#someone pray for Ori

[dyclerc]

Paulo joking around about his wedding suit being yellow 💀😭

[foxyverserambles]

This video as an example of Amarie and Ori's relationship w god

The entire winter family is religious but the only ones normal about it are the parents. Amarie's devoted like her life depends on it and Ori starts her prayers with "Yo it's me again"

[candycandy00]

Bad Boy - A Togame Jo x Reader Fanfic

Your town is controlled by two gangs: Shishitoren and Bofurin. With a taste for danger, you love to sneak over to the Shishitoren side, where you spot a handsome dark haired stranger rumored to be a violent and dangerous gang member. But he doesn’t seem so bad to you. 

Smut. 18+. Gang AU. Busty Fem Reader. Togame is in his mid 20’s. Bondage. Oral. Rough sex. Reader is sexually aggressive and a tease. Divider by @benkeibear.

You first met Togame at the festival being held on the temple grounds. You’d come from the other end of town to hang out with your friend, and you were carrying a frozen treat in a cup made of paper. You bumped into someone tall, and your frozen treat smashed into his chest. You apologized, he gave you a curt nod, and that was it. 

You turned and looked back at him as he walked over to a food stall to talk to the person running it. From the way he was dressed, you would assume that he worked at the temple. He had dark hair worn longer than most other men his age (early twenties if you were guessing) and striking green eyes. 

He was entirely your type.

“Don’t even think about it,” your friend said when she noticed you staring. 

You didn’t pry your eyes away even as you answered, “Why not?”

“His name’s Togame. He’s with the Shishitoren gang. Pretty high up in the ranks too. He’s well known for being violent, even with other members of the gang. He’s not someone you want to mess with.”

You were still watching him as he left the stall and walked further away. “A bad boy, huh?”

Your friend grabbed your wrist to get your attention. “Hey, listen to me! You better stay away from him! They say he shows no mercy to his own guys. What do you think he would do to you if he knew you have ties to the Bofurin?”

You gave her a grin. “No idea, but you’ve got me curious now.”

She sighed dramatically. “You’re gonna end up dead one of these days. You take a huge risk every time you come to this side of town.”

Her voice kept going, but you were not really listening. She might think this Togame guy is a big scary gang member, but she didn’t see what you saw. She didn’t see his face flush pink when your body brushed against his. Something tells you he’d be very fun to play with. 

************************

When Togame found a couple of his guys cornering a college girl in an alley, he stopped to see what was going on. 

One of them turns to him. “She’s from the other side. Her cousin is in Bofurin!”

Togame wonders what could possess her to reveal such information, but the cat’s out of the bag now. She’s an intruder on their territory, and they can’t just let her go. 

“I’ll handle it,” he says, and the other two back away, revealing the hottest girl he’s ever seen. Everything from her shape to her hair to her eyes, to the way she stands there like a tasty lamb among wolves, draws his eye. Her skirt is way too short and her shirt, with tiny straps to hold it up, is way too tight. To his embarrassment, it’s very clear that she’s not wearing a bra. 

“Come with me,” he tells her, keeping his voice smooth and controlled. He’s silently praying she doesn’t resist. If he has to manhandle her, he’s going to end up humiliating himself by popping a boner. 

She looks up at him innocently. “Oh no, are you taking me captive?” 

Something about her voice makes him think she’s definitely not innocent. “I’ll take you back to our base. Then we can decide what to do with a Bofurin interloper.”

She purses her glossy lips in obviously fake concern. “I hope you’ll be gentle with me!”

He tries to ignore the way her huge tits strain against her shirt, the way her hard nipples protrude as one thin strap falls off her shoulder. 

“We’ll see,” he says, turning his back to her and walking toward the Ori, counting on her to follow. She clearly has some plan in mind, so he might as well see where this goes. 

No one else is there at this hour, but he still takes her into one of the small side rooms. It was probably a break room for employees at some point. There are a few small chairs and one table that looks like it could break at any moment. 

Just to be safe, he sits her in a chair and uses a discarded cord to tie her hands behind her. Whatever her game is, she’s definitely trouble, and he doesn’t need her slipping away to cause problems. 

She squirms a bit in the chair. “Did you bring me to this abandoned building so you could have your way with me?”

He blinks. “Uh, no?”

She’s actually pouting! She wiggles a bit, pretending to pull at the cord. “But I’m all tied up and so helpless! You could do anything you want to me and I couldn’t stop you.”

He sighs, already getting a headache. This has to be some kind of trap or trick. “Right now, all I want to do is talk,” he tells her. “Why did you come to this side of town? If your cousin is in Bofurin, you must know you’re in enemy territory.”

She smiles at him. “I’ve heard you’re really important over here,” she says, completely avoiding the question. “Apparently you’re a bad guy. Violent. Scary.”

He can’t really deny it. Those words could definitely describe him at times, when he has to step up and take care of unpleasant business. He doesn’t enjoy it, and would much rather live a peaceful life. But he has a talent for inflicting violence on others, and he’s had to put that talent to use many times while weeding out traitors to the gang or fighting their enemies. He’s well aware of the reputation he’s fostered in town, which is why most women avoid him. 

“And what if I am?” he asks the woman in front of him. 

Her eyes seem to light up with excitement, but she feigns fear again. “Then it looks like I’m in the lion’s den. Will you eat me alive?”

His eyes rove up and down her body, and he has to literally will himself not to blush. She’s certainly tantalizing. 

As she squirms around in the chair, her skirt slides up her thighs. She gasps in mock surprise. “Oh no, my skirt’s riding up! With my hands tied I can’t even pull it back down! This is so embarrassing, especially since I’ve misplaced my panties. If it rides up any more, you’ll see everything!”

If he’d been drinking anything, he would have comically spit it out. Instead, his eyes go wide and he swiftly turns his back to her before she can see how red his face is. 

He’s never even thought about tearing a woman’s clothes off and fucking her raw until she’s a crying mess before, but this woman is going to turn him into a beast. He has to get it together! 

Togame takes a moment to compose himself, to construct a calm and collected persona and keep it on. If there’s one thing he’s good at besides beating the shit out of people, it’s pretending to be something he’s not. 

He turns back around, and she’s looking at him with hungry eyes. Her legs are spread slightly apart, the fabric of her skirt just barely covering her. If it slides up even one more inch, he’ll get an eyeful. 

“Wow, I just noticed how tall you are,” she says. “With me being in this little chair, my face is at just the right height, huh?”

Maybe it’s the fact that he hasn’t had a whole lot of experience with women (and what little he had was back in high school), but he doesn’t realize what she means. “The right height for what?”

She giggles, probably amused by his naivety, and says, “For shoving your cock in my mouth.”

Ah, fuck, now that she’s said it, he can’t help picturing her plump, shiny lips stretched around the base of his cock as she chokes on it. He tries to clear his mind, to ignore all the lewd thoughts invading his brain, but they just keep marching in. And of course, he’s rapidly growing hard. His loose pants should keep it from being obvious though. He hopes. 

He decides to try a different tactic. Maybe she won’t be so coy if he intimidates her a little. 

Stepping right up to her, he looms over her bound form. Someone so much smaller than him should definitely be afraid. Especially someone aware of his reputation. He slams one hand down on the back of the chair, right beside her shoulder, and says in his most threatening tone, “Why did you come here? What game are you playing?”

She looks up at him, her skin flushed, her lips parted. Holy shit, she looks horny! Does she get off on danger or what? 

“Do you want me to be honest?” she asks, and for the first time her voice doesn’t have that phony damsel in distress tone. 

“Just tell me,” he says, still leaning over her. 

She hesitates, then takes a breath. “You probably don’t remember, but I bumped into you at the festival a few days ago. I got my ice cream all over you.”

He does remember, but he’d been so flustered by the feel of soft tits brushing against him that he hadn’t looked at the woman’s face. “That was you?”

She nods. “My friend told me about you, how you’re in Shishitoren and you’re so dangerous. I watched you for a little while and thought you were hot. So I started hanging around over here in the hopes that I could meet you.”

He feels himself getting red again, but he doesn’t turn around this time. “So you’ve met me. What do you want from me?”

She opens her legs a little more in the chair, her skirt edging up. Fuck, he really is going to see everything. “Isn’t it obvious?” she asks with a cat like grin. “I want you to wreck me.”

That’s it. He can’t take anymore. If she really wants him that badly, then he’ll fuck that smug grin right off her pretty face. 

Even if he’s blushing like a schoolboy while he does it. 

**************************

You know exactly what you’re doing. You had this all planned out after all. You want Togame, and you intend to have him. But even with that in mind, you’re still surprised when he suddenly pulls out a massive cock, already hard and leaking, and does exactly what you suggested earlier: shoves it into your hot wet mouth. 

He groans as he pushes it all the way in, gripping your hair for leverage, burying your nose in his soft, curly black pubic hair. Oh god, he’s so big, and so forceful, you’re already drenched. 

He’s halfway down your throat, making you gag and sputter around his cock, holding your head in place so you can’t pull back. Ahh, this is why you love bad guys. Tease them enough and they’ll fucking ruin you.  

But you’ve seen enough to realize Togame is not all that he seems. The way he reddens and gets flustered is just so cute! So when you look up at him, tears stinging your eyes, he quickly pulls back enough to let you breathe. There’s an unspoken apology on his face, but once you begin licking his shaft like a popsicle, all hesitation disappears from his expression. 

He fucks your mouth, not quite as roughly as you expected given his supposed violent tendencies, but hard enough to make you moan around his cock as you continue to make an absolute mess in the chair. 

The sound of him breathing hard turns you on even more, and you wish one of your hands was free so you could shove it under your skirt. 

You constrict your throat around him, loving the way it makes him grunt and pump in harder. And after several minutes of absolutely railing your mouth, you feel his cock twitch and slide out. He barely makes it past your lips before his cum shoots out in thick ropes across your face, plenty of it splattering your lips and sliding onto your tongue. 

He’s panting above you, looking a little embarrassed. Was he trying to pull out in time to avoid filling your mouth? How sweet. You’re starting to think he’s not such a bad boy after all. 

You lick your lips clean as he stares at you, catching his breath. “Sorry,” he mutters, moving to go behind you, probably to untie your hands so you can clean your face. 

“Don’t untie me yet,” you tell him.

He pauses and looks at you questioningly. 

You tilt your head, causing more of his cum to drip to the corner of your mouth so you can reach it with your tongue. Then, as he watches intently with a pink flush to his face, you open your legs widely. Your skirt bunches at your waist, and your dripping pussy is on full display. 

“Are you really going to leave me like this?”

You hear his breath hitch, and just like magic, his cock is getting hard again. He looks you in the eyes, as if wanting to be sure. In response, you slide your hips forward, through your own juices, spreading your thighs even wider. 

That did the trick. Suddenly he’s jerking you up from the chair, your hands still tied behind you, and shoving you face down on the rickety table, effectively bending you over. His knees prod your legs apart, and before you can react at all, he buries the entirety of his cock in your pussy, making you gasp. 

Holy fuck, he’s even bigger than you thought. He pulls almost all the way out before slamming back in, and you can’t help but whimper as your bound hands grasp at air. 

You feel him lean over you from behind, and then his smooth voice in your ear, “This is what you wanted, right?”

His thrusts are so rough, the table is nearly scooting across the floor. You’re going to be sore for days after this. But god it feels good! “Yes!” you cry, clenching around him. “Break me!”

One of his hands reaches around and slides under your shirt, squeezing your breast hard before pinching your nipple. You hiss from the sting of it, getting more and more worked up. He’s hitting you so deep, right in the spot that makes your toes curl. 

“Ahhh… f-fuck, you’re so big,” you breathe out, feeling like he might literally split you in two. 

“You’re just… too tight…!” he mutters back, not slowing his thrusts at all. 

Maybe you teased him a little too much, because it feels like he’s made it his personal mission to fuck you absolutely stupid. 

And you love every second of it. 

He hits a particularly deep and sensitive spot, over and over, and suddenly you’re cumming, screaming out his name and squirting all over the table. He fucks you through it, both his hands now gripping your waist so hard, you know the imprints of his fingers will be there for a long time. 

When you feel him twitch again inside you, you quickly say, “Don’t pull out! I’m on birth control!”

“Oh fuck,” he says, sounding almost intoxicated as he plunges in as deeply as he can and releases his seed. You savor the feel of it churning inside you, filling you up completely. 

When he finally pulls out, he stands there behind you for a moment, probably watching his cum drip out of you. Then he reaches down and unties your wrists.

You stand up, rubbing the raw, red circles on your skin where the cord was. You like how they look. 

He’s fixing his pants and looking a little awkward as you pull your skirt back down. “Is there a bathroom in here?” you ask casually. 

“Down the hall on the left. It’s not the cleanest one though,” he says. 

“That’s fine. But you guys should probably clean it up if you’re gonna bring girls here.”

