounded like Shen Yuan.

“Binghe, take Ayuan, he likes you more than me.” He spoke holding the puppy to the other.

 “This Shizun is…not very good, at this.” He spoke then sat up straight glaring down at Binghe “So you are going to help me train him. You seem to be good with beasts.” 

And binghe was his very own dog whisperer.

He gave Binghe the side room, took one look at his scrowl and shredded it "You need a new cultivation manual with techniques with spirtiul beasts and your own growing cultivation. It would be a lot of work. Want to back out and leave Qing Jing Peak you can say so now?"

He saw the determination in Binghes eyes "This Disciple will gladly stay and learn everything he can." Shen Qingqiu would've reacted negatively to the answer if A-Yuan hadn't bit his robe. He paused looking down at the little audacity.

Seeing those big brown eyes, he found himself unclenching, blinking away the anger. His first thought was impulse, the second thought a gentlemen.

"That pleases this Master," He gave Luo Binghe his manual and spoke "We will go over the lessons tommorow morning, so be prepared. Your only chore is to keep this room clean."

He knew Ming fan gave Binghe chores, but the amount to barely give him time to study? Of course Binghe had enough time to mess around with Ning Yingying, he has to nip that in the bud when he can.

"Come a-yuan." He walked away but Ayuan didn't follow.

"ayuan!" The dog skittered and ran towards Luo Binghe.

Ironic, spirtual dogs would be aggresive towards demons, and yet ran to Binghe to safety.

Shen Qingqiu deflated then scowled "Fine, if the beast pees in your room clean it yourself."

____

when he could drag Ayuan away from Binghe, he only took him to the Peak Lord meetings. Almost immedietly they kicked up a fuss, Shen Qingqiu sneered behind his fan while Yue Qingyuan calmly allowed his fellow peak lord to have a pet.

"It is not a pet, Liu Qingge. With all that fighting I'm surprised you have any brains left after they've been beaten throu-" A-yuan bit his hand.

Shen Qingqiu paused, it wasnt that hard just a nip but all of the Peak Lords stared as Shen Qingqiu blinked at A-yuan. Wondering why he was being like this-

Then remembered, he had to foster good relations, and antogniszing his shidi wouldn't work.

"Apologies, that was unncesarry. This Master has aqquired a spirtual beast to aid in his cultivation as well as his temperment." A-yuan licked his hand and Shen Qingqiu stroked his fur finding it calming.

"pfft, if your cultivation is lacking its because you waste those times in those brothels."

Now A-yuan began to growl, and Shen Qingqiu was once again startled, Shen Qingqiu opened his mouth "This Master had a mishap in the past that damaged his meridians. Going to a brothel couldn't possible damage them more." A-yuan barked and even squirmed in his lap and Shen Qingqiu closed his mouth.

"Given that it is none of our buisness," Mu Qingfan spoke loud and athoritive "If Shen Qingqiu would like this doctors assistence he need only ask." He almost gave a harsh reply before he was nipped again.

He glared at his dog, the ungratful mongrel.

"That- thanking Shidi for his hospitality."

He was not going to Mu Qingfan...

Oh no, Mu Qingfan came to him, and the doctor saw with surprise that Shen Qingqiu was more calmer after being examined if he had A-yuan there to stroke his fur.

"This is...concerning Shidi, and peculiar. You have never once used the services of the brothel?"

"Oh this one had used their services." Mu Qingfan gave him a severe glare "This one has treated many patients and knows the effects of damaged meridians due to Duel cultivation. This is not that this is almost like...demonic cultivation." Shen Qingqiu nodded "Before coming to Cang Qiong this one was apprintece to a rogue cultivator, by my ignorance realised to late he was no rogue but a demonic cultivator. There is nothing more this one can do..."

Mu Qingfan sighed "And the brothels?"

"Thanks to that man this one never felt safe sleeping on a peek full of men, women have been a comfort."

Mu Qingfan nodded "Very well, would you like pills to help with insomnia?"

"A-yuan is enough for now, this one found he hasn't left his peek for sometime since."

"He's good for you."

"Hmm he's adequete." The dog bit his hand again.

