#ch: lian

[meaty-peaches]

Peach's first furry! Lian Songpaw in her favorite color.

[tgcf-quotes]

xie lian patted hua cheng down to check for wounds, feeling up his chest, his arms, and all the way down his legs. but other than coming to the conclusion that hua cheng had a truly fine body, he made no notable finds

heaven official's blessing, pg 170

[princessofxianle]

"hm? I wonder why the donghua team added in Feng Xin's immediate reaction to Lang Qianqiu breaking his right arm with his left?" bc its not in the book

*ahem* Feng Xin in Book 2... seem familiar???

And heres the original scene...

[chunkypossum]

It’s always ILY and never:

“Your‌ ‌Highness,‌ ‌I‌ ‌understand‌ ‌your‌ ‌everything.”‌ ‌ ‌

“Your‌ ‌courage,‌ ‌your‌ ‌despair;‌ ‌your‌ ‌kindness,‌ ‌your‌ ‌pain;‌ ‌your‌ ‌resentment,‌ ‌your‌ ‌hate;‌ ‌your‌ intelligence,‌ ‌your‌ ‌foolishness.”‌

“If‌ ‌I‌ ‌could,‌ ‌I‌ ‌would‌ ‌have‌ ‌you‌ ‌use‌ ‌me‌ ‌as‌ ‌your‌ ‌stepping‌ ‌stone,‌ ‌the‌ ‌bridge‌ ‌you‌ ‌take‌ ‌apart‌ ‌after‌ crossing,‌ ‌the‌ ‌corpse‌ ‌bones‌ ‌you‌ ‌need‌ ‌to‌ ‌trample‌ ‌to‌ ‌climb‌ ‌up,‌ ‌the‌ ‌sinner‌ ‌who‌ ‌deserved‌ ‌the‌ butchering‌ ‌of‌ ‌a‌ ‌million‌ ‌knives.‌ ‌But‌ ‌I‌ ‌know‌ ‌you‌ ‌wouldn’t‌ ‌allow‌ ‌it.”‌

‌ ‌

[bloodysparklez]

i redrew one of my favorite scenes from the novel! they're literally so silly. it's comedy central out here in puqi shrine

[magicpotatothoughts]

Credit : にょろぴん

This now lives rent free in my head

[galaxiesovertrees]

small 1 page comic inspired by @crystalsamethyst‘s fanfic the flap of a butterfly’s wing !

[alegitdumbass]

Why does Topher and his mom remind me of Eric Cartman and Liane Cartman😭

Like oml it popped in my head and now I can't unsee it.😰

A

[illuminatedferret]

Chapters: 3/6 Fandom: 天官赐福 - 墨香铜臭 | Tiān Guān Cì Fú - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Huā Chéng/Xiè Lián (Tiān Guān Cì Fú), Xiè Lián (Tiān Guān Cì Fú)/Wu Ming Characters: Huā Chéng (Tiān Guān Cì Fú), Xiè Lián (Tiān Guān Cì Fú), Original Characters, Wu Ming, Ghost City Residents (Tian Guan Ci Fu) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ghost Marriage, people went nuts over this on tumblr so have this, Implied/Referenced Character Death, i.e. Wuming, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Canon-Typical Violence, and references to/discussion of aforementioned violence, Contains brief mentions of, Suicidal Thoughts, Emetophobia, Angst, thoughts of, Self-Harm, further tags to be added Summary:

Xie Lian had a problem.

He was pretty sure he was haunted.

-

Chapter 3 is up!

[hanasnx]

❝ taint. ❞

── jacob x lian

MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 3k SUMMARY: after their shared kiss, lian is desperate to know how jacob really feels about her. WARNINGS: religious themes | mild angst | kinks: size, corruption | nipple play | mentioned: drug and alcohol use, purity culture | pussy rubbing | biting | implied smut.

A kiss. A kiss that could not be described as harmless. It’s a confession, a breaking point, a promise. Even if JACOB refuses to acknowledge it. He lets the heavy air plod, the tension caused by their mistake hangs over their heads, accumulating into the existing cloud that’s loomed over his shoulder for over a decade. It makes no difference to him if he’s added one more sin to his fold. Even if that cloud is dark and heavy with rain, his justice is well underway to cost him his life for his misdeeds. It’s why he was a drunkard. A frequent of a tavern until they kicked him out on his ass into the cold winds. Until he needed something stronger, suckling on the teat of opioids to render himself consciousless. 