He gives you an uneasy smile. “I doubt that’s going to happen often.”

You blink at him. “Really? So I’m not invited to come back?”

His eyes widen. “Oh… uh, if you want to…” he says, his hand ruffling the back of his hair. “You’re welcome anytime.”

You grin. “Does the rest of your gang know what a sweetheart you are?”

He blushes again, but is obviously trying to look stern. “You better keep quiet about that!”

You blow him a kiss before you leave. “Your secret’s safe with me!”

[kit-williams]

I wanna know how some of the yans would react to a baseline person making moves on their darlings.

Hahahaha

(I'm sorry this took so long)

Tags:

@bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

@thevoidscreams @barn-anon @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @squishyowl @ms--lobotomy

You're funny. I COULD just say that they'd be a body that would never get found but how would they end up dead? Also very few of these imply that the darling is against such moves being made on them.

Azazel The baseline better pray to the God Emperor for mercy for Azazel has none. Lilith is his beautiful star of the morning and while he is aware the effects she can have on others... he is aware just how unintentionally friendly she can be... she also knows her limit. Pray dear mortal pray for your mercy... for Azazel has none.

Palion Seething intense jealousy and anger as how dare you. Oh yes he would be thrilled someone else would see how beautiful his Muse is but if he saw how uncomfortable she was it would turn into fury real quick. Depending on his mood he might kill them right in front of his Muse or he might steal her away and have the baseline locked away to personally hear their screams.

Harram Harram is confident in himself because he's actively providing for his Orichalcum. He can deal with a persistent male too as he is certain his fortifications around her heart can withstand a weaker male making his attempts. However the first sign of any wavering and the male is gone, however, Harram wouldn't blame Ori but himself not doing enough for her to keep those defenses strong.

Nogai Nogai doesn't need to do anything for his Хонгор just has to do is tell him that she is tired of this baseline bothering her... and they'll be removed from her presence. And Nogai will be there the one coaxing her to utilize his skills... come now... I can rid of him for you.

Arkyn Arkyn would be chummy with the man who was making moves on his darling. Just before he would grab them and threaten them. Arkyn wouldn't want to get his hands dirty right away but if the dog doesn't understand what he is saying the wolf will put him down.

Astel Astel will get them alone... he knows where the cameras are... he'll start a conversation with them using some bullshit about how he can smell something off with them. The scalpel is buried into their neck as they gurgle softly before he snaps something on them and just stuffing the body in some corner. To rot and be forgotten about by all... especially his little Maus.

Ghosk He really doesn't care if another baseline is making moves surprisingly. Usually Rabbit just has to show her tattoo he got her and most sane men back off... only the really persistent ones he'll dispose of at her request. Its other Astartes he saves his energy for but don't you dare try and make moves on Rabbit while he's in the room and she still showed his mark of ownership on her to them... he's got a very fickle temper.

Sirus Jealousy is an UGLY thing on a Blood Angel. He would watch and not make any moves if his Moonlight just calmly and quietly rejects the advances... Sirus will easily have a snack of the baseline man's blood should his Moonlight be receptive... after Sirus sees what he does that charms his beautiful Moonlight and then happily applies them himself to woo her even more easily.

Marlos Vauth He's curious at how someone else could get so close to his Byte. Its perhaps something like this that sets him off to just keep her all to himself once and for all. Death is slow and drawn out... perhaps he turns off their lungs in intervals only turning them back on to keep them alive. To be at the Mercy of Marlos... is to look into the merciless eyes of death.

Zul Depends on which Zul... freshly returned to his senses... he would think you're trying to steal his "golden goose" so to speak and well a bloody death awaits. When Zul has become a warlord of his own? No one with a brain keeps flirting with her after she reveals who she is... if they do he makes an example of them... he's very protective of what is his.

Tulio Oh no this wouldn't do at all. That baseline would not be the first one he has killed with his bare hands. They would be another body that this son of Guilliman would have to hide... he knows how to make it look like some wild beast ripped a man apart. His whole body would tense and twitch as he would keep a stern and expressionless face as his mind switched to how he is when fighting Tyranids... cunning beasts that best be put down quickly. Just another body to be cut down.

Solos Death can't come fast enough. They better play off the fact that they were making moves on his Lovie as being an ignorant cunt and beg for his forgiveness. Oh and pray that the baseline tries to even imply that it was Lovie who started the flirting. That's death right then and there at even implying that Lovie would be unfaithful to him. (Even if she's yelling at him that they are through)

Nakht Doesn't have to worry much about Birdie as she is a capable sorceress who can handle herself. But if they somehow play the whole being macho card, that he's been playing, oh no no no... Nakht would see your utter ruin. He might be one of the few who wouldn't outright kill any competition but he would certainly ruin them.

Zhur Would be surprised you are going after Dolli. Now he knows she can handle herself but if they somehow didn't get it through their head that she wasn't interested or by the four she actually is interested... you're a bloody smear. And depending on when this Dolli is... she might be cooing to Zhur about how she... appreciates him doing such things for her.

Jihias His neverborn is howling in his ear before he even hears or sees what is going on. The way Lamb's eyes glitter and shine at the complements... the way Lamb just blushes at the kiss on the back of her hand. If its someone from the planet she is from he handles convincing them to suddenly be uninterested in Lamb with a delicate touch. Should they be someone who came to help convert the planet... they feel the draw of the ritual knife across their stomach as they are sacrificed in a display with a horrified Lamb watching as his neverborn is summoned at the death of another.

Nubin He's old and he's patient but he also knows that his darling likes to be flirty... likes to push against the chain he has on her... push the limit of what she can get away with. He won't kill the baseline but his darling is going to be reminded that he's more than enough man for her... and how much he loves her... and how much she is part of his hoard.

Raven Guard Trio Death comes in various shades but it's most likely Sor who deals the killing blow that or Kazi. Jealousy will burn bright for the young ravenguard. Moremo will keep the boys calm until he hears a jab thrown his way... he sees his age as a boon not a hinderance in pleasing their Dove... and Sor... well he's just a malevolent specter just waiting to end the interloper's life.

Omegon He doesn't even have to do anything... his little Vixen gets jumpy when people try to get close so this baseline making advances again and again... he trusts she can push them off. However, the Primarch isn't immune to being ugly jealous as he knows he is larger, more powerful, and naturally scary that perhaps his little Vixen flirts a little... perhaps meaning a bit too much into those flirts. Omegon knows that she is still coming into her title and position as his Vixen... with the man just disappearing into the night and a cozy little dinner with his darling... he can inform her what it means to be his.

Roland Death. Is what he would want to jump to. He will restrain his anger towards the baseline as there are thousands of different ways of showcasing that you are in a monogamous relationship within the Imperium. But oh boy will Roland be cuddly and touchy with his darling after it. But if somehow the fact that she was in an exclusive relationship with him as well as him being the sire of their children was not deterring them... then death.

Bonus

Tyberos Hahahahahahahaha no one within the fleet makes moves onto the Void Mother, minus of course the Void Father, but the instant someone does start making a move... it doesn't even have to be Tyberos to stop it... it would be one of the several guards that would be around her. The Chapter Master is far too busy to deal with petty attempts at slighting him... now the brothers that guard the Void Mother... they are less forgiving especially should those moves make the Void Mother uncomfortable.

Yrac H3X doesn't understand flirting very well. So it might be some time before she realizes another Heretek is making moves on her. It stops rather quickly when she goes to Yrac and simply repeats what was told to her with the additional cock of her head, "But I thought that is what we did together in private... I don't really want another relationship." She says not fully understanding the double entandres that are laced into the binary only understanding that what the other was asking for was an activity she and Yrac did together exclusively. Yrac coos and calms his darling H3X down telling her he would take care of it. "But you have your murder face on." She would say bluntly as he would pull off his mask and kiss her before taking his Omnissian Axe with him to take care of it.

[nkn0va]

Orie, Wagner, and Mitsuru with an s/o that randomly picks them up?

We live for high class women being flustered when they're shown affection.

-Straight up, Orie is just the type that looks extremely liftable, especially in casual attire. Something you catch onto very quickly.

-You do have the decency to at least not do it out in public most of the time, but occasionally you just can't help yourself, like the first time you ended up doing so.

-She'd managed to finally get a day off between Licht Kreis duties and school, inviting you for a night out on the town to explore and do whatever. She was still relatively new to Kanzakai so this was the best possible opportunity to learn about everything that was around.

-You'd been out for quite a long time and it was obvious you had much more stamina then her, she was looking quite drained despite all the fun you'd had. So you got the brilliant idea of picking her up bridal style out of nowhere.

-Her face immediately turns crimson as she asks you what in the world are you doing, and only gets even more embarrassed as you say you're carrying her back to her place since you can't let the lady be tired. She hides her face in your chest the entire way through and prays that nobody recognizes her.

-As much as she'll deny it, she definitely wouldn't mind if you did this again. Just...not in front of her friends. Especially Kaguya, she's showing no mercy to the poor girl.

-Honestly, you started doing this as a joke more than anything. The way Wagner carried herself was like a high and mighty princess so you only thought it was appropriate to treat her as such.

-As she was playfully gloating about herself you then suddenly lifted her up off the ground, causing a strong, immediate reaction out of her.

-She immediately makes her startled annoyance very known, loudly reprimanding you and asking what the hell you think you're doing. That's about what you expected, but being lucky enough to have become her S/O, you know you're not in any actual danger.

-She won't really do anything really as long as you don't do this in public. For the love of god, do not do this when other people can see.

-It becomes...acceptable over time as you do it more. She at least does recognize the fact that you do it out of affection and admiration for her which is a flattering thought.

-She'll probably still act like a complete tsundere about it but she'll never make any actual moves to stop you, secretly reveling in the attention she gets from you.

-Mitsuru is normally a very professional, put-together woman. The way she holds herself brings about both admiration and intimidation depending on the situation. However you have the rare privilege of being able to see this facade drop when she doesn't need it.

-You wanted to test the waters so to speak on what would happen when you were more direct with your affection, and what was more direct than picking someone up bridal style.

-She initially threatens to execute you, though it seems more reflexive than an actual serious threat. You knew better obviously, but you put her down for now.

-This was doing nothing to stop you from doing this in the future of course, much to her chagrin. Doubly so if the rest of S.E.E.S happened to see you do this. She's at a loss for words as the panic sets in.

-If you want the best reactions, do it away from prying eyes. Her face will turn almost as red as her hair before she eventually settles into it, embracing your warmth and presence with a sigh of content. She feels safe with you, more than with anyone else.

[atopvisenyashill]

i was gonna do another hater post about all the characters i hate the most but i actually think i want to relisten to parts of affc first bc i’ve been rushing through it bc it’s a library hold and i don’t think i’ve fully invested in being outraged at how dumb some of the people cersei jaime and brienne interact with lol. i think my top 5 would remain unchanged tho it would be:

Alyn Velaryon. All the faults of every single Valyrian man and none of the rizz.

Orys Baratheon. We don’t know how he died so I’m still praying Argella strangled him in his sleep, personally.

Littlefucker. Man doesn’t have a single interesting reason for why he’s such a creep, oh i’m middle class, oh the girl i lusted after that never showed any interest in me married someone else so now i have to start a war so i can groom her daughter. fire up the penis flattener and get this man off my screen.

Otto Hightower. This man is Tywin if Tywin was dumb as a box of rocks and had a less cool aesthetic.

Archmaester Gyldayn. writes a tome of history and then uses like three secondhand sources which include the Henry Kissinger of Westeros, the Lee Atwater of Westeros, and Rhaenyra’s favorite Bill Burr esque shock comedian. HACK AND A FRAUD TAKE HIS CHAINS AWAY.

[salty-dracon]

It’s absolutely wild going through a stream of Octopath 2 and seeing all those little things that connect to the wider plot that you missed on the first run because how the hell were you supposed to know? You didn’t know the whole plot yet.

A short list that may grow with time:

- The object that was stolen by the Blacksnakes in Throne’s opening failed job was a staff, which is never mentioned again until later in the story, when Ori mentions Claude gave her a staff. (I think.) Meaning it was the Darkblood Staff.

- You can see Ori in the scene where Osvald is sentenced to Frigit Isle. (Of course, you wouldn’t know it was her then- you don’t see her until Partitio Chapter 2.)

- Mindt. I’m just watching you.

- Tanzy prays to a Goddess, but as The Big Main God is a man, it’s a little weird that she never specifies which goddess. That’s your hint that the goddess she worships is someone else entirely.

[delicatenightfury]

Star of the Mountain: Chapter 3

Warnings: fluff, angst, canon-level violence, spoilers for the Hobbit films

Pairing: OC x Thorin Oakenshield

Beta'd By: @mistys-blerbz

Author's Note: please do not steal my work! I do not own the Hobbit or the characters, but I do own my OCs and the parts of the plot that are not part of the movies. I have worked very hard on this fic. Please be respectful and do not steal.

