#The Places I Was Found Fic

[myckicade]

The thought of Goëjlrm's imprisonment really gets to me. Shoved in a cell and left there, all alone, in the 'care' of idiot vampires who surely didn't understand his language, didn't care what he wanted, and were so afraid of their own shadows that they disrespected their progenitor based on conjecture and suspicion.

This fic is going to be the end of me, I tell you. I'm getting so emotional, my anger is coming out in run-on sentences!

P.S. This fic now has a title, The Places I Was Found. Please feel free to follow that tag for updates. I still have a running tag list for the posting of the first chapter.

[2btheanswertothequestion]

(part 3 of November Paramedic; part 2 is here.)

When Gareth mentioned a plan to locate Eddie’s paramedic in shining armor, Eddie assumed it'd be him getting into various accidents all over Indianapolis. It's something the little shit would've found funny, okay! But, Gareth's plan is much less hazardous and slightly more logical: lurk around the university until they spot him. Like a pair of drug dealers trying to tempt the goody-two-shoes protagonist into addiction and sin on an 80s Saturday morning cartoon.

It's not the simplest task since they don't know when Steve might be there. Also, other responsibilities mean they can only spare so many hours loitering. So, thirteen days post-hatching plan and nineteen days post-meeting Steve (not that Eddie's been counting or anything), with nothing to show for their ethically questionable behavior, Eddie is ready to give up. Especially since both of them have a rare simultaneous day off. Usually, those are spent jamming, smoking, playing D&D… literally anything other than this.

"This is fucking stupid," he says, cigarette clenched between his teeth. "We're not gonna run into him."

"Sure we are," Gareth says. He drops his butt among the dozens they've chain-smoked and lights another without meeting Eddie's gaze. "We're getting closer. I can feel it."

"The only thing you're feeling is delusional. It's time to give up."

"Eddie, c'mon-"

"Nope." One last drag and Eddie stomps out his cig. "Fuck this; I'm out."

He stalks toward his van at the far end of the parking lot. Gareth curses before running after him.

"Dude!" he exclaims, jogging to keep up with Eddie's longer strides. "You can't just give up! What about what you said-"

"I was being stupid. What was I even imagining? We orchestrate another meeting and, what, I use my freakish wiles and seduce him? And then we'll live happily ever after…" Eddie shakes his head. "It doesn't work like that. He'd probably turn out to be a douche anyhow."

"No, listen!" Gareth seizes Eddie's arm and yanks him to a stop in the middle of the lot. "You always do this. Self-sabotage and cut things short, even when there's potential."

Eddie scoffs. "You know what else always happens? I end up liking them more than they like me. It's not fun."

"You don't know it'll be like that this time. You have to try."

"No."

Eddie takes a step back. He's done; he's out. Gareth reaches for his wrist to pull him back in. He jerks away, almost losing his footing and stumbling into the burgundy car behind him. Gareth's arms shoot out to help, but Eddie steadies himself before crashing. For a second, silence reigns as they assure everyone's on solid ground. Then Eddie opens his mouth to once and for all-

"Eddie? Gareth?"

Their heads snap to the side, eyes landing on… Max? Looking unusually dressy in high-waisted shorts and a fitted top under an oversized jacket, and her hair in a high ponytail. She's got her skateboard under her arm, a messenger bag with a textbook sticking out, and a confused furrow between her eyebrows.

"What are you doing here?" she asks.

Fuck. They can't tell her the truth – she'll never let him live it down. Fortunately, Gareth realizes this too, because he says:

"Uh, I go to school here? What are you doing here? The math building is way over there."

She rolls her eyes and leans on the burgundy car. It's a shiny BMW M5 – the limited anniversary edition. Jesus fucking Christ, Eddie almost dented that thing! It's worth more than his life. And Max is slouching against it like it's nothing. He could warn her not to scratch it, but she's unlikely to care; she's always been metal that way.

"Waiting for my friends," she says. "We have dinner on Tuesdays."

Eddie's ears ignite. Dinner? With friends? While wearing what's basically a date outfit?

"Ooohhh…" he says, sharing a grin with Gareth. "And do these friends include someone special?"

She shrugs, looking anywhere but at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"C'mon, Red! You're killing me! I need to know if he's good enough for you."

His fingers hover over her ponytail, as if to tug at it. She slaps his hand away.

"You're annoying."

He laughs. This terrible day just became infinitely better. He won't rest until he gets what he wants – or until she punches him, which'll probably come first. He's about to tell her so when a voice calls her name. Both turn to look, and…

It's a boy Max's age. He's beaming and waving, quickening his steps toward her. She smiles too, almost shyly, as she waves back. It's the perfect opportunity for teasing, if Eddie's day hadn't just become infinitely better.

His tongue is heavy, his skin is itching, his heart is bruising his ribs from the inside. Sweat is gathering in his pits and it's getting a little hard to breathe. Because walking half a pace behind the boy, carrying a huge duffel with such ease it might actually be stuffed with feathers, is… is…

"Yesssss!" Gareth hisses next to him. He may also be fist-pumping. Eddie isn't looking.

"Hey!" The boy stops in front of Max. "Sorry, practice ran late."

"It's okay," she says, cooler than ice, though her eyes are glittering. "I just got here."

She says something else, or maybe the boy does? It's all background noise, because Steve has caught up. Steve, in jeans and a polo that must've been tailored to his exact measurements because oooooooooohhhh boy. Steve, unshouldering the bag, muscles shifting and straining under his shirt with the movement. Steve, smiling, his golden eyes flying over Eddie.

"Hey! Eddie and Gareth, right?"

Eddie draws a sharp breath. He remembers!

"Y-Yeah!" he squeaks, hands fluttering to either wave or shake hands, ultimately doing neither. "Hi! You're here!"

"I am," Steve says, casual, as if inane conversations with former patients happen on the regular.

(It better not – Eddie doesn't do well in competitive settings.)

Max, keen eyes darting between them, asks, "You know each other?"

"Met at work," Steve says. "Or, I was working and he…"

"Ah." Max taps her temple. "That."

"How do you know them?" the boy asks her.

She points at Eddie. "Neighbor. And that's the guy who dumpster dives outside our apartment building."

Gareth flips her off. Eddie would laugh, but he's busy pretending he doesn't know what Steve looks like shirtless. It's hard (pun slowly growing more relevant) – his gaze keeps dropping to the polo's undone top button. Steve is just as gorgeous out of uniform, and now Eddie's thighs are tingling with want. He could stare at him forever…

Unfortunately, 'forever' is cut short by a woman arriving in a flurry. Wait, no. 'Flurry' implies some sort of graceful whimsy, while this person… she's a hurricane crashing into a house.

"Sorry I'm late! Nielsen wouldn't stop talking and got angry when people started leaving because it's an important lecture so this girl called him out for not keeping time because he goes on all these tangents and he said they're interesting tidbits and she said it's disrespecting our time and-" She pauses for breath. "You don't care, do you?"

Max, Steve, and the boy shake their heads.

"Right. Sorry." The woman turns to Eddie and Gareth. "Hi! I'm Robin. And you are?"

"My neighbor and his friend. Steve treated his concussion," Max rattles off, glaring at them. "You didn't answer my question: why are you here?"

Gareth frowns. "I told you," he says, pointing at the building. "School." He points at himself. "Student."

Max glares harder. "You don't have class on Tuesdays. And Eddie doesn't go here at all."

"I had stuff I needed to drop off."

"Is tagging along a crime? Jesus."

Max doesn't reply, though her glare remains.

Robin hums. "Okay, so this is super-enjoyable, I love just standing around, but I'm starving, so…" She looks at Steve, who nods.

"Yeah, we're going," he says, but neither moves. He glances at Eddie, which makes her glance at Eddie, and then they make a series of eyebrow-movements at each other, ending in a shared smile. Steve asks, "Have you guys eaten yet?"

Eddie shakes his head, pulse racing. Is this going where he thinks it is?

"D'you wanna come with? There's this diner we like…"

Holyshityesitis!

"Yeah!" Fuck, too eager. "I mean, uh, sure, sounds good."

"Cool." Grinning, Steve clicks a remote car key; the burgundy BMW beeps. What the fuck? How high is a paramedic's salary?! "Did you drive here?"

"I, uh…" Eddie falters. Shit, wasn't he supposed to? It's been three weeks and he feels fine – he thought he was in the green!

"Nope! I did!" Gareth says, 'proving' it by hauling his house keys from his pocket and jingling them.

Steve nods. "Should be safe for you to drive again, but the less strain you put on your brain, the better. Even a mild concussion isn't anything to sneeze at."

"Y-Yeah, I've been taking it easy. Basically done nothing. Until now."

Max snorts. Eddie is going to pour coffee through her mail slot.

They decide Eddie and Gareth will follow Steve's car to the diner, since Steve can't fit all of them (the real reason he asked if they drove here, duh). It's good because Eddie gets the chance to panic/gush/collect himself in the privacy of his van. It's bad because Gareth drives, lest their fib be revealed. Gareth spends the ten-minute journey gloating about driving Eddie's beloved girl, interspersed with 'I told you so!'s.

The diner is cozy, all wooden furniture and sepia photographs on the walls. A graying waitress who smells like tobacco directs them to a booth and takes their orders. An awkward silence then falls as they wait for someone to speak.

The boy clears his throat. "My name is Lucas, by the way. I don't think I said." After shaking his hand and introducing themselves, Lucas says to Eddie, "I think Max has mentioned you."

"Oh yeah? I've been dying for her to mention y- Ow!"

Eddie rubs where Max kicked his shin. Her glare is murderous. Lucas is blushing happily, though.

"So, what d'you guys do?" Robin asks.

Right. Time to small-talk like adults. Eddie gets his job as a mechanic out of the way, then gives the word to Gareth, who tells them he's a creative writing major. Robin turns out to be getting a masters in linguistics and Lucas studies biology.

"I don't actually know what I want to do, but biology feels broad enough to give me options, y'know? I can go to med school, or forensics, or, I don't know, paleontology?" he says. Max glows brighter with every word that comes out of his mouth. Cute.

This then segues into talking about their friends, who by the sound of it lead incredibly interesting lives.

"Dustin's at MIT, Mike's at Oxford, Will's in San Francisco…" Lucas says, counting on his fingers.

Max interjects, "El's in Africa building houses and teaching kids English."

"Erica is still at home, finishing high school and drowning in early acceptance letters to, like, every Ivy League there is," Steve says with a look of pure pride.

"Nancy and Jonathan – they're our age – are chasing scoops in Afghanistan… " Robin says.

"... and Argyle is also in California," Lucas finishes.

Eddie whistles. "And here we are, still in Indianapolis."

"Dude, I'm surprised I got this far," Steve says. "Wouldn't've managed without her."

He jerks a thumb in Robin's direction, who preens at the acknowledgment. Robin's cool, Eddie decides. Garrulous but fun and nice… and verrrrrrrrry close to Steve. The kind of close where they're always in each other's space. Where they wordlessly transfer food between their plates. Where Steve unceremoniously wipes a speck of ketchup off Robin's chin after she repeatedly fails to get it. They're comfortable, but not necessarily romantically affectionate. Like they're siblings rather than lovers.

(Dear God, if you are in heaven, let them be siblings.)

Conversation flows. They joke around, tell stories, swap opinions. Robin gets passionate about tonal shifts when stage shows are adapted to film, and Eddie tries not to stare at Steve's mouth as he eats. And then, once their plates are cleaned and they're waiting for dessert, Gareth leans his elbows on the table and fixes Steve with a purposeful look.

"I figured out where I've seen you before."

Eddie stiffens.

Steve blinks. "At campus, right?"

"Thought so, but no. I realized it's actually…" Gareth chuckles. "It's ridiculous, but uh, my mom had this calendar…"

Steve recoils, red flooding his face. Robin, Lucas, and Max shriek in delight, Robin grabbing Steve's arm and shaking it as he hides behind his hands.

"And my mom," Gareth says between bursts of laughter, "she's shameless, all right? She kept it in our kitchen. So during, what was it, November?"

"November," Steve confirms, muffled.

"For 30 days, if I wanted to check the date or make a notation… I saw you."

Tears stream down Robin's face, she's laughing so hard. She and Max have started chanting 'Slut! Slut! Slut!' at the still crimson Steve.

"You don't understand," Lucas says, gesturing for emphasis. "We've been waiting for someone to come up and say 'hey, weren't you…?' for years. Thank you so much!"

"Hey, thank my mom," Gareth says. Eddie's quite stunned he'd throw his own mother under the bus like that. She's a really nice person, too!

"Makes sense," Max says. "Moms love Steve."

"All parents do," Lucas says.

Cackling, Robin pinches Steve's cheek. "Gotta hide your mom and your dad around Steve!"

Steve bats her off, flushed but smiling. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. You got your wish, now shut it."

That only makes the three restart the chant to ridicule him for his harlotry. Steve's indignant squawk that 'it was for charity!' merely has everyone laugh more.

And Eddie? Well. As he sits beholding this man who works as a paramedic and drives a luxury car, who models for charity and allows his friends to mock him for it, who blushes and giggles when they lovingly call him a whore…

All Eddie can think is that he's in fucking trouble.

Afterward, it only makes sense for Eddie to drive Max home. Steve shakes his hand outside the diner, saying it was nice to see him again. Eddie, not knowing how to ask for Steve's contact info without seeming weird, agrees. He waits until the BMW drives off, then tells Gareth to get the fuck out of his seat. Gareth relocates to the backseat, whining since Max already called shotgun.

