#can't blame him for some of them

[marlynnofmany]

The new Token Human story just went up on Patreon! (The $3 and up tiers get to see it before the rest of the world.) I'll post it for the free tier on Monday, when it goes up here too.

This story involves Zhee complaining about things, which is always a good time.

[cubbyhole-for-flea-bee]

what if NMJ just poofs into an owl when qi deviations loom tho

Bonus from a later reblog:

FWUMP

[worstloki]

there is a difference between being born to a throne, maliciously vying for a throne, stealing a throne, and having a throne thrust upon you when you are already in the midst of an identity crisis. And I fear Loki's place in the line of succession has people unable to differentiate between any of these

[nelkcats]

Ghostly Case

When Richard Grayson was asked to investigate the murder of Daniel Fenton he didn't think much of it. Sure, it was extremely sad, but Dick was a cop, he saw cases like that every day, it was a little unusual to be asked to investigate it directly but that was okay.

Dick didn't know the rabbit hole he had gone down. There were so many complications, and none of the witnesses were cooperating, the boy's family refused to see his body!!!, to make matters worse someone had stolen the damn corpse.

So yeah, Dick couldn't be blamed for bringing Nightwing into the case, maybe Bruce would scold him later but he didn't care, Nightwing had resources that Officer Grayson didn't and that was all that mattered.

When he finally thought he had figured something out a ghost appeared in his apartment, scared and asking for help. Of course the case was more complicated, what did he expect?

But Dick had never been able to say no to a scared teenager and he wasn't about to start now.

[dxxtruction]

Louis' "You're boring!" Could mean so many things, but I think what's most apparent about that line is that Armand takes no initiative just for himself. He's not really anybody, because he never goes out and finds himself or gets attached to anyone but Louis. Without Louis as his guide he's literally just sitting on a couch picking lint! That's the thing.

He orbits constantly around what would make Louis happy, and never really fully going what would make me happy? Ultimately that drive to please Louis is what drives him to torturing Daniel, not so much that he'd care to just do it. Ultimately, not giving proper care to Louis is just a way to make sure Louis knows he has to orbit around him as well, with shoving Lestat onto him just that other nail on the coffin. So, even if he fails to figure out how to make Louis happy with him, he still knows what Armand is good for, and better than.

That dependency is what drives Armand's abuse. It really just comes down to that. Armand doesn't even realize how suffocated he is by his own dependency. This is just how life is to him. (It shouldn't be lost either that dependency is a theme considering this episode also deals with addiction).

Daniel's fascinating because he's just so driven to be somebody. He's largely independent, he seeks things because he wants them. It's his drug to poke and prod at all the things that he shouldn't. Daniel's exciting because he lets Louis in to something different, lets him in to all this potential in another person that he can also do the same with for himself. It's a real connection. A two way street. It's easy to tell how Armand can be smothering then because he's never introducing him to anything really new, and most the ways both of them connect are all painful and traumatic. It's never just fun because there's always that layer of that pain. Fun died with Claudia.

50 years on they've gotten to a lot better place, both of them, but it's still that same shit. No seriously, "How is this any different from last time, Louis?"

Well... Because Armand's going to be, at the very least, making one [1] decision only for himself - and that's to hold power over Daniel's life. Fucking sick foreshadowing.

They aren't driving each other to the brink anymore but "The vampire is bored" STILL. Maybe it's even worse, despite being in better places, because Louis' sort of just been defeated by it. (I mean, can he even really leave this either?). He's accepting the dependancy cause he kind of has to. He'd literally ended up letting all the enjoyment be up where he can't reach [The book shelves]. Armand so desperately wants Louis happiness but what really ends up happening is that Louis ends up having to give Armand all his own. He's got no one or anything else to get it from. But like an iPad and an over the top eating ritual. Two extremes of what's just more lint picking.

This whole relationship is one I find just tragic inside and out. You have to just pity it, really. There's ways in which you can find yourself feeling bad for both of them. But you can only really be mad at Armand for any of it. Armand, who isn't even 'free' in any sense, having so little concept of his own independence, but is at the same time so controlling over other's. It's a tragic cycle. It's an infuriating one.

Louis at least has the mind to know when enough is enough. If just needing that extra push to get there. Armand's too scared of it being over to even try.

[autisticrosewilson]

So do you guys actually think that Jason's entire story, relationship to the others, and philosophy amounts to him being a rebellious teen who wants his dad's attention? Like are you 100% serious? I thought you were joking about that but too many of you are saying it with your whole chest.

And what the fuck is this "Bruce antagonizing Jason is fanon!" Shit I've been seeing? You guys are aware that a parent can love their kid and still be a shit parent right? I know you guys don't want to fathom the thought that maybe your blorbo might also occasionally have to face responsibility for consistently endangering children but let's not start being delusional now.

Bruce does love his kids, that doesn't mean that he hasn't hurt them. And I'd also argue that for the most part he feels in the right for it, and he's said multiple times that he believes it's for their own good, so you can't even argue that he's sorry about it. It's okay for you guys to admit that your PERSONAL INTERPRETATION of the character wouldn't do that but don't sit here and pretend that it's not a facet of the source.

[wewerebornsextuplets]

it's looking like a restless night for me once again and i can't lie at least half of that is the fault of me thinking too hard about how memory worlds work

[thesummerstorms]

The other thing that I think I would want in an Annabeth Wayne AU that I don't think I've seen so far is Bruce being absolutely pissed at Athena.

It was bad enough with Talia and Damian, but Athena is a literal god of wisdom who should know better AND he doesn't even have the "culpability" of having slept with her.

She one hundred percent saw Batman, tactician of the Justice League, was drawn in by her aspect of the Goddess of Strategy, and proceeded to create a child without his consent, a daughter who she didn't even raise before the child became a weapon.

And like whatever else, however fucked up Damian was by his own training to become a child-weapon, at least Talia loved Damian.

Whereas Athena loves Annabeth in the way a Goddess loves, not the way a Person loves, and I don't think Bruce, whose entire identity is so fixated on his relationship with his own parents, would recognize that as love at all.

And, like, Talia put Damian through a lot of shit. I think Bruce would be angry there too. But when push came to shove, she at least at some point brought him to Bruce because she thought it was in her son's best interests.

Athena actively lead Annabeth away from Bruce and into the streets at the age of seven, which Bruce would never see as in her best interest, whatever Athena's godly perspective is, however badly he reacted after Jason's death, even though he couldn't see (and dismissed the idea of) the spiders and the monsters. She was seven. In the streets of Gotham.

Athena let Annabeth fight a major role in two wars back to back without being there to train her or protect her or love her or even advise her. Athena advocated for the cold blooded murder of the other children who had actually tried to keep his daughter safe. Athena sent Annabeth against Arachne when Athena's children have universally died on that quest for a thousand years.

