BOLD what your muse can do  /   repost ,  don’t reblog  !

bake a cake from scratch   /   ride a horse    /     drive a submarine     /   speak a second language /     dance   /     catch a fish     /     play an instrument   /     throw a punch     /     build a deck     /     ice skate     /     unclog a drain    /     program a computer     /     change a flat tire     /     fire a gun     /     sew    /     juggle     /     play poker     /     paint   /     fly a kite    /     sculpt     /   write poetry      /     sing     /     shoot a bow and arrow     /     ride a bike     /     swim     /     sail a boat     /    do a backflip     /   play chess*     /     give cpr     /     pitch a tent     /     flirt     /     stitch a wound   /     read palms     /     use chopsticks    /     write in cursive calligraphy   /     use an electric drill     /     braid hair  /     make a campfire     /     make a mixed drink     /     do soduku puzzles     /     wrap a gift    /     give a good massage    /     jump - start a car     /     roll their tongue     /     do magic tricks     /     do yoga     /     tie a tie     /     skip a rock     /     shuffle a deck of cards    /     read morse code     /    pick a lock     /     fly a plane     /     train a dog / cat*     /     fix a car     /     write a business letter    /     write in a second language     /     say the alphabet backwards     /     read music     /   cook complex meals    /     change oil     /     paint nails    /     draw     /     socialize    /     take apart a gun     /     drive a rig     /     operate a tank     /     climb a tree     /     rock climb     /     tie a cherry stem     /     basic first-aid  /     draw blood     / put out a fire

Tav Questions - Ralxire Edition

LIST

Listen, this is just for me lol. This is Ralxire Xarmus, he's a Teef Necromancer and an absolute greasy nightmare who I ADORE

Why did you pick the race you did for your Tav?

I am trying to play at least one character of each race in BG3 to see all the custom stuff. I'd tried to make a few Teefs and none of them were really clicking. Ralxire was my latest attempt and I adore him even though I have a LOT of teefs with red skin and black hair. He could be my first DnD character's burnout cousin. But I don't care he's perfect

Why did you pick the class you did for your Tav?

I was DYING to play a Necromancer in this game. I really love the idea of it being the "bad" or "evil" wizard, especially on a good aligned character? I think it's a class that says a lot about the character straight away. Dedicating your life to decay and undeath is not something you do if you're not profoundly weird in a lot of ways

What is your character’s moral alignment?

Probably Chaotic Neutral. He's been growing more towards Chaotic Good into act 3, but if you're romancing 'Star, you're never really getting onto the Good line of the chart.

How did you choose your Tav’s name, if you gave them a unique one?

I thought it sounded like a stage magician! I wanted a lot of harsh sounds (in actual DnD he'd be a feral tiefling, so I wanted something with a demonic twinge), but ultimately he picked his own name and picked something a kid would think was cool. I wanted it to feel like a name a ye olde snake oil salesman would use. Hense: Ralxire Xarmus

What are your character’s strongest and weakest stats (strength, charisma, etc)? 

Strongest is INT 20. Weakest is either CHA or STR (from my memory)

 What is your Tav’s origin story? 

I'll try to keep this *so* short

Street kid in Baldurs Gate. Orphan. The whole deal. Met his "sister" Oriana (made by @ms-scholars-gown-bnoc ) and joined a gang. Kept that up untill they were teens, when Oriana was "rescued" by a noble family who gave her a proper home. A little sad, Ralxire stayed - throwing himself further into his self taught wizardry - stealing what arcane supplies he needed. Established himself as a necromancer for hire. Then Oriana came back. Decided the toff life wasn't for her. So they went back to their old ways then.... Mindflayers.

That's as short as I can physically get it without going super into Ralxire's terrible dating decisions

 What was the most significant moment in your Tav’s origin story? 

Oriana leaving. Ralxire has a real protective streak and her leaving left him alone for the first time?? Ever??? It made him have to establish himself and he did that TERRIBLY. That's how he managed to become a greaseball asshole, and unfortunately also a very good necromancer. It isn't significant for good reasons, but significant nonetheless.

 What deity, if any, does your character worship? 

He respects Mystra from a distance, but you're not going to catch him saying grace.

What is your Tav’s biggest priority or goal?

It's gone through some revisions. Since the ship, it's been to restore his old powers and retrieve his old spellbook. That's a constant. Unfortunately, he's also started doing this insane thing called "caring for people"? Crazy. He'll do anything for Astarion - even want him to be better than he is. Hell, he'll become better than HE is for 'Star. Or Oriana.

He's trying, okay?

If your Tav didn’t become an adventurer, what else would they be doing?

NECROMANCY :D

What is your Tav’s most used weapon or spell? 

In canon, it's probably Animate Dead or Necrotic touch. In practice, I think it's actually Haste, because I'm a filthy support wizard and I cannot be stopped

What is your Tav’s favorite school of magic/weapon type?

You got one guess.

How does your Tav fight in a combat situation?

More in the mix than your average wizard! He's not formally trained and a little scrappy - a solid handful of his spells are extensions of his claws. He'll be in the mix, throwing out what he can while concentrating on some support spell that makes Oriana into an absolute monster. Paladins, man....

 Does your Tav know any other languages besides Common? 

Infernal, Abyssal and probably a handful of the Primordials? Contrary to the way he acts and behaves, he is actually smart

 If your Tav could/does multiclass, what other class would they choose?

I feel Sorcerer is cheating somehow.... But I truly cannot imagine him multiclassing. Being a wizard is so much of who he is? His life would be a lot more convienient if he was a sorcerer tbh.

Which of the companions does your Tav trust most?

 He does trust Astarion. He does. But also it's gotta be Halsin. There's no world it isn't Halsin. Either that or La'zel, because she's always gunna have Oriana's best interests at heart.

Which of the companions does your Tav distrust most?

In truth, this was ALL of the companions in Act 1. Ralxire doens't trust easy. I'm going to cheat my way out of this by saying Jahira and Minsc, just because they're newest.

 Who is your Tav’s biggest rival?

Mystic Carrion. Well, he's the biggest FINANCIAL competition. They run the same grift. The true answer is probably Cazador, for obvious Astarion reasons

 Who is your Tav romancing, if anyone?

Astarion. Also Halsin, when they're feeling spicy. But 'Star is the love of his damn life, because he has terrible taste and I love that for them

If you’re romancing anyone, why did your Tav fall for them? And why did that character fall for your Tav?