[Spoilers, turns out Cucumber-Bro Shen Yuan actually gets drop kicked into the dog because of that failed' transmigration but sees the villain actually TRY so he ends up being a good spirtual dog...who likes to bite sqq. Double points that he can 'cultivate' a body. Yes its one of THOSE stories XD]

[bookofjin]

Account of the Di (WS101)

[I.e. the kingdom of Chouchi. This post covers down to the ascension of Yang Baozong in 429]

The Di are a separate kind of the Western Yi, titled the Baima. At the juncture of the Three Eras, perhaps Bai was a lord or chief, but in that period there was a single court audience. For that reason the Poetry claims:

Since those Di and Qiang, do not dare not to come to the King.

From Qin, Han and onwards, for generation they lived in Qi, Long and southwards, and Hanchuan and westwards, and established themselves as prominent leaders.

In the middle of Han's Jian'an [196 – 220] there was Yang Teng, he was a great leader of the section's family groups. Teng was brave, strong and with many plans and schemes. He was the first to move to Chouchi. Chouchi has an area of a hundred [bai] qing, because of that he used it as a title. [All] four sides are steep and sheer, and are 7 li tall. The road coils like goat intestines for thirty-six rotations. On its top is the source of the Feng river. They cook the earth to achieve salt.

After Teng there was someone named Qianwan. Wei designated him as King of the Baiqing Di. Qianwan's grandson was named Feilong. He gradually grew strong and flourishing, Emperor Wu of Jin made use of him as General who Pacifies the West.

He had no sons, and reared his sister's son Linghu Maosou as his son. Middle of Emperor Hui's Yuankang era [291 – 299], Maosou titled himself General who Supports the State and Worthy King of the Right, the crowd of Di pushed him forward as ruler. Many of the gentlemen Within the Passes who drifted and moved about relied on him. Emperor Min used him as General of Agile Cavalry and Worthy King of Left.

Maosou died, and his son Nandi controlled the position. He and his younger brother Jiantou divided the entourage. Nandi titled himself Worthy King of the Left and stationed at Xiabian. Jiantou titled himself Worthy King of the Right, and stationed at Hechi.

Nandi died, his son Yi was installed. He titled himself Envoy Holding the Tally, Dragon Prancing General, Worthy King of the Left, and Duke of Duke of Xiabian. He used Jiantou's son Pan as Envoy Holding the Tally, General of the Best of the Army, Worthy King of the Right, and Duke of Hechi. He was subject to Jin, and Jin used Yi as General who Conquers the South.

3rd Year [of Xiankang, 337 AD, per Songshu], Yi's senior kinsman Chu assaulted and killed Yi, and also gained his multitudes. He installed himself as Duke of Chouchi and was subject to Shi Hu. Later he claimed to be vassal to Jin. 10th Year of Yonghe [354 AD], changed Chu to be Duke of Tianshui.

11th Year [355 AD], Yi's younger brother Songnu sent his aunt's son Liang Sanwang to take the opportunity of attending to straight away with blade in hand kill Chu. Chu's son Guo led left and right to excute Sanwang and Songnu, and then installed himself as Duke of Chouchi. Huan Wen petitioned for Guo to be Inspector of Qin province, and for Guo's son An to be Grand Warden of Wudu.

12th Year [356 AD], Guo's junior uncle's son Jun killed Guo and installed himself. Guo's son An betrayed Fu Sheng, killed Jun, and then declared himself a vassal to Jin.

An died, his son Shi installed himself as Duke of Chouchi. Jin's 3rd Year of Taihe [368 AD], used Shi as Inspector of Qin province, and his younger brother Tong as Grand Warden of Wudu.

Shi died. Tong deposed Shi's son Zuan and installed himself. Tong was also named De. Zuan assembled a faction, assaulted and killed Tong, and installed himself as Duke of Chouchi. He dispatched envoys to go to Emperor Jianwen, who used Zuan as Inspector of Qin province. Jin's 1st Year of Xian'an [371 Ad], Fu Jian dispatched Yang An to invade Zuan. He overcame him, and moved his people to Within the Passes, and emptied the land of Baiqing.

At the death of Songnu, his two sons Fonu and Fogou escaped and ran to Fu Jian. Jian used [a daughter] as wife to Fonu's son Ding, and designated him as Master of Writing and [General who] Leads the Army. At the defeat of Fu Jian, Guanyou was disturbed and chaotic. Ding exhausted his strength for Jian. When Jian died, he led the multitudes to run to Longyou. He moved to govern Licheng, which is 120 li from Chouchi, and set up granaries and stores at Baiqing. He summoned the barbarians and the Xia, and obtained more than a thousand families. He declared himself Dragon Prancing General and Duke of Chouchi, and declared to be vassal to Jin. Xiaowu promptly used what he had titled himself to make use of him, and later used him as Inspector of Qin province. 4th Year of Dengguo [389 AD], he thereupon had the land of Qin province, and titled himself as King of Longxi. He was later killed by Qifu Qiangui. He had no sons.

