#how dare you blame me?!

[yourchocolatenachostudent]

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Heh...Literally nothing personal, kid.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[atlasdoe]

IF I HAVE TO SEE ONE MORE "DUMBLEDORE WHERE HAVE YOU BURRIED ALL YOUR CHILDREN" TIKTOK WITH A BUNCH OF CHARACTERS WHOS DEATHS DUMBLEDORE HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH I AM GOING TO LOSE MY GODDAMN MIND

[me-and-me-fr]

They’re having discourse on Tiktok about attachment issues. Attachment. Issues. You know, the thing usually caused by some trauma or underlying mental issues. Cool, great. They love to victimize people with anxious attachment styles, while villainizing people who have avoidant attachment styles.

Both can be terrible to someone in a relationship.

Both are capable of recognizing that and changing it.

Call me chronically online all you fucking want, but if you believe someone is undeserving of love because of a trauma response, maybe it’s you who needs to take a step outside.

[pointless-letters]

I’m willing to bet £10 right now that if any of those schoolchildren had talked to one another, Sue’s letter would have been about how noisy and unruly kids are these days.

[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.

[itshomobirb]

2 memories i feel like sharing, & some backstory context: so my ass has been spayed, and healthy people take 6-8 weeks to fully recover from getting spayed. i, chronically ill, took longer. as with any abdominal surgery, they told me "no lifting over 10lb u could tear ur stitches." and for reference, my cats are 12 lb wonders.

so im chilling in bed. ~4 weeks after surgery. and my mother starts SCREAMING my name. like "OH MY GOD BORB COME IN HERE NOW QUICK QUICK HURRY OH GOD." so i do, albeit slowly because, you know, still recovering from major surgery. she's freaking out about one of my cats, who looks entirely normal. oh but he ~suddenly stopped~ and ~twisted his body~ i don't know if he's going to be ok. one mother panic attack and one emergency vet visit later (with my mother's help bc i couldn't lift my cat due to lifting restrictions) : he had flea dirt on his hind legs. he was twisting around to lick around his arse. cool 👍 (ofc my mother, on the ride back from the vet, tried to tell me NOT to give the kids flea meds, she doesn't know what kind of ~health ramifications~ flea meds can have if *gasp* the kids don't actually have fleas)

around the same time period, i get woken up by my mother screaming "HELP HELP HELP!!" the first day it happens, she stops within ~15 seconds, and i hear my parents talking before i fall back asleep. find out later the mechanism for moving the window panels up & down in the bathroom broke, so the top panel had trapped her fingers a la guillotine style. my parents joke "well borb if you hear your mother screaming... her fingers are probably trapped 😂." can you guess what happens next. my father was gone the next day, and guess who got her fingers trapped AGAIN by the bathroom window. so i get woken up by her screaming, and i have to help dislodge the window around her bare naked ass. and sure, i have sympathy because i bet it was really painful. but like. are you fucking stupid. my father had to literally childproof the window by installing a screw so the guillotine panel would catch against the other panel so fingers wouldn't get trapped. just so my mother wouldn't get her fingers trapped again. we all knew that if it wasn't there, she would 1000% get her fingers trapped again. but *im* supposedly the incompetent fuck up that NEEDS to be told exactly what to do just in case i, idk, have an independent thought.

[dukeofthomas]

I will forever maintain that Jason would've been fine and Not a vigilante without Bruce making him Robin

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

one thing i realized about fandaniel's dynamic with xande that really fucks me up is, like.... there are the obvious parallels that canon draws between meteion and xande, and their roles in hermes/fandaniel's lives. and there are also the parallels between fandaniel and meteion. there's a lot to unpack.

but it hit me recently that one of hermes' deepest, most devastating regrets is having failed meteion, with abuse and hypocrisy and the project he had the authority to make her a part of.

he was painfully aware that he wasn't fit to be a father; that he'd put them in a bitch of an unsatisfactory situation with his lack of foresight; that he was currently fucking things up in ways he did not know how to understand or articulate, much less address. he knew that there was no support system for this; not just for his mental health issues in general, but to educate him and hold him accountable about how to be decent to her, because he knew no one would give a fuck. the closest thing anyone would have given him to advice would be to just kill her and start over.

he says he hopes she'll find a better parent out there in space somewhere, because he knows there is not one to be found for her anywhere on this star, including him. she was one of the most helpless, vulnerable people in their society, and there was no backup for her if he mistreated her, if he failed. and he did.

so of course his next attempt to find a meteion would be an emperor. of course he'd be at the very top of the most powerful empire in the world, at the time. of course he'd position himself as his servant, devote himself to him utterly, and value his authority above all. he wanted someone he could never hurt the way he hurt meteion again.

[senseiwu]

Does it piss anyone else off that barely anyone holds garmadon accountable for his actions and then they give people crap for being upset with him after he's hurt them

[dreamteamemojis]

.

[oceanicjessie]

Sockless brat. I can't believe you would cancel sharpthing for his beautiful and loving straight sex fanfiction, like WOW the bigotry.

WHENS OUR PARADE, HUH?

How double dog dare you come into my inbox and insult me.

I am Sharpophobic and for this ask, I'm not only going to cancel him, I will be throwing him down the stairs, Billy style.

[themintman]

Staring into your soul rn if you ever take requests or art trades please let me know, itd be so cool to get some art of my oc

i do in fact take requests and art trades! They just may take a while depending on what they are, what I'm doing, my mental health, blah blah blah all that stuff. But I'm down to do them whenever! 🩷

[fadewalking]

Ok I have beef with Harding now, too.

[canibalistic-brownie]

.

[yujeong]

Memory Sieve

A poem inspired by this playlist of the same name, composed by Francis Wells (memory like a sieve = when you forget things very easily) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ All your life, you've been a traveler. Always moving, never standing still as if the thought of stopping - of reflecting - will make your heart stop beating. Whenever you catch yourself drifting, reminiscing times long gone, warm mornings of your mother sowing the summer barley, smiling to herself, your breath catches in your throat and the dizziness consumes you, as if the memory isn't supposed to be there, unnatural in its effort to take space in your head. Sometimes, I wonder. Do you recall the little house on the hill? Do you remember what you did with your cruel hands? How you touched me, worshipped me like a God and molded me into new shapes? Do you remember what you told me after? How you took it all away as if it never mattered at all? Still, the journey I took to return made me realize that the chronicles of my life were a blank page before you came along. Now, I can tell from the inside looking out that I am indeed a person or, at least, human enough to touch you, grab you by your shirt, shake you, and remind you of what we are. What we became. It seems like you forgot. Looking at you covered in blood, facing your back, your gun trembling in your hands, I know the stories they'll tell when you're gone. Stories of a monster disguised as a man, a cousin, a brother, a son, but I will not wait for that time to come. I refuse to accept it, to make peace with it. For we made a promise, in the form of a blue stick-it note. Perhaps you forgot, but I did not. Wake up. I'm hungry.