Not even joking: They're both as bad as each other

Astarion obviously moved on Ralxire for manipulation reasons. I'm not going to give Mr No Wisdom the credit of thinking he saw through that. But there's something to nefarious company. Ralxire is a little more cutthroat than his sister. He's had a bad time since she left. So it's nice to feel his defensive impulses (and frequent fits of just sarcastic and mean comments) are appreciated by someone. They would often be at the back of the group, muttering, judging and getting up to crime. They weren't good like everyone else. The rest was inevitable

 If you’re romancing anyone, who fell first and who fell harder?

Oh, Ralxire. This is the stuff that makes me insane, actually. So Ralxire's not a complete idiot. He knows his taste is bad. He knows guys like 'Star don't stick around. So he falls early - but he has NO illusions about it ever being reciprocated. He sees it as a flaw in himself - that deep down, under all the nastyness, he's still so so loving and caring, despite his best efforts. He doesn't expect 'Star to feel anything at all. He's waiting for him to move on.

Fortunately, Astarion falls like a meteor when he does.

 How does your Tav act around their crush?

Completely normal. See above. He's just a taaaad more protective in ways that will likely go unnoticed by most

 What is your Tav’s favorite moment they’ve had with their lover?

When Astarion told him he wanted their relationship to be real. When he levelled with him about the realities of his attractions. Because it was such a sigh of relief for him. He didn't have to pretend to care less - to pretend he was happy with only having sex. Astarions issues with intimacy were something they could work through - and 'Star wanted to work through it WITH him. As a team. It was the best.

 What is your Tav attracted to? What are their turn-ons and turn-offs? 

Terrible men is his type. If a man is transparently bad for him, Ralxire is all about it. But there has to be some kernel of goodness or they don't get to sleep over.

 Does your Tav have any biases against other classes or races? 

Of course, traditional Sorcerer vs Wizard beef must be observed. Especially because Oriana is part Sorc. Sibling rivalry is no joke.

 What is the most prominent color in your Tav’s color scheme?

Red and Black the whole way down. Sometimes I'll throw in some blue for contrast

 What is their sense of humor like?

Driest sarcasm in the west. The kind where you think they're not joking, just being an asshole out of nowhere. When he's around family, he is partial to a dad joke but he wouldn't be caught dead making one

 What is your Tav’s guilty pleasure?

I think in reality, Ralxire would indulge in every vice availble to man, but he wouldn't be guilty about it. I think he reads nonfiction for fun. I think he uses the mending cantrip to fix his friend's clothes while they're asleep. I think he really likes fancy food and deserts. That's the stuff he'd feel guilty about.

 How easily offended are they? How do they act when offended?

My man has a temper and takes most things as a direct insult to his pride. He has an ego that could eclipse the sun. There's a lot of snarling and exhaling smoke through the nose. There's a lot of saying the first insult that comes to mind. There's a lot of just blurting out the most hurtful shit you can think of as a reflex.

He's... not great at keeping friends. He's working on it.

 How does your Tav react when someone insults their friend/partner?

TIME FOR VIOLENCEEE

As I've said, Ralxire is BIG TIME protective. He's normally chill letting everyone else handle things, but if someone starts squaring up or targeting Oriana or 'Star? Violence.

 How does your Tav dress for different occasions, like very fancy situations?

Ah, Ralxire's nightmare. He's a street rat - he's never been anywhere remotely fancy. If Astarion doesn't dress him, he'd wear the tackiest, most Look I Have Money getup he could steal. Ralxire is not blessed with drip

 How did your Tav get their scars, if they have any?

Oh boy. Ralxire does have facial scarring. Yes, he did it himself. Yes, it was a choice that he then tatted over AND grew facial hair. His lower jaw is a disaster

 What is your Tav’s relationship with their family?

Blood family is nonexistant. Oriana is his closest thing. They've had...bumps. But Ralxire doesn't really care about that. He defends what he has

 What is your Tav’s opinion on nobility and authority?

No respectable lower city kid LIKES either. Ralxire is no exception. Sorry, Wyll

 How does your Tav react to wearing the Wavemother’s robe? How do they react to their partner wearing it?

I can't remember if this is how we discovered Ralxire has an incredible ass BUT HE REALLY DOES. He'd be down - Ralxire has absolutely no body shame at all. He wears a harness to relax. There's a naked statue of him at camp. He doesn't wear underwear. He's nasty as hell and everyone else has to deal with it.

'Star or Halsin wearing it would go exactly the way you think it would.

 What is your Tav’s favorite type of environment? Like in a tavern, a library, out in the wilderness, underground, etc.

Lower City favoured terrain. Taverns, dirty sewer hideouts, nasty waterfront warehouses. Places that aren't too nice make him feel....out of place. Halsin is helping with that, on the nature front. Though, a necromancer is only ever going to be so comfortable in nature

 What would your Tav’s Zodiac sign be?

My brain said Scorpio reflexively, but unfortunately I think he's inherited my Aries sun / Taurus moon combo.

 What is their favorite season?

Autumn. Cool. Everything is dying. It's in his colour pallet. What more could you want?

 Where in the world does your Tav want to visit the most?

I think he'd do a big city tour. Waterdeep, Neverwinter.... I think he'd seek out cool magic places. He does love Baldur's Gate secretly though

 What is the biggest mistake your Tav ever made?

Looking into Litchdom because "it's what Necromancers do"

 What animal best represents your Tav?

Impulse said Rat and I think that's maybe correct? A giant rat. The biggest rat you've ever seen.

 What flower/tree/plant best represents your Tav?

It's too easy to say Corpse Flower? I do think it's apt, actually. Massive for seemingly no reason. Smells bad. Obsessed with dead and decaying things. Looks like a massive dick

 What does your Tav smell like? 

Embalming fluid, probably.

 What song best represents your Tav?

Bonus for Ralxire x Astarion from my playlist for them

 What would be your Tav’s favorite music genre?

There is no world in which Ralxire would not have the worst drum and bass you've ever heard blaring 24/7 irl

 What role would your Tav play in a highschool AU? (nerd, jock, bully, goth, etc)

Dropout/Burnout with bonus He's Secretly Smart trope

 What is the most important item your Tav has?