A princess doesn’t deserve that. LIAN doesn’t deserve that. When she’d first come to him she was painted white; woven in a cocoon of expensive silken fabrics. An angel cursed by his company. Even though God has abandoned him, he prays anyway. He prays for Lian. 

He doesn’t look at her if he can help it. Any business he attends to in the cave is met swiftly and soberly. Filling his time and his mind with tasks that require his attention means he can’t stop to contemplate her. To deliberate over whether he made the right decision last night. It haunts him. 

How coldly he’d treated her after she’d opened herself to him, how the touch of her lips lingered on his, until he’d demanded more. How his arms had wrapped around her, pressing her flush against him. Her inexperience shone through her stiff stance. When he’d deepened the kiss, she didn’t know how to receive it. A grim reminder of how he taints her. Temptation took root that night, he could see it in her eyes. She wanted him. 

“Jacob. Touch me.” she’d said. 

“I can’t.” 

To deny such a request, to deny an angel, felt blasphemous. He had taken his leave as he battled contempt for himself. She remained, alone and hurt in his wake. 

“Do you resent me?” Faint words lilt in reservation, and he snaps back to present at the alert of them. He listens to her footsteps approach him, and he pivots his neck in their direction. All he can see are the shadows of her figure in the fires. It’s quiet in these quarters, the cloth separating this room from the passageway offers privacy but no noise suppression. It must mean they’re alone in this field of the caves. 

A fear blooms in the pit of his chest, the black tar of it mixes with the flowery meadow of new love. He’s lost in the labyrinth of his mind again, the lines of right and wrong blurred hopelessly. 

Gentle hands rest on his shoulders. Nimble, and feathery, they’re like doves that land on his armor. It dims his torment, if even for a second. For one wicked second, he’s free, and it crashes down as soon as she guides him to turn. His storming eyes meet hers. The shallow pinch of her eyebrows, upturned in worry, crushes him. Damn him for causing her pain. A cold palm cups his cheek in comfort and familiarity. He shies away from her, and she hesitates. The trembling hand falls to her side. 

“Lian.” he speaks brokenly. “What are you doing in here?” After evading her all day, she tracks him down during a moment of rare and unwanted peace. 

“I came to find you. You’ve hardly spoken a word to me all day. Have I hurt you?” A pitied lull of her head to the side, searching his gaze, and he yearns to brush his fingers through her lustrous hair. 

On the contrary, on the most absurd contrary. he thinks. “No,” he responds. “You should go.” 

A disheartened expression befalls her, altering her perfect features in a light he can’t bear to look upon. Knowing he’s the cause of her despondence. He skirts her, and she whirls around to follow his receding back. “Should I?” she asks, a tone with an edge of desperation, begging him to reconsider. 

He stands still as he cannot answer. 

“What have I done to you?” Another inquiry, yet it’s spoken differently this time. As if she goads him into admitting that this is about their kiss. “Please, tell me, Jacob.” His name on her tongue causes his eyes to fall shut. She’s only learned his name days ago, and every opportunity she has to invoke it, she does. He inhales deeply to calm his quaking nerves, fighting off his overwhelming emotions, and his tyrannical withdrawals. Everything heightens when she’s around him. 

“You must know.” he reasons, his stoic nature consistently melts within her atmosphere. 

“I won’t unless you tell me.” Her watery words quiver in her throat. 

His heart aches. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” he tells her, and he absorbs her reticence, continuing on, “After I’ve restored you to your throne, I’ll be off. You’ll never see me again.” 

A gasp, and a hurried step forward is abruptly cut off. As if to mirror how she first recruited him to escort her through the mountains in hiding, she offers him payment once more, but this time it’s to stay with her. “What can I give you? Money?”

He faces her. “Don’t say that. I don’t want that.” Surely, she must know. 

Lian’s confidence wavers at the sight of him. Gathering bravery, she pushes through. “What do you want? Do you want me?” His brows furrow at the idea she could doubt that, yet it’d be better if she didn’t know. It’d be entirely easier and safer for her if he hadn’t accepted her act of love. That kiss ruined everything. 

He falters. He cannot lie to her. “Of course I do.” he replies in a forlorn, urged whisper. 

“Then have me.” she speaks firmly, submitting herself as payment. Now he understands what she’d initially meant, his frown deepening with a shake of his head. 