The initial minutes, they're quiet. Then Max turns to Gareth and says:

"When were you telling me Eddie is your mom?"

"Huh?"

"You said you knew about the calendar because of your mom. But that's not true."

The warmth drains from Eddie's face; his knuckles crack around the steering wheel. Gareth's expression is the epitome of 'oh shit' when he meets Eddie's gaze in the rear-view mirror.

"Yes, it is," Gareth says.

"It's not," Max says.

"It is!"

"It's not! The calendar was for 2021, and in November '21 you were a freshman and had already moved into the dorms! If your mom kept it in her kitchen, you wouldn't have seen it!"

She scowls at Gareth, mouth pinched and eyes flashing, daring him to contradict her.

Gareth swallows thickly. "It… wasn't for 2021."

"Yes, it was."

"How do you know?"

She puts her hands in her lap and lifts her chin, almost primly. Eddie gasps as the penny drops.

Gareth screams, "WHAT!"

"You have it?" Eddie cries. "Why do you have it?"

She scoffs. "You know why – you've seen his pecs."

"I don't- Okay, how're you so sure it's me?"

"Because you spent all of dinner looking like you wanted to crawl inside his mouth and live there." Her nose wrinkles. "At least I hope it was his mouth you want to crawl into-"

She's cut off by Gareth shouting "I can't hear you! Lalalalalalala-"

Eddie crumples in his seat. He's depleted of blood, air, life, everything. Behind, Gareth is grilling Max for information: are Steve and Robin together? Is Steve single? Is he queer?

Max replies: no, yes, and 'that's not for me to tell, moron'.

Gareth nods, satisfied. "That means he is. If he was straight, you'd say so." He slaps Eddie's arm. "You got a shot, man!"

"You… don't know that…" Eddie wheezes.

Max tuts, shaking her head. "You actually want to hit on my chauffeur."

"He prefers the term 'seduce'," Gareth says.

Eddie smacks his face into the steering wheel at the next red light.

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

Tag list: @rougenancy, @raisedbylibrarians, @yourebuckingkiddingme, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @emma77645, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @eddielives1986, @stevesbipanic, @the-redthread, @fandemonium-takes-its-toll, @henderdads, @gay-little-bitch, @lordofthepointygerbils, @lenore1232, @imzadidragonfly, @zerokrox-blog, @eddiemunsonswife, @cherrycolas-things, @ediewentmissing, @princess-eddie, @atombombbibunny, @ajamlessbaby, @dogswithforks, @grimmfitzz, @cutiecusp, @cuips-not-cute, @manicallydepressedrobot, @messrs-weasley, @madaboutmunson, @mightbeasleep, @suikatto, @brassreign, @snapshotmaestro, @bea-sayan, @courtjestermunson, @csinnamon-fox, @steveisabicon, @spectrum-spectre, @spinmewriteround, @just-super-fucking-gay, @escapingthereality, @oneweirdcryptid, @deehellcat, @misticageri, @lovelyscot, @olivethenerd16, @linkydinky06, @rynnytintin, @anything-thats-rock-and-roll,

I won't be adding more to the tag list because there are already so many of you. Instead, I'll be tagging the four remaining parts (it'll definitely be seven in total, btw) as #steddie fic: november paramedic. Hopefully, they'll show up in the tags and you'll see them that way.

Thank you for reading 🖤

Part 4

[cappydoodle]

rereading my own fic and yeah I'm a comedic genius I think

[otaku553]

Have you seen this man???

Now you have

[trek-tracks]

We found Spock in a Spockless place

[leeemon-leee]

Kissu

[autisticlancemcclain]

Could you explain your position on Shallura? Since Allura was established as a teenager when she started dating Lance and Shiro was very clearly an adult. I can understand the bi shiro headcannon but the shallura thing worries me

i am going to remind yall that i have been in this fandom since 2016. and in the early seasons, allura was not established as a teenager. in fact she was coded as older, as closer to shiro's age -- there was a specific divide between her and the younger paladins that she did not have with shiro. they made her younger (both explicitly and in mannerisms) as the show went on. and i do not give a fuck about voltron like...post s4 and i didn't even watch s7-8. so like. especially with older fics, im going to enjoy shallura.

[clar-a-m]

Some sketches inspired by @theunqualified1's fic Chalk It Up To Luck You can find some more drawings for this AU here

also little bonus bc i had to figure out their uniforms:

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 6: Made to watch, “It should have been me”

This took way too long to finish and didn’t even end up the way I wanted to in the end exactly but it’s fine! It’s fine!!!

*cries*

Warnings: blood & injury, being electrocuted, slight torture-y elements.

Read it on ao3

————————————————————

“Link. Hey, Rancher, wake up.”

The serious tone of voice dragged Twilight from his comfortable sleep, making him blearily open his eyes. He found that his head was under the thicker blankets the inn had provided for their beds, and he reluctantly poked his head out, frowning at the cold that met him.

Warriors looked down at him, arms crossed and face unreadable, and Twilight blinked at him, still waking up.

“What’dya want?” he mumbled, squinting at the window. All he could see was dark grey. “...Wars, what time is it?”

“Early, I don’t know. About dawn I guess,” Warriors shrugged, and unceremoniously pulled Twilight’s blankets off. “Come on, we’ve got work to do.”

“What?!” Twilight sputtered, and grabbed for his blankets. “Give me those! It’s freezing in here!”

“I know right? It’s awful. These people have no clue how to keep an inn warm, I mean it’s snowing outside.”

“Captain,” Twilight growled, seriously annoyed now. He’d been having a rather nice dream about a warm, sunny field with goats in it, up until Warriors had decided to drag him awake. “Why are you up so early, and why are you waking me up so early?”

A smile twitched at Warriors’ lips. “Why Rancher, I thought you country folk were used to waking up at the crack of dawn.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate sleeping in on a freezing morning when we’re at an inn for once,” Twilight bit out, snatching back his blankets and wrapping himself in them. “What do you want.”

“Sheesh, you’re cranky this early,” Warriors said with an eye roll. “Anyway... do you remember what we were talking about last night after dinner?”

Twilight stared at Warriors, and pulled his blankets back over his head.

“Rancher come on, hear me out!”

The blankets were peeled back again, and Twilight looked up at Warriors’ face, only barely apologetic. The captain gave him a grin, and Twilight groaned, sitting back up with no small reluctance.

He was wide awake now, he supposed he might as well hear what the captain had to say.

“Fine. What.”

Warriors cleared his throat, looking excited. “Okay okay, so last night Wild and Wind wouldn’t shut up about how similar they think we look, right?”

Twilight nodded, frowning a bit.

The night before, after they’d all eaten dinner and were sitting around talking, Wind had asked the others if they’d ever noticed how similar Twilight and the captain looked. Wild had immediately agreed, a grin on his face, and the others had quickly hopped on board as well, loudly debating their similar features.

Some of the arguments had been valid, and Four had put together a surprisingly long list of resemblances between Twilight and Warriors that Twilight was inclined to believe, but several of them were just ridiculous. Even when Twilight voiced this, he was immediately shot down, and Wild and Wind wouldn’t let the matter drop, repeatedly bringing it up until Twilight and Warriors couldn’t stand it anymore and went off to bed.

“What does that have to do with dragging me out of bed at the crack of dawn?” Twilight asked, and Warriors grinned, holding up two green tunics.

“It’s so we have lots of time to prepare. I think we should show them just how similar we really are.“

Twilight sat up a bit straighter, paying more attention now as he looked between his and Warriors’ tunics.

“Oh?”

“Let’s switch clothes. Just for the day. We’ll give them a shock,” Warriors grinned, and Twilight found himself grinning as well, picturing the looks on Wild and Wind’s faces. “Maybe get them to knock it off with the twin jabs too. What do you say?”

Twilight reached out and took Warriors’ tunic, and gave the captain a smirk.

“Show me how you usually pin your scarf.”

(...)

Wild and Wind’s reactions were, to say the least, exactly what Twilight had hoped they would be.

Warriors and Twilight had quickly dressed, then stationed themselves so they weren’t facing the stairs, their differences harder to notice from the back. Wind had come down to breakfast soon after, yawning into his hand, and had tugged Warriors’ scarf to ask him when they were going to leave.

Except Warriors had been Twilight, and Wind nearly jumped out of his skin when he looked up and realized who it was he was actually talking to.

Wild had had a similar reaction, though it had taken him a bit. He was most of the way through breakfast before he’d suddenly jumped up and pointed between the two, face so gobsmacked that Twilight nearly choked he was laughing so hard.

After the chaos had died down and they’d finally finished breakfast, they’d headed out from the inn, a light flurry of snow falling on their heads. Warriors and Twilight stayed in the wrong clothes as they traveled through the snowy forest, responding to the wrong names and just generally confusing the others.

It was driving Wild crazy, and Twilight was loving every second of it.

A few small flakes fell on his head, and Twilight shivered a bit as the wind blew at his face. The weather was even colder outside the inn, and the Links had all bundled up in their thick clothing, Wind and Four looking especially chilly. Twilight actually wasn’t bothered too much by the cold, especially with Warriors’ scarf wrapped warmly around his neck, and he noticed with a smirk that Warriors himself looked quite content in his wolf pelt.

“You know, you smell like a wet dog, Captain,” Legend mentioned offhandedly. “Look a bit like one too. You’re giving Wolfie a run for his money.”

Warriors shot him a look from under the hood of Twilight’s pelt, and Legend smiled innocently.

“Well perhaps so, but I’m much warmer than you are,” he pointed out, and Legend’s smirk fell a bit.

“Well at least I’m not swimming in clothes made for someone twice as muscled as me.”

The two continued to exchange jabs, and Twilight shook his head in exasperation. Warriors may have been wearing Twilight’s clothes, but it didn’t change his personality a bit.

“You look nice in the captain’s scarf Twi,” Four said at his side, his own hood up to block the snow. “The colors set off your eyes.”

Twilight chuckled. “If you say so. It is rather soft,” he admitted, holding up a bit of the rich, blue fabric. “It definitely does the job, but I don’t know how he handles this thing in warmer weather.”

“I could ask the same of you,” Warriors said back, and Twilight shrugged. “All this fur must be awful if you’re ever anywhere warm.”

“Oh I manage.”

The conversation stopped for a bit, and Twilight looked around at the road they were following, noticing with some concern how high a couple of the drifts of snow were. If the snow had blown across the path like that anywhere, some of their shorter members were going to struggle.

“Think I’m going to scout ahead a little,” Twilight said, tapping Time on the shoulder. “I’ll see if I can make it to that bridge the villagers were talking about, see how much snow we’re dealing with.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Time replied. Then his face twitched into a smirk. “Don’t trip on your scarf.”

Twilight snorted and shook his head, already walking away.

“Hey, I’ll come with you,” Warriors offered as he jogged up to join his side, and Twilight looked at him in surprise. But he nodded and made room so they could walk side by side.

“You didn’t have to come you know Captain. Not that I mind, but just because we swapped clothes doesn’t mean we have to be together the whole day,” Twilight mentioned once they were out of earshot of the others, and Warriors shrugged, looking around at the woods.

“Eh, I wanted to. Besides, I was getting real sick of Legend calling us the ‘wolf twins’.”

Twilight barked out a laugh, and he and the captain continued ahead through the snowy woods, silent and cold.

They were quiet for a while as they outpaced the group, the snow falling softly around them. Twilight had no clue who’s time they were in, but wherever they were, the forest was beautiful, covered in snow and ice, flakes falling silently around them.

Twilight felt almost like he was in a storybook walking through the picturesque woods, and the unfamiliar clothes he was wearing only added to the almost otherworldly sense. It was odd having a scarf around his neck, but he didn’t mind the way it flared out behind him when he walked. It was sort of fun.

Twilight looked over at Warriors, keeping pace next to him, and studied him a minute. He had to admit to himself that Wild was right, at least a bit. With the pelt’s hood up covering his lighter hair, Warriors really did look almost exactly like Twilight.

“What’s that look for?” Warriors asked, and Twilight blinked, realizing he’d been staring.

“I was just thinking,” he admitted, and looked Warriors up and down. “I hate to admit it, but the others are kind of right. We really do look similar.”

“Yeah, I know,” Warriors said, and his eyes took on a distant look. “...Did you know there’s a statue of you in my time?”

Twilight startled. “What?”

“Well, there’s ones of a bunch of us actually,” Warriors reprimanded, and met his eyes. “Even Wolfie. We didn’t realize just how many there were until we were clearing out the Temple of Souls after the war. We were making sure there wasn’t any leftover dark magic or monsters, but we mostly just found statues, and... paintings.”

Warriors shook his head as if to clear it. “Anyway, I originally thought the one of you was me. We were so similar-looking, especially at the time with the hats and everything, it took a while until we figured out you were a separate hero entirely.”

“Well, that explains why you recognized most of us when we met,” Twilight said with a smirk, and Warriors chuckled.

“Yeah, I’ll admit I cheated. I don’t know if I saw one of everyone though, now that you mention it. I wonder—”

“Wait, shh,” Twilight said abruptly, holding a hand out.

Warriors went silent, and Twilight swiveled his ears around, the snow softly falling on their heads.

The woods had gone even more silent then before, no birds, no wind. Twilight knew he had heard something, but he wasn’t sure if it was just a twig snapping from the weight of the snow, or something more—

An earsplitting screech rang out through the woods, nearly sending Twilight and Warriors to their knees. Twilight’s heart stopped at the familiar sound, but before he could even grab his sword or raise his head, something crashed into him and threw him against a tree so hard he nearly blacked out.