His spellbook. Really, any book he gets his hands on. But his old and new spellbooks really contrast who he was with who he is now. Like, sure, his old one has Finger of Death in it. But now he has buffing spells! That he casts on other people! He learned spells to help others! Groundbreaking territory

 Where does your Tav feel most at home?

Lower City waterfront. The area of Baldur's Gate with all the monsters in it

 What is your Tav’s philosophy on life?

It would be something like "We're all getting fucked so we might as well enjoy it". He's got that optimistic pessimism going on

 Does your Tav think more with their heart or their brain?

He'd love it if it was his Brain. It would improve his life. Unfortunately he is only ever guided by his heart, his ego or his dick.

 What does your Tav want in their future? (domestic bliss, more adventure, a family, etc)

There was a time where he wanted to be immortal. Now, he mostly wants to give Astarion the best damn life he can until he's gone.

 What is your Tav’s worst fear?

The loss of what little he has - mostly his family

 Is your Tav easily tricked or deceived?

Not necissarily - but he is EASILY swayed by flattery.

 If your Tav was granted a single wish, what would it be?

More wishes. The wish spell in his spellbook. Some loophole bullshit like that

 How does your Tav feel about keeping secrets, both their own and others?

Sure, why not? You've got your reasons and I've got mine.

 How would your Tav react to a love confession?

If it was unrecipricated, it would be the best day of his life. He'd be so happy because he's been given a gift. If reciptrocated, see above answer about Star

 What are your Tav’s biggest insecurities?

Ralxire is more insecurity than man. He is insecure about how much he cares, primarily. Again, he's all ego. A lot of work goes into preserving that

 What decision would your party have to make in order for Tav to consider splitting off from the group?

Honestly, I think the fact I couldn't think of anything is telling. But he does have a soft spot for his fellow teefs. I think if they'd murdered the tiefling refugees, he'd have quitely slipped away the night after

 What is your Tav’s favorite food?

Anything insanely filling. Curries. Stews. That sort of thing. Most of his diet is unfortunately alcohol though

 How generous is your Tav, especially to those they don’t know?

Almost 0%. Maybe a little if you catch him being sentimental

 If an evil character told your Tav that they wanted to change and help them, would they believe it?

Not on your life. Ralxire mistrusts the nicest people on earth

 What meme describes your Tav the best?

I've somehow forgotten every meme ever made by mankind. Maybe....

What does your Tav want to be remembered by?

Outside of existing fondly in the memories of the people he loves, I don't think Ralxire cares much about being remembered.

 What Tarot Card best represents your Tav?

The Chariot (reversed) or The King of Wands (reversed)

 What would be your Tav’s major in college?

I actually answered this here

but tldr Ralxire would be working towards a PHD in Biology or Pathology

 Does your Tav consider themselves a hero, villain, victim or something else?

I think he would rather obstain. Though a bit like 'Star, there's something really funny about considering him a hero even a little bit

 How good is your Tav at giving advice? How good are they at following it themselves?

Good and terrible respectively

 How does your Tav get along with each party member?

Gale - > Inherent Wizard Rivalry is a big barrier here Wyll - > Too good to be true, for Ralxire. He's coming around Lazell - > She loves his sister and that's enough for him Astarion - > See any other answer. Loves more than anything Halsin - > The only grounding force he's ever had and he needed it SO MUCH. Adores sharing him with 'Star. Adores their strange, haphazard relationship. Adores how much he's not his usual type. Karlach - > Banter buds Shadowheart - > They hated each other for no clear reason, but now they bully each other with some affection in it

 What are your Tav’s other hobbies?

He will read anything at all - but likes Philosophy because it's structured arguing.

 (Free Spot: Ask any question you’d like!)

Ralxire's favourite way to end a day is to cuddle the shit out of Astarion while he reads aloud. 'Star gets to listen to his voice rumble and 'Xire gets to play with his hair. Astarion pretends to fall asleep, then Ralxire bundles them both up. Perfection

Day 3: Path

Bitter wind whistled through the air, swirling snow and ice and obscuring the narrow path. Dorian blinked against the onslaught, but it was pointless. They had been trudging along for hours, and at this point he felt more snow than person. He was sandwiched between Mother Giselle and Commander Cullen, neither of whom had complained even once. He kept his mouth shut.

In truth, the running commentary of complaints he kept going in his mind was more for a distraction than any real desire to express his discomfort. Everyone was uncomfortable. He wasn’t going to say anything to remind them of that. Not now, not after everything they had been through.

To think that less than a day ago (Was that right? Time had felt slippery recently.) they had all been in Haven, celebrating. They had won, they had sealed the Breach! He should have known their luck wouldn’t hold, but Cole bursting into the middle of their celebration to tell them an army was on its way was just excessive.

Holding Haven against that army of Templars and a fucking arch-demon was never going to work. But that hadn’t stopped these brave, stupid people for trying. It hadn’t stopped him from following the Herald into the snow to liberate trebuchets and distract the demon that led the army. It hadn’t stopped Arlaros from standing against the demon alone.

He was jolted from his thoughts as his foot caught on a rock hidden by snow. He stumbled into Cullen and muttered an apology. The commander barely reacted.

They continued moving forward along the path. The snow made seeing more than a few meters ahead practically impossible, but if Dorian squinted he thought he could make out two people at the front of the line. Solas and Arlaros.

Those hours when they thought Arlaros was dead and buried in the avalanche at Haven were excruciating. Cullen, Josephine, Leliana, and Cassandra had guided everyone to a safe place and then huddled around a campfire, their voices low and their faces creased with worry. Cynically, Dorian had thought the worry was more for their fledgling Inquisition than for Arlaros. They had set him up as the Herald of Andraste. Would their alliances hold if the Herald died? Had Josephine and Leliana already begun planning ways to spin Arlaros’s death into a martyrdom?

Bitter, cynical thoughts. But he had been watching Chancellor Roderick die at the time and feeling about a dozen emotions he had no intention of naming, so he allowed his past self some grace.

And then Arlaros had returned. Stumbling, frozen, nearly dead, he had emerged from the blizzard looking like a ghost. When he collapsed in the snow just outside the camp, Dorian had gathered him in his arms and carried him back, refusing to leave his side until the healers physically pushed him out of the tent. Then he had paced outside as they worked, ignoring the knowing glances from Leliana and Varric.

Arlaros had nearly died.