Athena let Bruce think he had gotten Annabeth killed because of his own inability to handle his grief. Let him think his daughter was dead or worse for years. Would have let him keep thinking that if the Fates didn't have other plans.

And just, in true fashion for all of my ideas on a PJO x DC crossover, everyone really comes out more traumatized than before. This includes Bruce.

Because now he wasn't just used unknowingly for a child just once, but twice. And in both cases he's going to have to live forever with the guilt of not having been able to protect his kids from what their other parent wanted to make of them

(On top of all the ways he has directly failed them and made any complexes worse, of course )

[dont-offend-the-bees]

Fuck I hate being an adult. I need a more adult adult to help with the volatile emotional situation.

[skrunksthatwunk]

nobody's doing it like itsuki yyh. i've been thinking about him and sensui a lot today but like. ok get this. imagine being a demon and this cute human guy (you are gay btw green hair and pronounsed and everything) shows up and tries to kill you and almost succeeds. you survive because you lament that you're gonna miss the finale of a show you watch/see a niche pop artist on tv (depending on adaptation, but either way these are your last words and it airs the next night), and he says he's into it too. you become partners. this man, shinobu sensui, is a spirit detective who's been haunted by demons his whole life, has been killing them with the complete, unwavering belief that he's right for it, since he was in pre-k. you being a demon does not seem to change how he thinks about this. it doesn't change your feelings either, since he fascinates you. you help him kill demons.

one day, your human is confronted with one of the worst sights imaginable, one that shatters his worldview completely. he sees demons being tortured and slaughtered hedonistically by a group of humans. he can't process it. he splits. your shinobu is now one of seven within his body. you love each of them. you love him. you watch as he pivots into a deep hatred of humanity, and of himself for slaughtering so many demons, and of his own inescapable humanity. you love it. you can't get enough of it. watching someone so pure and self-assured become confused, disillusioned, twisted, evil, broken, it thrills and captivates you. it's beautiful, and you egg it on. you make it worse, obsessively. you make him worse. you only want what he wants, really. but you want him to want it worse. sensui is spiraling and you don't steady him, you accelerate it and accelerate it, until he's deciding that before he dies (which will be sooner than you'd like, sooner than you know what to do with), he's going to end humanity. he's going to unleash demonkind on them and secure his redemption, his doom, his punishment. it's a baptism by fire. what a way to go. a very sensui way to go, and you love it like the rest of him: poisonously. you don't need a word of convincing, no argument (as desperate as sensui is to argue his case for this), not a second of that tape, to follow him. you watch as sensui breaks the fragile people he encounters, wrenches them into misanthropic weapons. he's amazing at it. minoru is amazing at it. he brings together his crew of heart-bleeding, self-loathing pawns, and in your downtime you and sensui watch human tv, share your love for animals, plants, the human world. you cherish, distract yourself with, and celebrate these together. they're what brought you together in the first place, and you will destroy them together. you wonder if he knows that these things he loves will surely die when the demons come. you expect he views them as necessary casualties in ridding the world of human evil. how deliciously cruel he can be. you savor it. you have to savor it. you don't like thinking about the end. that sensui will barely be alive to enjoy his victory. is he so convinced of humanity's foulness that he would never bend, never doubt his genocide at all? or would he come to regret it? would he hate himself even more than he does now? once the greater evil, humanity, is eliminated, would he turn his sights on himself? he may see himself as one of the "enlightened" humans who know mankind's evil, but he is still a human with plenty of demon blood on his hands. you want to know. you're desperate for it. you don't ask him what he thinks he will become. you want to watch it unfold naturally, for as long as he is around. let the ink bleed over the page. don't blow. don't wave the paper, don't even touch it. be patient.

your sensui is killed spectacularly at the finish line. he was struck down by a human reborn as a demon. how fitting. it's what sensui wanted, and you are happy for him, as much as you can be. it's bittersweet. you knew it would end soon. you both did. you talked about it all the time. and now it's... over. the portal is being resealed. demons will not wipe out mankind. humanity will go on, unaffected. your sensui's lonely war against his own kind is already being forgotten by the few who knew of it. such a beautiful moment, swept away by time, your sensui. and now his enemies want to claim his soul. his body. to bring him to the afterlife, for whatever judgement awaits him. and you fulfill your final obligation to him. you take him away. sensui did not want any part of that, and neither do you, not particularly. it sounds rather painful, all considered. you lift him and slip away to where no one can reach you. your own little dimension, your own little pocket of existence, just the two of you. no one can touch him now. you, either, not that you care. you hold him like you have for years, and think of your future together. here, where no one can reach him. no one will touch him or stain him or rip him or tear him ever again, not even you. but you will always be closest, and that's enough. cut off from humankind and demonkind completely. it's only you. and it's only him. you wonder how long you will live, like this. a long time. it makes no difference. sensui has broken completely, and you hold the shards of him. every piece remaining is yours, is in your arms, will be yours forever. you wonder if this should be enough for you. if you should be satisfied. you are. as someone whose last regret was missing a late night program, you don't see much point in leaving. what is there for itsuki without sensui? what is there in the world worthwhile? demons, humans, the rest of it. none of it would ever compare. not even to the shards.

you wonder, and it is far from the first or the last time, how sensui will change now, in your arms. white to black, skin to bone to dust. and when you die your soul will dissipate like his, and in a little unreality you and he will linger forever, where no one can know or recall. you will die a secret of the world, a potential wasted, a close call, a scream that is swallowed last-minute. and you will be together. it's all that's mattered for a long time. you wonder if you'll ever change. you don't expect to.

[incrediblyaccuratethoughts]

I’m Gonna Tell ‘Em (Don’t you Dare)

Ao3

Tim just wanted coffee. That’s really all he desired in life. Coffee. His position as Red Robin. And Wayne Industries to get its shit together for one goddamn day. In that order.

“Are you shitting me? I was a fucking crime lord you little terror, I don’t give a fuck-”

He’d done an all-nighter in the Batcave. Again. Trying to crack a cold case he was sure had something to do with Riddler's vague warning a few nights ago. And he was so close, but his eyes had started to close for just a little too long.

So tell him why he walked into an argument that seemed to be based around the topic of murder, at 7 in the morning. Between Jason and Damian. Who both tried to kill him at least once. Respectively.

“And I am the Demon Prodigy of the League of Assassins. I could kill a man before I could speak.”

Tim stands in the doorway, contemplating if his need for coffee is higher than his potential rate of getting maimed in the dining room.

“Yeah, but you were fucking sheltered inside the bases like goddamn Rapunzel in her-”

“I was not sheltered. You of all people should know of Mother’s harshness for disobedience-“

“Oh and I’m sure you were so disobedient Mr. Goody Two Shoes-“

Ultimately, the urge for coffee wins. Tim crosses the kitchen as unnoticeably as he can, skirting the edges and keeping his footsteps as light as he can manage on 10 hours of sleep in the last week.