Fogou's son Sheng first was overseeing the state, and defended Chouchi. He then controlled affairs, titled himself General who Conquers the West, Inspector of Qin province, and Duke of Chouchi, and conferred posthumous title on Ding as Martial [wu] King. He divided the various Di and Qiang to make twenty sections with Army-Protectors. Each he made a garrison posts, and he did not set up commanderies and counties. Thereupon he had the land of Hanzhong, but continued to declare to be vassal to Jin. Beginning of Tianxing [398 – 404], he dispatched envoys to court [i.e. the Wei court] with tribute. A decree used Sheng as Great General who Conquers the South and King of Chouchi. He was isolated and blocked off by Yao Xing, and did not mange to communicate annually with tribute and envoys. Sheng used his older brother's son Fu as General who Pacifies the South and Inspector of Liang# province, to defend Hanzhong. Middle of Liu Yu's Yongchu [420 – 422], ennobled Sheng as King of Wudu. Sheng died, his private posthumous title was Kind and Civil [huiwen] King. His son Xuan controlled the position.

Xuan, courtesy name Huangmei, was titled Great General who Conquers the West, Opening Office with Ceremony Similar to the Three Ministers, Inspector of Qin province, and King of Wudu. Though he was a declared vassal to Liu Yilong, he continued to defer to the symbol of Jin's Yongxi era. Later he started to use Yilong's Yuanjia calendar.

Earlier, Sheng spoke to Xuan, saying:

I am aged and already old, and will end as a subject of Jin. For you it is good to serve the Song emperor.

For that reason Xuan deferred to him.

Xuan was good at entertaining scholars, and was cherished by migrants and long-time [inhabitants]. 4th Year of Shiguang [427 AD], Shizu dispatched the Great Swan-geese Arranger, Gongsun Gui, to designate Xuan as Great General who Conquers the South, Chief Controller, Inspector of Liang# province, and King of Nanqin. Xuan sent up a petition to request to be aligned with inner vassals. Allowed it. Xuan died, his private posthumous title was Filial and Luminous [xiaozhao] King. His son Baozong controlled the position.

[besiegedhunter]

So if I am correct right now we know about Sui siblings

1 - Combat Arts(Chongue)

2 - Pottery(Evil brother)

3 - Poetry(Ling)

4 - Law( Unknown sister)

5 - Calligraphy (Jie, somehow dead)

6

7

8

9 - Metallurgy (Nian)

10 -

11 - Art(Dusk)

12 - Culinary(Unknown brother)

We also know known Agriculture(Shu) and Medicine(Unknown brother)

So we left with two siblings whose sphere we don't know, and do you have ideas what could it be?

Also this person from new online-event(?) seems to carry sewing tools, could it be another brother?

You've opened a can of worms with this so I hope you're ready lol that said, I've lots of thoughts on it and I'd make it it's own post but I'm not that knowledgeable about Chinese culture (apologies if I get anything wrong) so I'm not confident in it.

That said, these are the thoughts I have.

So yeah, I think that the only one you're wrong about is 4 since the Law Sister is only implied to be younger than the Second Brother iirc and referred to in the same way as Dusk:

But for my own musings I've been basing my theories off of this image:

And I and I believe others have noticed a pattern with the Sui that we've been getting, which is that so far the only playable Sui have been Odd numbered.

Chongyue | 3. Ling | 9. Nian | 11. Dusk

While 2, 4, 6, 8, 10 and 12 are all not yet playable. The only Odds that aren't are Jie the 5th and then the 7th.

Seventh:

So, I think this is how they're ordered (for instance Nian is 9 so top row is accurate I do so believe) and if we look at the close up of 7:

There's quite a bit going on but two things is 1. There's a plant in their background, likely meaning either their art or perhaps job is related to gardening. And 2. Their hair is likely light, as the only other Sui with light hair in this image is Nian who also has white hair:

As this pv came out alongside Chongyue's event, they may have already known what Shu would look like (notice that all but the Second Brother of the siblings to the left who are Evens are practically all silhouettes) they may have known to design the 7th like that.