He heard a shout through the ringing in his ears, and forced his eyes open, gasping at the sight of a Shadow Beast mere inches from his face.

No, no how is this possible it can’t— does this mean— the Twilight Realm—?!

Twilight struggled to grab his sword, but the Shadow Beast tightened its grip, and it held him so tightly against the tree Twilight was worried it would break something.

He looked frantically around for a way to get out, and saw that while Warriors wasn’t pinned like he was, he was completely surrounded. The captain was looking around at the shadow beasts with a worried look in his eyes, and he made frantic eye contact with Twilight. But before either of them could do or say anything, Twilight heard footsteps crunch through the snow nearby.

He looked up, and felt ice drop into his chest.

Zant stood in the center of the clearing, like a blot of spilled ink against the pristine snow. Twilight stared, praying that he was somehow mistaken, but as Zant strode forward, there was no doubt that it was the usurper himself.

He barely seemed to notice Twilight, giving him only a single glance, then stalked over to Warriors, standing just inside his army of shadow beasts.

“Hero of Twilight,” Zant said with a hint of glee in his voice. “It’s been so long, did you miss me?”

Warriors flicked his eyes over to Twilight, then back to Zant, a glimmer of confusion in his eyes. Zant was clearly referring to him, and Twilight stared at them both for a second before realizing what was happening.

Oh sweet Ordona, he thinks Warriors is me.

Warriors obviously realized what was going on as well, for he quickly smoothed his face of its confused look, casually pulling the hood further over his head. Twilight thrashed against the Shadow Beast, opening his mouth to shout, but one of its hands moved to cover it and his cry was cut off.

Warriors glanced at him again, then exhaled, and tightened his grip on his sword.

“That’s right Zant, that’s me,” he said steadily, even adding a bit of a twang to his voice that made him sound vaguely like Twilight. “The Hero of Twilight.”

Twilight thrashed even harder against the shadow beast holding him, but the monster didn’t budge, no matter what he did.

Wars you idiot it’s me he wants!

“Hmm... you’re scrawnier than I remember...” Zant hummed, leaning down to stare at Warriors’ face. “I suppose you haven’t been doing so well without your little shadow? So sad that she shattered the mirror the way she did.”

Twilight ignored the sting the words left in his heart.

“How have you returned?” Warriors demanded, never lowering his sword. “The last I heard, you were dead.”

“Ah, it was my new glorious god! The Creature of Shadows!” Zant crowed, twirling in place. “He has allowed me this return so I may have my revenge on those who have wronged me, in exchange only for his allegiance!”

Zant abruptly stilled, voice dropping into the tone he used when he sounded more sane.

“And you, Hero of Twilight, are the first on my list.”

Warriors barely had time to leap away as Zant drew twin swords and jumped at him, avoiding his attacks and striking back as best as he could.

Twilight clawed at the Shadow Beast holding him, desperate to help the captain, but it only struck him across the face, and retightened its grip. Pain exploded across Twilight’s face, but he ignored the sharp pain in his nose, watching Warriors fight with an increasing panic.

He couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t even call out advice or encouragement with the Shadow beast covering his mouth, just sit here and watch, with his nose throbbing and blood trickling down his face.

When he was the one who should have been fighting in the first place.

Warriors fought almost like he’d faced Zant before, neatly dodging his attacks and easily matching his swings. At any other moment Twilight would have admired his technique, but he was too worried. Zant’s speed was nearly impossible to keep up with, and Twilight could see Warriors was quickly tiring.

Right about when Twilight was growing truly panicked, Zant stepped back, pausing in his frantic attacks.

“This has been quite fun, but I’m afraid I didn’t come here to fight,” he said coolly, and his helmet shifted, revealing his mouth pulled up in a smile. Warriors paused as well, but kept his sword up, still ready and willing to fight.

“Then what do you want?” Warriors said breathlessly, and Zant’s smile twisted into a grin.

“To make you suffer.”

Two shadow beasts leaped at Warriors from behind, catching him off guard and throwing him to the ground. They pinned his arms and legs in a similar manner to Twilight in mere seconds, and Warriors’ sword went flying, Twilight letting out a muffled shout.

Zant stalked forward, his weapons skimming the snow on the ground.

“I should have killed you back at the Spirit’s Spring long ago, but now I’m almost glad I didn’t. I think I prefer to draw it out,” Zant said in a voice filled with glee as he stood above Warriors. “I’ve waited to repay you for stealing my rightful throne for a long time, Hero.”

“Rightful throne? It was never your throne to begin with,” Warriors scoffed, and gritted his teeth as Zant pressed the tip of his sword to his cheek.

“It should have been!” Zant hissed, and dragged the sword across Warriors’ face, leaving a bloody line in its trail. “I am the Twilight Realm’s rightful king! It is my throne, and I am it’s ruler!”

“I’ve met the true ruler of the Twilight Realm,” Warriors gritted out, and Twilight’s brain stalled for a second. What? “and you’re not her.”

“I am the rightful ruler!” Zant shouted, and dug the tip of his sword into Warriors’ shoulder, pulling a gasp from his lips. “Say it!”

Warriors glared. “Midna is—”

“DO NOT SPEAK HER NAME!” Zant shrieked, and lit his swords up with a dark, crackling magic.

Warriors’ eyes went wide and Twilight let out another muffled shout, but the two of them could only watch as Zant stabbed the blades downward into Warriors’ arms.

Lightning ripped across Warriors’ body, and he screamed, his back arching with electricity.

Twilight had never heard him make a noise like that.

He kicked out madly against the shadow beast holding him, but its grip never budged, and he couldn’t do a thing as Zant slowly removed his swords, leaving Warriors to gasp for breath, twitching slightly in the snow.

Tell him you’re not the one he wants, Twilight mentally begged, watching in horror as Zant repeated the action, making Warriors scream again. Tell him you’re not the Hero of Twilight, Captain!

“I am the Twilight Realm’s king,” Zant practically hissed as he yanked his swords out of Warriors again, leaving him shaking and bloodied on the ground. He thrust a blade under Warriors’ chin, lifting it so he was forced to meet his eyes. “And you and that imp are nothing but insignificant worms under my feet.”

“I... th-think she’d say the opposite,” Warriors rasped.

Zant howled in outrage and lunged forward, but it was then that Twilight finally managed to bite the Shadow Beast’s hand with enough force that it removed it from his mouth.

“I’m the Hero of Twilight!” he screamed, and Zant froze, turning slowly towards him. “I’m who you want Zant, leave— leave him alone,” his finished thickly.

Zant didn’t move for a second, staring at Twilight in silence. Then he turned back to Warriors, grabbing him by the collar and lifting him up so they were practically nose-to-nose.

The hood of the wolf pelt fell back, fully revealing Warriors’ bright blond hair, and marking-less face.

“A fake!” Zant roared in outrage, and threw Warriors to the ground, the captain still twitching with electricity.

He turned towards Twilight, practically shaking with fury.

“You,” he spat, small crackles of energy leaking from his sleeves as he approached. “You. Hero of Twilight. How dare you—”

A golden arrow flew across the clearing, and buried itself right into Zant’s shoulder.

Light burst outward and Zant let out a primal scream, clutching at his arm. More arrows followed, and Twilight heard the Shadow Beasts cry out as well, but he couldn’t see very well due to the sudden increase of light. The monster holding him let go, and Twilight didn’t stick around, catching a glimpse of armor and knowing the others would deal with the monsters.

He made a beeline for Warriors, stumbling a little as he ran. His head still hurt where the shadow beast had slammed him into the tree, his nose was bleeding all over his face, and his whole body was sore, but he wasn’t planning on stopping.

“Captain, are you with me?” he asked as he slid to his knees, and Warriors blearily looked up at him, eyes bright with pain. “Warriors, can you hear me?”

“You... you got a little...” Warriors croaked, reaching up like he was going to wipe the blood off of Twilight’s face, and the rancher waved him off, hands fluttering over the captain’s bleeding body. He was still twitching occasionally, blood soaking his clothes, and the cut across his cheek was bleeding steadily, dripping blood into Twilight’s pelt.

“By the gods Captain, you’re an absolute idiot,” Twilight said with a surge of guilt and horror, putting pressure on what looked like the worst injuries. “You should’ve just told him who I was, why didn’t you?!”

“He wanted... you. Better this way,” Warriors breathed, and gave Twilight a bloody smile. “I am... sorry I... I wrecked your tunic.”

Twilight glared at him, then untangled the scarf from around his own neck. “Permission to get your scarf bloody?”

“‘S only fair,” Warriors chuckled weakly, and Twilight bundled it over him, stemming the flow of blood.

Warriors let out a cough, a twitch running through him again, and Twilight helped him sit up when he tried to himself, the captain leaning heavily on his shoulder. He moved his head so it was resting more easy, and looked at the blood on the captain’s cheek, guilt still laying heavy in his chest.

It should have been me.

“...Rancher?”

Twilight looked over at Warriors again, wincing at a screech that rang out much too close by.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t regret it,” Warriors said firmly, shivering with another tremor. “Not... not at all. Don’t be... guilty.”

Twilight looked away. “Well what am I supposed to do then?”

Warriors gave him another bloody smirk.

“Y-you could say thank you.”

Twilight felt a smile twitch onto his face against his will, and he snorted out a laugh through his still-bleeding nose, lightly bonking his head against Warriors’.

“Fine. Thanks.”

Then he turned and looked Warriors directly in the eye, pushing aside the still heavy guilt in his chest.

“And once you get a red potion in you, I want to know how on earth you know Midna and Zant.”

Warriors smiled as a triumphant cry came from the battle around them.

“Sure thing.”

[cerise-grenadine]

older Snape fans, what are your oldest works like?

i’m curious 🤭

found the old display book where i stored my second (and longest)(and unfinished) fanfic and i’ll have you know the highlight was Severus stabbing a dragon in the throat with a poisoned dagger to save Hogwarts, in front of everyone 🙌🏻

he was able to jump on the dragon because he had ✨angel wings✨ black covered in ebony feathers, of course 🖤

and every chapter had deep poetic introductory quotes bc i was a dramatic teenager.

[stiltonbasket]

Vampire WWX/Fae LWJ: What is their first time sleeping in the same room like? Their first breakfast? Or when WWX notices that LWJ is softer with bunnies?

part 1

On the morning after his arrival at the Cloud Recesses, Wei Wuxian opens his eyes to find Lan Zhan's moon-white face hovering less than an inch above his.

"I am going out to fetch breakfast for us," Lan Zhan says stiffly. "What do vampires eat when they cannot get human blood?"

So rude, Lan Zhan! Wei Wuxian laments to himself, rolling a sleeping A-Yuan onto his back. You could have at least wished me a good morning first, couldn't you?

But then, he had woken Wei Wuxian to ask what he wanted for breakfast, so perhaps this is just what Lan Zhan is like when he tries to be kind.

"Meat, mostly," Wei Wuxian replies, watching as his husband grimaces in distaste. "But half-blooded xuemo can survive without it, so you needn't hunt for me. I'd be grateful for a bit of the porridge you and your brother like as long as you give me permission to eat it."

He winks, making Lan Zhan blush all the way up to his ears. "You will give me permission, won't you?"

"I will, but that is beside the point. By the laws of your people, I am your husband, so it is my duty to provide the nourishment you need." The faerie takes a deep breath. "If you require meat, I will bring you some suitable creature to kill and eat as you see fit. I cannot do the killing myself, but fetching the animal—that I can do."

Wei Wuxian's heart melts; for all faeries hate to do harm to living creatures, and yet his Lan Zhan is willing to do most of the hunting work on Wei Wuxian's behalf.

"There's no need for that," he says gently. Lan Zhan opens his mouth to protest, clearly not liking the look of Wei Wuxian's thin wrists and sallow face; but Wei Wuxian only motions toward the south side of the cave, where he can hear the river gurgling through the trees on the other side of the wall. "You go out and buy some rice and vegetables, and I'll catch some fish for myself while you're away."

Lan Zhan inclines his head and departs, taking his money purse with him; for while the Lan faeries grow their own vegetables in the wood, they have to buy rice and dried spices from the human settlement to the north.

No wonder their food is so bland, Wei Wuxian thinks wryly, as he makes his way towards the river with A-Yuan in his arms. Lan Zhan doesn't have a single herb in his kitchen, except for that old lump of ginger.

He plants A-Yuan in the soft ground near the water, as he usually does at this time of morning. Wei Wuxian helps him dig his little legs as far into the ground as they can go, looking on in satisfaction as the three long leaves on the baby's head unfurl and reach up towards the sun; and then he lays a fish trap in the shallows and splashes across the river, keeping A-Yuan in his field of sight as he searches for kindling seasonings.

He manages to find wild cloves and garlic growing on the far bank of the stream; and by the time he goes back to examine his fish trap, A-Yuan has finished sunning his leaves and soaking his little body in the mud.

"I don't know if you're old enough to eat food," Wei Wuxian muses, marching back to the cave with A-Yuan wriggling under one arm and the laden trap under the other. "You need to be sunned and watered like a plant, so eating fish might make you sick. We'd better not risk it."

A-Yuan squeals and looks up at Wei Wuxian with wet, reproving eyes. "So you do want to eat fish!" Wei Wuxian says accusingly, making A-Yuan shriek with laughter. "But you don't have any teeth. I don't know very much about babies, Yuan'er, but I do know that the women in Jieyu Village never started weaning theirs before the babies cut a first tooth."