He’s busy, okay?

“I’ll admit I wasn’t raised to go against the orders of a higher-up but that did not mean-”

“Bull. Fucking. Shit.”

“Did my propensity for sneaking animals into the house escaped your notice? I thought you were better trained-“

“So what? You save every bird with a broken wing you come across, but you’d willingly slit the throat of a human?”

“Yes, Todd. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

The coffee pot is half full. Tim counts this as the one redeeming factor of this morning. The threat of getting stabbed is nothing in the face of sweet, sweet caffeine.

“What’s your fucking number then?”

“I can’t possibly know the exact-“

“Oh no, you don’t get to pull that shit on me-“

Tim considers pouring himself a cup, but he’s gonna drink the whole thing anyway and he’s exhausted enough to zone out during Alfred’s inevitable lecture, so he takes the whole pot and tips it back.

“I was sent out for missions when I was barely more than a toddler. You can’t expect me to remember every-“

“Ra’s had files on every fucking mission I did while brain dead and high on Lazarus rage, there’s no fucking way he didn’t have an exact-“

Tim chugs his precious coffee. The temperature is surprisingly cool enough that he doesn't immediately burn his tongue. Not that a few scorched taste buds would stop Tim from inhaling the only thing between him and unconscious. But it’s the thought that counts.

“What’s yours then, Todd?”

“Nope. Not until you tell me yours first. I’m not about to have you raise the number because I told you mine.”

“That’s preposterous. I would do no such thing.”

Tim calculates his chances of making it back out of the kitchen with a quarter pot of coffee in his hands and decides his caffeine fix is safer off with a few counters between him and his homicidal brothers.

And yah know. His physical well-being. But that’s pretty low on his ‘fucks to give list’ at the moment.

“I don’t trust a fucking word coming out of your mouth-“

“There’s an easy way to settle this if you’d just-“

“What? Shut up? Drop the argument? No fucking-“

“We can write it down separately and then show it to each other at the same time."

“…huh.”

Tim looks up in genuine fear when both of his siblings go quiet. That’s never a good sign. Not in this house.

There’s a window to his right that he could probably smash through if it came to it.

Neither of them are looking at him though, just regarding each other with much less animosity than a few seconds ago. Tim decides he’s probably fine and goes back to his coffee.

“I will go retrieve a piece of paper and two pens.”

Damian leaves the room and Tim freezes like if he stays still enough it’ll keep Jason from noticing him. Unfortunately, now that his older brother’s attention is directed to his surroundings and not just screaming at a 12-year-old, he makes direct eye contact with Tim.

“Oh hey, Timmers. How long have you been here?”

Tim stares at him blankly. He- doesn’t know what answer Jason wants from him and he’s not willing to face his older brother’s wrath if he’d been having what he thought was a private conversation.

“Sorry about the noise. I hope we didn’t wake you up.” Jason says after it’s clear that he isn't getting answers out of Tim.

As if the manor isn’t literally soundproofed. For this exact reason.

Tim’s 17 years of social etiquette training won’t let him just not answer the open-ended comment, but god does he wish that it did.

“No, I was already up.”

Jason nods as if he was expecting that answer. Which is fair. Tim’s sure he looks just as tired as he feels. His eye bags could hold all of his emotional trauma. They’re Guchi.

“And does Alfred know you’re drinking straight from the pot?” Jason motions to the carafe Tim’s clutching like a lifeline. Because it is.

Tim opens his mouth to lie through his teeth, but is saved by Damian’s re-entry. Wow, he’s never been so glad to see his stab-happy younger brother.

True to his word, the kid’s carrying a few pieces of paper and pens. Tim could leave now. He could casually walk right past them, out of the kitchen, and back to the cave to keep working on his case, but dammit, he’s invested now.

He’s still not sure what this argument is about exactly, but he’s willing to wait a few more minutes to satiate his curiosity now that he’s tentatively sure that the argument isn’t going to evolve into physical violence.

“I’ve acquired the tools to finish this once and for all, Todd.” Damian announces, sliding half of his spoils to Jason.

“Great. We’ll write our body count down and on 3 we’ll turn ‘em around. Got it?”

“Don’t tell me what to do” Damian grumbles, but writes dutifully anyway. The kid would be funny if he didn’t back his threats up with swords.

Tim is. Still lost, but he’s always secretly wondered how many people his brothers have killed. In a morbid way. Mostly because he wants to know if the murder attempts on him were a particularly special event or just a pattern. For his mental health's sake.

“Got it?” Jason asks, holding his paper close to his chest so no one can peek. Tim doesn’t know who would, considering he’s the only one in the kitchen that’s not a part of this squabble, but Damian copies the movement and Tim finds himself inching closer, taking the last swig of his coffee.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three!”

They flip the papers around and for a moment the kitchen is quiet.

“FUCK YEAH!” Jason pumps his fist in the air with a whoop. “Ha! Take that, Demon Brat! I’m the Robin with the highest kill count!”

Tim spits out his coffee and coughs violently. It’s partially because he got some in his lungs, but also to cover the incredulous laughter bursting uncontrollably out of him. It takes him a good few seconds to get his breathing under control, but when he looks up, his brothers are staring at him.

For a moment he’s tempted. So fucking tempted. Because he hasn’t told anyone anything more than bits and pieces about his time with the League. Hell, the only reason his family even knows about his little stint playing lap dog for Ra’s, is because he choked out a vague explanation about his missing spleen when he went into sepsis.

They don’t know about the missions he was sent on. The people he sold out. And most importantly, the multiple bases he blew up because he was crazier than the Joker after Bart and Kon’s death and then the near miss with Bruce.

The bases he absolutely didn’t evacuate. With hundreds of people inside. A few actually avalanched down mountainsides, and he’d eat his Batarang if any of them survived.

The only word he’d confidently use to describe his mental state then, is feral.

He didn’t have to blow them up. He really didn’t. A good few of the bases he’d never actually seen before he snuck in to level the place, but he’d been having a shitty year so naturally, he was going to make sure Ra’s got to have one too.

Not to mention that Tim was as depressed as he’d ever been and wasn’t particularly giving a lot of fucks about if he died during his warpath. He’d already lost a spleen, what were a few more organs?

So this argument? This competition? He finds it objectively fucking hilarious.

Damian and Jason are still staring at him in bewilderment, and for a moment -just a wild moment- he thinks about telling them.

Explaining how he was just. So done. And could only think of one way out, so he systematically hacked into every base he could get his hands on. Stole as many files as he could during his time constraint. And then blew all of them sky-high.

Thought about telling them how on one particularly bad night, gone through every log of the people in those bases. How he hadn’t been ‘sick’ as he claimed the week after he managed to crawl out of his safe house.