Please comment, reblog, and like!

Masterlist - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

“Stay together,” Gandalf said before running.

“Move!” Thorin ordered. He waited until half of the company ran past him before he started to run as well. The elf sisters brought up the rear of the company, making sure no one fell behind. 

The company was doing their best to avoid being seen by the orc pack, though it was proving to be a challenge with the lack of cover. The area had many large boulders scattered around, but distances between them were further than desired. There were several times they were almost caught. They just prayed that their luck held long enough for them to get to safety.

Thorin slowed as he rounded a large boulder, catching sight of the pack as they chased Radagast. However, several company members hadn’t noticed Thorin’s speed change and almost ran into the open.

“Ori, no!” Thorin shouted, grabbing hold of the dwarf’s pack. He pulled the young dwarf back. “Get back.”

Gandalf peaked around the corner, waiting for an opening. Once he saw one, he again began giving orders.

“All of you, come on!” he said. “Come on. Quick.”

“Where are you leading us?”

Thorin looked up at Gandalf as the company passed in front of them. Instead of responding, the grey wizard continued on. Thorin growled lowly, but followed.

They kept their eyes on the pack, noticing that they were getting closer. Gandalf led them behind another large rock. It wasn’t the best place for shelter, but they didn’t have many options. Thorin looked down the line and saw Oreliell’s eyes look up and widen. He followed her gaze. An orc appeared on top of their hiding place, looking over the surrounding area. While it did not know their exact location, the creature was still too close for any sort of comfort.

Thorin looked at Kili and nodded to his nephew’s bow. Kili quietly drew an arrow, taking a calming breath. After a moment, he stepped into the open, revealing himself and firing. The arrow lodged itself into the warg’s neck, causing it to snarl in pain. Before the orc could sound the alarm, Kili fired another arrow, bringing the pair down. The dwarves were about to move forward to finish the job when Vedis stepped forward. She pulled out her blade and sliced through the warg’s throat, followed quickly by the orc’s. Despite their quick deaths, the creatures were quite loud in their final moments, drawing attention to the company’s hiding place.

“Move!” Gandalf cried at the sound of warg’s howling. “Run!”

The company took off again, this time not even bothering to hide. They followed after Gandalf, now hoping that they at least made it out alive. 

“There they are!”

“This way! Quickly!”

They continued over another path, only to stop at the sight of several orcs in front of them.

“There’s more coming!”

“Kili! Shoot them!”

“We’re surrounded!”

The orc pack had gathered around the company, caging them. Despite their strength and weapons, they were indeed surrounded with no way out. Kili continued to fire arrows, taking out any orc that got too close.

“Where’s Gandalf?” someone shouted.

The dwarves and hobbit looked around, discovering that their wizard had seemingly vanished.

“He’s abandoned us,” Dwalin cursed.

“Hold your ground!” Thorin ordered, pulling out his new sword. He refused to back down to a pack of orc filth, surrounded or not.

Around him, the others pulled out their weapons as well. Thorin looked around quickly to get a sense of where everyone was in comparison to the pack.

“This way, you fools!”

Thorin looked back to find Gandalf once again disappearing into the rocks.

“Come on, move!” he ordered. He didn’t know what the wizard was plotting, or where he was hiding them, but he didn’t have much of a choice. If he wanted to live, he would have to trust Gandalf. “Quickly! All of you!”

One by one, the men jumped into the secret passage, sliding to safety. Thorin stayed at the surface, making sure everyone made it. Oreliell and Vedis stood at the base of the rocks, acting as a barrier between the dwarves and the orcs, though some did manage to slip through. Thorin swung his sword at a warg, slicing into its neck with ease. Thorin didn’t look at the creature as it fell, needing to keep his eyes on the rest of the approaching scum. Soon, only Kili remained, still too far out for Thorin’s liking.

“Kili!” he shouted to his nephew. “Run!”

The young prince turned and ran for the tunnel. Thorin scanned the area again, his eyes widening when he saw one of the wargs charging at Kili. Before he could even call for his nephew, Vedis shot forward. She ran past Kili, blade drawn at her side. Just before she came in contact with the orc rider, she knelt down and sliced at the warg’s legs. The creature stumbled and collapsed, giving Vedis the opportunity to kill both it and its orc rider.

Kili tried to look back at her but was pushed toward the opening by Oreliell. The archer hesitated only briefly before following Fili down the hole. Thorin’s feet felt like metal as he debated on jumping. Oreliell shot a look at him.

“Go!” she shouted. “We’re right behind you!”

With a nod, Thorin jumped down, landing squarely on the stone floor.

Suddenly, a distant horn sounded, catching all of their attention. The company looked up, but were unable to see what was happening above them. Cries and grunts were heard, as well as blades crashing, but they were still in the dark. Thorin couldn’t help but wonder where Oreliell and Vedis were in the midst of those noises. 

A minute later, an orc came tumbling down the passage, landing at their feet with an arrow in its neck. When it didn’t move, Thorin stepped forward, ripping the arrow free to examine who had attacked the pack.

“Elves,” he spat, recognizing the arrow tips. The dwarf looked at Gandalf, ready to give the old man an earful.

“I cannot see where the pathway leads!” Dwalin suddenly said. He was already scouting ahead. “Do we follow it or no?”

“Follow it, of course!” Bofur said.

They were eager to get away from the orcs, whether they were alive or not.

“I think that would be wise,” Gandalf muttered.

They followed the stone passage. Some of the dwarves were almost too large to fit through some of the sections, but with the help of the others, they made it through.

Thorin’s head spun. He was still trying to process that someone had discovered the meaning behind their journey, as well as their destination. Someone had sent orcs after them, for Mahal’s sake. He didn’t know who could have said anything; there were few people in the world that Thorin trusted.

Not to mention the fact that Oreliell and Vedis had appeared almost out of nowhere and saved their lives twice in the last several hours. Where had they come from? Why had they helped? Of course, they had done so in the past, but it was still a shock.

“There’s light ahead,” Dwalin eventually announced.

Another minute and the company was stepping back into the open. They found themselves on a small cliffside with a path leading downwards. Before them, however, lay a sight that Thorin was none too pleased about.

“The Valley of Imladris!” Gandalf announced, naming the view in front of them. “In the common tongue, it’s known by another name.”

“Rivendell,” Bilbo whispered.

“Here lies the last Homely House east of the sea.”

Thorin approached Gandalf, trying to contain his anger and his voice.

“This was your plan all along,” he said. “To seek refuge with our enemy.”

“You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield,” the wizard replied. “The only ill will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself.”

“You think the elves will give our quest their blessing? They will try to stop us.”

“Of course they will. But we have questions that need to be answered.” He paused to study Thorin. “If Oreliell or Vedis were here and suggesting the same thing, would you have the same resistance?” Thorin glared at the wizard. He wanted to argue, but he knew that Gandalf was right. They had a map they couldn’t read and the elves of Rivendell could be their chance to finding the hidden entrance into Erebor. Gandalf nodded, as if he knew he had won their argument. “If we are to be successful, this will need to be handled with tact. And respect. And no small degree of charm. Which is why you will leave the talking to me.”

After a confirming nod from Thorin, the company started down the stone path. Thorin led the way after Gandalf. However, that did not stop some of the commentary behind him from reaching his ears.

“I knew those elves were no good. They ran at the first sign of trouble.”

“It’s for the best. They could have been spies, trying to stop us from reaching Erebor.”

“Thieves. Assassins maybe.”

“Trying to win our favor in exchange for Mahal knows what.”

“Our resources, our weapons. Erebor’s treasures, perhaps!” 

“Pretending to know Thorin. Please! Like he would even think about befriending-”

Thorin quickly turned around to face his company. Those directly behind nearly stumbled as they came to a stop, trying to avoid bumping into one another. Thorin narrowed his eyes at several of the dwarves.

“I will hear no more of these words,” he growled. “While I do not care for elves, Oreliell and Vedis are two that I trust with my life. I will not have you questioning them or their motives. They have helped us since they arrived and I would welcome their strength in our ranks. If you disagree with my decision, you may return to the Blue Mountains.”

He scanned over the dwarves for any kind of objection. When he received none, he started down the path again. The company followed a few moments later, putting a little distance between themselves and their leader. Thorin’s shoulders were tense as he walked and didn’t seem to get better the closer they got to Rivendell. 

Now his mind was drifting back to the sisters.

They had been left behind, above ground, with a pack of orcs and a group of elves. He knew they were more than capable of handling themselves, but it still didn’t stop his worry. Were they injured? Had they been taken by the orc pack? Did they join the elves? There were so many questions and not enough answers.

Thorin had to remind himself to be patient. Oreliell had said they would be behind the company. He had to trust that she would keep her word and that the two of them were following them. Even if they had to be in Rivendell, Thorin would be a bit more relaxed knowing that they were there.

He shook his head. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed the two until they had reappeared.

Gandalf led them across a bridge and to a landing platform, which appeared to be an entrance to the elven house. While the rest of the company continued to look around in wonder, Thorin and Dwalin exchanged glances; a silent conversation to keep an eye out.

“Mithrandir!”

The group turned toward the stairs to see an elf approaching. He placed his hand to his chest in greeting.

“Ah, Lindir,” Gandalf greeted.

“Stay sharp,” Thorin whispered to Dwalin.

Lindir spoke in his native tongue, which bothered several of the dwarves.

“I must speak with Lord Elrond,” Gandalf said.

“My Lord Elrond is not here.”

“Not here? Where is he?”

Before Lindir could respond, an elvish horn sounded. Everyone turned back toward the path they had come down, noticing a group on horseback approaching. When Thorin noted that they were not slowing down, he immediately went on alert.

“Ifridî bekâr!” he shouted, moving into a position where he could defend his kin. “Close ranks!” (translation: /Ready weapons!\)

The rest of the company moved, forming a tight circle to protect themselves. Thorin and his nephews were pushed more toward the middle, which irritated them, but made sense; someone was trying to kill them. Better to be safe. The elves rode in and began to circle them on their horses. Thorin kept his grip on his sword, ready for a fight. 

“Gandalf!” an older elf greeted. Gandalf greeted him, speaking in elvish and nodding his head. The two exchanged words in elvish. Thorin understood little of what they were saying, other than something about orcs coming from the south. Elrond dismounted his horse so he could embrace Gandalf. “Strange for orcs to come so close to our borders. Something, or someone, has drawn them near.”

“Ah, that may have been us.”

Elrond finally took in the company, his eyes falling to Thorin. The dwarf king stepped forward, his friends staying close behind him.

“Welcome, Thorin, son of Thrain.”

“I do not believe we have met,” Thorin replied, barely trying to keep his tone poliet.

“You have your grandfather’s bearing. I knew Thror when he ruled under the mountain.”

“Indeed. He made no mention of you.” Thorin cared little if he stood before an elven lord.

Elrond smirked slightly. He spoke again in elvish; Thorin was lucky to understand more this time around. The elf spoke of wine and food.

“What is he saying?” Gloin growled. “Does he offer us insults?”

Before the rest of the company could riot, Gandalf reassured them.

“No, Master Gloin, he’s offering you food.”

The dwarves turned to each other to debate, yet only did so briefly.

“Ah, well, in that case, lead on.”

Thorin gave Gandalf a small glare before he looked at Balin. The older dwarf shrugged but seemed to be for the idea. Thorin sighed and looked at Lord Elrond.

“Lead the way then.”

Elrond nodded and began to wave toward the stairs when he paused. Gandalf looked like he was about to question the elven lord when he too looked over the heads of the company. Thorin did the same, trying to figure out what they were looking at. In the distance, a horse was approaching, coming down the same path the company had come down before. From the look of it, there were two riders.

Elrond gave an order to his elves, causing them to move to the sides to allow the horse passage. Thorin stood a little straighter when he recognized the first rider.

“Vedis?” he said, moving forward.

Vedis pulled the horse to a stop, allowing Elrond and Thorin to safely approach. She swung down before carefully helping down the second figure, who let out a sharp hiss and gripped her side.

“Oreliell!”

The woman lifted her head at Thorin’s voice, offering him a smile.

“Hello, Thorin,” she said. “Good to see you guys made it.” She hissed again. “Think we can get some Athelas for this?”

[nerdyenby]

Blue time :D I’m watching Shelby

Thank you Shelby!! Hair is normal and it’s so weird that society tries to make afab people feel bad for how their body naturally exists

Shelby talking about needing a reminder to take her vitamin D when I’ve been out of mine for over a week now 👀

STARLORD!!!! Oh my gosh, I just remembered I’m seeing gotg3 this weekend

Blue’s skins for this event are so cute I could freaking explode

When will my husband (buildmart) return from the war (hiatus)???