“No, Princess,”

It’s not known to Lian that men deny what they want. Any man she’s ever known has been taught to take their desires. To forge paths and change fates to gain their yearnings. Out of frustration, she yanks her outer layer off until it pools at her elbows, pushing out her chest. Respectfully, Jacob jerks his head to the side, shielding her from himself to protect her dignity. “Are you refusing me?” 

She sacrifices herself on the altar of humiliation and he won’t answer her. After what he’d done in front of that bonfire, the way he held her as they shared their destined kiss, she could not be convinced of his indifference. So she softens her approach, taking a sheepish step forward. 

Her enchanting voice lightens, encouraging him to look at her, to comfort her. “Do you not find me… attractive?” she asks. His calculative blue eyes drift to her shoes, climbing her skirt to feed off of what she gives him. 

“Princess,” he chastises in protest, “You will find love in another.” He takes a step back. “Once you return to your kingdom you’ll be betrothed and married off, and I will remain as I am.” An addict, a failed former soldier, a broken man. His tailbone bumps the end of a table, and he’s forced to still as she advances. That recognizable gleam in her eye returns, the one from last night. How she looks at him with hunger. It’s intoxicating. He’s heard of the sirens at sea, and the lustful witchcraft of the North, but they are nothing compared to the infallible power she holds over him. Out of dread of what he will do, what he’s capable of, he fixes his hands to the edge of the table, lest they disobey him and reach out to her. “Do not give yourself to me in hopes of consummation, it will not keep me.” he warns, his empty threat thinly veiling his self-control dwindling. 

She leans into him, causing his body to jump at the brush of her fingertips against his aching chest. Those lips– those addictive lips– shape, hollowing her stunning cheek bones when she purses them to form her next question, “Won’t it?” She affords a great deal of faith in her flesh, and Jacob can’t disagree. “Do you fear it?”

He concedes, “I am no stranger to sodomy.” 

A single glance to his mouth. “How lucky.” 

The pain grows unbearable and he growls in irritation over his defeat. He’ll condemn himself later, presently he’ll give her what they both need. He surges forward, stamping his lips against hers in his enthusiasm, causing a sting they hardly notice. A content exhale from his nose fans over her face as he presses on, leading her through this. A noise retreats from the back of her throat when he tilts his head, hasty to part her lips. His tongue reintroduces itself to her, a foreign feeling stirs within her as the tip glides along her until she grants the access. 

Hers is tense, allowing him to do as he pleases. His arms wind around her waist, drawing her flush against him so she’s unable to run away. Her instinct is to back up, but he’s made that impossible now. His tongue slides against hers, goading her to play. Warily, she rears it, and he invites himself to the underside of it. When she swipes hers back and forth, his fingers dig into her hips, and excitement seeps into her through her saliva. The memory resurfaces, the one of yesterday, when he kissed her so sweetly. This is different, it’s demanding and coarse. So this is the passion she reads about. 

When he recedes, her lips idle in the form of a pucker, having been unexpectant of their impending divide.  “Are you sure you want this?” he speaks against them, pecking them impatiently between words. He stoops to her eye-level, the end of his nose prodding into her cheek as he crushes her body against his. As if he saw fit to absorb her, he can’t get her close enough, air is expelled from her lungs. 

She can’t think of one time she wouldn’t have accepted him. Even if he’d asked the day of their first meeting, when she’d thought of him as a junkie who was good with a sword. He’d earned her admiration and respect when he’d inadvertently saved her and her brother’s lives, and more so when he came back for them to escort them into the mountains. It’s scandalous, but if the opportunity presented itself, she fears she would’ve said yes to the dirty stranger. 

Now clean and familiar, he stands before her, ready to take her as she’d requested. She can do nothing but nod over and over again as she inhales a steadying breath. “Yes, yes,” Her outer layer slips fully off her arms to her feet. 

Steadily, he guides her back, that grip on her so tight she’s sure if she stumbled he’d catch her. She doesn’t dare break his intense gaze, even when the bed of furs lick her ankles and she’s pushed over. His large hand cradles the back of her head, guarding her from the impact. Rushed pecks latch onto wherever he can reach, the impetuosity of a man left wanting for far too long. The corner of her mouth, her cheek, her jawline, and she cranes her neck encouragingly. He entitles himself to her pulse point, mouthing it, teeth scraping against it in a most pleasant feeling she’s never experienced before. Unable to contain herself, she tangles her nimble fingers into his hair, tugging as she involuntarily writhes underneath him. 

