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  • panting like a dog at the edge of your bed by bloodletter (He Xuan/Shi Qingxuan)
    #c:nb/nb #f:tgcf #p:hx/sqx #t:fic | It holds up its own hand in front of its face. Rotates it around. Examines through the darkness the sharp knuckles, the bony wrist, the unnatural pallor of its skin. This must be his body, it realizes. His body as it was before it was burned: starved, mad, and dead, but not rotten yet.
    1 year ago | View Shared by zeiat
  • the skies occult blue by bloodletter (Shi Qingxuan/He Xuan)
    #c:nb/nb #f:tgcf #n:sexpollen #p:hx/sqx #t:fic | Okay. Shi Qingxuan liked to have fun. Everyone knew that she liked to have fun—she was the Young Lord Who Poured Wine, after all. It was her thing. But she was, genuinely, fairly restrained and dignified! She was classy! She did not get up in her lady form and beg for random male officials to take her clothes off!
    1 year ago | View Shared by zeiat
  • a girl you can hold IRL by bloodletter (He Xuan/Shi Qingxuan)
    #f:tgcf #p:hx/sqx #t:fic | He Xuan had been ready to leave the desert well before Shi Qingxuan had finished her little investigation. It wasn’t the sun, or the sand, though both were unpleasant, but Crimson Rain’s stupid voice on the private communication array: « Oh, sorry, are we walking in on something? If I knew there was a dress code I would have gotten done up. » And if it wasn’t that, it was the tinkling of jewelry in Shi Qingxuan’s hair as she moved, or the meaningless asides that were disorienting in the scale of their inanity: “Isn’t this fun? I love having fun with you.”
    2 years ago | View Shared by zeiat
  • where the wind spins blue again by butchgoth (HX/SQX)
    #c:nb/nb #f:tgcf #n:sexpollen #p:hx/sqx #t:fic | Beggars are among the ones who have not given up hope. Hands stretch toward her as He Xuan stalks through. Unfettered by her sharp glances, children, women, men...poverty is a great equalizer, and there is no one type of person that is immune from its effects. To prove that, around the next corner, sitting on a leg wrapped in bandaging, is the target of her dreadful walk through the Imperial City. Shi Qingxuan, somehow, has not changed much in the past five years. His hair still curls, eyes are still bright, and somehow, despite the impossibility of his life improving, Shi Qingxuan has yet to break. As she approaches him, Shi Qingxuan folds down the hood on his head and smiles at her. “Would it be strange to ask for spare coin?” he asks. Instead of answering, He Xuan thrusts the xiaolong in his hand. Shi Qingxuan takes it, very carefully untucking the fragile arm from a makeshift sling. He uses enervated fingers to pull open the top, inhaling the steam that spills out.
    3 years ago | View Shared by zeiat
  • like a siren that can't swim anymore by LuckyDiceKirby (HX/SQX)
    #c:nb/m #f:tgcf #n:fivethings #p:hx/sqx #t:fic | They were always close like this, and Shi Qingxuan thought—oh, someday. Someday one of us will reach out and hold on. Someday I’ll kiss him for real. It was a nice idea to turn over in spare moments, glowing and pretty and fun. Easy and simple and free, just like everything else in their life. - Five times Shi Qingxuan and Ming Yi almost start something, and one time they—
    3 years ago | View Shared by zeiat

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where the wind spins blue again by butchgoth (HX/SQX)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32104840 Internet Archive
Tags
#c:nb/nb #f:tgcf #n:sexpollen #p:hx/sqx #t:fic
Date added
July 4, 2021, 11:40 a.m.
Description
Beggars are among the ones who have not given up hope. Hands stretch toward her as He Xuan stalks through. Unfettered by her sharp glances, children, women, men...poverty is a great equalizer, and there is no one type of person that is immune from its effects. To prove that, around the next corner, sitting on a leg wrapped in bandaging, is the target of her dreadful walk through the Imperial City. Shi Qingxuan, somehow, has not changed much in the past five years. His hair still curls, eyes are still bright, and somehow, despite the impossibility of his life improving, Shi Qingxuan has yet to break. As she approaches him, Shi Qingxuan folds down the hood on his head and smiles at her. “Would it be strange to ask for spare coin?” he asks. Instead of answering, He Xuan thrusts the xiaolong in his hand. Shi Qingxuan takes it, very carefully untucking the fragile arm from a makeshift sling. He uses enervated fingers to pull open the top, inhaling the steam that spills out.