I also looked into Chinese numerology, which'll come up a bit for others, particular for the other Sui sibling in this event but for Seventh this is what I've found and points towards Shu being the 7th:

So the number seven in Chinese: 七 is pronounced like: Qi, which is one thing but there's a surprising amount of words which when pronounced sound like Qi and a lot of them seem to fit with Shu.

The most important is Qi itself which is a vital force or life energy that humans, animals and even plants have. It's likely what allows Shu to be so good at agriculture and in the animated pv and Spring Festival animation, how she brings plants back to life and makes them flourish:

Another word that sound like Qi is "Even" which I think is hilarious actually relevant because as said before, so far we've only gotten Odd Sui besides the 7th and 5th siblings. I of course theorize that Shu is the 7th but Jie, the 5th, is missing and if she is alive I think it'd be too big of a reveal to happen in the next event. So Shu being the 7th, Qi, Even,

Well it'd just be fun.

There's another one that it can mean, which is: Rise. My main point about this is in regards to what types of Dragons Shu is inspired by, though I'm just taking this as a chance to talk about my Shu Dragon Theory.

So, the reason it's relevant is because it's possible that the Sui siblings could be inspired by different dragons from China. I think Nian being the Nian is the most obvious but like Dusk is based on a variation of it that appears at dusk, maybe with a bit of Shen a sea creature that makes mirages. Ling could be a Panlong "Coiling Dragon" which is a lake dragon also. And Chongyue, being the most like the full Sui being the Dragon King.

For Shu, I'm thinking about Tengshe "Rising/Soaring Snake) and Feilong (Flying Dragon) because of how it's depicted in the event's image, the pv and maybe E2:

So from these, it's a flying dragon particularly among/made of clouds. I think in the top right of her E2 it appears like clouds also.

To me this very much appears like the Tengshe and Feilong. The Tengshe being a wingless dragon capable of flight and the Feilong known for flying among the clouds. There's also the "rising" part of the Tengshe's name.

Which about the Tengshe in particular, there's also the Te "Plant Pest" which is one of various insects like Lotus who eat plants and farmers had problems dealing with. The reason I mention this being:

The boss.

Also the enemies.

The entire event mechanics revolve around farming, such as contaminated water and of course: pests. With mice and then those rods that appear like locusts being frequent.

The boss not only makes me think that the depiction of the dragon present in the event image and pv is somewhat represented in the event's story but I think that this boss is also representative of Shu herself in some capacity.

Maybe we're seeing something like how Chongyue sealed his Feranmut power within a sword and she did the same with the cube in the pv and this is what's inside of it and a part of her or what but I don't think it's the second Sui for instance.

The reason for this being that while they share much of the same colours, there a theme with the Sui that we get one who has a light colour palette then one with a darker (Nian > Dusk > Ling > Chongyue > Shu). And this dragon being white appears would fit her moreso than her brother.

So she would be the Tengshe but this boss is the Te. Which I find fun.

Also, there's this practice called Cloud Seeding wherein substances are released into clouds to make it rain. It's used for farming and the country that does this the most is China.

So you have this dragon in the event that's depicted either in or made from clouds, for this agricultural dragon that's depicted later in the event working with the pests threatening the land.

It feels fitting and with her dragon likely being one known for flying and associated with the sky, it feels possible it's tied to "Rise" "Qi" though I also just wanted to talk about this theory.

Though one last thing is there's a Shu animation added into the Spring Festival livestream that depicts Shu rising into the sky and making where she flies flourish with greenery and it's very reminiscent of a dragon and possibly relevant to what they're doing with this.

Anyway. I have one last point to make with Shu and I'm segueing into the Brother who's also being introduced in this event or who I believe will be:

The Fourth Sibling

Here is the second Sui introduced in the latest Sui event. We know very little about him besides the fact that he's a shopkeeper in the event. He appears in the event image and the pv for the event.

Also that the item in his left hand appears to be a weaving shuttle which I believe is very likely. For instance it's possible that they're introducing a second Sui alongside Shu because of the connection between agriculture and textiles in real life or the idiom: 男耕女织 | Nán gēng nǚ zhī | Men farm women weaves. That's supposedly rather famous.

But I think there's another thing that Shu and this Brother may represent that are closely linked and that is life and death.