The baby looks more wronged than ever. "Bu!"

"Perhaps we should boil the rice into porridge, and put pieces of the fish inside," says a deep voice from behind them. "That way, the rice will be soft enough for A-Yuan to swallow without chewing."

"Oh!" Wei Wuxian turns around and nearly jumps out of his shoes at the sight of Lan Zhan, standing at the mouth of the cave with a bag of rice slung over his shoulder. "Lan Zhan, don't be so quiet when you're walking. I nearly dropped A-Yuan."

Lan Zhan shakes his head. "I doubt you could ever do such a thing. But in the future, I will endeavor to make more noise when you are close by."

He lowers his eyes to Wei Wuxian's fish trap. "Did you catch anything?"

"A pair of grass carps," Wei Wuxian tells him, extracting the fish from their prison and holding them up for Lan Zhan to see. "Now, go light the fire and fetch some water from the well. I need hot water for A-Yuan's bath, and it's past time for breakfast."

So Lan Zhan lights the fire in the little courtyard; and there is a courtyard, much to Wei Wuxian's relief, because Lan Zhan built his small refuge after the fashion of most human dwellings, so that Wei Wuxian could almost forget that his cave was a cave and not a wooden house. After that, he sets off for the nearby well with a yoke fitted about his neck and shoulders, returning scarcely ten minutes later with enough water for both breakfast and A-Yuan's bath.

"I will bathe A-Yuan while you fry the fish," Lan Zhan says, dropping the pails and taking the baby from Wei Wuxian's arms. "There is oil in the bag of groceries I brought, if you need it."

"You didn't have oil in your kitchen?"

His husband sighs. "I used the last of it for yesterday's dinner. Now go."

Wei Wuxian nods and makes his way outside, where he finds a strange contraption for grilling set up in the middle of the courtyard. It looks strong enough to support a hook and pan; but the fish will cook faster in the coals of the fire, so he spears the two carps and roasts them with his foraged seasonings until the skins are burned black.

"Is the rice ready?" he calls, ducking back into the cave. "And what about A-Yuan?"

"A-Yuan is ready. The rice is not," is his husband's laconic answer. "Come take him, and I will bring the rice out to you when it is cooked."

In the end, it takes another quarter-hour before the rice porridge is cooked through and made cool enough to eat. Wei Wuxian feeds some of it to A-Yuan and tries a little himself, after which he puts down his spoon to scold Lan Zhan for being so miserly with the salt and ginger.

Lan Zhan looks oddly pleased for a faerie being scolded about his cooking, though Wei Wuxian can't begin to imagine why.

Stranger still, that breakfast is one of the best Wei Wuxian has ever had; and he doesn't understand that, either.

[myckicade]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: What We Do in the Shadows (TV) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Baron Afanas/Goëjlrm | The Sire, Guillermo de la Cruz/Nandor the Relentless Characters: Baron Afanas (What We Do in the Shadows TV), Goëjlrm | The Sire, Aspen the Hellhound (What We Do in the Shadows TV) Additional Tags: Angst, Romance, The Supernatural, Friends to Lovers, Roommates to lovers, The Fallout of Season 5 Summary:

Things in New Jersey were going well enough. Maybe. If one didn't look too closely at two ancient vampires and their unsure spiral through semi-amphibious parenthood. The good news was, they still had their friends in Staten Island, all of whom were ready to dole out parenting advice (useless), sage wisdom (even more useless), and, oh, yes, completely upset their quiet little lives.

Afanas should have known. Where that bumbling buffoon Nandor was involved, nothing was safe or sacred.

Lesson Learned: What's found on the internet should stay on the internet.

[kanene-yaaay]

Bunny Fields

Kanene's notes: Hi hi hiiiiii!!! Good afternoooooon!!!! The fic is finally here, let's goooo!! This is a gift for @squeaky-n-blushy for being absoluetly incredible and almost making me scream out loud w her comments and hcs and fics. Tu é um arraso, mana!

Warnings: There's a bit of animals tickling someone, not sure if it counts as warning but besides that, nothing more! Just a light cheer up tickles <3. Ticklish!Jin Ling and Ler!Shizui. Around 7.000 words.

[~*~]

Lan Shizui smiled. His eyes closed as the cold wind caressed his hair and filled his lungs, muscles immediately relaxing, making his usual straight posture falter just a bit. There was the rustling sound of the leaves and birds singing nearby to help the calm, relaxed atmosphere that fell over him and confirmed his growing suspicion that it was going to rain later after the sun set. There was still plenty of time to enjoy and spend on his favorite place, however. 

It took a few moments and no time at all for the feeling of something soft and fluffy graze his fingertips. 

Shizui bit back a joyful giggle. Restrain was difficult when he felt so at home like this, but he was no longer a tiny child squealing and gasping in wonder at each new joy, letting instead delight and contentment be shown in his small smiles and the happy dance of his heart and soul. 

As he opened his eyes, he was graced with the image of a small bunny hopping even closer, past his hand and right to his robes,  smelling them before lovingly chining it.

An indignant sound ressounded behind him and the young boy quickly put the bunny on his lap before it was scared away, again, petting it with care and offering a slice of cucumber in an appeasingly manner. From a nearby bush, another bunny moved and looked at him, nose twitching with the promise of food.

“Why do they keep coming only for you?!” Jin Ling complained indignantly, his new round of protests only coming to a halt when a pair of fluffy ears perked just about his right. 

His eyes zoned to them like an arrow to its target, robes twirling around him as he fastly turned to the animal’s direction and hastily offered the vegetable, one hand supporting him on the ground, keeping his expensive clothes away from the grass as the other stretched the farthest away as it was humanly possible in his attempt to attract the bunny. Initially it hopped a few inches away in a wary distance, making him have to stretch even more.

Even as impatience began nicking at his mind, Jin Ling kept his stance, until the bunny was back and staring at the food with interest, nose twitching and ears turned in his direction, its tiny mind clearly calculating the pros and cons of getting close to The Loud Human and having some free delicious snack or go back to its quiet safety but with no fresh snack. It was black with a big white spot on the base of his left ear and every time it moved the spot fluttered around as well. 

After a few moments passed, the bunny hopped close.

A surprised, sharp gasp came out from the leader of the Jin Sect and both boys held their breaths, watching as it stopped momentarily with his noise before coming closer and closer. The slice almost trembled on his fingertips with his barely contained excitement when the animal stopped in front of it.

An experimental nibble was taken. Pride and warmth began filling Jin Ling’s chest and he prepared to crawl in its direction, already imagining how soft and fluffy that fur would feel when he finally got to hold and pet-

A white blur passed like lightning under him, not even faltering or stopping its dash even with the loud surprised shout from the young boy as he fell on the ground with the scare. It simply continued its path and barreled on the black spotted bunny, hopping like crazy around it and then running away in all its glory and speed, quickly being followed by the first one with energy.

Jin Ling watched as they went away, his eyes narrowing when he saw something suspiciously green and round in one of the bunnies’ mouth, only then turning to look at his hand and realize that his fingers were holding onto nothing, the fresh treat being successfully stolen away.

He felt his entire face burning with the knowledge that he just had been outsmarted by a tiny and fast bunny.

He turned around and laid on the grass with his arms crossed, pout evident on his face and growing stronger as he heard Shizui’s quietly concealed giggles of amusement.

“Stupids rabbits!” 

Bunnies, actually, but the Lan didn’t think his friend would appreciate his correction at the moment.

Jin Ling stomped his feet once in frustration and for a moment the image of a small, round bunny wearing the yellow robes of the Jin sect and with a tiny red spot on his forehead, angrily stomping his feet on the grass flashed in Shizui’s mind, which didn’t really help him with the whole ‘not-laughing-at-your-friend’s-predicament’ thing. Jin Ling seemed to get even more energetic at this.

“That is why dogs are clearly superior! Even before being trained, Fairy already knew how to recognize a strong and trustful cultivator from a threat. Those rabbits are just scared of everything.”

Shizui did not point out who had just been scared by one of them not even a niàn ago, nor rolled his eyes at the other, knowing that even the half amused and half annoyed huff he let out in answer to his complains already tip toed the line of self control his sect was known and respected for.

“Do not bully the weak.”

“Weak?! Wasn’t you watching how it jumped on the other bunny and stole my treat? The only one bullying the weak here was it itself. Maybe you didn’t explain your rules to them well enough.”

Shizui felt his cheeks prickle with a small bound of heat. Since Jingyi told Jin Ling about his old habit of reciting the sect’s rules to the bunnies as a kid in order to better memorize them, the Jin haven’t left him alone until he showered said special place and bunnies to him (with Hanguang-Jun’s permission, of course).

Usually, and especially since becoming the First Disciple, Shizui shouldn’t engage in senseless banter. For a moment, he truly intended to ignore his friend’s clear provocation… but the need to defend his younger self was stronger. “They are good listeners.” 

“And clearly bad learners.” Jin Ling grumbled, watching with envious eyes the bunny on his lap and the couple more surrounding him before turning around sharply, only to find the pair of black and white still jumping around the grass, the slice of cucumber now nibbled to half and in the other’s rabbit mouth. 

He bit back a curse and turned to look at the sky. “Isn't it your obligation as the First Disciple to handle punishments? Go teach them something.”

A snort rang in the air and Jin Ling turned around just in time to see Shizui’s surprised smile for a flash before a long white sleeve ran to politely hide it.

“Maybe this one should ask shifu for some little brushes and paper? Before herding all of them to the Library Pavillion to copy the rules in handstands?” 

Only then Jin Ling realized the absurdity of his words, the mental image of a bunch of bunnies following Shizui in line with tiny brushes and books as students with bad behavior eased his frown and thawed his moping into amusement.

He didn’t smile, but also didn’t snark back and instead turned back to the clouds, enjoying the scenery. 

Soon enough his eyes began prickling with tiredness and he yawned, blinks getting slower and slower as the gray clouds continued to accumulate in the sky. Since becoming a Sect Leader, there was always something to do, some problems to resolve, a meeting to attend, emergencies that were of the utmost importance and needed his attention right now. Therefore, it was no surprise that his sleep became seriously affected by it, with little time to truly rest and even less time when his nightmares would leave him alone. It was rare to have… this. Time to just close his eyes and joy, to oblige his muscles to relax and let his mind drift away…

Something heavy lays on his robes and he jumps on the same spot with a shout, stopping himself from scrambling away when he sees that it was just Shizui by his side, now holding a bunny protectively against his chest as he petted it into calmness again.

“WHAT-” The bunny squirmed in the Lan’s hold and Shizui stared at him with a serious sharp gaze. Jin Ling frowned back, although his voice lowered, begrudgingly. He grabbed one more cucumber slice from the porch attached to his hip and offered to his friend to calm down the animal. Eventually, the bunny settled again on Shizui’s hold. “What do you think you were doing!”

Shizui watched him with such a neutral and unimpressed face that Jin Ling instectevely shivered with how similar to Hanguang-Jun he looked in that moment. In answer to this thought Jin Ling only scowled harder. If they are showing off their heritages he might as well prove his.

“Stay still.” With the corner of his eyes, he saw Jin Ling opening his mouth. “And be quiet.”

That only made his friend bristle even more, taking a deep breath in preparation for what could only be the start of a mix of threats, complaints and protests, so Shizui ran to lay the bunny again on his stomach, successfully shutting him up. 

Interrupting was against the rules, but technically he was just finishing his previous comment and Jin Ling hadn't started to talk yet, so, with a lighter tune, he quickly continued before the other found his words again. 

“They get easily scared with sudden noises and movements. We need to be careful.” 

Jin Ling didn’t bat an eye at him and his words, currently too focused on the bundle of fluff that hopped to his chest and sniffed his fingers when he offered his hand, letting him pet it without a fuzz.

He let out a soft gasp when the bunny lifted itself to its hinder legs and began cleaning its face. Shizui was pretty sure that no emergency or obligation in the entire cultivation world could convince Jin Ling to move a single muscle now, his entire form melting back on the grass, completely attentive simply only to the cute animal on him. 

Shizui could relate.

He watched the small smile blossoming on his friend’s expression and how clearer that made the heavy shadows under his eyes and his previous sour mood stood out.

Since he and lan Jingyi met Jin Ling, he had been energetic, grumpy and not afraid at all to speak his every thought in a way that Shizui could only wish to understand, going into dangers and ideas head first, defending what he believed with his entire being and bickering or even fighting with anyone who disagreed with him and tried to cross his path.

In those last months, however, it had been clear that the stress had been taking a toll on him. It was not as bad as the first seasons when his entire world came crashing down around him in a single night and he suddenly went from heir to leader of his sect. 

Yet, lately he was still clearly jumpier and easy to startle than normal. His presence had became even more scarce than previously during their usual night hunts, his remarks more painful and his regretting silence after those louder.

Each and every one of those details accumulated and flashed in front of Shizui’s eyes like flaring signals, asking without words for immediate support.

To see him now, taking it easy, being full of excitement and softness, it only made Shizui’s determination to keep cheering him up like this even stronger. Quickly, he turned around, gray eyes fastly jumping around the field in search of more bunnies to bury the other under.

There was nothing better for lighting someone’s mood than being under a pile of cuteness and fluffiness, of that he was sure.

He had just successfully coaxed two more bunnies on Jin Ling and had just turned around to attract a fourth one when a barely concealed giggle froze him on the spot.