He was just too horrified to look anyone in the eye.

It would be funny to watch his family’s expressions go through the five stages of grief and add a few more just for funsies, if they even believed him at all. But no. Tim had his secrets and he was going to take them to the grave.

He grinned at his brothers, patted Jason on the shoulder with a quiet congratulations, and strolled out of the kitchen.

Tim had cases to solve and letting his family assume he wasn’t capable of murder was better for all of them in the long run.

No matter how wrong they were.

👻

In my defense. Writing prompts make the brain noodle go brr. You can blame @coffinbirds and @batcavescolony for these posts.

[sukibenders]

TBOSAS movie is proving time and time again that as long the character is a handsome white man, he can get away with anything or be babified of any wrongdoing. Like the number of people that I've seen go out of their way to try and justify Snow's actions, not even just young Snow anymore at this point but he's largely where this happens, using the term "he was just misunderstood" and acting as if his trauma was an excuse is mind-blowing. Did he go through traumatic stuff? Yes, but acting as if that excuses many of his actions, specifically for young Snow because there's no way in hell that mindset will work even a fraction with his older self (but people still try), is false and a mindset that needs to be stopped. Like I can't help but think about the way he views the people of the districts already in TBOSAS, seeing them and anything about them as animals rather than people, and how that mindset even falls on to the Covey and Lucy Gray herself. When reading some of their scenes together he comes off so passive aggressive when she talks about her plight, but it's largely because he treats her like an object---no, a PRIZE to be won and owned (thinking back to how, before they were even together romantically and where she didn't owe him shit, he still saw her as "his girl" and would get obsessive over the fact that others gravitated to her in a way he didn't like).

I'm not saying that it's wrong to find the bad guy attractive, it's not and Snow is very handsome, I will admit that. But just because he got a face card doesn't mean that should be basis for justifying every horrendous act he's done. And also, he's eighteen years old, why are people acting like he doesn't know his right from his left? He knows exactly what he's doing, from the books where his thoughts are literally laid out for us, to the movie itself. Though not as clear cut sometimes as the books, there are plenty scenes that let you know who he is (I think back to that classroom scene where Gaul is asking them questions, and Sejanus rightfully calls them out on their bs, but Snow uses his outrage and turns it into a way to make the Games better, completely going against Sejanus' original point).

What's even more sinister is some in the fandom going as far as to blame Lucy Gray for all of Snow's problems by saying "oh, but if she had just heard him out then maybe he wouldn't have been so heartbroken", as if she should had further risked her life and wellbeing to adhere to this man's needs when he was out to harm her or the fact that him having his heartbroken is justification for everything else he did before and after. There are many other examples of this, but it set a precedent for a very glaring problem in fandom spaces where the female character, especially if they are woc, is always to blame for the male, usually white, character's bad actions and that if they just listened to them and heard them out then so on and so on. Reminds me very much of the treatment of Alina in both show and books fandom spaces and babifying of the Darkling's actions by putting all the blame on her (never mind the fact that he's the cause for so much of her trauma, he's pretty after all *this was sarcasm*).

It's been a minute since I've seen the movie, so my example may be a little fuzzy, but my point still stands. You can like these characters and find them attractive, that's fine and normal. But where problems arise is when you try to paint over their bad acts because you thirst after them and/or proceed to place blame on the female characters, especially if they are woc, as a scapegoat.

[rascheln]

tbh I find posts that describe Laois' influence on Falin's life as a 'burden' or something she was forced into pretty patronizing of Falin and ignorant of her own motivations and growth as a character. And it also comes across as blaming Laios for the way she grew up, when I don't think either of them had that much agency in their lives and it also suggests an intentionality that we can be pretty sure was not there.

[kanene-yaaay]

Focus (Or: The Unfortunate Destiny of Not Running Laps)

(Don't forget to read the warnings, they are v important!)

Kanene's notes: I am here to call out RUOYE!! BECAUSE THIS ENTIRE FIC IS FRUIT OF ITS SMUGNESS WHILE CAPTURING LANG QIANQIU IN THE FOREST. Like for REAL it just stopped, looked at him all :] and then captured him like jhgfdfgh pls stop being so silly it's killing me.

Warnings: This is a tickle fic and is basically an AU based in the idea I had in this post. Long short story with no spoilers: Xie Lian decided to tell the truth sooner to Lang Qianqiu and the boy had time to deal with his feelings and their relationship didn't become too strained, even if they parted ways. Another modification here is that the nameless boy that is always by LQQ side is called Xiao Mengyou, like I've seen he be called in the fandom. Besides that, nothing more! There's brief light bondage (thank u Ruoye) and some feet tickling during lqq's revenge, in case u don't like that. But it's the famous fluff with light angst, tickle fights and lot of silliness. Around 6.500 words.

[~*~]

Lang Quianqui discreetly managed to take in a deep breath, eyes glued on his preceptor, body unconsciously falling into the defensive stance that has been taught to him for years. It was hard to keep himself still. His entire being was thrilling with energy, an adrenaline that had not dissipated since he woke up and realized what day was today. The energy had fed his mind and body constantly as he fell along the main forms and drills they’ve been covering since the start of the day, over and over, each correction of Fang Xin over his posture and handle of sword only serving to make him buzz even more with nerves and the wish to impress him, trying harder and harder to focus until his movements went from stiff and tense to fluid and natural, striving for perfection.

Attentive eyes watched him like a hawk, more staring than normal, looking for something that Lang Qianqiu didn’t know if he was hiding well. It made him grip the handle of his sword more firmly and his movements quicker. The prince didn’t know if it was just his imagination, and the mask didn’t really help in his analyzes, but he could swear that he saw his mentor’s face glimpse into a confused frown as he accidentally kept stammering clumsily through the stances that he had already mastered a few months ago, even being on his best today barely reached the excellency he had every other good day. Still, he continued to strive for perfection.

Training with Fang Xin was… incredible. In the last year exactly, for the first time since he was only a kid receiving his first wooden sword, Lang Quianqui felt excited to go train, never once getting bored during the lectures, never going through his lessons unchallenged, each and every teaching pushing him to through his limits in a way that left him thoughtful and expectant to expand them even further, see how far he could get. His Guoshi had a different method of teaching and after his parents saw his improvement after a few months into his classes, together with his clear joy in having them, they gave the adult free reign of his studies, changing his routine as much as he needed, as long as it didn’t harm his other responsibilities. They supported them with materials and rooms as necessary and always listened with proud smiles when Lang Quianqui went to ramble to them all they had done and accomplished that day.