Arlaros had nearly died, and if he had, Dorian wasn’t sure what he would have done. Something rash, certainly, something drastic. Something dangerous. Who was this man to have such sway over him? Arlaros was no politician or nobleman. He had no formal training in persuasion. And yet this Inquisition was held together by people’s faith in him. He had started as a prisoner! Accused of the murder of the Divine! And yet when Arlaros had stepped out of that tent, people sang.

Dorian had witnessed the birth of a legend.

And now, that legend was leading them through the mountains toward a place where they could be safe. They would regroup, rebuild, and start forming even stronger alliances. He had no doubt Arlaros would be at the head of it all, forging the Inquisition into something far greater than Cassandra or Leliana had foreseen. And Dorian would follow.

Assuming he survived the trek there.

Just a funny V:tM character thought experiment.

This concept requires a Vampire: the Masquerade, 20th anniversary edition setting. If only because what V5 does to Thinbloods is neuter them completely in terms of disciplines and give them a pair of safety scissors in the form of Thin-Blood Alchemy.

Now, if you harken back to the way they were originally depicted, as members of the 14th, 15th and eventually 16th generations that had drifted far enough from the generations of Caine that clan curses started diluting and losing their effects, you had vampires capable of doing something that they hadn't been able to do since the era of the Second Generation and Caine himself.

Innovation. Making new powers, just, any one new power on any of the existig trees, was supposed to be a momentous event for the kindred. To the tune where it typically involves ushering in entire new bloodlines that base around that funny trick and technique. Like just a level of Protean where one turns into a snake instead of a wolf.

It's so noteworthy that it becomes the entire basis for a social organization, in many cases.

So that brings us to the 14th and 15th generations, that are so far removed they can just wholesale invent new powers. They're called Inceptors, in V:tM, and they enjoy a level of plastic flexibility and freedom that normal vampires do not.

There's a catch, however. Imagine Disciplines as being powers limited by how complete your understanding of the vampiric niche is. A level 1 is something you may just develop as a consequence of being embraced. Some are just That Much Stronger than other vampires, as a consequence of these magical vampire enhancements. Some are faster and more graceful. Some are more enduring and durable. And these go in degrees from 1 to 5. 5 is considered mastery for a reasonable, mortal expectation of vampiric power. There are levels 6 to 10 in a Discipline, but you need to be so much closer to Caine that unless you're 7th generation to 3rd, you will never have levels above 5. So, 5 is considered the reasonable level of mastery of a Discipline. Anything before that is incomplete, anything beyond that is supreme mastery to degrees beyond necessary.

Well, 14th generations can only learn up to level 4 of a Discipline. 80% mastery of the niche. They cannot learn level 5 powers.

15th generations cannot learn level 4. For them, level 3 in a discipline, intermediate power, is as high as they can go. They simply cannot develop any further or greater power in that discipline. It is their limit and plateau.

And in theory 16th generations would be limited to 2 levels, and if enough time passes for 17th, they'll be limited to level 1. Level 1 Disciplines are basic beginner babymode, and even Ghouls of real vampires get those just as a matter of course for being a vampire's ghoul. They can never learn beyond that.

But being 14th and 15th generation also meant they could fabricate their own custom Disciplines (with storyteller approval) and hash out exactly their niche and what they did. Theoretically, at your own little game table, the power could be ANYTHING. In practicality, however, no, it can't.

So I got to thinking about a character premise for a 15th generation Caitiff who took an atavistic approach to being a vampire. An autarkis guru type. They never received ANY formal training in Disciplines, they're just an intuitive sort of person and a bit analytical. They took to unlife like a wild animal takes to being released into their natural habitat. No preconceptions, no perception filtering by their Clan blood and culture. No benefit of education, but no drawbacks on it either. A weak, diluted version of the original deals. Lacking the branding of time honored vampire families, lacking the pedigree, even if their blood clearly came about because of that culture.

Imagine this 15th generation, roaming since the 1970s and 80s. Perhaps among the first of the 15th generations to ever exist, at the very quick end of the phenomenon. They manage to not die. More than that, they manage to thrive. Long enough and intense enough, that they develop their Disciplines.

But they develop them in an entirely unconventional, atavistic way.

It starts with developing Potence. Potence, the vampiric power of Swole Turkey and Power. Mechanically, you simply add your Potence levels to your Strength rating. Vampires, unless they are as close as 7th generation to Caine, cannot develop their strength trait beyond the 5th level (roughly the equivalent of being able to bench press 600 pounds) without Potence. You combine that pool.

The upper strength limits of this fellow reaches 360 kg, reasonably able to handle it their turn as a managable weight.

Then goes on to Celerity. Celerity offers a passive bonus that allows one to treat their Celerity levels as bonus Dexterity points. The greatest of jugglers and acrobats have a Dexterity of 5, and this would effectively give our boy a Dex of 8, when understanding is as complete as his blood can hope.

And then Fortitude. The Discipline that raises the integrity of the body, enabling them even to resist supernatural damage, acids, extreme temperatures, even fire and sunlight. All vampires can resist being punched, stabbed, sliced, crushed- They can use their Stamina as counter-damage dice to reduce incoming damage. But, only Fortitude allows them opportunity to reduce damage from banes like fire and sunlight.

These are all rather, 'basic' Disciplines. By the rules, a normal vampire cannot just buy them for no reason. By normal rules, a vampire may start with one dot in one of these three without a clan, and that's it. But 15th Generations, explicitly, can get around this with the right circumstances. They can, after all, spontaneously generate in that direction based on need and repetition.

So what if the other Disciplines developed for them, this way? Or, they develop existing Disciplines, approaching them based on irregular aspects?

So the kindred that goes on to then develop Auspex. They learn to enhance their senses. Mechanically, this is represented by lowering the difficulty to use your senses, thereby improving the degree of successes by lowering the threshold for failure. But what if in their ignorance, they merely develop it another way? Rather than the level 1 power that reduces the difficulty of perception others may experience, they simply get a more enhanced perception; each level, much like Potence, Celerity, Fortitude, providing dice for all things sensory. Distinctively just for the mundane, however- sensing the supernatural is an entirely different avenue of Auspex. The end result being, the vampire could top out at 8 Perception. Perhaps the most comprehensive and observant creature on earth, without weird special animal world structures like spider hairs or insect and fish barbels to perceive vibrations and air currents and static.