MCC is about the vibes first and foremost, if you’re not in it for a good time then why are you here lmao??

Wait when was there a 3-player team???

Shelby’s chat is so silly and for what (me not knowing who that was either)

Yeah no, they do sound alike, I didn’t think they did but ummm yeah

I too forget meltdown exists lol

“I didn’t vote, oh my gosh, I’m a bad ciziten” I can’t believe you Dave, smh

Grid Runners

A bit rough but it was such a smooth grid runners overall

They did so good on the Minecraft one!!!

Dave trying to craft a daylight sensor with their minecraft in Spanish 😭

I feel like this is a good sot team, why do they want it so early??

Parkour Warrior

This team is so chill until Shelby just starts screaming lol

“I can’t do that one- that’s not even parkour, that’s like mind games and I have a small brain” Dave 😂

“You got 30 seconds, no pressure” I love False

“I played so bad, how is that number one?? These guys honestly need to step up, I played horribly” we stan a humble/self-deprecating king

Dave calling out Fruit’s hypocrisy, as he should!!

Did I know Shelby has adhd? I’m not sure if I did tbh, we’re literally the same person tho

That fox dissociated into the afterlife, same dude

Sands of Time

Dave sandkeeper arc my beloved

Dave’s saying all the right things, be more confident, man

Why didn’t Shelby get that sand??

“I’m coming for you, sir” Dave what is that voice????

Why are they so flustered?? This team has experience and are all strong sot-ers, they just need someone to take charge

Shelby you need to rush red vault, everyone else is busy, you got this queen

Fruit praying to the timer and giving the gold key as an offering 😂

Trust yourself Shelby, you had it, you just need to believe in yourself

“I like [sandkeeping] because all I have to do is talk the whole time which is… what I do anyways” Dave my beloved

Ace Race

*Giving Shelby all my asexuality* “now have him home by 8”

REAL!! Ace race is so hard to commentate

Tridents broken, real and true

Purple is stacked, fear them

Identity theft?? In my minecraft tournament???? /j

Halftime show my beloved

Meltdown

The most polite power negotiation in history

They are merely cruising

It’s the bare minimum but people actually using both sets of pronouns for Ranboo means way too much to me as a fellow he/they

NOOOO

That was such a tragic way to go :((

Dave popping off!! As she should!!!

It’s easy for them!!!

Dave going absolutely insane and Fruit just sounding so concerned 😂

“This is my game, baby!!” YEAH IT IS!!!

“Dave you’re so insane!!” “I don’t know what I’m on today, I’m just three beers deep” “I like it! Wait, beers?” “Who said that? Not me” I swear I could hear the 👀 in Dave’s voice

Blue 2nd and Dave 2nd individual!!!

Battle Box

I’m so ready for them to pop off

Oh that first round was so smooth!!!

“They’re a piñata” IM WHEEZING

Aimsey and Shelby screaming their love for each other my beloved

“I kinda love this map” “Yeah, I could see how people could hate this map” real

“Our comms make no sense but they work” seriously, they’re killing it!!

Dave is such a good igl, I’m glad they’re leaning into it :))

Good calls on better comms False :)

“Ori” 😭😭😭

That’s was sooooo close against cyan, my goodness

Gosh this event was SO close

Sky Battle

“Mr. Fruit ridge over here” the temptation to make a gay joke is nearing max capacity

“I was reviewing the map ‘cause I’m a dork” I love her, you don’t understand, Dave Krtzy my beloved

False advocating for hermit on hermit violence, as she should lol

Dave popping off!! He’s insane!!!

“Alright, new plan for me: not miss the jump” I love you False

Shelby’s death was so sad what

That second round territory battle was so tense, sad how much it threw them off though

Good eyes and good comms, rip to lime but blue handled that sneak attack like absolute champs

Fruit popping off???? Not unexpected by any means, but it was so chaotic and he was just running around like ‘mhm yep and dead’ what a king

Dave and Fruit holding hands, real

Dave only has banger opinions, MCC is about the silly goofy first and foremost

Not the AirPods 😭😭😭

Hole in the Wall

“Whatever happens, we did great” “Whatever happens, I love you guys” what is this, the finale battle to defeat the Firelord???? /lh I love them

They’re too in the zone to do meaningless things like so called ‘bodily functions’

Oh the way Shelby went out was so tragic, she bounced and slipped all the way off the edge ;-;

“Purple! No- I wish I never said that, I’m shutting up” Shelby 😭

NOOOOOO why does Shelby always go out in the saddest ways

“We did our best” real and true!!

Dave s-tier real and true!!! If you disagree you hate nonbinary people /j

Dodgebolt

I think they’re getting confused on who’s saying “purple” vs “Purpled” lol

“This is what [All Stars] should’ve been” Shelby spitting absolute facts

Gumi insane!!!

False changing sides just as her new pick loses rip

Ah yes, reverse psychology on reality as we know it

“I have faith in Purpled, which probably means he’s gonna miss these… yep”

GGs, great team, great time

[ile-ase-obilowo-obaluaye]

That is the pot of the egbe the comrade of heaven

Egbe means society and this is because every human being

has a spiritual double in

the sky. This society is known as egbe and is formed by Egbe

aiye (egbe on earth)

and Egbe orún (Egbe in the sky). Before leaving the sky for

the earth, egbe aiye and

egbe orun made a pact. This pact stipulates that the

agreements they made together

must be respected and when one of them breaks the pact it

produces a kind of conflict

in the life of the person. That's why when someone is born

abiku (born to die early),

the egbe orun in the sky and his associates remain waiting

for him and hope that he

will return soon, but if the abiku delays, his egbe orun begin

to get restless and to

ask the person to return like they had agreed upon. When

the mother of the abiku

searches for help from a diviner and he discovers that the

child is abiku he begins to

make sacrifices to try and successfully break the pact made

in the sky so that the egbe

orun in the sky will allow the creature to live peacefully on

the earth. Among the

sacrifices to be made, one must search for the way to

venerate the egbe of the

creature, praying that they permit their "protected" to stay

on the earth and if the

divination is in time and the diviners perform the rituals

correctly, the egbe orun of

the baby should end up being convinced to permit the baby

to stay on the earth.

For the rest of humanity the role that Egbe plays is very

important, if the person lives

in harmony and his plans are always realized, it's a sign that

his egbe in the sky is

content with his path taken on the earth. That's why in our

religion it is so important

that all of the important steps that we are going to make, we

ask Orunmila or some

other divinity of the Yoruba pantheon. Even though you

aren”t asking Egbe directly,

the response will always be the result of what they prefer for

us, both our Egbe and

our Ori.

When we are consecrated into Ifa or Ocha, we always have

eewos (prohibitions), of

these eewos can be those that conform to our celestial

diviners but also can form part

of them, what we pact in the sky with our egbe could be

something as simple as

drinking alcohol or how to live in an inadequate place. When

any of the agreements

are broken (without one knowing) our life can turn into a

calvary. That’s why it is

important that we know about this divinity and offer

adequate sacrifices to it in order

to have a more full life. It very good to initiate in egbe orun! Everyone normally have egbe orun! But some people don't even know all this! And our egbe orun also helps us! Like sometime when you notice that you are commonly lost something,etc

Dm for more info

WhatsApp and call

+2347066991683

Instagram @ile-ase-obilowo-obaluaye

Muso! Muso!! Muso!!!🐓📿🙏📿🌴🕊☄🎊

Àṣẹ 🙏🙏

[antarcticadown]

ON RELIGION ;

cameron does not consider himself religious.  in part,  it’s because he defies the definition of the word as taught to him by his grandmother and community growing up.  he grew up attending church on sundays and listening to his grandmother’s impromptu sermons at home,  such that to some degree the christian mythology is ingrained in his core.  thanks to his grandmother and his own ability to memorize,  cameron can just about quote the bible as well as any preacher,  but he wouldn’t actually profess to believe in god or the words written between those pages.  he has no tolerance,  however,  for the hellfire-preaching brand of christianity,  nor for the purists and extremists who wield religion as the justification for their prejudices. this is all too often how he defines religion.

he finds himself coming back to it,  however,  time and time again.  he’ll find himself quoting those words,  or those of his grandmother,  and they define more of how he sees the world than he realizes.

while the church itself and everything about how cam was brought up  to define ‘god’ and religion and belief all utterly fail to resonate with him,  cameron,  in his own ways,  does believe.  it’s a quieter belief.  there’s no sunday worship or demonstrations of devotion.  no psalms repeated or sermons heeded.  he doesn’t turn to the bible in times of need,  nor seek solace in a faith in christ,  in god,  in the holy spirit.  he is not religious,  but he is,  in a way,  spiritual.  he possesses and unflagging reverence for the universe,  an respect for life and all that is wonderful in our existence,  an appreciation for something that goes beyond the mundane.  he has no word for it,  and certainly is unlikely  ( save in times most severe )  to term it ‘god.’ however, whether it’s some cosmic entity behind reality as we know it,  or the universe itself,  he perceives the universe as greater than the sum of its parts,  and there is something out there,  something greater.

this conviction,  for all he will never express it aloud,  also leads cameron to value the beliefs of others far more strongly than he has any cause to.  one example of this is his concern for the sodan and the impending loss of their beliefs,  their traditions,  their ways,  to the ori.  their culture means nothing to him as an individual  ( he has only just met them,  and they are preparing to execute him in a fight to the death ),  and yet he cherishes it,  fears the loss of it,  and is prepared to do everything in his power to encourage the sodan to stand up and defend it.  he has no concern for his own survival,  only for the survival of their culture.  that is not the passion of a man who lacks conviction in something greater himself,  who sees the world as nothing more than what we see.

though he’ll never admit it,  he does pray.  at his worst,  when he is most desperate or his faith is most shaken,  he’ll address it to the god he,  to some extent,  feels that he should believe in.  the god his grandmother and his parents would pray to.  usually,  its unaddressed,  a thought set out into the universe with a glance cast skyward.  these prayers are never spoken,  never long.  usually,  they are little more than a request for strength,  or for the safety and well-being of someone dear to him.

[hjellacott]

The term TERF is simply stupid (and it's completely absurd to think otherwise).

You can't be a Trans-Exclusionary Radical Feminist, just like you can't be a White-Exclusionary BLM activist, a Straight-Exclusionary lesbian, or a Cis-Exclusionary Trans activist. The reason is that these are focus groups, meaning, collectives that put the FOCUS on a category that's under threat, that needs a bit of an extra nudge, extra protection. Being a feminist doesn't mean you're excluding anyone, it just means you're FOCUSING on feminist, femme-related, female, problems, activism, issues, laws, and so on.

It's like, would you criticise BLM because they don't talk anything about white people's issues? No. Because it's fucking ABSURD. That's not what the group is for. Therefore, why the hell would you criticise Feminism for not talking about issues about people that do not, by their own choice, identify as females? Feminists aren't excluding trans people, trans people exclude themselves by not identifying as females. It's all in the prefix "fem". Much like Men are "excluded" from feminism by... not being females? Have you even met many trans people who identify as feminists?

And being "excluded" doesn't actually mean being excluded. Like, nobody is telling anyone you can't be an activist of that thing, fight for that thing, and support that thing. BLM activism is FULL of white allies who want to help and make it better for them. Feminism is FULL of men who have some empathy for their female friends, wives, daughters, or just females in general, and want to support them. LGBT activism and collectives are also FULL of straight people who want to support and help. And Transgender activism is full of non-trans individuals who simply want to support. So actually, none of these collectives exclude anyone.

Collectives exist to focus on a certain population, and do not need anyone whining about why they're not included. Like, can you imagine how stupid it would be for straight people to whine about LGB activism not fighting for straight individuals' goals? how incredibly absurd it'd be for white people to whine that BLM doesn't say a word about white people's rights? In fact, you don't even have to imagine it. When people began saying White Lives Matter, we all hated them with passion and criticised them.

But somehow the absurdity of calling someone Terf is OK. And let me ask you, why should a female, in a collective called FEMINISM, be discussing trans rights? Like, what the fuck they've got to do with that? That's not to say that a feminist cannot be caring about trans lives or black lives or whatever, because feminists tend to be in more groups or collectives than simply feminism. So a feminist will focus on female stuff in their feminist activism, then go to their BLM activism and focus on black lives, then go to their LGB activism, and focus on fighting for gays, lesbians and bisexuals, and then go to their trans rights activism and fight for those. Like, I don't go to a protest about BLM with a giant poster saying "you can't pray away the gay", you know what I mean? You have to do each thing in its place.