Fang Xin valued both the training of his mind and body, much to Lang Quianqui chagrin, especially as he kept dishing out writing punishments and calligraphy exercises that would leave him grumbling about missing the better days with old teachers who would simply have him running laps for slipping into quick naps during their lessons. Usually such commentaries only resulted in more writing and longer punishments, when Fang Xin listened to it. In the end, it was fine. After the initial glooming and pouting, he got to realize how the books that he had to copy always proved to be interesting, challenging his mind with stories and theories he hadn’t thought about before and giving him even more ideas to share with his teacher later, who always listened to him carefully, - even with an ever-lasting air of satisfaction that brought a smug glint in his eyes and a pleased hum in his words - no matter how long he spent in his musings, prodding him with questions and small lectures until he arrived to conclusions that would make the adult nod in a hidden pride, or at least, he hoped so.  

It was no surprise to him to find excitement and anticipation in his mind for each class,  wondering what would be the main skill trained today. If they would focus in his flexibility and quick thinking to get the upper hand into surprise attacks and uneven grounds (his mother almost had an heart attack when he fell out of the roof and broke her window with an accidental kick) or his ability to coordinate planned attacks with strong strategies that would exploit his opponent’s weakness and entice his own strengths.

For today, as it seems, they were going to stick with spars and practical learning. It was probably good, with how many mistakes he had already made just during the warming up and how distracted he was today, waiting impatiently for the end of the class. Having a close range exercise that would force him to focus unless he wanted to explain to his preceptor why his mind was flying away, a dangerous but not impossible possibility, was very good, especially because he wouldn’t be able to respond his teacher if he asked and Fang Xin would immediately catch his lies or any attempt to stir the topic away and he really, really couldn’t risk to get any punishments today. 

Afterall, Fag Xin Guoshi probably was already extremely displeased with his performance. Even if he was too polite to show. Lang Qianqiu gritted his teeth and embraced himself. 

There will be no more mistakes from now on. He will do his best!

They circled each other for a few seconds before the buzzing energy became stronger than him and Lang Quianqui jumped in his direction, starting the fight. He feinted an attack on the teacher’s right, jumping away from his defense and immediately falling into another attack. Just like the first blow, this one was quickly blocked and the crown prince was pushed to the side, Fang Xin’s blade pressing against his sword with such a strength that Lang Quianqui had no other option but to start backing up before the sword was pushed to his throat, trying to at least stabilize himself.

“Concentrate on your footwork.” Fang Xin chided, his voice even and calm as always, showing no hint of strain. The arm that was not holding his weapon was curled on his back and he didn’t move a single step in his direction. Lang Qianqiu was sure that if he glanced at his forehead, there would be no sweat. He, on the other side, could feel his breath already beginning to speed, arms trembling as he tried to not be overpowered. “There is always going to be someone stronger and taller than you during war and you can’t afford to lose. Don’t try to outstrength them because you won’t. Prioritize your speed and versatility.”

“Right!” Lang Qianqiu agreed, immediately dropping himself to the ground, the preceptor's sword passing with a quick gush of wind just inches from his face as he tried to trip the other, rolling around and quickly jumping to straight himself again when more attacks went in his direction.

Fang Xin pivoted around the same spot as the young prince sprinted and threw himself at him in a mix of misleading attacks that attempted to both pull his attention elsewhere and open his guard. Extra, even if rare, punches and kicks tried to make him lose his balance. It’s been exactly one year, yet Qianqiu hasn't been able to make him move around the arena one bit.

A sudden kick going to his face made the boy yelp and twirl to his left, only to almost get a sword going right to his flank, but blocking it with his blade at the last moment. 

“Focus.” His teacher remarked, starting a series of strikes aiming for his torso. “Pull your sword closer to your body. You’re paying too much attention in protecting your face and not losing your stance that it leaves your entire flank unprotected.” 

As if to prove his own words, his blade quickly aimed to his face, only to be immediately pushed away in a move that wobbled the other’s grip on the handle. Before the prince could explore that, however, Fang Xin speedly twisted and turned his attack back to his sides. Again, Qianqiu almost didn’t manage to rotate his long blade enough to catch it, being pushed away as the sound of metal scraping metal filled the training grounds. “Keep on rolling and jumping, if you must, just do not lose your balance and attention to your surroundings.” 

He striked again and, following his words, the young one threw himself on the ground and rolled away. Panting as he straightened himself, he watched his preceptor, reading his sword.

Before he decided to attack, Lang Qianqiu went first, deciding to just make his moves up as he goes. He jumped and twisted, aiming for the neck. He watched as the adult glided aside with an effortless grace and turned to block the blow, pushing the blades upwards, weakening his grip on the sword at an alarming speed. The thought of using their closeness to kick him away had just crossed his mind when a purple and white blur appeared right by his sides and-

He jumped away with a squeal, his lips being pulled in an unexpected smile, hand running to cover his ribs, skin still tingling.

What was that! 

He turned around, pulling his sword even closer, face red from the embarrassing sound that just escaped from his mouth without his permission. 

Someone had just tickled him! 

Still reeling with the sudden bust of energy and tickly sensation, his eyes immediately stopped at Guoshi, staring at him warily, but being only answered with the same calmness and collectedness that always filled his every action and words.

Maybe was it him who…?

“Do not charge right back in without correcting your mistakes and very much less without a plan.” Fang Xin went back to his initial stance, one hand holding his sword and the other resting calmly on his back. His posture had no flaws, his lips held no grinning smiles and his voice got no playful cadence that betrayed his serious tune. “Remember what I said, use your speed and versatility. Ready?”

…No, it couldn’t be him. The imperial preceptor would never step down to do something as silly and childish as tickling. He probably imagined it? 

Once more, he watched his surroundings with narrowed, attentive eyes. Maybe it was…

There he was.

Behind him, on the other side of the arena, his friend smiled at him. Lang Quianqiu shuddered in alarm. 

Since a couple weeks ago, when Qianqiu had used the other’s distraction to unleash a playful surprise tickle attack on him, Xiao Mengyou had been using his every opportunity to tickle him senseless back, going even further as to wait the end of his last martial class - when he usually laid on the cold ground to get his breath back - to immediately attack him with pokes and wiggling fingers the very moment Fang Xin Guoshi turned his back and pretended to not hear them fooling around, leaving the prince giggling and squirming until he was tired enough to not immediately get him back as revenge. 

(Too lost in their own game, none of them noticed the initial moment, when the adult turned back promptly at the squeal of the prince, ready to defend, only to stop and smile amusedly at the joyful friends in front of him, leaving them be and enjoy their own playfulness. There was a deep melancholy pooling in his eyes in that evening.)

Seeing that the attention was still on him, Mengyou made a walking motion with his fingers on his palm and then a thumbs up. Lang Qianqiu felt his eyes wide and he took a wobbly step backwards.

Did he just… confirm that he was the one who tickled him?

Watching his face, Xiao Mengyou smiled a tiny grin and nodded.

Lang Qianqiu bristled and started to head into his direction with firm steps. Mengyou frowned and tilted his head to the side, in apparent confusion.