Here's where 4 comes into play.

See as is quite famous: the number four is considered the unluckiest number in China and that's because in Chinese it sounds like Death as they both sound like Si.

So:

Shu > Seventh > Qi > Vital Force

Him > Fourth > Si > Death

But that's not all I have, see to some people in China, particularly with other dialects the number four sounds different and has other connotations such as in Teochew where it's quite lucky because it sounds like the word for silk...

Yes... silk.

I just learnt about that and I'm taking it as a point and! If he's ever revealed to have a Teochew dialect, now you know why. In fact if his name ends up as Zhi it's because that's the word for weaving.

But my other point and what got me on this train in the first place is because I looked up whether sewing is considered bad luck, because with how widespread four being unlucky is, I thought that'd be a good place to look.

And needlework is considered bad luck to do on new years supposedly. From what I gather anything that can make you bleed, such as scissors are considered bad luck and those similarly can lead to arguments with friends and family. And remember the "men farms, women weave" ? Well needlework being unlucky may be connected to that as it's thought needlework in the new year meant a lot of it throughout the year for women.

I also think it's fitting that if we're to start having even Sui operators starting from new year that the most famous number would be the first one we see or become an integral role going forwards if not.

In conclusion:

Chongyue | Warfare

Second Brother | Pottery

Ling | Poetry

Unknown Sui from this event | Weaving

Jie | Caligraphy

Unknown

Shu | Gardening

Unkown | Music

Nian | Metallurgy

Unknown | Dance

Dusk | Painting

Unknown | Cooking

As for which are the Doctor brother and the Law Sister... Maybe the Eighth is the Doctor Brother?

Looks at these: 樂 藥

The first character is associated with music while the second one is with medicine. From what I can understand, the character for music is also for happiness and the bit at the top for medicine represents herbs.

I'm also seeing a connection between Chinese philosophy with it's five elements, five major bodily organs and the five note Chinese pentatonic scale and how music can be used with these for healing.

Though I'm not finding much on these to have much confidence on it.

That said, the Eight in Chinese sounds a bit like the Chinese word for prosper and is considered the luckiest number and synonymous with happiness which if the reason that the Eighth sibling is a musician is because Eight > Happiness > 樂 as happiness > 樂 as music.

I wouldn't be surprised then if they tie prosperity not only to happiness but one's own health and therefor medicine as well.

Which idk how sound all that is but there's my Doctor Brother theory.

Law Sister I don't know where to begin. Like by my theory she'd either be 6 or 10 but it's difficult to narrow it down to just one of them.

But let's see! The first of Feb! Am I going to be right about Shu and the unknown brother?

[allthelittlecreepycrawlies]

Requested Ship: SangCheng

Requester: @mirellasnape

The Whump Wheel chose... burning!

(warning for description of injuries)

------------

The plan had seemed sound when it was made.

The younger disciples would use flares to drive the creature into the clearing where he and the older disciples were waiting, and then he would use Zidian to snare it so the disciples would have an easier time to kill it.

And, at first, everything had gone as expected.

What they hadn't been expecting was how much the creature could still thrash even in Zidian's coils.

What they hadn't been expecting was that one of the juniors would attempt to help kill it faster by flinging one of the unused flares at it.

And what they definitely hadn't expected was that the combination of the two would send the lit flare streaking through the air past several of the guarding disciples and directly at Nie Huaisang, who had attempted to dodge it only to be struck in the back, igniting both his robes and his hair.

Jiang Cheng couldn't risk the creature getting loose and killing anyone else, but it still made him feel nauseous that he could only hang on with Zidian while three Nie disciples rushed to tend their sect leader.

The moment the damned thing was dead, he raced over to see how bad the damage was.

Nie Huaisang's robes were a lost cause, but they meant nothing compared to what the flare had done to him. His hair had been burned to just above the sickening mess of blisters and ruined, mottled black and red skin that spread over part of his shoulder blade and ribs.

He was being surprisingly quiet despite the amount of pain he had to be in -"Shock, most likely," one of the Nie medics had said- and that was almost as disturbing as the injuries.

"What do you need me to do?" Jiang Cheng asked. It came out more sharply than intended, but he didn't much care.

The same Nie medic looked him over, then nodded to himself for some reason. "These-" he said, holding up one of the talismans he'd begun plastering to Nie Huaisang's upper body, "-need a continual stream of qi to keep them activated."