If you don't identify as female, why, oh why, would you expect FEMINISM, a collective that per definition, focuses on female stuff, to be discussing your rights? you wouldn't expect gay rights to be discussed in BLM activism, would you? Another matter is when feminism sometimes discusses BLM, because the experiences of POC women are often ignored, and are often drastically, different from white women's experiences, so in some collectives, some issues might intertwine. Putting myself as an example to make things a bit clearer, I'm a feminist, an immigrant where I live, and bisexual. Also, I support BLM, and being a leftist, also democracy, freedom of religion, and so on. But if I'm making a post about a racist attack in my city, for example, I'm not going to be adding some paragraph talking about the importance of respecting people's sexual orientation, because it just doesn't fit there. And as much as I support trans lives, I'm not going to be discussing them in feminism, because it doesn't go there, and it's important to give each thing it's space to FOCUS on that thing, to give them a full stage, not a quarter of it. That's why we have so many different activism collectives.

And the same happens with protests on the street. Easy example. The other day I went to an NHS protest. A couple days earlier I went to a protest for the right to protest. I wasn't bringing NHS banners to my right to protest march, and I wasn't bringing feminists banners to my NHS protest. Logically. Similarly, I won't bring transgender banners to my feminist protests. I might bring lesbian banners, because lesbianism and feminism go hand-in-hand, or female BLM banners, but that's about it.

Complaining that one doesn't go to a feminist meeting to talk about trans rights activism, and calling us terfs, is simply a way to try to demonise feminism and demonise women. It's a way to support female erasure. It's pretty much like calling a feminist, misogynistic against men. And it's specially appalling and stupid when you consider that trans people run away from identifying as females, and from the idea of sex, both of which are KEY to feminism (as feminism is about sex-based oppression). Like, how would you feel if we went to meetings focusing on getting trans rights and we started talking about feminist problems?

So of course I laugh when I get called a Terf, because I find it as incredibly absurd as if I was called racist against the whites for supporting BLM.

If you don't want to be considered female, don't complain when your problems aren't discused in feminist meetings and collectives. And besides, some trans problems are discussed in feminism. For example, one of feminism's fights is about spreading awareness about female health, related to female sexual organs, which inevitably affects trans men (who haven't transitioned), therefore including trans people to an extent.

[justsomeectoplasm]

If someone tries to trap ori children, they can just meditate back home right???

Yeah. Ori children got a cheat move in this world and it is meditation.

What? You thought the little ori child you captured was just praying or meditating to keep their mind clear? SIKE. YOU GOT PLAYED.

[obsidiancreates]

As My Friend Has Stood By Me, So Shall I (Part 11)

Bofur sighs, leaning against the wall and looking out over the landscape. It's a very nice day, the sun shining down but not blazing, the grass around the mountain beginning to peek out of the ground. It's finally healing, or at least Bofur likes to think it is.

He hears someone muttering on the other side of the wall, and looks over. Bilbo is opposite to where Bofur stands, too far away for Bofur to hear anything the hobbit is saying. But Bilbo has his face lifted to the sun, an a small smile on his face, so Bofur decides to leave him be.

They haven't really talked since that day in the hoard. Bofur's been busy, and Bilbo... well, he's been...

Bofur doesn't know, actually. Bilbo's been around, but not really... doing anything. Which he deserves, certainly. The hobbit has done enough heroics and useful deeds to last the rest of his lifetime. But he hasn't been spending much with with The Company, either, which is a bit of a surprise.

Bofur watches Bilbo for a moment and then turns, but doesn't completely take his focus off of his friend. He keeps Bilbo in the corner of his vision, enjoying seeing his friend so at peace.

Until Bilbo stiffens.

Bofur turns just a little, just barely enough to get a better look at Bilbo.

The hobbit has his hand in his pocket now. Bofur watches him take something out of it, but he's too far away to tell what. Bilbo leans on the wall with his elbows, further hiding the object from Bofur's sight as it's hidden behind the raised part of the stone wall.

Bilbo says something, so quietly that Bofur only knows he spoke because of the movement of Bilbo's mouth. Not even a syllable reaches Bofur's ears.

He watches Bilbo's expression twitch, confusion settling over him. He watches Bilbo tilt his head a little, and mutter something else.

It goes like this for a while, Bilbo seeming to debate with himself about something while holding this mystery item.

And then Bilbo's confusion turns to steely determination.

Bofur watches Bilbo stand up straight, and go right up to the edge of the wall. Bilbo's fist is clenched tight, and he cocks his arm back. Bofur realizes with some strange twist of delight that Bilbo is about to throw whatever the item is as far as he possibly can.

And, based on what Dwalin said about Bilbo's skill at throwing rocks into the skulls of Orcs up on Ravenhill, that item is going to go flying.

"Good on you, Bilbo," Bofur mumbles, smiling and pulling his pipe out of his jacket. Maybe they can have a celebratory smoke afterwards. Whatever the thing is, it's clearly caused Bilbo a lot of stress. Sometimes the best thing to do with something more Stressful than it is Sentimental is to just chuck it.

Bilbo throws his arm forward with all his might-

And doesn't open his fist.

Bilbo blinks, and steps back. He huffs, and tries again.

Still won't open his hand.

Ah, Bofur thinks. Second thoughts, last-minute doubts. But he's sure Bilbo will-

He doesn't chuck it very far. All Bilbo manages it a dinky little toss, and whatever was in his hand goes over the side of the wall and down to the-

"NO!" Bilbo's face crumples in panic and regret, and he scrabbles to try and grab it, leaning over the side of the wall, leaning too far-

"BILBO!" Bofur sprints over to his friend and tries to grab him, but it's too late!

Bilbo slips over the edge of the wall, screaming as he plummets into the moat!

Bofur is frozen in shock for a moment, and then remembers one bone-chilling fact he'd learned early on in the journey.

Hobbit's can't swim.

He sprints down to the gate and out to the moat and prays he's fast enough.

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

Bilbo leaves the breakfast with a smile on his face and his belly full and content in a way it hasn't been since he first left The Shire. He memory of Thorin's warm laughter, open smile... oh, it was all just perfect.

"Oh, Mister Bilbo." Ori smiles as they pass each other in the hall. "You look happy."

"I had a very good morning," Bilbo replies, giving a warm smile to the young dwarf. "How was yours?"

"Good too. I fixed a few of these of books-" he holds up some freshly rebound tomes, "-outside today."

"Outside?"

"It was better lighting than we have in the library yet. Still getting around to getting all the lamps in order." Ori looks back the way he came from. "You might like it, Mister Bilbo. Very sunny."

"Hmm." Bilbo looks down the hall, and nods. "You know what, I think I will get a little sunshine. Thank you, Ori."

They part ways, and Bilbo heads up to the wall. He briefly notes Bofur on the other side, but the dwarf seems to be enjoying himself, so Bilbo chooses not to interrupt.

He closes his eyes and sighs, tilting his face up to the sun. "Finally starting to feel like home," he mutters to himself, soaking up the warm rays.

Home, home. Even though he'd decided to stay, he hadn't been sure he could ever think of it as home. But today is proving him wrong. Good friends, good food, warm sunshine, everything he could need. And some new clothes soon, maybe. It'll be nice to wear something other than the ragged scraps left from his original traveling outfit.

Maybe he could even have some adjustments made to his wardrobe. His trousers aren't really designed to hold a scabbard like they've been doing since he got Sting, so maybe his next ones could be better designed for that. And something that bunched up less over his Mithril shirt. As ridiculous as he feels wearing it, after the Battle he's not very keen on the idea of taking it off.

Maybe his next waistcoat can be made to better cover the Mithril, as well. So it's not so obvious. Or at least could be designed in a way to make the shirt a little less stark against his regular clothes. And maybe the next one could have some flatter buttons, so as not to risk...

Pressed between two stone walls, his heart racing and his breaths far too loud in the otherwise silent cave. He hears it pursuing him, screaming, begging for it's Preci-

It sees him. Crawls towards him, seething, and the buttons are still stuck. He feels sure he's going to pass out, from either panic or from the pressure of being stuck in such a thin space.

"It's... OURS! IT'S... OURSSS!"

The buttons finally give, just as he's sure his heart is about to give first! He tumbles through the crack, falling on his back. The ring slips out of his hand and up into the air, and he reaches up to grab it.

Why doesn't he just give it back? Why can't he just give it back?

It almost seems to defy gravity, moving around his desperately fluttering fingertips like it's trying to fall-

It slips onto one of his fingers effortlessly, like it was always meant to be there.

He blinks out of the memory, his fingers brushing against the cool metal in his pocket, a feeling as familiar as breathing itself by now.

He pulls The Ring out, holding it in his palm and leaning against the wall. "... You shouldn't have gotten on my finger."

It lays silent in his hand, even the whispers absent from his ears. He tilts his head, trying to catch any faint voices, but none are there.

Somehow it's more unusual than if he could hear whispers.

"It shouldn't have been possible. You should have just dropped."

Still silent.

"Why did Gollum love you so much?" He traces the edge of The Ring with his finger. "He had no use for invisibility. He didn't even think of it until I said he lost."

"Why do I love you so much?"

Still and silent. Something twists in his chest.

"Maybe I'm just making something out of nothing," he mutters. "... But there is something odd about you."

"Well, of course there is, you're magic."

"But why does you being magic make me dismiss all the other strange things about you?"

"Who knows how magic works, really."

"But certainly magic that makes me... feel... and... do... what happened in Mirkwood..."

"But that creature might've attacked."

"But it didn't."

"But we were just-"

Bilbo freezes, and it feels like the world fall away.

"We?" The word comes out a wheeze.

...

...

...

Bilbo sets his jaw, and straightens up. He steps closer to the wall, The Ring gripped tight in his hand. He pulls his arm back, eyes set on the horizon. He jerks his arm, a throw that would send even the heaviest rock soaring-

His fist is still closed, The Ring safely tucked inside.

He steps back and huffs. So that's how it's going to be. He tries again. It remains nestled in his palm.

"Right," he growls. He steps as close to the wall as he can, and this time, just barely moves his arm.

The Ring slips out of his grasp and down to the moat below. Bilbo watches it, watches accursed thing tumble down through the air to fall into the water and never been seen again, never be held again, worn again never be his again-

"NO!"

His inside twist and his resolves crumples. Panic seizes him so tightly that he can't breathe, and he finds himself leaning over the wall and trying to grab it but it keeps falling and he leans further and further he can't let it get away he can't let it get away HE CAN'T LOSE IT-

He thinks he hears someone scream his name, but he can't be sure because all of a sudden he's aware that he's leaned too far.

A scream rips out of him as he tumbles over the wall after The Ring, and crashes into the cold water.

The second-to-last he knows before everything fades away is the feeling of cool, sleek metal, and gripping it like his life depends on it.

The last he knows is bone-deep relief.

And then... nothing.

[beauregardlionett]

hold on or let go

Dorian blinked against the hit he took, grunting as he found his footing and shaking off the daze. How this group ended up in so many fights so close together, he would probably never know. It wasn’t getting old, per say, but it was getting exhausting. Dorian wondered if they would ever catch a break.

He looked up in time to see Orym get stuck against the wall, feet planted firmly beside the creature’s mouth, shield stuck, and panic warring with determination. Dorian felt his heart skip a beat before it sank into his gut.

Not keen on watching his friend be consumed, Dorian scrambled for a spell that might help, one that wouldn’t hurt Orym. Most of his spells wouldn’t do the kind of damage Dorian wanted, and others were healing spells or things to support his friends to make sure they succeeded. He needed something that would help--

Right. That one.

A memory of a tutor long forgotten, the basics of a spell that would benefit someone of Dorian’s status. He always had a diamond on him.

Without hesitation, Dorian plucked the diamond free of his chest plate and began casting the spell. He held the diamond to his lips and murmured a short incantation, catching the iridescent fragments of light from the nearby street lamps within the prism. With one hand cradling the gem, he performed the quick hand motions with practiced ease, watching as the rainbow fragments grew and brightened, crackled with potential and danger. With a mighty swing of his arm, Dorian hurled the now roiling ball of lightning at the creature.

He watched it with breath stuck in his throat, watched the lightning burrow into the creature and prayed to every deity he’s ever remembered learning about that this would be enough. The wall hesitated, then began twitching, wailing, bleeding. Orym and Imogen scrambled free of its tacky hold, Orym dropping to the ground and yanking his shield along with him.

Those moments between the lightning hitting and the creature dropping felt like a lifetime. Dorian stood at the end of the alley, diamond clutched so tightly in his hand he could feel the sharp points of it digging into his palm.

But it was over. He had dealt the killing blow.

Dorian popped the diamond back into place on his chest plate, pulling his hand through his ruffled hair with a heavy sigh. He watched the girls and F.C.G. start bustling around, looking through the remains of the battle and offering healing where they could.

Another glance around the alley found Orym face down on the ground. Dorian’s heartbeat rocked and skipped against his ribs as he took a fretful step forward. What had he missed? How had the others missed him going down?

As he walked briskly toward Orym’s prone form, Dorian watched him shift and groan before going still again. Not exactly reassuring, but enough proof that Orym was conscious. Dorian could relate to the exhaustion.