“Lang Qianqiu.” The crown prince automatically froze with the clear commanding tune on the other’s voice, posture straight as he turned around to his teacher, suddenly remembering that they weren’t alone in the arena. 

“Your lesson is not over, yet. Focus.” His Guoshi seemed more amused than annoyed, though. Lang Qianqiu internally exhaled in relief. How embarrassing, his mind was really all over the place today. “Let’s start again.”

Nodding, the younger one went back to his stance, eying his opponent before charging straight in. He swore he listened to Fang Xin huff in exasperation, but the sound of blades colliding resonated louder and quickly pulled his attention back to the spar.

This time it took longer before he got distracted and another poke attacked his armpit as he tried to push his teacher’s hand out of his sword’s handle. He squeaked and jumped backwards, quickly scurrying away as Guoshi’s blade followed him without a rest.

And so, the onslaught of brief, equally light and impossible to ignore, tickly touches kept following him.

A prodding on his side and a loud yelp.

Another poke on his belly and a wheezy snort.

A tickle across his entire spine that made him jump and almost lost track of his teacher.

A scribbling on the back of his neck that pulled a couple of giggles out of his throat and sealed that silly, wobbly smile forever in his face.

All through this, he kept his fight. The adrenaline of waiting for another tickle attack and the wish of stop being so childish, giggling and squirming in front of the person he looked up the most, made him the most focused he has been the entire day, falling and rolling and charging blow after blow, fuelled by the bolts of electricity that ran across his meridians every time he saw a blur of white and purple in his peripheral vision and felt titters bouncing in his throat long before the ticklish feeling even touched him, descending in chuckles and huffs of laughter as he managed to escape another playful attack.

He had just managed to run right behind Fang Xin in an attempt for a surprise attack, when he felt something latch on the back of his robes, scurrying across his neck and jumping in between his articles of clothes. There was no escaping from the loud, surprised shriek that ran from his throat the moment he felt the tickles dig in his armpits, making both of his hands lock on the handle of his sword and his arms to clue to his sides, the attempt of protection being too late to stop the soft - so extremely, absurdly soft - sensation that ran up and down his pits, prodding and drumming and pulling hysterical giggle after hysterical giggle from him. His legs stumbled and his shoulders bounced with the energy and need to squirm away, but he kept his stance. 

The tickling traveled to his back, scribbling freely on his ribs and poking incessantly his spine until the young prince gave up from his form and turned around in pursue of his attacker, eyes closed from laughter, trying to push whoever was targeting his shoulderblades with so much wiggling and scratching away. His cheeks were in flames with the way squeaky hiccups began appearing in between his crackles.

He tried to open his eyes to better escape and fight his revenge, but there was already tears blurring his vision and, the moment he felt that soft touch worming its way to his sides, all he could do was sheath his sword and swing it around blindly, ignoring how silly he must been looking (he would never forgive himself if he cut Xiao Mengyou by mistake). 

Strings of “no, no, no, let go!” fell in waterfalls from his mouth, yet they did nothing to stop his sides from being lavished in tiny pinches and a playful spidering. His head was thrown backwards with the force of his laughter as he hugged himself, unsuccessful to himself from being tickled to pieces.

A strong, warm hand was laid on his shoulder and, lost in his laughing fit, Lang Qianqiu almost couldn’t catch when Guoshi said to let him go and the tickling feeling magically disappeared.

The prince couldn’t help the way he wobbled on the same place, tittering snickers and wheezy chuckles still filling the air, and leaned on Fang Xin, his Guoshi rubbing his shoulder while keeping his other arm tightly close to his body. His face had that expression he always carried when he was about to lecture him and leave another writing assignment, but it disappeared as quick as it came when he noticed Lang Qianqiu watching, his eyes instead twinkling with a suave amusement.

The crown prince had just gotten his breath back when his eyes traveled the rest of the arena and he saw his friend just a few steps of them, looking strangely uncomposed with a red hue painting his face. Lang Quianqiu squinted warily as he noticed his gaze and jumped on the same spot, getting closer.

As he opened his mouth to say something, the prince beated him to it, quickly straightening himself and turning around to bow politely at Fang Xin.

“I request a small break, please, Guoshi!”

Also looking a tad restless, but never losing his posture, Fang Xin nodded, getting his sword and walking away, probably to read some poem book as he always did during their moments of rest. Lang Qianqiu paid him no mind and instead swiftly turned back to his friend, who still looked flushed and confused.

“Your Highness, are you alright? I saw-”

His words morphed to a shriek when the crown prince jumped on him, no other word exchanged or mercy in sight as he energetically clawed his belly, chasing his loud squeaks until a high pitched laughter began to fill the entire arena, promptly making Xiao Mengyou immediately try to muffle it all behind his hands.

“Wait! Why!!”

With the flourish of someone who had done this plenty of times before and would continue to do so for plenty times more, Lang Qianqiu simply huffed - half amused and half annoyed - and  turned around, successfully sitting on his legs and trapping him in a very tickly destiny. Mengyou, with the same ease of someone who had been in this situation plenty of times before and knew very well about his future fate, started to squirm and trash much before he felt his shoes being pulled out, pleas falling from his lips like raindrops during the summer.

“You Highness, no! Not my feet, please, please! You know, you know I am the most ticklish there. Your Highness, just leave them alonEHEHE! NOHO!”

Lang Qianqiu did not, in fact, leave them alone. Instead, he dodge a kick - not before leaving a few scribbles on that sole for his trouble - and grabbed his other feet, holding his ankle down in a firm but gentle grip and spidering his fingers from the lowest point of his heel to his toes in a way that he knew it would leave his childhood friend crazy, watching with a smirk as he clamped his hands even harder over his mouth. Still, he was unsuccessful to muffle the uncontrollable crackles and squeals at each tiny scribble that escaped from his lungs. For this he blushed even more, kicks getting more energetic. 

Mengyou tried to roll away and escape, but, since the attack that hit Lang Qianqiu a couple of moments ago had been unrelenting, following his every move and tickling him everywhere, so was his comeback. His blunt nails chased his squirming no matter where, delivering scratches across his entire sole and focusing his pokes and scribbles on the sensitive spots he already knew it tickled the most.

The crown prince huffed with no heat when another strings of pleas and a few protests mingled together with the stray screeches that he managed to fish every time he concentrated his tickling right in the middle of his arch, changing from soft touches, full of circles being drawn slowly on the sensitive skin, to scratching it with no mercy, hysterical giggles and bubbly laughter dancing mingled in the air. Finally, when another squeaky “Your Highness” escaped his friend, Lang Qianqiu declared enough. He turned around fiercely and crossed his arms, staring directly at his friend, who barely watched him back with how much squinting in a big smile his eyes were.