A pattern of his past, a phrase slips out, rolling off his tongue and vibrating against her, “You like that, princess?” It trembles her nethers, lifting her leg out of the confines of its skirt, tucking him in between her legs. 

“Yes, yes, I do,” she answers him curiously. Her eyes falling shut from the tingles resounding throughout her body as his stubble brushes her sensitive skin. All of this is new to her. Being untouched her entire life, it brought her puzzlement and immense emotion to come to understand the heat in her core. How it had been awakened by Jacob, and reignites with his shallow thrusts of longing. His hips slot in between her thighs, his heavy belt nipping at her clothed sex. The debauched nature of it flushes her cheeks, but how can she deny true love? “Jacob?” she sighs, and his lips falter as they suck on her exposed collarbone. “What is that?”

Confused, Jacob rears, and she meets his gaze, lids heavy with pleasure. It says enough to him, and he moistens his reddened lips. He shifts to his hip, propping himself up over her on a single elbow, as his free hand comes to gingerly form over her mound. “You mean this?” 

A symphony begins in her head, harmony created by the position of his palm. He watches her diligently, pupils dilating as he witnesses her acquaintance to the sins of the flesh. The volume of her imaginary song increases as he gently rolls the heel of his hand against her, so specifically she pushes into it begging for more. If it were under different circumstances, he may delay her on the basis she’d overstimulate herself. He can’t bring himself to now. How she parts her lips in a silent gasp, faithfully rocking against his experienced touch, bowing her head and demonstrating how loyal she can be in holding his gaze. She wants this as much as he does, he can’t say no to that. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he muses, finding himself entranced with how unapologetically she chases that high. The virtuous wonder in her spellbound eyes. He can’t remember the last time he felt like that, and he wanted to prolong it for her. If they could live in this single moment forever, they would. Unfortunately, he can’t wait that long, the stiffness residing his pants fit to burst. “Have you felt anything like this before?” 

She shakes her head. It confirms his apparent suspicions. A princess allowing a lowly peasant from the West stain her, it’s unheard of. Yet he does not slow. 

To experiment, he dips his fingers into the divot of her folds, grazing residue that leaks onto the tips. An intentioned swipe sends a shiver up her spine, and he regards her reaction with interest, increasing his efforts. Every simple touch intensifies her movements, and when he circles her bud deliberately she arches her back. Without warning, she moans out. Nothing alerting, but still evocative, and he claps his palm over her mouth. Widened eyes meet his, abashed she’d lost control of herself. 

He whips his head in the direction of the tapestry that hangs in the doorway. It billows with breath from the cave’s mouth, but it’s ultimately harmless. There are no footsteps to behold. So he returns his attention to her. “You’ll have to be quiet, Lian, remember that.” he informs, and she nods under the pressure of his appendage. “If you don’t, I’ll have to stop.” She nods again. A commanding eye on her as if to scold her as he tentatively takes his hand off her mouth. An apologetic kiss presses to her lips, and she accepts it. It morphs, becoming a conduit to swallow any of her undisciplined sounds as he massages her sweet virginal sex. 

Wandering fingers are tender in their endeavor, tracing down her collarbone, and hooking into her neckline. Delicately, so as to not disturb her, he tugs the fabric down, loosening it off her shoulders. He breaks their kiss, a string of saliva connecting them, as he takes away his hand in between her legs to pull her dress down. It frees her chest, and he loses himself in the sight of them. Unlike those of brothel women, they’re shapely, and perked at attention from the stimulation. Untouched, unsullied, he’s swift to bow down and worship. His plump lips enclose around one of her nipples, and she gasps from the new sensation. He doesn’t need to admonish her because she covers her own mouth with her hand, undulating underneath him with the heels of her feet digging into the covers. His tongue swirls around her responsive nub. 

The hand that abandoned the warmth of her core cups the fat of her breast, greedy in how he handles it, near strangling it in his fervor as he mouths more and more of her flesh. His teeth bite down, and her discontented yelp reminds him where he is. He releases it with a pop, while his fingers roll the other. A cruel motion by her standards, the sharp pleasure from it twists her expression, and he basks in the notion no one has ever touched her like this except him. And it’s still early in the encounter. How is she to cope when he introduces her to every inch of his aching length? The passing fascination shifts his countenance as intensifies his efforts. For a moment, he forgets decorum. He's an animal driven by self-fulfillment, plunging his face in between her tits to gather them around his temples. He mouths and licks at the salt on her skin hungrily, burying his face in her tissue like a drunkard would a willing, warm body at a tavern. A soft laughter, like bells, snaps him out of his stupor. So he views her through his brows, playfully nipping at the side of her breast as a smile is brought to his face. She finds his intoxicated enthusiasm endearing. 