He crouched beside his companion and placed a careful hand on Orym’s shoulder. Orym grunted by way of greeting.

“How’re you holding up?” Dorian asked, voice pitched low to not draw attention.

“‘M great,” Orym said, muffled by the way his nose was squished against the cobblestone. Thank the gods this alley was so clean. “Could go another ten rounds.”

Dorian chuckled, a quick, fond huff of air as he pat Orym’s shoulder as lightly as possible.

“Sure buddy,” Dorian agreed as he cast a minor healing spell.

“Thanks,” Orym slurred against the stones as the healing pulsed through him in a burst of warmth. “Appreciate it.”

“Anytime.”

Dorian looked up as new voices clamored over one another at the mouth of the alley. Their spectacle had finally drawn curious eyes and ears their way, and Dorian sighed at the thought of putting his mask back in place and performing while covered in blood. But he would do whatever it took to get them out of this situation and somewhere safe they could lick their wounds.

“Guests,” Dorian murmured to Orym, hand still on his shoulder. “We should probably get you upright.”

“You mean I have to get up?” Orym said, sounding for all the world petulant and miserable. Dorian was half amused and half concerned by it.

“Sorry, friend,” Dorian said, giving Orym’s uninjured shoulder a light squeeze. “But you’d have to get up so we could go to the tavern at some point.”

Orym sighed gustily against the ground and shifted to stand, groaning and crying out softly as he did. Dorian’s expression shuttered with concern at the sound, realizing just how beat up his dear friend actually was.

“Letters?” Dorian called even as Orym tried to wave away his concern. “Could you help Orym, please?”

“‘M fine, ‘m great,” Orym insisted as he shakily wiped blood from his cheek.

Dorian opened his mouth to protest, but Letters intervened in that gentle, friendly way of theirs. Next thing he knew, Orym was on F.C.G.’s back, half asleep, but at least off the ground. Dorian watched them roll off and absently traced the pad of his thumb over the ridges of the diamond in his chest plate.

These fights were exhausting - for all of them. He wondered if one day, he wouldn’t be enough.

[missfangirll]

Guiding Light

Fandom: Heaven Official’s Blessing / TGCF Rating: General Relationship: Xie Lian/Hua Cheng Tags: fluff, getting together, light h/c, confessions, canon divergence Words: 7566 Summary: Xie Lian suddenly hears someone praying to him.

Read on AO3

For @ori-flails  🥰🥰 Thanks a minion to @stormy-seasons who is an amazing beta reader and in general a wonderful person 😘

- - - - -

Well, I know I had it all on the line But don't just sit with folded hands And become blind 'Cause even when there is no star in sight You'll always be my only guiding light

If I come back and I’m broken Unworthy and ashamed Give me something to believe in And you know I’ll go your way

- - - - -

 When the voice suddenly rings in his head, clear like a bell and loud like a thunderclap, Xie Lian startles so violently he loses his balance, toppling ungraciously from the wooden fence he is perched on.

 In his past life, Xie Lian knew what prayers felt like. They announced themselves with a shivery feeling in the back of his mind, like a shift in the atmosphere before a thunderstorm. The first few times he felt giddy every time it happened, interacting with believers still a new experience, but after a while, after the number of his followers grew and grew, the excitement lessened, and he started to get used to the feeling.

 With the years passing he got quite good at, well, not downright ignoring them, but putting them to the back of his mind to deal with them later. There were just so many, and he had so little time.

 Then, after his second banishment, without followers, without temples, there weren’t any more prayers to listen to, so he slowly got used to the silence, almost didn’t remember a time when it was different.

 So, when he just made himself comfortable on the wooden fence, watching some millipedes in the grass and intending to rest a while, he doesn’t recognise the shivery feeling in the back of his mind, and promptly falls off his seat when someone speaks to him.

 "Crown Prince of Xianle," he hears, "this unworthy servant begs for your support in the following days." Xie Lian is stunned, but before he can even move a finger, the voice continues. "Please, be my guiding light."

 In the sudden silence that follows this heartfelt plea, Xie Lian can hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. That was… odd.

 He waits a few moments, but the voice doesn’t return, and so he shakes his head to clear it a bit, slowly getting to his feet. There was a time when he was used to people asking for his help, his guidance, but these are long-gone memories, nothing to linger on. Someone praying to him, in a temple no less, because prayers only reach the god directly if uttered in a temple, is a now thoroughly unfamiliar experience, and he has to collect his thoughts for a moment.

 The voice wasn’t very specific, only asked for support and guidance, which makes it quite troublesome for Xie Lian to actually be of help. He doesn’t know where the person is, nor what kind of support they expect, and thus can’t really help them.

 He absently rubs his bandaged neck, then hums thoughtfully. It wouldn’t do to just leave the man – for it was a man, although he sounded quite young – to his devices just because he can’t find him. But where could a temple for him actually be? He has never in his wanderings seen a trace of one of his old temples, the people have been very thorough in their purging, and it wouldn’t do to pray in another god’s temple either, so, somewhere in this world, there is someone who seems to still believe in the Crown Prince of Xianle, enough in fact that they built him a temple...

 Xie Lian scratches his head. That search might take a while, so, maybe... Maybe there is an easier way to communicate with the person.

 It takes him almost two months before his plan produces results, and he feels quite jittery in the meantime. His believer has prayed to him a few more times, each time asking for support and guidance, nothing specific enough Xie Lian could actually help with, and not being able to help has driven him quite frantic.

 But now, after weeks of trying, he manages to enter the person’s dreams, intending to find them and talk to them, trying to determine what exactly it is they want from him. The idea of entering a person’s dreams to talk to them isn’t a new one to him, he had done that more than once after his first ascension, still wary then of the Heavenly rules that forbade gods to show themselves to mortals. But for some reason the person he wants to talk to doesn’t seem to sleep, or rather, doesn’t sleep whenever Xie Lian tries to open up the connection.

 So when it finally works one day, he is quite unprepared and more tumbles than walks into the person’s dream. The first thing his eyes fall on when the fog lifts around him is – himself. A statue of himself, to be exact, decorated with flower garlands, standing on a market square. Xie Lian blinks a few times, his mouth hanging slightly open. This is unexpected. Before he can process the sight, however, a shout from behind startles him, making him turn around. Two small boys are chasing each other around outside a small building pressed into a corner, facing the giant statue. Their clothes are ragged, he notices, and their faces grubby, but they seem happy and well-fed.

 “Gege,” he hears the smaller boy yell, panting, “gege, don’t run so fast!”

 The other boy grins as he turns around, a red ribbon in his braid swinging with the motion. “You’re going to have to be faster than that,” he laughs, as he teasingly walks a few steps backwards, facing his little brother. Laughing and yelling, they both turn the corner, out of Xie Lian’s sight.

 Xie Lian smiles. He hasn’t yet found the person he is looking for, though, so he turns around, intent on searching for them, when another shout makes him freeze. This time, it isn’t the happy yelling of kids at play, but a bloodcurdling scream that makes him hasten in the direction it came from. With one look, he takes in the situation on the market square. Directly in front of his statue, a group of soldiers on horseback have come to a halt, in the midst of the chaos a small figure kneeling on the ground, clutching... a body. The boy. Xie Lian starts to run towards them, then remembers where he is. This is a dream, he realises, maybe even a memory, and he won’t be able to interfere with anything he sees. Frozen to the spot, he watches one soldier get off his horse, scrambling to the children, while the others dismount more slowly, driving away the onlookers to make room. The boy on the ground hasn’t moved, motionlessly clutching his brother’s form to his chest, but even from the distance Xie Lian can see the blood. Silently, he takes a few steps back, then sighs and starts to close the connection. If the person he is searching for has this kind of nightmare, they won’t be easy to talk to right now, so it’ll be better to wait until the next opportunity. With a heavy heart, he steps out of the dream.

 The next time he manages to access the person’s dream, it is an even shorter visit. He finds himself in the same small house as the last time. The older boy is there again, crying as he is dragged away from an unmoving silhouette under a blanket, kicking and screaming for his mother. The man holding him just snorts, then strikes the crying child hard across the face, splitting his lip open. In the shocked silence, he says disdainfully, “Stop whining, you little bastard, it’s your fault they’re all dead, you brought bad luck to that house. Thank the gods you’re still alive, maybe they’ll find you useful someday, I certainly don’t.” With another huff he pushes the boy out of the door, the child’s eyes large and watery with fear, his trembling lip bleeding. Xie Lian’s heart clenches. Silently, he leaves the dream.

 The image of that boy doesn’t leave him for a while, a constant presence in his thoughts with his laughter and shining eyes. How he had played with his brother, and how he had screamed for his dead mother. It isn’t fair, he thinks, that such a young child had to endure such torment.

 One day, he finds himself watching children on the streets, happy and carefree, playing and laughing with each other, and is reminded of the small boy from so long ago, the one that fell and was caught. Born under a Star of Solitude, his guoshi had said, and deemed him a bringer of bad luck. Xie Lian snorts at the memory. His own fate hasn’t been much better, has it, so maybe your foretellings are not that accurate, guoshi?

 With another huff, he shoulders his bag again. He has to collect some more scrap before he can return to the abandoned hut he sleeps in, so with a last glance at the playing children, he turns to leave.

 That night, he makes another attempt at reaching out to his follower. The man’s gentle voice in his head has become a constant now, almost daily he hears the now familiar words, always asking for guidance, for support. Never something else, never “give me more money” or “let me find love” or “make my neighbor lose his wealth”, only the same words that made him fall off a fence all that time ago.

 Inhaling deeply, almost as if to brace himself, he enters the connection and opens his eyes to – a battlefield. Deep in the woods, two groups of soldiers are hacking at each other, blood drenching the ground, the smell of death heavy in the air. Looking around, he has to grab at a tree stump to steady himself, because the soldiers’ uniforms look strangely... familiar. They are, he realises – it is his own family’s colors, the soldiers of Xianle. But who are they fighting? Trying to make sense of what he is seeing, Xie Lian considers the disorganised group of opposing soldiers for a moment, before he remembers. Yong’an. These are the citizens of Yong’an, who brought down his home, his city, his country... This has to be one of the last battles, he understands suddenly, after the fall of the city, after everything was lost. He stands in utter shock for a few heartbeats, unable to move. Again, this person is dreaming of something Xie Lian has experienced  himself, if not directly, and it feels like being thrown into his own nightmare. Looking over the dead and dying soldiers of Xianle, trying to find the one he came here for, he has the sudden sense of recognition. One of the soldiers seems familiar, a young man, looking to be in his second decade, grimly swinging a sword – no, it isn’t a sword, Xie Lian realises, and his knees almost give out. It is a sabre. It is really him, the young soldier, whom he had told he should use a sabre instead of a sword, the one who... Xie Lian scrambles to his feet, all thoughts of keeping his distance forgotten. He wants to get to him, maybe he can... But before he even manages three steps, the young soldier suddenly clutches at his chest, the tip of a sword protruding from his back. With a silent exhale, he collapses to his knees, his hand still tight around the sabre. Xie Lian catches him as he slumps down, the soldier’s head lolling on his shoulder, his eyes already closing.

 The last thing Xie Lian sees before the dream fades around him is a small red gemstone embedded on the sabre’s hilt.

 Xie Lian is so violently thrown out from the dream and back into his own mind that he shoots up from the bamboo mat, panting and heaving as if he had run several miles. His breathing calms down after a while, but his mind keeps spinning, his thoughts and emotions in disarray. He has suspected that the one praying is the descendant of a former citizen of Xianle – who else would have remembered him – but it has never occurred to him that the follower himself might be from Xianle, the disaster too long ago, too far in the past. And yet. And yet, the one praying, the one dreaming seems to have been there, seems to have fought the Prince’s battles even when he himself didn’t fight anymore.

 Xie Lian slowly sinks back on his mat, throwing an arm over his face. He had forgotten the feeling of being on a battlefield, the nauseating stench, the slippery ground, the blood and bones and gore, but his body remembers now and he shudders violently.

 He doesn’t find sleep that night, the heartbreaking scene in the dark forest coming to life behind his eyes every time he closes them.

 The next morning finds Xie Lian awake, and filled with determination. He needs to find the one whose prayers he hears, he has decided. Not just because he wants to answer said prayers, but because... because he feels connected to the mysterious follower somehow, they have seen the same horrors, and he wants... He doesn’t even know exactly what it is he wants, only that it is strong, a red thread pulling him towards that person.

- - - - - 

 The days pass by, unremarkable and dull, and his determination slowly trickles away. He still hasn’t found a way to actually talk to the person. It makes him jittery, then angry, then frantic, but he can’t seem to open a connection to the person’s dreams at any time of day, no matter how much he tries. If it wasn’t for the prayers, he would assume the man has died. It is frustrating, to say the least. But then, after almost half a year of fruitless attempts, Xie Lian’s proverbial bad luck proves itself yet again, or some force of fate intervenes this time, for instead of entering the person’s dreams via a spiritual connection, he – dreams of him.