“You were the first one to start it! Even attacking me in front of Fang Xin Guoshi.” Just the reminder of how he completely lost his composure and giggled like a kid in the middle of the fight made his cheeks burn hot. The fact that the other simply kept watching him with gleaming eyes and restless titters also didn’t help. “Don’t you think I am being fair?”

Xiao Mengyou kept snickering and snickering, head turning around in an attempt to hide his silly, disheveled state. Lang Qianqiu almost pouted with how even the most ruthless attack to his most ticklish spot couldn’t make him stop hiding his face.

When more moments flew away with him staring at his friend and the other being lost in a mess of giddy giggles, he reached skillfully behind him for his toes, burying his wiggling fingers right under them and spidering energetically, a joyful smirk appearing easily in his face at how this finally made Mengyou low his arms and sit up, trying to push him off his legs without any real force.

Seemingly as his words finally sank on the other’s mind, Mengyou answered. “You t- attacked me first that day! I was only getting revenge.” A snort flew from his lips and his face got even redder. “It’s been such a long time, too, Your Highness. Why tickle me back now?!” 

Lang Qianqiu was speechless. “Such a long time? That is it!”

He got out of the other’s legs, waiting as he took his breath back.

His childhood friend looked at the crown prince with a mix of surprise and wariness. Lang Qianqiu took the opportunity to turn around and run his gaze across the arena, noticing that Fang Xin Guoshi was nowhere to be seen. Uh. Maybe he got hungry and went to grab a snack? Well, since he still had some business to complete, Lang Qianqiu didn’t care to think too much about it.

His golden eyes glinted with mischief when they turned back to stare at Mengyou, who jolted on the same place and braced himself.

“Let’s have a tickle fight.” Lang Qianqiu copied him, also preparing himself, determination clear in every trace of his expression. Mengyou felt slightly amused with how serious he was taking this. “The first one to surrender wins and the loser can’t get revenge anytime soon.”

Mengyou looked thoughtfully at him and the crown prince was sure that his friend haven’t made his mind, and yet wasted no time in looking for the perfect place to strike, somewhere that would make him boneless and closer to surrender, that would make him forget everything besides how much it tickled and swapped his energy quickly. He found himself doing just the same, eyes locking on his knees before they widened in realization.

“Wait!” He scrambled to take off his own boots. “Now we are even.”

“Your feet aren’t as ticklish as mine, Your Highness.” As it always did, his voice stumbled just the tiniest bit over the word ‘ticklish’, but it still maintained a grumbling tone. Lang Qianqiu held his chin pensitive. “And the imperial preceptor will be back soon, there is no need.”

He was right. 

“My sides are my most ticklish spot.” As he conceded, the crown prince began pulling the string that kept his stash together, robes starting to loose up as well. “That is fine, I will just take off my upper robes.”

“Do not!” In a flash, there were hands pulling his away and quickly tying his stash firmly back. Mengyou’s voice stumbled again, tune equally serious and a tad hysterical. “What are you thinking, Your Highness?! What if Fang Xin Guoshi comes back or your parents decide to oversee your lessons today? How will we explain if they see you in that state? It would be irresponsible of you at least and shameless at worst!” 

Properly admonished, Qianqiu let out an awkward laugh, scratching the back of his head. “I didn’t think about that.” Then he shook himself and focused on the matter at hand, gold, intense eyes watching Xiao Mengyou again. “We must have a fair tickle fight, still. I can’t have it any other way!”

Sigh. “It’s easier to worm my hands on your robes than for you to do the same with my boots during a ti… our fight. I will just put my shoes back.”

Lang Qianqiu gaped at him. “How is that fair? You’re hiding your ticklish spot while you just said it’s easier to get mine!”

“Well, you already got me there!”

“You’re making excuses, you tickle me on my sides all the time!”

“Yes, just like now.”

“Exact- wait, wh-” But before he could finish, Xiao Mengyou was already jumping on him, skilled fingers working their way to his sides and squeezing in a much more energetically determined way than his attack during his lessons, making his muscles lock up in place as squeaking laughter immediately escaped from his lips. Before he could lose all his force to the laughter, the crown prince attacked back, and soon two sets of giggles, squeals and crackling laughter were filling the air.

Until the sighing mentor came and declared the break over, even if there was still a different kind of gleam in his eyes.

The same gleam that stared now right back at him, in the middle of that forest, centuries later, with the former king of Yong’An alone and Fang Xin, no, Xie Lian being accompanied by the very own Ghost King, his friend.

Lang Qianqiu tried to escape the white silk that had so suddenly wrapped itself around him and rendered the younger martial god immobile on the floor. It was futile.

“What is this!” He tried to wiggle and squirm, but the fabric kept a firm, yet non bruising, hold on him. Like this, there was no way he could show his former Guoshi how he had grown his combating skills and how he probably could, if not take him in an equal fight, at least be a worthy opponent. An explosive indignation at the unfairness of Xie Lian’s tactic began flaring on him. “Let me go, this is not fair!”

“You didn’t specify that we should only use swords in our fight. Ruoye is my weapon, afterall.” If Lang Qianqiu had ever doubted that Xie Lian was indeed his old mentor, all of it would be gone now. The scolding, teaching tone was just the same, even after all the time. Although, it felt more tired, now. Older. “Besides, you should always be prepared for your opponent using unhanded tactics and surprise ambushes. If this was a real combat, you'd be dead already.”

Hua Cheng chuckled and for a moment Lang Qianqiu felt a wave of deja-vu wash over him, reminding the younger one about a similar situation when he had been rendered immobile in the past. 

(That is right, Qianqiu realized, with shame beginning to fight against him and prickle his skin, his Guoshi had been there too, hadn’t he?)

After such a true, yet unforgiving point, his lips pressed into a thin line, displeased. It was all just the same and infinitely different from those days when he was a teenager. 

For one, even with everything, Xie Lian seemed much more carefree. It was in the teasing tilt of his smile as he kneeled closer, in the slight slouch of his form, in the way he chatted and displayed emotions that had never been present in his in the imperial preceptor’s face before. Fondness, insecurity and, especially, indecision. Fang Xin Guoshi seemed sure in every step he took. When he lied to him and when decided to tell the truth, when he saved his life (again and again and again) and refused his invitation to a duel right after Lang Qianqiu discovered his identity. His Guoshi had been giant, indestructible, bigger than anything that crossed his way. Sometimes, Qianqiu still saw him that way, in his dreams and nightmares. 

Overlapping the image of his teacher and the kind god that ascended thrice seemed impossible.

Then he remembers him rescuing him in the Ghost City. He remembers being equally saved when he was twelve. He remembers his resolute composure when he confronted him about being his former Guoshi and the warm hand on his shoulder when Xie Lian woke him up after the heavenly conference. The way that he looked at him now. Serious. Admonishing. Somehow still soft. 