"On it," Jiang Cheng said without hesitation, kneeling by the medic's side.

"Good. That'll let me finish administering the pain medication and sedatives before the shock wears off."

Jiang Cheng pressed two fingertips to one of the talismans, and his stomach lurched again when he felt the damage the burns had done to the meridians under them.

Forcing down the uncomfortably vivid memories and swallowing back the urge to retch, he focused on the channeling while the medic began injections.

He wasn't sure how long he spent at it. At some point, the unlucky junior had approached with anguished apologies, but he barely remembered what he'd said in response. Something about accidents happening and not to be so eager next time.

His heart leapt into his throat when Nie Huaisang slumped forward with a low moan, then remembered what the medic had said about medications.

"Leave the talismans on until we get back to Lotus Pier."

"Right," Jiang Cheng said, then shifted his position to pick up Nie Huaisang as he stood.

No one stopped him.

And when Nie Huaisang was finally laid on his stomach on an infirmary bed, no one protested when Jiang Cheng sat down and took hold of his hand, beginning to channel qi through the fresh set of talismans while they all waited for him to wake up.

[rowavolo]

[waves] HIYA GENERAL !!! 💌 for a snippet of a conversation with Neuvillette for the ask game ^^ ♡

WAVES!!! HI THERE QI !! :D

Here's a little snippet of a fic I started a while ago (that I'll likely never finish) (prior context is my s/i (pathetic little catboy) is tossing shortbread to a pigeon while on Neuv's balcony <3

"What are you doing that for?" Neuvillette asked as he watched Rowan's tail twitch back and forth. "You are going to attract more birds." 

"And then, every time you have to get someone to scrape pigeon poop off of the railing, you can think of me, the guy who you wouldn't let testify through a signed statement." He took a bite of the cookie in his hand as he watched the pigeon peck greedily at its food offering. 

"In that case, you should be dropping food on Lady Furina's balcony." Neuvillette informed him evenly. "I would have been more than happy to allow you to do that, but my lady does enjoy a good show." 

"This isn't a show." Rowan grumbled around a mouthful of delicious shortbread cookie. "This is… it's people's lives." He grumbled. "Not a bloody circus. Though I'm starting to feel a bit like a clown." He broke off another bit of his cookie as the pigeon hopped closer to him and cooed. Rowan echoed the noise delightedly, his tail coiling up.

[blueiscoool]

An inscribed archaic bronze pouring vessel Zhou dynasty

The boat-shaped vessel raised on four dragon-shaped feet and set with a curved U-shaped spout, the exterior cast with horizontal concave ribs with a wide band of zoomorphic S-shaped motifs below the rim, set to one side with a loop handle formed by the arched body of a ferocious mythical beast with elaborate horns and a coiled tail, the interior cast with a fifteen-character inscription reading Yang Zhong Hou zuo baoyi, qi wannian zisun baoyong yongxiang, which can be translated as 'Yang Zhong Hou made this precious yi, to be treasured for ten thousand years, and for the eternal use of his sons and grandsons'.

34.9 cm.

[learntodive]

Yoga

Subtle energy channels – Kundalini, Sushumna, Ida & Pingala

The origins

Thousands of years before X-rays and MRIs, ancient civilisations regarded the intricate workings of the inner body in a very different way. Across the East, holistic medical systems like Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM), Tibetan medicine and Ayurveda understood that even though we can’t see them, there are countless channels, vortexes and layers of energy running through us. TCM refers to these channels of energy as meridian lines, whilst the Yogis of India first called them Nadis. If you’ve ever been to a Kundalini yoga class, practiced pranayama or visualisation, you may have come across these subtle energy channels before, but do you know how to work with them to elicit powerful effects?

Energy channels

It is said that there are over 72,000 subtle channels of energy running through the body. Whilst veins and arteries carry blood and oxygen, these invisible channels carry prana and Qi – our ‘life force energy’. The ancients understood that just as a problem within veins and arteries can result in physical issues, a blockage or deficiency within the Nadis and meridians can manifest as various physical, psychological and emotional imbalances. In recent years, researchers have even found that the meridian lines correspond perfectly to the lines of fascia – a connective tissue responsible not only for physical wellbeing, but that also has the potential to hold emotions too – think of it as holding ‘issues in your tissues’. 