 Xie Lian opens his eyes – in his dream at least, he is somehow aware that he is dreaming, but also very much interested in why it feels so different from a usual dream – and looks around, half expecting to see the long-gone streets of Xianle again. This time he is greeted by another dark forest, not one smelling of death and decay, but moss and earth and rain, and he inhales deeply. A path unfolds before him, like it does in every mysterious dream, and so he follows it. He doesn’t feel anything resentful here, only peace, and a strange sense of longing that pulls him along the overgrown path. It winds endlessly through the forest, and Xie Lian almost considers doing something unexpected to help the events along, when he suddenly finds himself in a clearing, silvery moonlight illuminating the scene before him.

 It is breathtaking, and Xie Lian stands perfectly still to take in the sight. In the middle of a small clearing, surrounded by large trees such a  dark green they almost seem black, is a tiny field of wildflowers, shimmering silvery in the moonlight. They move with the wind, and before Xie Lian can do anything, a draft of air seems to stir them and as one, hundreds and thousands of silver butterflies rise into the night sky. It is the most beautiful thing Xie Lian has ever seen, and he stands in silence for a while, watching the dancing butterflies, the moonlight rippling over their wings, shimmering like hundreds of tiny fireworks.

 He is so immersed in the scene that he almost doesn’t notice the movement across from him, staring spellbound into the sky. But a martial god’s instincts are good, even one that has lost his powers, and he turns away from the dance to eye a dark spot on the opposite side of the clearing. The shadows seem darker, and he knows intuitively that something is there. He doesn’t think he’d need a weapon, but still he is wary of the largest shadow, which slowly begins to move. In a heartbeat, it has reached the middle of the clearing, the moonlight illuminating it, and Xie Lian has to swallow hard. It is a wolf. A wolf larger than a horse, larger than two men, with giant black eyes and fur so deeply black it shimmers. It approaches, slowly, and Xie Lian considers his options. This is a dream, he reminds himself, his dream, so he probably won’t die in it, at least not permanently. Also, he thinks, as he regards the enormous creature, it doesn’t seem hostile or aggressive. On the contrary, it looks at him with an almost curious expression, head tilted to the side. They regard each other for a moment, two, three, then Xie Lian slowly stretches out his hand, until he is almost touching the wolf’ chest. The creature hesitates a moment, then slowly lets its head sink, taking in the man’s scent. Another heartbeat, then, suddenly, a shiver runs through the wolf’s whole body and it lurches forward. Xie Lian doesn’t have any time to react before a head the size of a wine barrel hits his chest, the creature’s wagging tail reducing the tall trees behind it to kindling, and then the wolf plops down in front of him like a giant dog waiting to be petted.

 Bewildered, Xie Lian reaches out a hand, hesitates, then gives the creature a polite pat. It closes its eyes, apparently delighted, and wags its tail with renewed fervor, destroying some more trees. He is about to take a step towards the creature, when he feels something tug at his consciousness. Before he can react, the dream shatters around him, and he finds himself on his bamboo mat, someone knocking loudly at the door. This was what woke him, he realises. Just when... Well. No use in dwelling on missed chances, he thinks, and goes to open the door.

 With the neighbour appeased and the night quiet again, Xie Lian wanders back to his mat, deep in thoughts of the past incident. It was a dream, his dream, that much is obvious, but it felt... different. It felt more like the visits in other people’s consciousness, although he has no idea how it is possible to open a connection to someone when they are awake and he is the one dreaming. Odd, very odd. And the dream itself... Xie Lian takes a moment to shake his head in disbelief. The butterflies were beautiful, but the wolf... Why the wolf, he ponders, then freezes. Sitting up straight on his bamboo mat, he stares at the opposite wall, frantically searching his memory. When the creature bowed to him, he saw something sparkle in its fur, but didn’t pay much attention at that time. Now, he realises what he saw. On the creature’s chest, amidst shiny black fur, hung a blood red pearl the size of a fist.

 Xie Lian sits up abruptly. In all the dreams, he realises, there has been one constant. A red pearl on black fur. A red ribbon in black hair. A sabre’s hilt, decorated with a red gem.

It was you.  

 The child, the young soldier – he is the one praying, he is the one who, a century ago, told Xie Lian he wouldn’t forget him. Why he took on the form of a wolf in Xie Lian’s own dream is something he can’t explain yet, but the rest of the puzzle pieces now click into place. He doesn’t sleep as much because he doesn’t have to, he has to be a ghost, he died on that battlefield. He prays to Xie Lian because he knew him when he was a prince, then a god. Another revelation hits Xie Lian like a lightning strike, leaving him wide-eyed at the thought. He knows how to find him.

- - - - -

 Not all ghosts dwell in Ghost City, Xie Lian knows as much as he cautiously enters the city, but it’s a start, and he has to begin his search somewhere. Here at least he might find someone who has heard of Xianle, or knows of a temple dedicated to a banished god.

 The city is... not as he expected, to say the least. The few times mortals or Heavenly Officials talked about this place in his presence, it was always accompanied with a note of disdain and disgust, as if the mere mention of the place made their mouths taste sour. Xie Lian, who never cared much for prejudice, is still quite surprised to see lively streets with food vendors, buskers, and even souvenir stalls. All residents are ghosts, that much is certain, but apart from that the city doesn’t look any different from every other in the mortal realm. Maybe a bit cleaner, Xie Lian thinks, as he wanders through the streets. The houses don’t look different from what he would expect in a mortal town, although the styles of the buildings often display the owner’s origin, making each house a bit different from the neighboring one.

 Xie Lian takes it all in, aimlessly strolling, until he comes to a halt in front of... he has to take a step back to take it all in, for it is a rather large building, more a mansion, with enormous windows and a broad staircase leading up to a large wooden door. Curious, he takes a step closer, when the doors open, and someone steps outside. Xie Lian freezes. The person is a man, tall and lean, a messy black braid lying over his shoulder, the rest of his hair covering parts of his face. He is wearing a black cloak, but under it, glimpses of blood red are visible. He is beautiful, and Xie Lian, who never in his life has found another person beautiful, forgets to breathe.

 The stranger walks down the few steps towards the street, then pauses, seeing Xie Lian standing there. He slowly lifts his gaze, taking in Xie Lian’s form, until he reaches his eyes. They stare at each other for a heartbeat, Xie Lian mesmerized by that gaze, the stranger – shocked? Something akin to wonder crosses his face, then disbelief, caution, until it settles on a carefully neutral expression. The stranger takes one more step towards Xie Lian, bowing gracefully. “My name is San Lang,” he says, “welcome to Ghost City.”

 Xie Lian raises an eyebrow, but nods, then introduces himself as well. Before he can ask why a stranger – San Lang, he tries the word in his head and it rolls over his tongue like candy – would welcome him in such a way, the other laughs, and it sounds like silver bells. “You are not dead,” he states simply, “so you must be a visitor. If you want,” he leans in a fraction, and Xie Lian notices that he is wearing silver vambraces on his forearms with tiny butterflies engraved in them, “I can show you the city.”

 He almost declines, he needs to find the one praying to him, that is what he came here for, but something in the other’s expression pulls at Xie Lian, tugs at his heart, and so he just nods, accepting the offer. The smile he receives in turn is so radiant Xie Lian has to look away for a moment, a strange fluttery feeling in his chest.

 Trying to hide how flustered he suddenly feels, he asks the other about the city as they walk, the buildings they see, and his companion answers every question with patience, almost indulgently, and Xie Lian is more and more impressed.

 “Ghost City hasn’t always been this neat,” San Lang explains as they cross a large market square with countless little stalls in orderly rows, “but since the current Lord of Ghost City has taken over, it has improved immensely.” He sounds a bit proud of that, and Xie Lian can relate. “It really is pretty,” he agrees. “But, say, San Lang,” he adds, halting his steps, remembering why he came here in the first place, “is there a temple somewhere in the city?” The other freezes, then, after a moment, turns to look at Xie Lian, his face again showing that deliberately blank expression. “Why do you want to know that?”

 “Ah, you see,” Xie Lian begins, a bit embarrassed, “I heard that there might be a temple to, uh, a martial god here, and I wanted to… go there?”, he finishes lamely, and San Lang’s face turns even paler than it was before. “No,” he says hoarsely, “there are no temples here.”

 “Ah, well, that’s too bad.”

 They stay silent for a while, but somehow Xie Lian feels he has made a mistake. San Lang hasn’t moved yet, seems to be deep in thoughts since the question, and Xie Lian suddenly feels guilty. Clearing his throat, he says, “I... Hm, I wasn’t completely honest.” The other’s face turns up, fixing him, but he doesn’t respond. Xie Lian sighs. “I am looking for someone,” he admits, “someone I…” He trails off. How can he admit that he has heard someone’s prayers, has seen their worst memories in dreams, has dreamt of them himself? It’s embarrassing and confusing and he has no idea how to explain it. Sighing in frustration, he turns to San Lang, when something on the other’s shoulder catches his eye. San Lang has his right side to Xie Lian, the one where his braid lies heavily over his shoulder, and with the movement of the other’s arm he sees… A tiny crimson pearl, attached to a smaller braid.

 Xie Lian freezes.

It can’t be a coincidence.  

It can’t be–  

 Wide-eyed, he stares at the other, not able to form a coherent thought. San Lang looks at him confusedly, then follows his stare down to his braid, furrowing his brows. “What –”, he begins, but Xie Lian interrupts him.

 “It’s you,” he says, voice breathless and raspy, “the one I... The one in my dream.” San Lang raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching, and Xie Lian hastily amends, “I mean, you were the one praying. It’s you, the young soldier who died on the battlefield, the –” He interrupts himself. The other’s smile has vanished.

 “How,” he rasps, voice shaky, “how do you know?”

 “Your pearl,” Xie Lian says slowly, “it’s what I saw in…” He trails off, gesturing vaguely. “I saw it in the dreams,” he explains gently, “every time I saw you it was there. It must be important to you, then.”

 The other swallows hard, not meeting his eyes. Xie Lian takes a deep breath to steady himself, then turns to face San Lang.

 “You have been praying to me,” he states, trying to bring his thoughts in order. “You were praying in a temple, that’s why I could hear you. And I,” he clears his throat, “I tried to find you in your dreams, to talk to you, but I never... We never…” San Lang looks up as he trails off, his visible eye dangerously wet and shining.

 “I think I sensed you there,” he whispers then, “the dreams felt different, but I didn’t –” He stares at Xie Lian. “You, you saw my... You saw how he…”

 There is so much despair in the other’s voice that Xie Lian doesn’t hesitate any longer. Gently, he places a hand over San Lang’s, a thumb brushing his knuckles, trying to reassure the other. San Lang seems to startle for a moment then links a finger with Xie Lian’s. With a wet-sounding sigh, he continues.

 “I grew up in Xianle,” he says, and Xie Lian nods, he has assumed as much. “I lived with my family in that house you saw, with my parents and –” He swallows hard, briefly closing his eye. “With my siblings. My little brother always looked up to me, until one day…”

 Softly, Xie Lian interjects, “I saw what happened. You don’t have to…”

 San Lang nods. “He died, and everyone blamed me, as I was the older one, I should have paid more attention, I should have protected him. I blamed myself, and then not even a month later, my parents and siblings came down with an illness that… It didn’t affect me at all, and the neighbours began talking. That I had the evil eye, that I brought bad luck. When my family died, they came and took me away.” He hesitates, as if unsure how to continue. “I... lived in a lot of different houses, but I never had a home after... After I lost mine,” he finishes, and Xie Lian’s heart aches for him. Stroking the other’s fingers, he adds solemnly, “And then you died, for me. For Xianle, when everything was already lost, you... you died for me.”

 San Lang nods. “I did, but I don’t regret it.” He looks up, facing Xie Lian with an intense gaze. “I don’t regret it, your Highness. Any of it, I –” He breaks off again, as if to stop himself from saying too much, but Xie Lian is already tugging at his hand.

 “San Lang,” he says, “would you mind showing me the temple?”

 Wordlessly, the other nods and turns into a smaller street. Xie Lian notices that their hands are still intertwined, but it feels natural, comfortable, and so he doesn’t say anything, letting himself be pulled.

 Following San Lang’s steps through narrow streets, ducking under stone arches, he wonders at how content he feels in the other’s presence, how safe. It doesn’t feel like following a stranger through a strange city, but walking with a friend, someone he has known for centuries. He feels connected to the other, somehow, as if their fates were bound, as if they had been close in a past life and just found each other again.