Suddenly piercing together those two images wasn’t really difficult at all.

Very different and yet the very same.

“Let us fight seriously this time! Only swords, no other weapons, until one of us surrenders or blood is drawn. Let me go, Guoshi.”

Xie Lian sighed in the same way he did centuries ago, when Lang Qianqiu kept pestering him to teach him said foolish maneuver that saved his life. The young one trashed more energetically in protest. “I told you once, didn’t I? ‘Do not charge right back in without correcting your mistakes and very much less without a plan’. Tell me, how could you have prevented me from winning the fight?”

Immediately his mind blanked with both the nostalgia and surprised feeling that ran through him and the former king stopped trashing, looking at his Guoshi with wide eyes. Xie Lian, then, looked horribly unsure for a moment, but in his next blink that expression was gone and he watched him in expectation, not taking his words back. 

Lang Qianqiu could understand.

There was anger and indignation bristling in his chest. He wasn’t that kid anymore, looking for the approval of his mentor, the person that he looked up to the most, the person that deceived him, who left a young boy, alone, scared, betrayed to rule an entire angered kingdom. 

As soon as the anger came, however, it soon went away, leaving only tiredness and nostalgia behind. Lang Qianqiu didn’t feel as furious as he had been when he discovered the entire truth, a long, long time ago. He wasn’t as single focused on it as he once had been. 

It’s been so many years. So many centuries.

(Sometimes he still felt like that kid.)

As time passed in his silence, Xie Lian looked awkward, perhaps sad, and he recomposed himself, preparing to leave.

As usual, Qianqiu’s mouth moved first than his brain.

“I could’ve dodged Ruoye!”

Xie Lian froze on his way up, searching his face for something. He must have found it, since he went back to his kneeling position and Hua Cheng stopped looking at the younger with something dangerous in his glare. Lang Qianqiu itched to finish their previous fight. Before he could think too much about that, though, his former guoshi’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“It would follow you no matter your move, which was already hindered by your surprise and slow reaction. It’s a spiritual weapon with long range. You’d still lose.”

He wanted to protest the use of ‘losing’ on this occasion, since his victory truly couldn’t hold any honor or weight after using such an improper ambush. However, before he could get a single word in, something white appeared in his vision field.

Lang Qianqiu blinked and turned to Ruoye, who seemed to shake in what seemed like an… attempt to a wave… or maybe it was a threat? The martial god would answer it in kind, even if just for the curiosity of seeing what the apparent sentient weapon would do, but his arms continued to be glued to his torso. 

Something in his face must have answered it, since the silk twirled happily.

And then immediately proceeded to attack his defenseless neck and ears in a soft, light kind of tickle that made shivers run across his spine and his lips turn into a gigantic smile.

An old memory tried to resurface.

“Whahat is this?!” He protested in between his teeth. Tiny, high pitched giggles made his shoulders shake, Qianqiu did his best to both hold them in and try to escape the tickly attack. He scrunched up his shoulders, except this only encouraged the soft weapon to scritch excitedly behind his ears until he turned to hide them, leaving his neck open once more. He tried to shake his head, still the maddening, gentle scratching sensation followed him with no problems, dancing across his skin without a single worry. “Dohon’t! Let me go!”

An amused huff cut his silence. “My, had I known about this, his capture at my kingdom would’ve been much smoother and quicker. Maybe I could even have given a different, more exciting show to my subjects, raise his price a little.”

For a moment Lang Qianqiu imagined it and the scenario was so alarming that he immediately shook his head to expel it, throwing the embarrassing thought away. His giggles suddenly became much more difficult to keep at bay and, were it not for that, he would have some good words to share about Crimson Rain Sought Flower’s clearly childish provocations!

“San Lang, don’t tease.” But Xie Lian’s tune was much more amused than chiding, hiding something in the depths of his words.

Lang Qianqiu turned around to demand he take his weapon away, but, just as he opened his mouth, Rouye decided to run across his spine and unleash an onslaught of unrelenting pokes and prodding on his sides, which made him arch his back and freed laughter to pour in waves from him, hysterical giggles twirling around every squeak and snort and suddenly the memory that had been itching in the back of his mind resurfaced.

The afternoon that Fang Xin Guoshi completed one year teaching him. Xie Lian never shared with the royal family the date of his birthday, so they decided to begin the tradition of celebrating this accomplishment instead. Lang Qianqiu couldn’t stay still during the entire day, excitedly waiting for the end of his lesson, when he would be free to drag the imperial preceptor to his surprise gathering. His focus had been completely impossible to hold and he only managed to get distracted from the commissioned gift he had asked for Xiao Mengyou to bring him when, out of nowhere, during their spar…

He then gasped in realization, turning his gaze at Xie Lian, narrowing eyes glistening in accusation, even if he was still unable to stop his uncontrollable loud laughter, especially as the prodding traveled to his ribs, spidering on them while getting dangerously closer and closer to his armpits, making him involuntarily squirm and snicker even more in anticipation. 

Even so, he obligated his laughing mind to concentrate on his former mentor's silly shiny gaze.

“It was you!” And, as if reading his mind and acting in protest, Ruoye drummed in that awful space where his pits and ribs connected, pulling a high pitched squeal out of his throat together with, of course, more crackles. “And Ruoye! You were the ones tickling me that day, not Mengyou!”

Xie Lian looked to the side with a way too innocent face to be genuine, a tiny, closed lip grin resting in his face, an almost silently amused, bigger smile escaping him. He didn’t say nor deny anything. It was all the confirmation the former king needed.

As he continued to snicker, giggle and squeal, Qianqiu remembered about his “revenge” taken on his actually innocent childhood friend…Xiao Mengyou definitely was going to kill him when he went to apologize that night. He could only hope it was not by the same way that Ruoye had decided to kill him that moment.

(Lang Qianqiu knew it was all a false hope, though.)

Xie Lian’s voice cut his thoughts.

“Now, again. Give me at least three ways you could have avoided this and Ruoye will let you go.”

Qianqiu felt the urge to grumble at this, but he snorted instead, starting to kick and protest when the soft silk gave the underside of his knee a curious poke. 

It was all futile, though, his mentor was known for using different methods of teaching and centuries didn’t change any of that, as it seems. 

Lang Qianqiu could relate, he also had at least one feeling that truly didn’t change after all this time, as well.

He would rather be running laps.

[sysig]

Party (group) party (celebratory)! (Patreon)

[bernadettavonaegir]

managed to get all of the possible responses to the Treasure Hunt reports that you can make and submit at the Naranja/Uva Academy website! Upon being shared to twitter/X, a randomly selected character will respond to your report, many of the characters bidding you a fun and safe journey to Kitakami. It seems like the opportunity to make your report will last 'til the 17th.

(very shoddily translated on google translate english versions are below the cut!)