Their animalism? Similar. They simply become very good with animals. Add to all dice pools involving handling animals. But Animalism as a discipline isn't simply about becoming a good cat dad, it's about interfacing with something on an instinctual level. Bonus dice when dealing with feral creatures to try and calm them down- and that includes vampires lost in the throes of their Beast.

Dominate simply becomes a passive bonus to any roll that involves force of personality against the ego of another. Manipulation rolls, Intimidation rolls, Leadership rolls, perhaps even Empathy, Expression, Etiquette, and any Knowledge roll that requires asserting your force of will over another in the field of argument- like Academia.

Obfuscate is a passive, personal space based ability that allows a vampire to just decide to disappear from other peoples perceptions. To be overlooked. To be removed from the calculation one makes to determine if they comprehend something or someone is there. Naturally, any mundane attempts at hiding would gain the benefits of Obfuscate levels in dice. Just, think Tony Hawk being able to suddenly not be Tony Hawk, or even the dots connected that this is THE Tony Hawk if met in real life. Or Superman wearing glasses and suddenly being a different person. Or.. Sailor Moon. That's like an obfuscate power.

Presence is like the inverse of obfuscate. It commands attention. Imagine this atavistic thin blood learning how to use it to boost their Charisma score. No special powers, just a straight up extra 3 dice to use when trying to be charismatic. Enhanced to superhuman levels, but not in itself a power that requires expending blood.

Protean is the Shapeshifting Discipline. So, how would a lad that has no idea he can transform even organically improve this? Oh, glad you asked.. Imagine a vampire unlocking it, but only understanding that with effort, they make themselves subtly more attractive. Not just an increase to Charisma, but straight up, changing their body to subtly be more attractive. Every dot of Protean mastered just making them more handsome or pretty. More physically perfect and ideal. As well, they can use their more maleable body for other things; Athletics rolls. 1-3 (or, 1-4 for 14th generations). Complimenting how Potence, Celerity and Fortitude enhance the physical traits, Protean enhancing things like simple, human, animal traits.

Even Obtenebration, the discipline of manipulating a vampire's inherent connection to shadows and death, could be organically expressed. It could manifest as an even better Stealth rating when traveling at night.

I mean, doing this straight out the gate would cost in-game about 870 EXP. By contrast, multiple millenia old vampires may have a thousand or so. Tabletop V:tM isn't like Vampire: the Masquerade: Bloodlines, where you just rank up to level 5 over the course of weeks. Realistically, there is no reputable way to do this sort of thing that isn't just the equivalent of min-maxing. So, as a character premise, it "cannot" exist in a respectable V:tM game without being an eyeroll worthy, cringy tryhard wanktank.

So to even consider a concept like this plausible, respectable and acceptable to your story, you'd kind of need to just accept some ascetic monk of a runty vampire spent the last 50 years intensely learning almost all the disciplines wrong, without help. That technically their development in said Disciplines is intermediate, and they could theoretically learn any skill in any discipline that required being a master of level 3 or less, but lacking the education, simply would not have those unique powers at the level of Discipline mastery he has them.

But at any time, he could learn the powers up to level 3 properly, from any vampire that knew them. And they, similarly, could learn, "Mundane trait, but better" from him.

And once he had these levels in these abilities, mastering aspects of vampiric unlife, there's absolutely 0 reason they wouldn't start being able to bleed together and perhaps develop amalgam powers.

Imagine blending Auspex and Obtenebration; Gaining the ability to peceive shadows and the dead. Blend Potence and Obfuscate; Suddenly the range at which you can disappear from people rises by maybe 2 meters per level of Potence. Blend Protean and Auspex; suddenly you can detect electrical current in space by proximity, unless it's shielded by supernatural means. Or Auspex + Animalism. Always know when a sapient creature is looking at you, whether you can see them or not, and be able to triangulate them back.

I think I'll expand on this concept, if only as a gimmick. Clearly, it's an absolute stretch to imagine such an unlife was possible, and obviously this concept doesn't even WORK for V:tM V5 edition.

I hope you get plenty of prompts that you enjoy. Thank you.

NMJ bonding with child Wangji. Maybe a few times NMJ beat little LWJ in a spar and the time he knew little Wangji would one day beat him. Mostly Pre Cloud Recesses arc?

Of Few Words - ao3

The first time Nie Mingjue met Lan Xichen’s little brother, he thought he would be just like Nie Huaisang, so he picked him up and threw him.

“Mingjue-xiong,” Lan Xichen gasped, clearly horrified. “What are you doing?”

Probably something forbidden by the rules, Nie Mingjue thought, and shrugged.

He wasn’t good with words, was too blunt and too direct, especially for the Lan sect, and so over the past couple of weeks or so that he’d been here he’d found it was easier not to speak at all. They’d make whatever assumptions they wanted about him, no matter what he did; it was easier to just let them do that and work with that than it was to futilely strive to get them to actually understand him.

“Even if Wangji has done something to upset you, you may only assign him to do copying,” Lan Xichen told him, and Nie Mingjue was briefly surprised that his new friend had assumed he was angry before he remembered that everyone here thought he was angry all the time, so it wasn’t actually that much of a surprise. “Please keep that in mind. Also, I don’t know if I’ve said, but he’s very reserved, so please don’t take offense if he just points things out...oh, I wish I wasn’t needed elsewhere this afternoon! I’d much rather show you around myself, but as it is, he’ll be showing you around this part of the Cloud Recesses in my place.”

Nie Mingjue grunted assent, and watched, a little desolately, as Lan Xichen disappeared down the still confusing twists and turns of the paths of the Cloud Recesses. It was all gardens here, carefully tended to maximize graceful tranquility, and he was sure he would have no chance of ever finding his way back on his own if left to it.

It wouldn’t surprise him in the slightest if he was. The other Lan disciples hadn’t really taken to him the way Lan Xichen had, much less a younger brother that the (rather reserved, by Nie Mingjue’s standards) Lan Xichen had described as reserved…

Unexpectedly, a small hand slipped into his own, and he looked down in surprise.

Lan Wangji looked up at him, his cheeks flushed a little red.

Nie Mingjue instinctively smiled at him, charmed by the reminder of Nie Huaisang, then remembered that too much exuberance seemed to only disturb the Lan sect and struggled to get his expression under control. He expected him to start leading him around the Cloud Recesses without another word – he had overheard Lan Qiren telling his father that Lan Wangji wasn’t much of a talker, very quiet, and to not expect much interaction with him – but to his surprise Lan Wangji did not move, looking at up at him thoughtfully, lips pursed as if he was considering saying something.