Jin Ling tried to scrunch his neck, but stopped mid movement when the rabbit just shoved its nose even more on the spot. It had spotted his brilliant red ribbon and got closer, wanting to give it a few experimental nibbles before the human quickly maneuvered the fabric away, hiding it under his head and hair from the curious bunny. Now, very much likely in a petty show of revenge, the small ball of fluff began sniffing his neck non stop.

As soon as the uncharacteristic sound was stolen away by the wind, Jin Ling turned around with wide eyes to stare at Shizui’s back, hoping that he hadn’t listened to the most embarrassing giggle he just let out. 

(Look! He had been caught by surprise, ok? You try to contain your reactions when a stupid rabbit discovers your weakness and decides to start exploiting it as revenge for you trying to save its life!)

The Lan, however, seemed much concentrated to continue his mission of determinedly gathering more and more rabbits to absolutely submerge Jin Ling with them, for some reason. He would’ve sighed in relief if the moving ball of fur hadn’t just decided to start nuzzling right under his chin, resulting in a brand new round of giggles to bounce back and forth on his throat, being held back only by his lips being desperately pressed in a thin line. 

“You dumb animal,” the heir of the grandious Jin sect refused to acknowledge the slight tremble in his voice, whispering his words so Shiziu wouldn’t realize the predicament he is in. If he, or even worse, Jingyi discovered about him being ticklish he would have to kill them himself in order to not die from embarrassment. 

Besides, he was a sect leader, now. Sect Leaders simply were not ticklish. 

As if actively contradicting him, the little tickly sensations continued to assault his nerves. 

“Cut this off or I’ll break your legs!”

The rabbit continued being a rascal and ignored his warnings, pretty much like he himself when his uncle used that same threat with him, knowing he was all talk. 

He bristled indignantly at being ignored and quickly lifted his arms, scaring one of the bunnies left on his torso to the ground

The other flinched and looked at his arms with suspicion, not far from following the other’s lead.

Swallowing a loud squeak - because the stupid little demon on his shoulder decided that his ear looked very interesting and began nuzzling it too - he changed his path to pet the second little fluffy ball on his belly because he wasn’t actually so petty - different of some animals as it seems - to scare the rabbits Lan Shizui left under his care just because of a few accidental tickles. 

The animal quickly calmed down again and went dutifully back to search his robes for more snacks since the four slices of cucumber Jin Ling gave to it had already been devoured.

(What a greedy thing!)

It had just started to sniff his porch with curiosity when a tiny lick hit his neck and the one in yellow robes had to use all his self control to stop an honest squeal to leave from his mouth, transforming it into a yelp as his hands flew to grab the sneaky little rascal out of his shoulder. His cheeks burned from interrupting the silence with his uncontrolled reactions once again.

“I am going to roast you.” He brought the  big, round thing next to his face, right in front of his eyes so he could glare at it better.

Once again, he must not have put too much heat on his mumbled threat because the rabbit only squirmed on his hold, obliging the grumpy, frowing leader move his hands to better secure it, supporting the torso and bun, before it went right back to to excitedly licking his face.

With a protesting and dramatic disgusted sound, Jin Ling pulled it away from him and made a face, showing off his tongue in what he knew was a childish move, but after so much blatant disrespect, he didn’t care anymore.

“Stupid rabbit, I will start licking you back, see how you like it!”

“Do not bully the weak.”

“Shizui!” The surprised expression made clear that the Lan had been successful in his attempt to not be discovered watching such a cute scene with the corner of his eyes, smiling fondly with drops of exasperation. Jin Ling’s face was slightly red and contorted in a scoff. “Shut up!I am not bullying anyone, this… thing here is the one that started everything. He hates me!”

Both boys turned to look at the bunny, still sitting comfortably in the other’s careful hold and totally taking advantage of his distraction to chin his cheeks energetically. Shizui very carefully did not lift one dubious eyebrow when he turned to stare at his friend again, but for the way that Jin Ling jolted on the same place and made a face, eyes staring back in defiance, he must have realized his true feelings anyway.

The one in golden robes opened his mouth to say something - probably a snapping remark - but immediately choked, his mouth quickly clamping shut as his entire posture became stiff as a board.

“Jin Ling?” 

Said one looked at him with wide eyes, hands coming down to hurriedly drop the bunny in his hold back on his shoulders, which seemed to be trembling a little. His moves were forced and unnatural. 

Immediately looking around to find the reason for his friend’s sudden silence, Shiziu found his gaze being promptly captured by his torso, squirming around and almost dislodging the other bunny on his stomach, who kept its unrelenting digging on the porch tied on his belt, missing the target most of the time and giving the sides and stomach under it the treatment of the soft, stubborn paws, uncaring for how the torso under it kept trembling and shaking under it.

His eyes changed their focus now to Jin Ling’s arms that jerked to his midriff. That was the moment the bunny he had just decided to put down began delivering licks and nuzzles back again on his neck, now free from any restraints and enjoying the opportunity present with the best of its ability. 

Jin Ling's hands went up to his shoulder and then right back down, clearly not sure of each animal to take care of first, face getting even more red as the moments went by and the attack simply continued, lips pressed so firmly that they formed just a straight line on his expression, his cheeks starting to poof.

So it was true, Jin Ling definitely was…

Shizui tried to not smirk with mischievousness, doing his best to keep in mind and reflect in his body the sect’s rules. 

(Do not bully the weak.)

However, Jin Ling was a very strong companion, a capable cultivator and admirable leader. No other word could be more unfitting to describe him than ‘weak’. 

(Cherish your companions and friends. Value your family. Stay honest to your beliefs. Do not treat outsiders of the sect differently.)

He was here to help Jin Ling to relax and cheer up. If a new opportunity to do so presented itself so perfectly in front of him, it would be foolish to not acknowledge the benefits that resulted from it.

“Let me help you, then.” 

Jin Ling could almost breathe in relief when he felt the rabbit on his stomach being lifted away, taking care of half of his attack. With mind and arms now free from the uncertainty, he moved to move the other one as well.

The moment of peace was soon over, however, when nimbly fingers took over its place and began digging and scratching on his sides with much more skill and precision than the animal. 

He jolted with a squeal and the giggles that were already trapped on his throat spilled freely, seemingly to only encourage Shizui’s attack even more. The Lan focused in exploring every spot of sensitive skin, pinching and skittering everywhere those skillfully fingers could reach, finding the weakest spots and attacking them without mercy all while he kept evading without even a blink the clumsy dance of his own hands as they tried to stop him from his tickling and pulling the most embarrassing sounds from him.

A squeeze hit his hips and the initial giggly fit quickly grew to a loud laughter, his reactions seeing much harder to control when as soon as his barrier broke. With interest, Shizui’s hand latched on the spot, kneading the flesh and scribbling on the bone, very much satisfied with the answering guffaws that it resulted.

Such sensations spreaded like fire across his skin, a buzzing feeling that went from his hips to his entire torso in ticklish sparkles and funny tingles,  mixing with the soft feeling of soft and fluffy nuzzles on his neck like a unbearable dance that made his smile grow wider and his laughter stronger.

“No!” He tried to growl in protest, but it came out more like a whine as he held the other’s wrist in reflex, briefly pulling it away from his torso when another high pitched squeak scurried away from his lips. In a flash, his friend’s other free hand (where was the rabbit?) had been quick to jump to the rescue, diving under the captured one and latching on his torso with energy. Fingers hopping from rib to rib, playing on each bone like they were the strings of a guqin until he was more focused in scurrying to hug himself than to keep the hand secure in his hold, squirming at every prodding and vibrating that attacked the spaces in between them as if the was dutifully tuning an instrument. “D-do not! Shizui!! Whahahat are you doing?”

“Helping you.”

“You are not! C-cut it out!”

Shizui’s next words were drowned by a shriek as another cold thing touched his neck. With a foreboding sensation Jin Ling realized that the other rabbit had joined the first one next to his shoulder, also sniffing and chinning him in a horrible, revengeful attack.

(What had he even done to this one?!)

“Get out, leav-eek! Leave my ribbon alone!” His voice wobbled and his words were completely taken over by plenty of snickers and chuckles, eyes closed from how much he was smiling, the sensations exploding behind his eyelids like flares. “Why do you keep licking me!”

He tried to scrunch his neck again in a poor attempt of protection, not really being successful since the bunnies simply deviated their attention and buried their stupid fluffy bodies and their stupid tiny, pink noisy noses behind his ears with energy and obliging him to move his face away, by instinct, which, of course, only opened even more places for them to explore, more tittering snickers and protesting squeals filling the air.

“Maybe it’s because of your… sweet personality?” Shizui cringed internally, then deflated, somehow glad that his friend was very much occupied laughing his heart out to point his thoughts out. Jingyi was much better at puns. 

The fact that Jin Ling’s face still pulled into a frown, a quite weird one since there was a gigantic smile on his face, was still equally amusing, though.

“That was horrible! Bunnies do not eat sweets.”

“Fruits are sweet.”

“I am not a fruit!”

A twinkle appeared on Shizui’s gray eyes and for a moment he looked so much like Wei Wuxian that dangerous warnings began blasting on his mind. “Maybe they confused you with a red bayberry?”

Jin Ling felt his already blushing face be set ablaze with stronger flames. A series of offended and incoherent noises fell like a snowstorm from his mouth, legs starting to kick with giddy energy and his torso to more energetically twist away. The offending hands simply kept following him, although, no matter how much he turned this or that way, drumming quicker and stronger on his higher ribs for the trouble.

He prepared to string a completely cohesive and strong argument that may or not contain a few threats of breaking legs or imminent death when said worming fingers decided to climb and shove themselves in his armpits.

A shot cut across the air as Jin Ling arched his back. It took a few moments for him to realize that such inhuman sound had been his, especially as more and more shrieks continued to be fished from his lungs.

Shizui faltered for a couple of moments, surprised with his sudden stronger reaction, fingers stilling and trembling as he stopped himself from chuckling out loud in amusement at the reaction. Guffaws and snorts continued to fill the air and he gave the - as it seems - absurdly, awfully ticklish skin under his nails a quick, light series of scribbles.

Another screech left Jin Ling’s lips and he jumped on the same place, giddy, anticipatory giggling escaping from him even when the other stilled his fingers again. The first disciple of Gusu Lan felt his own mouth twitching into a grin. 

“Shizui!”

Humming in lieu of an answer, Shizui started once more his skittering, now trying to add some stronger pressure as he scratched every available patch of skin. He watched as Jin Ling’s legs began kicking again with a new kind of fervor, moves growing quicker and more frenetic the longer he went.

His eyes squinted a little bit in thought. Freeing one of his hands, he pulled one of Jin Ling’s arms upwards, ignoring the yelp (and more tittering) that this resulted.

Making his touch light and soft again - not unlike the quick tracing of brush on paper or the quick plucking of a guqin’ cords -, the Lan ran the tip of his fingers on his inner elbow, watching as the other  descended back to a hysterical snickering, kicks going from trashing to a steady pace of stomps.

(Lan Shizui tried to wash away all his smug thoughts of how hard it would be to hit such a sensitive place when wearing all the layers required by the mountains' weather. Such a pity the Jin’s golden robes weren’t as thick and numerous as Lan’s, truly.)

Then, with no warning he dived back to his pits, clawing them until another round of shrieking started anew together with, to his immense delight, energetic and quick kicks that continued to follow the speed of his tickling.

It was almost impossible to distinguish the red Vermillion’s mark in Jin Ling’s forehead with how red his entire face was. “Stop playihihihing!”

Jin Ling clasped his arms tight on his torso, trying to protect himself way too late and succeeding in only trapping his hands closer and looking one step closer of completely losing his mind.

“Get out of there!” But the rabbits also kept him let out the most embarrassing yelps and squeaks and Jin Ling no longer knew to whom his order was directed to.

“Lift your hands up and I will.”

The sect leader scoffed. It came out sounding like a snort. “I’m not falling for that!” 

With a sort of amusement, Shizui watched as his friend’s reactions began fluctuate once more, according to the kind of tickles he delivered, going from a hysterical, loud giggly fit when he wormed his hands a little down low and decided to poke and prod his higher ribs, - quickly jumping from one spot to other to hear those funny, lovely squeals that appeared each time Jin Ling was caught by surprise, - to an uncontrollable round of crackles and screeches when he decided to vibrate non stop on his pits, making him kick and squirm and arch his back with no real way to escape the ticklish feeling that flooded his nerves in a fun kind of electricity that would put Zidian to shame.

(May his uncle never hear this.)

It took several tánzhǐs before Jin Ling’s mind stopped screaming and the next words of the Head Disciple of Gusu Lan finally sank.

The fact that the rabbits finally got tired from (all the movement and decided to look for food somewhere else) messing and attacking him might have helped.

“Lying is forbidden in Cloud Recessess.” Shizui reminded, watching him with an unusual playful gleam that didn’t inspire a lot of confidence in his words.

But Jin Ling wasn’t a little, easily tricked kid anymore. He had grown up with plenty of… experience to know a trap when he saw one.

“You’re just going to-”  His voice disappeared in a loud squeal and he tried to give the boy in white robes an annoyed glare before it faded in the smile on his face, especially as Shizui continued to focus on that spot between his armpits and ribs, pulling more and more squealing laughter. 

However, he was the nephew of Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian, and no one could shut him up when he had something to say!

He took a breath and spilled everything before the other could stop him again.

“You’re only going to tickle me more!”

Instead of the surprised face of someone who was caught breaking his sect’s main rules by being a dirty liar, Shizui only smiled calmly at him.

“I assure you. If you put your hands up, I will not tickle your armpits anymore.”