That guilt within him assuages. His hips gravitate towards hers, seeking out friction in ruts. She inhales sharply, the tip of his nose tracing up her as he leaves a trail of kisses in his wake. Sloppy, and wet kisses. 

“Jacob,” she whispers over her hand. 

He hums. 

“I’ve never… Well, I haven’t done…” she begins, embarrassed over the fact she may not be what he wants, or know what to do for him. His lips against her ear quiet her with a hush. 

“I know, it’ll be fine. Let me handle it.” he reassures, pecking her earlobe as he picks himself up to sit on his haunches. He removes his outer layer, whipping it down his arms as she watches with intrigue. He removes fabrics to bare himself to her. His belt as well as his trousers remain, and he shifts backwards. Carefully, he rides up the skirt of her dress, and his cold fingers startle her heated skin as he hooks them into her underclothes, peeling them down and off. She lifts her legs for him, poised and lithe, and he removes her shoes, palming the heel of her foot to pepper the top of it with soothing kisses. 

He settles, the backs of her knees fixed atop his shoulders as he tucks his head between her thighs, eager to relax her, prove his devotion to her. Even if it takes all night. 

[cass1x1]

Hold still. <-- micah/lian!

@sangre

death mention (but a lot of it) tw

It has never happened like this before. The deaths, for all their discomfort and pain and inconvenience, have always been intimate. Always been between the two of them in the quiet of their own home. Lian has always liked that part best--there is nothing worse to her than the thought of dying in a hospital somewhere. Again.

She moves awkwardly, as though her connection to her own limbs is still tenuous. It is absolute bullshit, Lian believes, that her body does not heal in full. That her gift is only survival, only the minimum she needs to remain, and not some magical transformation that closes up her wounds. But it has always been that way. The familiarity, in contrast to the strangeness of this particular death, should be a comfort. It is not. It still sucks, just as it has sucked every time before. Just as it will suck every time after.

With great effort, she gets the keys into the door and shuffles inside. The living room is not empty, as she might have hoped. Micah is sitting on the couch, back straight in that particular way that they do when they have been caught slouching. The light are off, but she suspects that if they were not, his eyes would be red and shiny with tears at varying stages of falling.

At first, she does not say anything. What is there to say? He feels like shit, and she looks like it, and there's nothing to add. Instead, she goes to the kitchen, fumbling in the dark until she opens the freezer. Its garish but small light shoots across the room. She finds an ice pack and closes it, padding back to the couch.

If she is hoping for companionable silence, it is a disappointment when Micah sighs and hits a light switch. Fortunately, she is not hoping for much of anything in particular. She can feel it when their eyes settle on her. They ran pretty much the moment they pushed her, which did not bother her--it is a grotesque thing when her limbs put themselves back together, and she would not bear witness to it either if she did not have to--but now that they are seeing her, perhaps it bothers them.

They leave, and she moves the ice pack from her shoulder to her leg. There is nowhere that does not hurt, and so there is nowhere it does not feel good to ice. The footsteps behind her and the rustling from another room do not quite register to her, and so it is a surprise when Micah crouches low before her, first aid kit in hand. "I am--" The word okay catches in her throat. She is so obviously not. And it is not good to start lying so soon after a death, she feels.

Micah ignores the comment regardless, instead holding up a wipe to clean whatever cuts are on her face. "Hold still," he whispers, although she has not moved. She does, even when the antiseptic stings. He must know it does. His touch is so gentle, it almost makes her ask to do it harder. Dying in the street was so surreal, Lian is grateful that at least the pain is grounding. Micah's gentle touches are not. But she does not say anything either. Does not have the energy.

After her face is cleaned to his satisfaction, he rummages around in the kit for bandaids. This is not part of their routine either. Micah rarely chooses a death for her that causes much bloodshed. He prefers strangulation, or a simple stab in a vital place. The sheer number of cuts and scrapes and bruises she has now is staggering. She might resent it in the coming weeks, but that thought comes to her distantly, as though she is not the person who may or may not do the resenting. Still, they are at least trying to clean her up with their surreal-gentle touches, so she cannot resent them all that much.