Nie Mingjue waited for his judgment.

“You weren’t angry,” Lan Wangji finally said. “When you threw me.”

Nie Mingjue blinked.

“No,” he admitted, breaking his own informal vow of silence. “I wasn’t. I thought you might enjoy it.”

Nie Huaisang loved being tossed around, whether up into the air or into bushes, headfirst shrieking into his bed or ass-first into a pool of water; he’d thought tossing little brothers around was what big brothers were there for. Sure, there was a small age gap – Lan Wangji was six, Nie Huaisang still not quite five – but he hadn’t thought it would make such a difference.

Lan Wangji hummed thoughtfully. He did not speak for another long while, but Nie Mingjue was starting to think that that was just him chewing over his thoughts before forming them into words.

At last, he spoke again: “I did.”

Nothing afterwards. Hesitantly, Nie Mingjue asked, “Would you like me to do it again?”

Lan Wangji nodded.

This time, Nie Mingjue was a little more cautious: he threw Lan Wangji up into the air and caught him, trying to demonstrate that he knew what he was doing, that he could be trusted, and by the third or fourth time Lan Wangji was smiling. It wasn’t quite on part with Nie Huaisang’s giggles and shrieks, but felt rewarding nevertheless.

Satisfied by his success, Nie Mingjue was about to put him down on the ground, but hesitated. “Do you want to ride on my shoulders?” he asked, and waited as Lan Wangji considered it.

“Another time,” Lan Wangji decided. “Not today.”

Nie Mingjue nodded and put him down. Lan Wangji took his hand once again and, this time, led him around the way he’d expected from the start, pointing out various places and naming them in a quiet murmur.

Lan Wangji really wasn’t much of a talker, a person of few words, but that was fine. So was Nie Mingjue.

-

It was a few days later that he came across Lan Wangji kneeling beside the training grounds and impulsively challenged him. He was getting bored of training alone: Lan Xichen was busy again, and the other Lan disciples had already made clear that they didn’t want to have anything to do with him, the interloper who’d pushed his way into their lessons by force.

It wasn’t actually like that at all – his father had sent Nie Mingjue to learn here for the season as a gesture of goodwill, wanting to support Lan Qiren’s lecture series and make it clear that other sects should follow suit, to encourage Lan Qiren’s goal of eventually creating a safe haven for all the Great Sect’s heirs to come together and learn and build friendships while still in their youth – but Nie Mingjue knew that there was no convincing any of his wary Lan sect peers of that. Even if there was, he certainly couldn’t do it, not with his clumsy tongue and scowling face and too-tall height that made everyone immediately assume he would resort to violence as his first and only argument.

So he trained alone and studied alone, or with Lan Xichen in the rare times when his friend was free, but it was boring, and anyway, he thought he’d gotten on pretty well with Lan Wangji the first time they’d met. It wouldn’t be a real spar, of course, not against a six-year-old, but doing the moves slow and mirroring a smaller opponent would force him to pay close attention to his own technique, which would pay off in the long run.

He explained this to Lan Wangji when the boy frowned up at him in what Nie Mingjue was starting to be able to identify as a silent question – he didn’t use many words himself, just spat out “Mirroring improves technique,” and saw that Lan Wangji understood the rest – and a moment later Lan Wangji nodded and rose to his feet, picking up one of the practice swords and taking a position opposite him on one of the fields.

Nie Mingjue started with a standard warm-up routine, unsure of Lan Wangji’s skills. Supposedly he was the opposite of Nie Huaisang in this respect, too, startlingly advanced for his age, but Lan Qiren had also said something about him pausing his sword training as a result of some incident, not specified; his father had nodded in response as if he’d understood, which was very unhelpful to the eavesdropping Nie Mingjue, who didn’t. Since he didn’t know the background of the incident or when Lan Wangji had picked up sword training again, and more to the point wasn’t inclined to ask since he knew that Lan Wangji wouldn’t enjoy explaining, he just started out with the basics and went up slowly from there.

It turned out his concerns were mostly unnecessary – Lan Wangji was a bit stiff at first, maybe because of the kneeling he’d been doing, but he clearly had the basics down flat, and they were able to progress to something a little more interesting quick enough, trading very slow swipes with saber and sword.

Nie Mingjue didn’t even notice that they had an audience until he heard Lan Xichen say his name in a strangled voice. He finished the follow-through of the move they were on, since stopping in the middle could be dangerous (not for them, not with training swords, but in the future, when it was real, and forming good habits now would help more later on), saluted Lan Wangji with his saber and was saluted in return, and then turned to look for his friend.

Lan Xichen was staring at them as if they’d turned into ghosts, and there was a whole crowd of Lan sect disciples standing around gawking at them instead of doing their own training.

Nie Mingjue hunched up his shoulders, assuming he’d somehow managed to do something wrong again, and automatically stepped in front of Lan Wangji, blocking the others’ views of him. “I challenged him,” he said bluntly, hoping to take the brunt of whatever punishment would need to be imposed here – generally speaking, he’d learned that the Lan sect’s penalties for being lured into misbehavior were less than the penalties for instigating it. “He didn’t seem otherwise occupied.”

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen said, or started to say, but Lan Wangji was already turning to put away his training sword. He then formally saluted his brother and trotted away from the training field entirely.

Lan Xichen watched him go without stopping him, then turned to Nie Mingjue. “Mingjue-xiong, how did you get him to fight you?”

Nie Mingjue blinked, confused. “I asked.”

“Yes, but – how?”

“I asked him to train with me,” Nie Mingjue said slowly, not sure if he was missing something. “I pointed out that mirroring improves technique. He probably did it as a favor to me…listen, do you need me to copy lines or something?”

“Copy lines?”

“For whatever rule I just broke,” Nie Mingjue clarified, but Lan Xichen only looked more confused. “Was it because he was kneeling and I interrupted him?”

Everyone is staring at me again and I don’t know why, again. Just tell me what it is that I did, impose the punishment, and I won’t do it again, I promise – but you need to tell me what it was that I did wrong first.

“Mingjue-xiong,” Lan Xichen said, staring at him even more strangely now. “You didn’t break any rules at all.”

That was even weirder. “But –”

“Wangji was kneeling because that’s what he always does during training hours,” Lan Xichen said. “He doesn’t train the sword anymore.”