Then, he kneaded on the flesh and digged his fingers, as if reminding him how absolutely unbearable and insufferable the tickling truly was, taking all the breath he had just gotten away in a wheezing crackle. “Which I can not promise if you keep me trapped here.”

For a while Jin Ling was too lost in laughter to concentrate, arms trying to go up only to go crashing right back down as the Lan just didn’t stop tickling him. 

The sadic Lan he called a friend continued to soften his touches to a light, maddening scribbling just after each attempt, only to go back to full on drumming  on his poor pits the moment he managed to lift his arms the tiniest bit, cutting off all his progress.

“Why are you doing this!”

“Doing what?”

“Tickling m-” He cuts himself just as his mind caught his words, again, he turns a (non effective) frown and a glare (without heat) to his friend, who now loses the battle against himself and begins to softly snicker.

Jin Ling frowns harder at how warm that makes him feel. It is still a funny image with all the smiling and laughing. “I already said I am not falling for that!”

“You only need to put your arms back up, Sect Leader Jin, and I will not tickle your armpits anymore.” His tune had… something. If it wasn’t Shizui, it would almost sound as if taunting.

Still, it made Jin Ling bristle and, with all the strength he could gather, shot both of his arms up at once. They shook and trembled with plenty of laughter frolicking across the grass, yet they were kept high up.

Shizui stopped immediately and Jin Ling waited, anticipation prickling on his skin, for the moment those tormenting fingers would go back to assaulting his pits. 

With wide eyes, he watches, instead, as the other simply pulls his hands away with a tranquil, almost knowing look in his face.

“Lying is forbidden in Cloud Recessess.” Shizui, once more, reminds him.

There is still… a kind of light in his eyes that keeps titters falling from the leader’s lips and a tingling to run across his nerves. 

A breeze of air passed through them, making the hair on his neck stand up and him to prepare for another attack. He quickly pulls his arms right back down and Shizui adjusts himself so he is sitting on his legs, watching Jin Ling as if he is as silly as the big smile that is still plastered on his face.

Jin Ling begins to relax.

That is when, in a beautiful, blurring and fast flash of white, two hands latch on his stomach and started clawing with energy, scratching any and everywhere, kneading up and down, spidering all around, scribbling and pitching from side to side.

“No, no, no! Not the tummy, not the tummy! Shiz-” Another high screech was out of his lungs, a surprised, belly laughter (ha-) following right after. His voice got completely taken over by the force of the sound, totally unrestrained and unstoppable.

Lan Yuan really couldn’t help it.

He kept on tickling, kept looking for the spots that brought the most high pitched reactions, the cutest sounds, the sensitive places that made him bang his fists on the ground and try to roll away from the ticklish touches only to feel sneaking fingers swiping across his spine and dancing on his back over and over again until he was back to pressing his back on the ground, kindly putting his stomach right back at his tickly attention again and again.

It took him three tries, but soon Jin Ling was able to pass coherent words in between his slow, giggly and continuous descent into madness.

“I already commanded you to stop!”

And, just like magic, the tickling actually stopped.

Jin Ling kept feeling the ghost of the scribbles and tickles jumping excitedly across his muscles and nerves. He hugged his belly and tried to squirm away, but a firm touch on his torso prevented him from doing so, pulling his attention back to his friend as he kept trying to reign all the snickers flowing from him. 

His smile dimmed a little when he realized that the other was frozen, as if stuck in a daze.

What was that about? Did he just get hit by a curse? Was someone approaching? Maybe Hanguang-Jun? Was that why he stopped all of a sudden? Jin Ling supported himself on his elbow and looked behind Sizhui, trying to see any hint of white robes, a guqin or Wei Wuxian. 

When nothing besides a bunch of bunnies and trees catches his eyes, he goes back to stare at his friend, brows furrowed in confusion.

“You didn’t.” Lan Sizhui replies, as if this explains something.

“What?”

He jolts on the place when his strong, watching gaze falls on him, looking determined. “You didn’t.”

He starts to smile, something bright and happy. Jin Ling squints his eyes.

“You didn’t ask me to stop.”

With a shock, this time the leader of the Jin Sect was the one who froze, eyes widening with realization, mind running across the moments since the attack began. He surely would… I mean, it wasn’t as if Jin Ling actually still liked… Shizui simply must have been confused!

The blush on his face grows darker and darker.

“That doesn't mean anything! Besides, I shouldn't even have to! I- I-” His tune is as squeaky as his laughter, words jumping out of his throat before he can think too much about it. 

Instead of giving up of whatever he was planning to do, however, Shizuis's face only continues to get fonder and fonder, transforming into something so utterly joyful and glad that it has Jin Ling stumbling to erase it before the other can start getting ideas. More sentences tumbles out of his mouth as his arms try to push him clumsily away. “You Lans shouldn’t even… We aren’t kids anymore!”

Shizui’s grin continues unchanging, shining in fondness and playfulness and Jin Ling continues to feel his neck getting progressively more and more hot.

“Animals still play as adults, especially bunnies.”

“What does that have to do with anything, we are not bunnies!”

“There is no age to have fun, A-Ling.”

Then his gray eyes got wide and panicked and the sudden change left Jin Ling so confused that, when the other hurriedly jumped in his direction, he only managed to defend himself in their wrestle battle for some moments before the mischievous hands were burrowing themselves once again on his armpits. Just the slight graze of the ticklish feeling was enough to turn his body into well cooked noodles until the other was able to bring him right back to the ground, kicking and laughing non stop as the drumming was right back.

“You said you wouldn’t tickle them anymore!”

His entire body shook with the peals of laughter, head being thrown back with the force of it. There was  nothing else his senses could feel except that it tickled. It really, really tickled, even more now that Shiziu seemed to catch on just how much he didn’t truly mind the playful attack at all.

There was still mercy in the world, as it seems, though. 

“That is true.” The digging stopped and Jin Ling barely had time to breath before his sides began to be attacked with some light and energetic spidering, rare pinches appearing here and there and making him buckle from one side to another with surprise. 

The sudden change caught him out of guard and his belly laughter to fall back to a series of his embarrassing snickery giggles. His shoulders hunched up and he pressed his face on them, trying to at least muffle a little bit of such undignified sounds.

Lan Shizui must have some kind of mind reader amulet with him because in the very next niàn the soft tickling went back to an unmerciful kneading that made him squeal and squirm uncontrollably until his face inevitably came out of its hiding place. He began kicking his legs with all his might, making the other one turn around to look at them with a critical eye.

“Very well.”

And, as if they just had an entire conversation and arrived to some sort of agreement, Lan Sizhui freed one of his hands to squeeze on his right knee, summoning a loud snort, more and more of them being successfully mixed with his now wheezing fit to Shizui's happy delight.  

The leader of the Jin Sect got stuck in a playful, tickly cycle of extending his legs in a poor and unsuccessful attempt to escape from the tickles, shaking them from a side to another since Shiziu discovered that scratching on the underside of his knees will get him wiggling and letting out an unending ‘eee’ sound and then getting his sides teased and scribbled on until he was a mess of giggles, pulling his legs up to another round of kicks only for his knee to receive even more squeezes.

Every step of the cycle kept being repeated over and over again, as thoroughly and carefully as possible, making him wheeze, yelp, squeal, snort (there was so, so much snorts, Jin Ling is never surviving this if Lan Jingyi ever finds out), snickers, guffaws and temporary barks of laughter that makes his shoulders bounce, his head to shake and his mind to go completely crazy with such a funny, unbearable sensation.

His core spinned and twirled with each moment, sending warmth and adrenaline across his every meridian, making every light touch, every poke and spidering much more ticklish than before. His smile is so big and there are so many memories of his childhood passing through his mind and he wants to pull and push the sensation away and…

And he giggles and giggles and giggles.

Finally, the tickling stops and Jin Ling just… melts on the grass. His mouth is still twisted in a smile longer after all his tittering and hammering heart calms down. Feeling so dizzy with adrenaline, giggly in joy and relaxed only highlights how much tense he was before. 

He closes his eyes and just stays there, catching his breath, enjoying the breeze and wondering if he should get his revenge right now or wait to first bribe Jingyi into spilling all of Shizui’s best tickle spots and then get him, perhaps even with his help.

When his eyes open, his friend is there, petting a bunny that got close with one hand and holding a porch with the other. Jin Ling moves to sit and glare when Shizui turns with a calm, happy face to offer him water.

He opens his mouth to say something - a promise, a threat, a complaint - but no words come out so he simply gets the poach and drinks the water greedily. 

Stupid noisy bunnies. 

Stupid attentive Lans.

“Are you feeling better?” 

Shizui at least has the sense of sounding a tad apologetic. As he should! Attacking someone (and a Sect Leader no less!) with such a… childish, unbecoming tactic. His uncle, Sect Leader Lan and not even Sect Leader Nie would be found fooling around like this in his place. Jin Ling almost bristles at him in answer.

The warmth and fact that he is the most relaxed he had been in days stops him. But still!

“What are you talking about?”

Shizui looks around and then at him, eyes catching his without fear or mockery and holding his gaze. They spend a moment like this until the other looks away with a soft sigh. 

“You seemed stressed, lately, so I-” 

(-thought to bring you to my safest space, where no worries can find you or matter.)

(-decided to tickle you until you looked and sounded so carefree that no problem would try to keep haunting your mind.)

(-remembered how easy and effortless it is to be playful around you.)

How silly would he sound should he say any of this. Words weren’t usually a problem for him and yet Shizui found himself not knowing exactly how to explain his motives.

“I wanted to show you the bunny fields. They’re always very effective to be calming and joyful.”

He decided to go with that.

“And since when do I need your help?” Jin Ling sniffed, “I am fine!”

Shizui blinked, stared at him, face showing no strong emotion. His eyes narrowed just the slightest bit.

He lifted one of his hands in a clawing motion.

“Wait! D-don’t! I just said that I am fine.” he made a noise between a scoff and a snickery sound. “Lying is prohibited here, isn’t it? As a sect leader, it would be unbecoming to disrespect your sect by not following them.” 

He crossed his arms and their eyes found themselves again. Without even meaning to, Jin Ling’s voice softened. “I am fine.” 

(Thank you.)

Shizui huffed, sounding both amused and relieved, smiling a little back. “Then I am glad.”

[evilkitten3]

But listen, if Izuna had said yes to Hashirama's help after he was injured and he still died, would Madara rampage like in canon? Would he still chase the infinite tsukyomi?

the thing is, hashirama never offered to help izuna. i'm actually not sure he could have - the hiraishingiri pretty much cut through him like butter. moreover, while madara himself lauds hashirama's medical prowess, we actually know very little about his capabilities with medical ninjutsu. he could heal wounds without any hand seals, that's mostly all we know.

here are hashirama's words immediately after izuna is injured:

「マダラ・・・お前はオレには勝てない・・・もう・・・終わりにしよう・・・忍最強のうちはと千手が組めば・・・国も我々と見合う他の忍一族を見つけられなくなる・・・いずれ争いも沈静化していく」

"madara... you can't beat me... let's end it already. if the strongest shinobi, the uchiha and the senju, form an alliance... the country won't be able to find another shinobi clan able to counterbalance us... the conflict will eventually calm down"

he doesn't acknowledge izuna at all. whether he intended an offer of medical aid to be implied or not, it's never addressed. a bunch of people have claimed that this makes hashirama a jerk, and while i definitely get that viewpoint, i do think offering to help izuna without being absolutely certain he was capable of doing so would've been a terrible move, politically speaking. madara might have known that hashirama isn't the sort of man who would do something like this, but the rest of the uchiha clan would have no reason not to assume that hashirama didn't just take advantage of madara's kindness/trust/desperation/whatever to ensure that izuna died while potentially leaving room for madara to feel indebted to him for trying in spite of all the reasons he had not to bother.

hell, the clan might even come to the conclusion that madara intended for izuna to die so he could get his eyes, given what ended up happening in canon, so his fallout with them might actually happen even faster (and without the uchiha ever joining konoha at all, although without madara around to counter hashirama, i have no idea if/how the uchiha would manage against the senju from there)

all that aside, if hashirama had indeed offered help and izuna had agreed to take the risk and died anyway and the uchiha clan trusted that that was what had actually happened, i think pretty much everything else would've proceeded according to canon.

there's definitely plenty of fun possibilities to play around with concerning madara's path in life, but tbh i personally believe that without a massive deviation from canon, he would've eventually become who he became. hashirama definitely fucked up here and there, but i honestly don't think there was anything he could've personally done alone that would've changed madara's fate short of killing him back when they were kids, which he was never going to do. he was always doomed.

[scribbling-dragon]

Watcher’s Nest Café

Chapter 8

summary:

The café was quiet.

The customers inside were sitting contentedly at their own tables, each lost in their own worlds as they spoke quietly amongst each other. He didn't know what he expected, really, from a café that relied on the local student populace. And with several final deadlines yesterday, there wouldn't have been many people willing to get up this early, let alone make the trek to the café with the miserable weather outside.

Scott wishes that a few more people would come in, only so that he might have something to do.

(ao3 link)

(masterpost)

(4,913 words)

and this is it! the complete thing- it’s been really fun to write this, so i hope you enjoy the final chapter of this fic!

The café was quiet.

The customers inside were sitting contentedly at their own tables, each lost in their own worlds as they spoke quietly amongst each other. He didn't know what he expected, really, from a café that relied on the local student populace. And with several final deadlines yesterday, there wouldn't have been many people willing to get up this early, let alone make the trek to the café with the miserable weather outside.

Scott wishes that a few more people would come in, only so that he might have something to do.