Within yogic texts, there are three channels of energy that can help to change our energetic state, and encourage a powerful energy known as Kundalini to rise up the spine to the top of the head – where the upper Chakras (powerful energy centres) are found – potentially resulting in a state of bliss and enlightenment. These three channels are known as Sushumna, Ida and Pingala. Just like the meridian lines, scientific research has also found that when we stimulate these energy channels through breathwork or other means, it can have a very real effect upon the mind and body too. 

Kundalini energy

At the very base of the spine, we find our lowest and most primal base energy centre – Muladhara Chakra. Just below this point is said to be an abundance of potential energy just waiting to move. Think of this as the potential we have to feel our most powerful and vibrant, ecstatic and enlightened.

The yogis say that pranayama, meditation, mantra and asana practices can help clear the way for this energy to flow so that we can reach our highest potential in mind, body and spirit. This potential energy is represented in many texts as a coiled snake waiting to spring. This is known as Kundalini, meaning ‘coiled’ or ‘circular’, from the Sanskrit term ‘coiled female serpent’. It is also referred to as ‘Shakti’. When this powerful feminine Shakti energy is awakened through yoga practice, it rises to the top of the head to meet with the masculine energy known as Shiva. 

Sushumna Nadi

Running up the length of the spine and all the way to the top of the head, Sushumna Nadi is the main channel of energy that the Kundalini Shakti rises up through. Translated as ‘joyful mind’ or ‘most gracious mind’, the name implies that when this energy channel is clear and flowing freely, we benefit from a happier and more uplifted mental and emotional state. Sometimes Sushumna Nadi is referred to as Brahma Nadi, with ‘Brahma’ representing the divine, absolute or a form of God. Some may feel that when experiencing states of ecstasy and joy, that they’re able to connect to their understanding of divinity or Godliness. 

Along this main subtle energy channel are located the seven main chakras from the tailbone to the top of the head. These are: Muladhara, Svadisthana, Manipura, Anahata, Vishuddi, Ajna and Sahasrara. When the chakras are ‘spinning’ well and in a good state of balance without any blockages, the potential Kundalini Shakti energy at the base of the spine is free to flow upward along Sushumna Nadi. Meditating on the chakras, performing asanas to stimulate energy to flow through them such as twists, inversions and backbends, and practicing various forms of pranayama (breathing techniques) are all intended to cultivate a clear pathway for energy to flow. If you’ve ever been to a Kundalini yoga class, you may have also practiced Kriyas – a set of specific yoga practices intended to balance the chakras and awaken the potential feminine energy at the base of the spine. 

Breathing through the nose

Pranayama involves breathing practices that almost always focus on breathing through the nose. This is an underrated yet incredibly vital ability we have. Its importance has become more widely known with the popularisation of yoga, as well as methods like Patrick McKeown’s Oxygen Advantage, and James Nestor’s book Breath in the last several years.

Humans have evolved to breathe through the nose, filtering debris and bacteria through the nasal passages upon inhalation, and enabling proper oxygen absorption. We’re also able to breathe far more efficiently, increasing oxygen saturation in the blood, brain and tissues, as well as impacting the nervous system. The very act of breathing through the nose itself serves to widen the nasal passages and improve breathing function. This is why those who suffer from respiratory issues often find pranayama beneficial. 

Left or right nostril?

It isn’t just the simple practice of breathing through the nose that benefits us. The nostril we choose to breathe though can have a huge impact on our state of being too. The traditional yogic practice of Swara Yoga is a set of somewhat secretive verses on the movement, patterns and power of the breath. In his book Breath, James Nestor explains; “The Shiva Swarodaya describes how one nostril will open to let breath in as the other will softly close throughout the day. Some days, the right nostril yawns awake to greet the sun; other days, the left awakens to the fullness of the moon”.

The text states – and anecdotal studies show – that these rhythms of left and right nostril activation (known as ‘nasal cycles’) are shared by the whole of humanity, and are especially influenced by the activity of the sun and moon. Studies also show that the nostrils really do switch dominance throughout the day, usually in relation to how we feel emotionally, as well as our environment. 

Balance your energy body with José de Groot

Using Nadi Shodhana and acupressure points to balance and clear the Yin and Yang energies of your body, this practice will calm an active mind, or wake up a drowsy mind, due to two different approaches to this Pranayama technique. Accumulated emotions, tension and fatigue may also be released, which can also be very healing

[dailyreportonline]

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