He is fixated on her face. His eyes--and they are his, that crystal clarity shining in them despite the red she had known would be there--do not even seem to see the whole of her. Just a collection of scrapes and bruises. Maybe she is still not a person yet and that is why.

"No--" Micah's hands freeze instantly. Her throat is dry, and she has to work to wet it to speak. "No one saw. If that is what you were upset about or whatever. No one saw, not even the--" Driver? Actual killer? What title do you give to someone who accidentally ran you over? Who is he to her? "Asshole in an oversized pickup. Jersey plates and all." It is too close and too true to be funny. Neither of them laugh. "He did not even stop. So..."

"That's not why--" Micah does not, or cannot, finish the thought. They press a bandaid to her forehead, over what she assumes is the worst of a long cut. He has already put one on her cheek and another on her neck. "I can't--I've never--"

"I know," she says softly. His eyes meet hers for a moment before he returns to the kit. Whatever they saw there, they must not have liked. It stings, and the pain of rejection is real, so she holds it. A person has to be there to hurt, at least.

[wolfwhisperertf]

The man is in a dress, I repeat the man is in the dress

Guess who finally bought the physical copy of one of their favorite books lol

[tgcf-quotes]

you ask who i am?! listen well! i am his eminent highness the crown prince! bow down before me you riotous, unruly horde! i am over eight hundred years old. older than all of you combined! i have crossed more bridges than all the roads you have walked! i possess shrines and temples across this land! my worship has spread to the four seas! if you do not know my name, it is because you are uneducated and ignorant of the world! i do not worship gods -- i am god!

xie lian, pg 365

[princessofxianle]

HE'S UNHINGED, YOUR HONOR

[victimized-martyr]

Ok, for the ask thing, hope this isn’t too much, 24, 11, 13. If you feel like answering, thanks! You have fun posts/thoughts about SP

24 and 13 are answered :)

11. Is there a popular character you like that the fandom doesn't? Why?

I know that the younger (more active) fans dislike Cartman, and tend to exclude him in works. But idk if that alone makes him unpopular? He's definitely the most controversial. Against my better judgement, I do indeed, like Cartman.

He's not a character you're supposed to love. He reflects the biases and the bigotry we're all capable of, and like most sociopaths in media, he's extravagant, loves to entertain, and is charming. His saving grace is that he's only a little boy, an animated one at that, and that degree of separation to his many many crimes makes it easy for us to laugh at him. That's another thing about Cartman-- he's genuinely funny. Trey Parker puts his all into even the most offensive jokes and he finds a way to tailor them to a character's personality. I can't believe it, but I love singing "too many minorities" and "safe space" to myself while working... it's so catchy.

I used to despise Cartman and found him one note (this was watching bits of season 4 and 6. I was bareelly getting into sp. It wasn't until I saw scott tenorman that I sat down to reevaluate him) but after seeing the episodes dedicated to highlighting just how messed up he is under the surface, what drove him to act the way he does, and the few snippets we see that he's truly capable of change (and it's shocking that according to trey, it doesn't take a lot to turn Cartman around.)

He fascinates me. There hasn't been a villain/ main character quite like him before or since.

[fortune-maiden]

Chapters: 1/13 Fandom: 天官赐福 - 墨香铜臭 | Tiān Guān Cì Fú - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Shī Qīngxuán & Xiè Lián, Huā Chéng/Xiè Lián (Tiān Guān Cì Fú), Péi Míng & Shī Qīngxuán Characters: Shī Qīngxuán, Xiè Lián (Tiān Guān Cì Fú), Huā Chéng (Tiān Guān Cì Fú), Péi Míng (Tiān Guān Cì Fú) Additional Tags: more characters and relationships will be added, Post-Canon, Hauntings, Canon Typical Humor, Adventure, Hurt/Comfort, (i don't really know how to tag this sorry), I wrote this for me but y'all can read it too, No beta we die like ming yi, SQX is the central character of this but doesn't show up until Ch 2 Summary:

"Talk to him, your Highness. Please. He listens to you."

After a series of incidents and a plea from Pei Ming, Xie Lian seeks out Shi Qingxuan only to find his friend looking haggard and weak, marked as prey by a dangerous ghost.

Only, Shi Qingxuan insists that nothing is wrong.

He's fine.

He's handling it.

Really.

-

I have started a multichap fic! This is an idea I’ve had for a long time and was recently inspired to revisit it >.<

tags will be updated as i go. hopefully i will go ;w;