“He – doesn’t?” Nie Mingjue asked, now even more confused, and in his confusion forgot that he was in the Lan sect with their carefully thought-out sentences and myriad of prickly unwritten rules. “Why not? He’s so good at it! And he seemed to be having a good time, too…listen, I know your sect prizes musical cultivation, Xichen, and that it’s often one or the other, but there’s really no reason he can’t do both.”

He belatedly realized he was talking too much and shut his mouth, embarrassed. He shouldn’t have brought up that subject.

After all, Qingheng-jun had been a sword cultivator with little interest in music beyond battle-songs  – still was, Nie Mingjue supposed, although he was in seclusion so much that it might as well be ‘had been’ – and Lan Qiren was an expert at musical cultivation, skilled in both xiao and guqin, but used his sword only to fly.  They’d been trained that way, complementary to each other’s strengths – Qingheng-jun the attacking hand, Lan Qiren the supporting arm – which was a pretty decent plan right up until it had all rather been ruined when Qingheng-jun had for whatever reason retreated from the world.

“Of course,” Lan Xichen echoed, and luckily he didn’t seem to notice the implied criticism. “He should, of course, if he wants to…Mingjue-xiong, I’m sorry, I have to go again, I need to talk to my uncle at once. But you should feel free to challenge Wangji again – in fact, I would appreciate it if you did. Liu-xiong, can you tell Mingjue-xiong what Wangji’s training hours are?”

One of the other Lan disciples nodded, and Lan Xichen flashed them both a thankful smile before disappearing again, even though he’d promised that his uncle only needed him for half a day and that they’d be able to go down to visit Caiyi Town that afternoon.

As a result, despite Lan Xichen’s assurances, Nie Mingjue still had the distinct feeling that he’d done something wrong, but he really couldn’t see what. Best not to think too much about it, he supposed.

-

By the afternoon, Nie Mingjue had retreated to the library to avoid being stared at. He’d thought that the indirect sneers and silent rigid politeness that invited no familiarity was bad, but apparently it was actively worse when the Lan sect disciples treated him like he’d just turned into a performing monkey that had done a neat trick. They still wouldn’t condescend to talk to him, of course, but they felt no issue staring or talking to each other about him – even though Nie Mingjue was sure there was a rule about not talking behind people’s backs.

Maybe it didn’t count if you did it in front of their faces.

Nie Mingjue actually rather liked the library, despite the Lan sect’s general tendency to treat him like an illiterate ape that only knew how to swing a saber – even Lan Xichen had looked a little puzzled the first time he’d asked to spend the afternoon there, though of course he hadn’t said anything out loud beyond reminding Nie Mingjue that they didn’t have to go there and that it wasn’t necessary to sacrifice his own enjoyment for Lan Xichen’s.

It wasn’t his friend’s fault that he was brought up to prefer those were gentle and scholarly, Nie Mingjue reminded himself, even if it chafed a little every time that Lan Xichen automatically sided with someone who could express themselves better, someone cleverer with words than he; that trait was common to just about everyone at the Cloud Recesses, and at least Lan Xichen would eventually listen to him if he kept his temper under control and persisted in trying to make his point.

Nie Mingjue might wish that the Lan sect didn’t view losing one’s temper as an automatic forfeit of the argument – do not succumb to rage had been whispered in his vicinity more times than he could count, though rarely to his face – and he might think in his heart of hearts think that they were simply wrong in dismissing his viewpoint just because he felt too strongly about a matter to contain himself, but he was a guest here and he needed to respect their ways, conform himself to their customs, even if it upset and disturbed him to do so.

At least sometimes those ways and customs served him, including in the deliberate air of quiet contemplation in the Library Pavilion. There were separate rooms for private study, of course, but an emphasis was put on preserving the tranquility of the location, and it seemed that the Lan disciples at least knew enough shame to avoid coming to gawk at him from the door when he was there.

Deciding to entertain himself, Nie Mingjue picked out several books on military strategy utilizing musical cultivation – just because he was all but tone-deaf didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate the power of the Lan sect’s core techniques – and settled down for a nice afternoon of being alone.

Until, of course, he wasn’t.

He was pretty absorbed in an analysis of altitude effects on range attacks for a while, deaf and blind to the outside world the way he usually was when he was reading, and then, perhaps alerted by some sound, he looked up to find that the sun had shifted position and also that Lan Wangji was sitting across from him with his own book primly laid out in front of him.

Nie Mingjue blinked and thought briefly about saying something. If it had been Nie Huaisang, he would have – some friendly jibe that Nie Huaisang would return in full measure, before they both settled down to enjoy each other’s company in communal silence – but this was Lan Wangji, who was a Lan, and probably wouldn’t appreciate it.

So he didn’t say anything, just looked back down at his book and continued reading.

After a little while, there was a tug at his sleeve.

Nie Mingjue looked up. Lan Wangji was pointing to one of the words in his book – “Frivolous,” he said, assuming that Lan Wangji was asking for assistance with the more complicated characters the way that Nie Huaisang would have, albeit with much less whining. “Means lacking purpose or value.”

Lan Wangji nodded, released his sleeve, and returned to his reading.

They carried on in this fashion for a while, quiet reading interspersed with occasional reading comprehension questions, and it was nice. Nie Mingjue could feel the stress of the day slowly sliding off his shoulders – more than just the day, maybe the whole week, the entire time he’d been here, or even before, when Nie Huaisang burst into tears at finding out his big brother was going to be leaving him behind. He would need to write to him again soon, Nie Mingjue thought to himself, and send presents; he’d been hoping to pick something up in Caiyi Town today, but then Lan Xichen had gotten busy…

It’d be nice if he could get him something from the Cloud Recesses itself, though.

“Wangji,” he said before he could stop himself. “What is a present you would get for someone who likes pretty things?”

Lan Wangji blinked up at him, then frowned. Nie Mingjue was pretty sure that it was a thinking frown, though, so he just waited, and sure enough Lan Wangji carefully closed his book and stood up.

“Flowers,” he said, and held out a hand as if to help Nie Mingjue up.

Nie Mingjue long ago learned that when a small child offers to help you, you accept regardless of whether or not they were actually capable of performing the action in question – though with Lan sect arm strength, who even knew – so he took Lan Wangji’s hand and scrambled up to his feet.