 They follow shaded alleys and even cross a bridge over a gurgling river, until they finally stand in front of an enormous building. Xie Lian is in awe, taking in the little details, the white flowers lining the path of small pebbles, the large windows with colourful glass panels. It looks majestic, and he can feel the love that went into designing and building this. He swallows, turning to San Lang.

 “It’s beautiful,” he whispers, and San Lang smiles his radiant smile that makes Xie Lian’s knees wobble a bit. “Do you want to go inside, your Highness?” Xie Lian nods, still mesmerized.

 Inside, the temple is as exquisite, but Xie Lian’s gaze is caught by the statue in the middle of the large hall. It’s him, of course, but the statue doesn’t resemble the ones he saw during his lifetime as the Crown Prince. It’s – beautiful, in lieu of a better word. His face radiates with a glowing smile, his eyes are soft and gentle, his hair in a loose bun on the back of his head. The statue is wearing white and red robes, but what makes Xie Lian stop in his tracks is the posture: It’s not the usual one of the Flower-Crowned Martial God, with a sword and a flower in his hands, serene and composed. He can see the sword, sheathed on his belt, because in his arms he is holding – a child.

 Xie Lian’s breath catches.

 Tucked away securely in the arms of the statue is a small child, maybe five or six years old, looking up at the god with large eyes full of wonder. They are smiling at each other, the image exuding so much love and kindness that Xie Lian whirls around to face San Lang, speechless with emotion.

 The other doesn’t meet his gaze, looking at the statue, the same blank expression in his face. “Do you like it,” he whispers hoarsely, hesitating. Xie Lian can only nod in stunned silence.

 Whoever made the statue and built the temple, he thinks, must have been witness to that incident with the boy during the parade. It may have been San Lang, and for a moment Xie Lian pictures him, standing among the crowd, tall and handsome and elegant, with his black cloak and his blood red robes.

 Something isn’t quite right with this image, though, and the more he thinks of it, he realises his mistake. San Lang died a few years later, barely of age from the looks of it. He couldn’t have... Couldn’t be… Realisation dawning on him, he takes a step towards San Lang, who still won’t meet his eyes, his face not blank anymore, but with a hint of… Sadness? Grief? Fear?

 “You,” he wheezes, “it’s you. The, the boy, the boy who fell that day…”

 The complex expression on San Lang’s face doesn’t fade, he still looks wary, almost hurt, and Xie Lian is suddenly overcome by the urge to touch him, to embrace him, to protect him like he did when he was a child. Reaching out to the other, he clasps both of San Lang’s hands in his, gripping tightly. The other’s breath catches, then, with a strangled sound, he pulls Xie Lian to a stone bench nearby, not letting go of his hands. They face each other, their fingers intertwined, their faces close enough Xie Lian can see the emotions flitting over San Lang’s face.

 “So, you’re... You’re the boy in rags,” he repeats, trying to process the enormity of it all, “that’s why you have my earring.” He points his chin at the tiny pearl in the other’s braid and San Lang nods. “And you’re also that young soldier.” He inhales shakily. San Lang gives him a half-smile, still looking a bit cautious, and clears his throat. “I told you I wouldn’t forget you, your Highness.”

 Xie Lian almost laughs at that, giddy and sad and so full of emotion his heart feels full to bursting. “Tell me,” he says hoarsely, “tell me everything.”

 San Lang gives him a look, but nods. “Yes, your Highness.”

 And so he does. It’s a tale of sadness, of cruelty and hatred, but also one of kindness, of love and devotion. Xie Lian sits there, his hands still in the other’s hold, silently listening as San Lang tells him about Xianle, about a boy with a bandaged head, about a parade. He tells him about a battle, about a cave, about a fallen city, and Xie Lian’s heart cries with him, cries for the boy that died.

 When San Lang arrives at the last battle, the one they saw in his dream, Xie Lian interrupts him. “But, San Lang, you knew everything was lost, then.” He takes a shaky breath, the other looking questioningly at him. “Why didn’t you just... move on? To another life?”

 San Lang goes very still beside him, his eye fixing some point above Xie Lian’s shoulder.

 “I –,” he begins, then falters, biting his bottom lip. Slowly, carefully, he continues, “I have a beloved who is still in this world.”

 “I see, is it your –”

Wife, he wants to ask, but is hit so violently by a memory that he can’t continue, just staring wide-eyed at the other, breathless.

I have a beloved who is still in this world. 

He has asked this before, on a starry night more than a century ago.

Is it your wife?  

No, we never married.  

 His breathing turns ragged, he can’t move, can’t speak, he can only stare at the other man as if seeing him for the first time. San Lang still avoids his gaze, eyes downturned, biting his bottom lip. He looks nervous, almost afraid of Xie Lian’s reaction.

 “Your Highness,” he begins, barely a whisper, at the same time as Xie Lian finds his voice again. “It’s you,” he croaks out, and they finally look at each other.

 “It’s you,” Xie Lian says again, incredulous, bewildered. “You were the little soldier, the ghost fire... You…” Trailing off, he reaches out a hand to cup the other’s cheek, then hastily lets it sink again when he realises what he was about to do.

 “Your Highness,” the other starts again, but Xie Lian shakes his head. “Don’t… Don’t call me that, San Lang, I don’t deserve that title.”

 San Lang hesitates for a moment, then slowly slides from the stone bench to kneel in front of Xie Lian, looking up at him with a complicated expression. Then, putting a hand on his heart, he says softly, “Your Highness will forever be your Highness.”

 Xie Lian stops breathing.

 Wide-eyed, he stares at the man in front of him and suddenly, the image overlaps. In another life, another one knelt there, robed in black, a smiling mask on his face, a sabre by his side, Your Highness...  

I have no name.  

Having no name makes one–  

 “Wu Ming,” Xie Lian croaks out, his eyes filling with tears. San Lang nods, looking down, and Xie Lian all but flings himself at him. With a sob, he embraces the other’s tense form, hiding his face in his neck, shaking with emotion. It’s all so much, almost too much, the guilt, the relief, the pain, the joy, and he helplessly clings to the other as the feelings wash over him.

 “I wronged you,” he presses out between sobs, “I’m so sorry, I…”

 “Don’t be, your Highness, there is nothing to forgive.”

 Tentatively, slowly, San Lang’s hands come up to Xie Lian’s back, enfolding him in a hug, and Xie Lian is stunned for a moment how good this feels.

 This man has unfailingly believed in him for more than a century, cherished him, saved him from himself, has died for him, more than once, and now kneels in front of Xie Lian as if he deserved... As if...

 “San Lang,” he breathes, “San Lang. Wu Ming. You don’t –” He takes a shuddery breath, pulling away a fraction to look at the other’s face. “You don’t know how wonderful you are.” As San Lang tries to turn away, he cups the other’s cheek, not letting him hide. “You are,” he repeats with emphasis, “you are brilliant and amazing and I don’t know what I did to deserve you, to deserve your devotion,” he shakes his head as San Lang starts to protest, “but I promise you, I will work hard to prove worthy of it.”

 Now it is San Lang shaking his head, careful not to dislodge the hand on his face. “You already are, your Highness. It was my honor to die for you, and it is my honor to now serve you as your most humble –” He is interrupted by Xie Lian’s finger on his lips, swallowing the last words.

 Before either of them can say anything else, Xie Lian’s stomach gives a rather loud growl, and San Lang’s face contorts as he tries to suppress a laugh. Mortified, Xie Lian scrambles to explain, and San Lang smiles at him, and offers a hand. “Let us find you something to eat, your Highness.”

 Nodding, Xie Lian realises he is more or less sitting in San Lang’s lap and scrambles to his feet. The other doesn’t comment, just rising and smoothing out his robes, extending a hand to Xie Lian when he is finished. Xie Lian takes it, and hand in hand they leave the temple.

- - - - -

 Finding a stall that offers food safe for human – or Heavenly Official – consumption proves to be a small challenge, and when they finally sit at a small table across from each other, two bowls of noodles between them, Xie Lian takes a moment to savor the atmosphere. The vendors and passers-by have been friendly, the food smells nice and he is in wonderful company. Smiling, he reaches for his chopsticks.

 Between bites, he watches the man opposite him, his midnight black braid with the tiny crimson pearl, his dark eye that gleams with intensity, the other hidden by a messy fringe, his red robes. He is tall, imposing even when sitting, and Xie Lian has heard enough whispered conversations around them to know he isn’t just an ordinary citizen here. Smiling slightly to himself, he asks, “Say, San Lang, shouldn’t I ask to be received by the Lord of Ghost City? It seems impolite to roam his domain and not introduce myself, don’t you think?”

 He watches with slight amusement as the other splutters, then coughs, then turns an uncertain look at Xie Lian. He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again. Xie Lian has to hide his grin behind his bowl. After a moment, San Lang clears his throat. “Ah, your Highness,” he begins, “I should have told you… I’m, um... It’s…” He trails off and Xie Lian can’t contain the laughter anymore. He puts his bowl down, reaching to clasp the other’s hand in his. “I know,” he says softly, his eyes still shining, “it was quite clear from the reverent looks you received all evening.”

 “I’m so–,” San Lang starts, but Xie Lian interrupts him again. “No need for apologies between us,” he says, and the other’s eye lights up. Smiling, he turns back to his bowl. Xie Lian regards him for a moment longer, then does the same. This man, he muses as he eats, stealing glances every now and then, has made him, Xie Lian, the center of his existence, like a moon revolving around a sun, and he still can’t quite grasp the enormity of it all. The little boy in rags, the young soldier, the ghost fire. Wu Ming, who saved him when everything seemed lost. And now, Hua Cheng, the Lord of Ghost City, because everyone knows that name in the mortal realm. Hua Cheng, San Lang, who has spent a lifetime devoted to him, cherishing him,      loving    him... Startled by that thought, Xie Lian pauses. It should make him uncomfortable, but all he feels is warm and safe and right, as if his whole life was directed towards this, towards being loved by Hua Cheng. Smiling, he reaches out to take the other’s hand once again, linking their fingers.

 After they finish their meal, San Lang takes him to yet another part of Ghost City, a forest from the looks of it, dark green pines almost black against the setting sun. He suggests walking a bit, a glint in his eyes that Xie Lian can’t quite place, but nods anyway, happy to spend time in the other’s presence. They walk in silence for a while, their hands still linked, swinging slightly between them, and Xie Lian feels more content than he can remember feeling in either of his lifetimes. He turns to face the other, when he suddenly startles. The forest, the path leading them into it – it all seems curiously familiar. Before he can ask, they turn a corner and find themselves in a clearing, and Xie Lian remembers. With a start he turns to San Lang, who just smiles, nodding towards the flowers. Xie Lian watches, and exactly like in his dream, a breeze ripples through them, and like one, hundreds and thousands of silver butterflies rise into the darkening sky, dancing around each other, the fading light painting their wings red and golden.

 “So beautiful,” Xie Lian breathes, not wanting to disturb the magic. From the corner of his eye he sees San Lang, smiling slightly, as he agrees, “they are,” but he is facing Xie Lian as he says it.

 Xie Lian swallows hard, and suddenly, everything is simple: Pulling the other close, cupping his face in his hands, leaning in. He kisses San Lang under a firework of silver butterflies, trying to pour everything he feels in that kiss, and after a heartbeat of stunned silence, San Lang gives a tiny sigh and kisses back. He takes a step closer, his hands coming up to weave into Xie Lian’s hair. He seems to smile into the kiss, radiating so much love and adoration Xie Lian wants to drown in it.

 After a few moments, he draws back a fraction, just enough to look into San Lang’s eye which is shining wetly. A single tear rolls down San Lang’s smiling face, and Xie Lian brushes it away with his thumb.

 They smile at each other, and this time it is San Lang leaning in, capturing the other’s lips, softly, gently, almost hesitatingly, as if he isn’t sure he is allowed to. That won’t do, Xie Lian decides, and pulls him closer, deepening the kiss. They are lost for a while in a dance of lips and tongues and teeth, while around them the sun is setting, painting everything in crimson and vermillion.

- - - - -

 Later, much later in Hua Cheng’s mansion, in front of which they met earlier, they are sitting on a low bench, their fingers intertwined.

 “San Lang?”

 “Yes, your Highness?”

 “You... You said you had a beloved still in this world.”

 “I do.”

 “Can you... Can you tell me about them?”

 “Hm. My beloved is a brave, noble, and gracious special someone. He’s saved my life; I’ve looked up to him ever since I was young. But, I wanted to catch up to him more, and become an even stronger person for him. Although, he might not remember me well. We never really talked. I want to protect him.”

 “...”

 “Your Highness?”

 With a strangled sob, Xie Lian leans in again, pulling the other into a searing kiss.

- - - - -

...and they lived happily ever after, Xie Lian didn't become guoshi in Yong'An, they went to Banyue together, saved everyone, adopted little Banyue and later wiped the floor with Jun Wu when he tried to interfere. There, fixed it.