Something to stare at other than the empty seats at the front bar, something to focus on other than the absence of someone that hasn't even been inside of the café for the past few days.

It shouldn't be bothering him as much as it is. He likes to think of himself as an incredibly composed person, someone that can roll with the blows that life chooses to deal him, even if it unbalances him for a few moments.

The sunlight, cold and pale, streams in through the windows at the front of the café. It pools just in front of the counter, spilling over the wooden tables and almost blinding Scott with how bright it is.

The light is always like this, early in the morning and during winter. It’s cold and bright, shining in through the windows and forcing him to squint through the light to try and smile at the customers. Normally, he’d have someone sitting at the front bar with him, though, whether that was Cleo or Pixl or even Martyn, recently. Normally, they’d be sat there, one or two or all of them, complaining about whatever early-morning classes they have as Scott contents himself with listening, occasionally contributing, and serving the customers.

Normally, on slow days like today, he’d lean over the counter, rest his arms against them, and join in the conversation. He’d smile, far easier than he normally does, and simply talk. Cleo would raise an eyebrow at him if he flirted with Martyn a little too obviously, hiding a smile behind their drink.

Normally, Pix would pretend he was actually doing his work, tapping away at his laptop, but infrequently enough that Scott, and anyone else bothering to look, would know that he’s not actually being productive, with how often he would pause to lean in and mutter some joke, or give some random fact that no-one actually understood why he knew, to their small group at the front of the café.

But it’s not a normal day.

It’s not a normal day and he’s stood, alone at the front of the café. Standing still behind the counter, hands folded neatly in front of himself as he tries not to think too much.

It’s not a normal day, because his head still hurts, despite the tablets he’d taken before he left Grian’s house this morning, and there’s a slight pulsing behind one of his eyes as he breathes slowly. He’s still not sure what it is that Grian puts in his mystery mix, but he vows (again) to never drink it again, because he still feels a little sick. Or that might just be the anxiety.

Because it’s not normal, as much as he’s trying to convince himself that it is; because he doesn't normally sit outside, in the cold, when he knows it’ll only make him hurt even more. He doesn't normally sit and let himself think, even if it’s only for a moment, that Martyn actually meant his words and that they weren't just the musings of a drunk person.

He’s not sure if he imagined the dismissal this morning, as Martyn barely glanced up from his phone. Barely looked towards him, hardly even spared him a smile, before he was looking away again. As though he didn't care. Like he didn't pay any mind to the words they shared last night.

He breathes out shakily, smiling as a customer comes to ask for a second drink. He smiles as best as he can, though it feels more like a grimace, and asks if she’d like anything else with that. She smiles politely back at him, her smile far more put-together than his own, and declines.

She taps her card against the machine, and he asks if she wants her receipt as he taps on the screen. He hands her receipt over, promising that her drink will be over in a minute. She smiles at him again, still well put-together, and returns to her table.

He drifts away, just slightly, as he makes the drink. He’s made this drink a thousand times before, will probably make it thousands more times, and he walks through the steps easily, thoughts spinning away from him. He can hardly grasp onto them long enough to string three words together, setting the drink down with a clink from the ceramic.

She doesn't even look up, murmuring a “thank you” that he pays very little mind to, returning behind the counter and trying not to favour his leg too heavily.

He drags the stool out from beneath the counter when he gets back, giving into his pride for a moment, if only because the sharp pain lancing through his leg is quickly becoming irritating and not at all worth it. It wasn't worth it when he sat outside, in subzero temperatures, and he knew that then. He knows it even better now.

He swings his other leg back and forth as he sits, hands curled loosely around the edge of his seat. One of the tables empties, chairs scraping back and breaking through the fog of his mind. He looks up, blinking twice to clear his eyes and watching as they leave.

He stands, dragging himself from his stool, and cleans their table. He returns the dirty mugs to the sink, leaving them for a moment as he returns to wipe the table down, cleaning it quickly before returning to his stool.

There aren't enough dirty mugs to justify running a full sink of water, for now, so he leaves them. He’ll get to them in a moment, once there’s a few more mugs or plates and it’s later in the day, and his brain feels less like it’s trying to burst out of his skull.

The bright morning light isn't helping, with how it streams through the windows and hits him directly in the eyes. But he can't just close his eyes and lay his head down- it would be unprofessional, and his boss hasn't come in recently, so he could visit any day now, checking up on him and making sure that the café he doesn't even care about is running to a “proper standard”.

He squints his eyes halfway shut, and he can almost see Martyn sat at the counter across from him, chin resting in one hand and balancing his head with the other as he stares down at whatever assignment he was struggling with at the minute.

The sunlight always hit his hair just right, seeming to illuminate it- turning it to gold right in front of Scott’s eyes, as cliché as that sounds. It’s almost embarrassing, the way he sounds like a teenager with his first crush, prone to waxing poetic about the smallest details.

Maybe he should have been a writer. His English teacher had always pushed for him to do that, nudging him along the path, even once he reiterated that he wasn't interested. He could, if he wanted. His grade in English was good enough to get him into most universities nearby- but it’s not something plausible.

He’d never been able to shake the habit of poeticising everything he comes across that snags his attention, only catching himself once he’s halfway through thinking about the exact green of the grass or the way the clouds hang heavy and low in the sky. It would be embarrassing, if any of his friends could read minds; thankfully, they cannot, and he hardly leaves any of his musings out there for someone to stumble across by accident.

The bell chimes, interrupting his train of thought. He looks up, curious to see who his next customer is.

He blinks once, then twice, staring at Martyn.

Martyn stares back at him, chest rising and falling quicker than usual, as though he’d run here. Or done something else to physically exert himself recently. His eyes are slightly wider than usual, hair falling over his face in a way that’s not at all like the usual, purposeful way it falls over his eyes.

His hair catches the sun just right, still. Lighting up behind him in hues of wheat-gold. The door swings shut behind him, slipping free from his fingers as he continues to stand in the threshold. The bell chimes once more as the door latches into place, and the small sound seems to break Martyn out of whatever had him frozen in place before.

Nobody even looks up as Martyn walks over to the counter, and Scott leans back on his stool when Martyn reaches him. He glances past Martyn, before looking back up at him, worrying his lip between his teeth, careful not to split the skin. He’s more than aware that Martyn could accuse him of…something. He’s not sure what, but he knows that he could definitely get him fired from his job if he was embarrassed enough about last night.

“I'm sorry,” Martyn says, the words spilling past his lips hurriedly as he continues to stare down at Scott. He slowly stands from his stool, not liking the height advantage Martyn has over him, however slight, when he’s sat. He freezes in place as the words percolate through his brain and process, leaving him staring at Martyn.

“Uh,” he says, intelligently.

“I'm sorry,” Martyn repeats, quieter this time, leaning over the counter. It puts them closer together, their faces scant inches apart. Martyn looks tired, probably as tired as he looks, the toll of staying up late and drinking more than is probably healthy. “I shouldn't have let you leave like that this morning, but I did anyway, and I feel like shit for that.”

“I- yeah,” he nods at that. “Just…do we really want to have this conversation here?” He asks, lowering his voice a little bit further when the girl from before looks over, slipping her headphones down to listen a little more intently. She looks away when Scott catches her eye. “It echoes.”

Martyn looks a little taken aback, before looking around and realising that the café is actually quite full, even if it’s really early in the morning and the only people here are those with the day off or a later shift, or something. Scott doesn't know anyone in here, aside from the one lady watching them intently from the booth beside the window. She comes in twice a week, the same days every week, and orders the same thing every time. He thinks she might be lonely, that she comes here for the conversations Jimmy normally engages her in and to people-watch.

“Yeah,” Martyn looks back at him. His eyes are still shining with something, hair lit up and framing his face, almost like a halo. He scoffs internally at the comparison, stuffing it away and hoping that he never thinks of it again. His face feels a little warm. “I just, I couldn't wait. I knew you were working, so, just, tell me to go away if this is pushing any boundaries, yeah? Because I know you can't exactly leave if you're uncomfortable, and that’s the last thing I want.”

“Come, uh, come to the back,” he steps back, swinging the counter up so Martyn can shuffle through. He can only pray that his boss doesn't choose today as the day he comes in to check that everything is running smoothly.

The girl from before gives him a judging look, eyes sweeping up and down Martyn- and, alright. Maybe not the best look, especially when his clothes are very obviously rumpled and look like they've already been worn. Absolutely not the best impression to be setting right now.

He glares at her, just because he can, and because it’s expected of him at this point. She stares right back at him, quirking an eyebrow judgmentally before she turns back to whatever the hell it was she was doing. He doesn't even know her.

The door swings shut behind him and Martyn, and then they're both stood in the break room-storage room fusion. The boxes are pushed into one corner, filled with the things that can afford to sit in there for another week until they have space for the stock out front.

“I'm sorry about last night,” Martyn says. His stomach drops a little at the words, the slight hope he’d managed to convince himself wasn't dangerous promptly shrivelling up and dying. “I didn't mean to get that drunk, I definitely wasn't sober when I had that conversation with you, and I don't think you were either.” He’s refusing to meet Scott’s eyes, even as he continues to stare at him. He should be burning a hole into the side of Martyn’s head with his stare, but Martyn remains unaffected.

“Ah, yeah,” he chokes out, feeling as though he’s speaking past a lump in his throat. He swallows, in an attempt to get rid of the feeling, but it remains lodged firmly in his throat. He feels like he can't breathe. “Neither of us were very sober then.”

Martyn scuffs his foot over the ground, back and forth, back and forth, before looking up and meeting Scott’s eyes. There’s something there, and these are the sorts of things that Scott prides himself on- he might not be great at the academic intelligence, though he’s decent enough, but he likes to think that he more than makes up for it with his emotional intelligence. Still, he finds himself scrambling for an answer that doesn't present itself when he looks into Martyn’s eyes, feeling slightly breathless and more than a little sick.

“I still meant it.” Martyn says. He refuses to look at Scott again. He feels almost weak in the knees with relief, the wave crashing over him so abruptly and with so much force that he’s almost carried away by it. He sways, a little, and his knee twinges with the motion. “I just…” he trails off, sucking in a large breath, “I just didn't want to keep thinking things over if you…didn't.”

“I- Martyn,” he can't help it. He really can't. He sighs Martyn’s name, feeling the lump in his throat disappear as he swallows. His heart seems to replace it, seeming to lodge itself right in his throat with how hard it’s beating. “Oh my god.” He laughs a little, because he feels incredibly, incredibly stupid now. Like he’s overlooked everything.

“What?” Martyn looks worried now, hands clasped tightly together, tight enough that he can see the whites of his knuckles.

“We’re both idiots,” he manages, breathing it out between laughter.

“Hey!” Martyn puffs up, looking offended and relieved at the same time. “What do you mean?”

“You know all of our friends had bets on us, right?” He asks, instead. Martyn blinks at him. “They had a board in their kitchen, apparently, but they wiped it off before the party, so we couldn't see it. Xisuma told me.”

“They- what?” Martyn sounds so genuinely confused that he can't help but laugh again, bending over slightly as relief sweeps over him again. “They bet on us?”

“Did you expect anything less?” He asks.

“I- no! But I still would have appreciated being told. Why did Xisuma tell you?”

“Dunno,” he shrugs, “guess he took pity on me.”

“Aw, man,” Martyn sighs, slumping against the opposite wall and tipping his head back. “I do feel like an idiot now- all of our friends knew and they didn't say anything?”

“We figured it out eventually,” he shrugs, going for it far more casually than he actually feels. He feels like he should be screaming, or something equally dramatic. Maybe sliding down the wall in a panic. He should probably be checking that there aren't any customers waiting outside. He finds that he doesn't actually care, when Martyn looks up.

“Guess we did,” Martyn says. He pushes himself off of the wall, taking one step closer. The break room isn't that big, and with that single step the distance between them is halved. Scott could reach out right now and grab him by his hoodie. He doesn't, looking at him from beneath his eyelashes as Martyn wavers. “Do you…have an answer to my question?”

Scott debates for a moment, continuing to watch Martyn from half-lidded eyes, leaning against the wall beside the door. He smiles, tilting his head to the side. “What question?” Martyn left him to stew in his emotions for a few hours, he can afford a few moments of floundering.

“You're seriously gonna make me ask?”

He considers it for a moment, before allowing his smile to spread a little wider, showing off his teeth as he looks up at Martyn. He expects a little surprise, maybe for Martyn to pull back as his teeth are revealed. He doesn't waver, continuing to stare down at him. “Yes,” he breathes, after a moment. He hardly needs to speak louder, with the distance between them even the slightest sound will be heard.

“Scott,” Martyn says, stepping closer, but not touching him, hands still hovering as he pushes closer, toeing the line between friendly closeness and…something else. “Have you ever thought about kissing me?”

Yes, he thinks but doesn't say. He’s thought about it several times, so many times, over the past few weeks. Every time Martyn would smile at him, grinning in his stupidly infectious way; every time he would comment on Scott slipping something from a rude customer. Every time the sun would hit his hair just right and he’d light up the entire café. Scott wasn't sure how people could look away from him when he was like that.

Martyn’s still watching him, still waiting for his response. His hands still hover, close enough that Scott can feel the warmth of his skin, but not quite touching. Not until Scott says he can.

“More times than I can count,” he replies. Martyn flushes at that, blush rising high on his face, causing his ears to turn pink at the tips.

“Then,” Martyn says, “can I kiss you now?”

