Lunar_Wolf
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Which is why, three and a half weeks later, Ilya finds himself skipping the Centaur’s optional morning skate and driving to Montreal to go to a dance recital.
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while you were sleeping i dreamed about you by babbyleeknow
Fandoms: 天官赐福 - 墨香铜臭 | Tiān Guān Cì Fú - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
21 Apr 2024
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There was a way. He Xuan inhaled shakily, though he didn’t need to breathe. He nodded, once. “Tell me.”
“A flower,” Hua Cheng said. “Eternal Blooming Blood Camellia. Rare enough, but if someone of your rank is looking, you’ll find it without much trouble.”
“And it will make them—”
Hua Cheng held up a finger, an obnoxious be-quiet gesture, but He Xuan listened. He needed to know.
“When ingested by an immortal, the flower grants that immortal the power to share the gift of immortality with another. There’s a bit of a process. Harvest the flower together. They eat the petals. Then it’s a simple blood-letting, blood-drinking ritual. Nothing too involved.”
He Xuan is going to be undead forever, but Shi Qingxuan only has a short, mortal lifespan left. Facing this fact, He Xuan has no choice but to confront his feelings for Shi Qingxuan, and to try and mend things between them while there's still time.
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On his third ascension, Xie Lian finds heaven in complete chaos. Crimson Rain Sought Flower had just demanded a virginal sacrifice, or else he would wipe out the three realms. Xie Lian, having destroyed many buildings during his ascension, is deemed the best option and is immediately carted off to be wed to the infamous Ghost King.
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to the arms of the same sea by adverbialstarlight
Fandoms: 天官赐福 - 墨香铜臭 | Tiān Guān Cì Fú - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
25 Jan 2024
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Rock star Hua Cheng and his return to his beloved.
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The very first petals come up clean, cherry blossoms with flecks of foam. The wisps of pink glare from Megumi's palm, and he quickly clenches his fist to crush them.
He's been expecting it. The curses that thrive in spring are slow and nasty, too light to notice until you're halfway through death's door, like the spring showers that pour instantly into monsoons.
He's not even sure when the Hanahaki curse took hold. In the past week alone, he can think of a dozen times or more it could have rooted. All he knows is now his throat tastes bitter and there are petals in his palm, soft against the callouses and scars.
No one can know. Never.