“Please,” he breathes, hands already reaching up to pull Martyn closer to himself, because he’s not certain he can deal with the almost touching for much longer without going entirely insane. “Martyn,” he says, voice embarrassingly soft as he hooks his hand around the back of Martyn’s neck, pulling them closer.

One of Martyn’s hands settles on his hip, pulling them flush against each other. The other raises to his face, pushing his hair back from his face, tucking it behind his ear, and kisses him.

It’s chaste, just a simple brush of lips on lips. Martyn pulls back a moment later, eyes already blown wide, blushing like someone that’s just had their first kiss.

“Martyn,” he asks, a teasing lilt working its way into his voice. “Have you ever kissed someone before?”

“Yes,” Martyn hisses, face growing pinker with embarrassment. “Of course I have.”

“Have you ever kissed someone for longer than a moment?” He asks, he softens his voice, “I'm not making fun, I promise.”

“I- no,” Martyn’s eyes dart away, then back to him again. They drop to his lips, and Scott smiles at the silent admission. “It…I never felt the need to do more than that.”

“Can I kiss you again?” Scott asks.

Martyn nods slowly, still watching him. He smiles, tightening his grip on the back of Martyn’s neck and pulling him closer until he’s close enough to connect their lips again. Martyn goes easily enough, the hand still resting on his hip squeezing tighter for a moment before relaxing again.

Scott sways into Martyn, pulling him down as he brushes his tongue over Martyn’s lips. Martyn makes a small noise at the action, but he doesn't pull back, even as his lungs must begin to burn. Scott’s own lungs are burning, too, but he pushes further into the feeling, biting down on the very edge of Martyn’s lip.

Martyn pulls back with a gasp, eyes wide and pupils blown.

“Too much?” He asks, cradling the side of Martyn’s face in the palm of his hand. 

“I- no,” Martyn breathes out, still staring at Scott. It’s almost intense enough to make him cower away from it, but he pushes himself towards it instead, leaning further into Martyn, pressing them close together until his chest is resting against Martyn’s, close enough that he can hear the thump-thump-thump of his heart. “Just…unexpected.”

“In a good way?”

“The best way.” Martyn agrees, and then he’s kissing him again.

Martyn’s hand crawls into his hair, tugging at the strands there, lightly at first, then harder when it makes Scott bite his lips again, swiping his tongue over the spot a moment later to soothe it.

Martyn pulls back again, still staring at him with those wide eyes, pupils swallowing a lot of the colour in his eyes, making them look far darker than they actually are.

“Can I-” Martyn stutters off, out of breath and flushed, “Can I touch your hands?” He asks, after a few moments of catching his breath, staring down at Scott.

“Huh?” He pulls his hands back slightly at the question, flexing his fingers and listening to the way the leather creaks. Martyn reaches up to catch his wrist, holding it firmly but not tight, continuing to watch Scott.

“You can say no,” Martyn tells him. And his voice is sincere enough that Scott knows it to be true. He could say no and they could both move on; continuing kissing, if they wanted to. Even if Scott really needs to at least poke his head out and make sure that there’s no massive queue of customers awaiting his return.

“Why?” He asks instead. Because his hands feel sweaty, uncomfortable within the gloves, and taking them off doesn't seem like the worst decision in the world. He can think of several, far worse, decisions he could be making right now.

“Because…I want to see all of you,” Martyn says. “You're just- you're hiding your hands, and I don't know why. And everyone else seems to know, but I don't, and I want to tell you that it’s fine, but I can't, because I don't know.”

“And what if it isn't fine?” Scott asks. Because he has to. He has to. He’s worn gloves for the past four years, and no one’s ever asked him to take them off. Everyone’s just assumed that he’s wearing them for a reason, to hide something - and they're right - and they can't bear to be proven right. “What then?”

“Then we work past it,” Martyn says. “I don't know what to do with myself, Scott, you've driven me insane. I can hardly think of anything else; I've hardly been able to focus on my work, knowing that you're out there, somewhere, and I could be there with you if I wasn't working.”

“That’s silly,” he says. But he would be lying if he said he wasn't touched. It’s sweet, especially with the way Martyn smiles down at him.

“Please?” Martyn asks, and the last of his (admittedly very weak) resolve crumbles in the face of Martyn asking.

“You can't- you can't run away,” he says, even as he pulls his hand back, loosening the gloves. He can't remember the last time he took them off outside of sleeping, and even then he wears them to sleep in sometimes. Can hardly stand the sight of his hands himself.

He eases the leather off anyway, shivering as the air hits his skin and scales. He flexes his fingers, moving them around, even as he keeps his eyes fixed on Martyn. One, to watch his reaction, but two, because he cannot bear to look at his hands himself.

Something brushes over the back of his hand and he gasps, the small sound falling past his lips involuntarily. He shuts his eyes, keeps them squeezed shut and simply nods when Martyn asks if he’s alright.

“They're just…sensitive,” he manages, after a moment, once the feeling of gentle fingers on the back of his hand has eased. “I don't…I’m not used to someone touching them.”

“Oh.” Martyn says. He brushes a careful hand over the scales on Scott’s wrist again, before slowly trailing back up. He twists his wrist at the end, fits their hands together carefully, holding Scott’s hand carefully, as though it’s something to be protected.

“How can you,” he chokes out, breaking his silence when Martyn continues to hold his hand, looking completely unbothered. “How can you just hold my hand? You're not blind, are you?”

“Of course I'm not blind,” Martyn looks him in the eye. “I'm simply appreciating you as a whole, your hands are a part of you, how could I dislike them?”

“How can you just say something like that?” He can feel his face heating up, the way his fins press back against the sides of his head in embarrassment. “They're everything that people find disgusting about sirens. The only thing remaining to identify us as something else.”

“And Jimmy has the yellow feathers of a Canary,” Martyn says. “That identifies him as an omen of death, of misfortune, but everyone is friends with him still. Tango’s sclera is almost black, and I'm pretty sure we've all seen the depictions of demons like that, but Tango isn't a demon; I'm pretty sure he’s the furthest thing from a demon.”

“That,” he doesn't have a good argument against that, nothing to argue otherwise. “I guess.”

“Is it so hard to believe that I might care for you because you're just…you?” Martyn laughs. “At the risk of sounding cheesy, I don't think there’s much you could do to push me away now.”

Yes, he wants to say, yes it is hard to believe you. Because Martyn was doing what his family had chosen not to do. What his father and his brother had decided they couldn't deal with, couldn't stand seeing the reminder of his mother. Couldn't bear to see the resemblance between the two, when she had abandoned them so easily.

The weight of the watch in his pocket can attest to this. Its face cracked and broken, hands perpetually stuck in a time of the past. It speaks of a tipping point- a point of no return, something that he cannot, would not, return to, even if he was given the chance. He’s not sure he could face his brother again.

He doesn't say this, just sighs and rests his head against Martyn’s shoulder. And Martyn holds his hand.

The sound of the bell interrupts them, and his head jerks up, pulling his hand free from Martyn’s grip.

“Oh my god,” he breathes, realising that they're still stood in the break room. “Oh my god, Jimmy’s never gonna let me live this down.”

“What?”

“I abandoned the café to come kiss you in the break room- I make fun of Jimmy for doing that.”

Martyn stares at him, wide-eyed, for a moment. Then he laughs, the sound so loud compared to the quietness of before.

“I need to go,” he says, pulling his glove back on, fumbling to tighten it properly again and cover up the mess of scales that is his hand. “Oh my god, they're gonna make fun of me. They're gonna be horrible.”

“I'm sure it’ll be fine,” Martyn says, but he’s still laughing when Scott escapes the break room, still a little pink in the face. There’s only one customer waiting, and he doesn't look like he’s been stood there for too long, so Scott breathes a sigh of relief.

The girl from before is gone, leaving two empty mugs in her wake. The lady in the window booth gives him a small thumbs-up.

*

“How are you always right?” Jimmy complains, leaning over Grian’s shoulder, reading the message from Martyn. “It’s not fair, the universe is rigged against me.”

“Then you gotta stop betting, Timmy,” Grian nudges at him, shutting his phone off when Martyn’s texts devolve into nonsense. “If the universe is against you, you're never gonna win.”

“I thought for sure I would be right this time,” Jimmy slumps over the counter, ignoring Grian as he collects his spoils of war. He looks unbelievably smug- and really, they should ban him from betting ever, he seems to have made some kind of deal with Luck, with the way he keeps winning.

“There, there,” Tango pats him on the head, messing his hair up worse than it was before. “At least it wasn't as bad as-”

“If you bring up the Sheriff Incident one more time,” Jimmy growls, “I might kill someone.”

“Did someone say Sheriff?” Grian spins on his heel, wearing a smug grin very reminiscent of a cat. “Lemme tell you, I have an entire folder dedicated…”

“Kill me,” Jimmy whispers to Tango. ��Send my congratulations to Scott, and then kill me.”

“No can do, buddy,” Tango pats him on the head again. “I like you too much to do that.”

[dandelion-wings]

kicking wild AUs around with @theabysscomeshome and this is another in the Not Actually Going To Write It category, but this scene really stuck with me, so a brief snippet:

"Grand Sage," Lisa says as sweetly as she can manage, smiling at him. She very carefully doesn't look up and dare draw his attention, or that of the matra with him, to the branches overhead where Kaeya lurks. "How nice to see you. I was just taking my underclassmen to study in the House of Daena." She rests one hand over her catalyst at her belt, casually, as if she's not perfectly positioned to unhook the tome from its strap, and puts the other down on Collei's shoulder. Cyno has better self-restraint; he's rigid at her side, but most of his attention is on her, waiting for instruction. Collei has ducked a little behind her in what she suspects anyone else would take as childish fear. Lisa knows what she's really restraining. His lip curls. "This is exactly why I'm here. You and your instructor have coddled those *subjects* far too much. I'm reassigning them to another research team immediately, before you irreparably taint their research value."

Fury floods crackling through Lisa's veins, and a thousand and one retorts rise to her lips. None of them will make an impression on him, though. She knows what this is really about. Why he's really here.

*Zendik.* Kaeya was right. The strings he's been pulling lead all the way up.

"I haven't received any reassignment paperwork," she says, sweetly, teeth still gritted in a smile. She doesn't dare start to unbuckle her catalyst yet. There's four matra flanking the Grand Sage, and she has no intention of giving them an excuse. Not before Kaeya gets here.

"It will be forthcoming," the Grand Sage says, drawing himself up.

The matra are watching her tensely, and Cyno even more so; they, too, seem to be disregarding Collei as the frightened child she so often seems. So often is, Lisa corrects herself, but that doesn't make her any less dangerous. She's not sure whether to be more insulted on her behalf or on Cyno's that they're tenser about him, as if his desert skin and desert god make him an inherent threat to good order despite all his careful self-discipline, and as if *she* isn't the Witch of the Purple Rose.

"I see. In the meantime, why don't my underclassmen and I-"

"The *subjects*," the Grand Sage says, a muscle in his jaw jumping.

Which was exactly the wrong point to quibble on. Collei gives a choked, furious sob and tears away from Lisa, trying to dart past the matra towards the far edge of the plaza and the ramp down to freedom. The matra, focused on Cyno and Lisa, don't move fast enough; the Grand Sage, unfortunately, has even less ability at threat assessment, and snatches at Collei as she brushes past. He catches a hank of her hair, so recently freed from the bandages, and she screams.

The hair on the back of Lisa's neck goes up. She can feel the power pulsating from Collei's small frame, bare inches from going out of control--from being *unleashed*. Because it will be, if Collei thinks that's the only way out. The matra all quail, crying out in confusion more than in terror, uncertain as to why they're afraid and all the more frightened for it. Lisa steps in front of Cyno, yanks on the strap around her catalyst, and pulls it free, as if it would be any help against the Black Fire.

Kaeya hits the ground directly beside Azar, rolls, and comes up with his catalyst already glowing in his hand. He tosses it up to hover beside him as he reaches out to grab Collei's arm, and he digs his other elbow into the Grand Sage's gut to make him let go as he yanks Collei away. The man grunts and stumbles back, winded by the blow, and catches up against the railing of the platform-

And flails for just a second, eyes wide with terror, before he pitches over to plummet to the ground below. Lisa flinches at the distant, unpleasant *'splat'*.

Pulling Collei in close against him, Kaeya glances over the edge, looks up at Lisa, and shrugs. "Whoops."

"The Grand Sage!" one of the matra cries, comprehension returning and horror infusing his tone as the ominous weight of Collei's nearly-unbound power lifts away. "He's murdered the Grand Sage!"

"We'd been talking about storming the Sanctuary of Surasthana anyway," Kaeya says, throwing Lisa a wry smile before he turns to meet their leveled spears. "We may just have to do it a little ahead of schedule."

"I'm beginning to agree with you about getting answers from the Archon herself," Lisa tells him, ozone filling the air as her own catalyst starts to glow purple-bright along its bindings. "Especially since we can't ask them of Azar any longer. Though if Cyno and Collei could-"

"I don't think we have the time for that. It's fine. Collei, do you still have those daggers I gave you?"

Collei makes a small, determined noise and pulls two wickedly sharp blades out from somewhere in her clothing. Lisa sighs, sets aside the matter of arming small children to discuss with Kaeya *later*, and prepares to pair with him in a Superconduct that will make those blades more effective. There is value, she supposes, in teaching Collei alternative ways to defend herself.

"I don't have a dagger," Cyno mutters behind her, sounding put out. "Why didn't I get a dagger?"

"Later," Lisa tells him, firmly, and lets her Lantern Rose bloom.