“Flowers?” he asked, a little dubiously. “I don’t know if they’d survive being sent by post.”

“Flower petals,” Lan Wangji clarified. “Pressed.”

Nie Mingjue blinked, but actually, no, that sounded perfect for Nie Huaisang. Especially if he got them pressed into a bookmark or something.

“My brother will love it,” he said enthusiastically. “Do you know where there are good flowers?” He knew himself well enough not to even try to make that sort of judgment call. “Can you show me?”

Lan Wangji frowned, and this one wasn’t his thinking frown – it seemed sad, almost.

“You don’t have to,” Nie Mingjue assured him, but Lan Wangji set his shoulders in a look of fierce six-year-old determination and he nodded as if he was going to go to war. “Really, if you don’t want to interrupt your reading –”

“The place is sad,” Lan Wangji said. “But it has the best flowers.”

Nie Mingjue frowned. He could tell from the way Lan Wangji’s little lips were firmed up in stubborn intent that there would be no stopping him, that he was determined to get Nie Mingjue the best flowers – truly, Lan Wangji was such a good boy, unlike that junior hellspawn and walking calamity named Nie Huaisang – but also that he thought it would hurt him to do so.

He didn’t want Lan Wangji to hurt.

“Do you want to ride on my shoulders this time?” Nie Mingjue asked, and Lan Wangji looked at him in surprise. He shrugged. “Sometimes having a different perspective on the same place makes it feel different.”

He knew he was butchering the explanation – he really wasn’t good with words – but he didn’t know how else to explain it.

He didn’t know how to explain that he used to spend days and days looking at the place where Nie Huaisang’s mother had gone in to give birth and never come back out, equally drawn and repulsed by it, right up until the day he climbed up the gate of the Unclean Realm on a dare and by coincidence happened to see it when he looked down from that great height, only to realize that the place he’d thought of as dark and depressing and even haunted was just a room like all the rooms right beside it: he couldn’t even tell it apart from the rest.

“…mn,” Lan Wangji said, sounding doubtful, but he hopped onto Nie Mingjue’s back when offered and scrambled up to sit on his shoulders, ducking his head to avoid the doorway to the Library Pavilion as they exited out the side door, and then he showed him the way to a nice looking cottage that seemed a little out of the way but which was surrounded by what were undoubtedly lovely purple gentians.

“Wow,” Nie Mingjue couldn’t help but say. “They’re very – purple.”

Lan Wangji poked him in the head.

“They are! Very purple. I’m sure Huaisang will love them to a ridiculous degree and that my father will write me angry letters about trying to sell him to the Jiang sect again –” There was a very small snort from above his head. “In my defense, he was really annoying when he was a colicky baby, and at the time I thought the Jiang sect were pirates.”

Another snort, this time less small. Somewhat disdainful.

“Listen, they’re ‘known for their watercraft’, right? It was a perfectly reasonable mistake to make…”

Lan Wangji didn’t giggle the way Nie Huaisang did when Nie Mingjue clowned around for him, but he was smiling by the time he edged onto a nearby tree branch to get a particular blossom that Nie Mingjue had set his heart on, declaring it the fattest of all the flowers and thereby a necessary acquisition, and in the end they collected a full basket of the purple flowers, more than enough for a dozen pressed bookmarks.

The smile made Nie Mingjue feel like he accomplished something.

It was almost enough, even, to let him brush off all the stares they got as they walked back together, side-by-side.

-

Nie Mingjue reported to Lan Qiren’s study with a great deal of trepidation.

It only got worse when he saw Lan Xichen sitting there as well, and when Lan Qiren instructed his nephew to serve them all tea. Nie Mingjue was abruptly seized by the fear that something terrible had happened: that he’d broken some unknown rule and needed to be punished severely, that he’d failed all his tests, that they’d decided he wasn’t actually a good fit for the Cloud Recesses after all, that his father had been summoned to take him back home early in disgrace –

“You’ve been spending some time with Wangji of late,” Lan Qiren said.

Nie Mingjue nodded.

“Yesterday, you presented the craftsman with a basket of purple gentians. Did Wangji show you where to find them?”

“Yes,” Nie Mingjue said cautiously. “He helped me pick them.”

Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen exchanged glances.

Nie Mingjue somehow felt even more nervous.

“Was I not supposed to take them?” he asked. “Wangji said they’re his mother’s favorites.”

Lan Xichen dropped his cup.

“Xichen,” Lan Qiren said sternly, and Lan Xichen apologized and quickly cleaned it up. Luckily the cup had not shattered. “Nie-gongzi, to confirm, Wangji told you that himself?”

Nie Mingjue nodded.

Lan Qiren stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Nie-gongzi…if I were to tell you that Wangji has not spoken to anyone in nearly six months, what would you say?”

Nie Mingjue blinked.

“He also hasn’t trained with the sword in that time,” Lan Xichen interjected.

Nie Mingjue opened his mouth, then closed it. He had no idea what to say.

“Our mother died,” Lan Xichen explained, his brow creased in misery and concern. “Wangji didn’t really understand…it took a long time before he understood that he couldn’t see her any more.”

“Oh,” Nie Mingjue said, feeling uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, Xichen.”

Now it was Lan Xichen’s turn to blink. “Sorry? For what?”

“For your loss? I mean, she was your mother, too, right?” It occurred to Nie Mingjue that she might not be, the way his mother and Nie Huaisang’s mother weren’t the same, but he was pretty sure the Lan sect only allowed for one marriage, and the age gap between Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji was smaller than the one between him and Nie Huaisang…

“Yes,” Lan Xichen said. “She – was. Thank you.”

Lan Qiren made a thoughtful sound.

“If you’re asking if I did something to convince Wangji to come with me and do all that,” Nie Mingjue said, having finally figured out why he was sitting here having tea and being uncomfortable, “I really didn’t. It may just be that enough time has passed for the wound to scab over.”

“Perhaps,” Lan Qiren said.

“I think he feels bad for me?” Nie Mingjue hazarded. “I’m not sure. I’m still learning how to understand him.”

“The fact that you’ve realized that there’s something there to understand puts you way ahead of most people,” Lan Xichen told him.

“Why would he feel bad for you?” Lan Qiren asked.

Because your sect is full of snobs that all hate me.

“Uh,” Nie Mingjue said. “I – have no idea.”

Lan Xichen frowned at him. “Mingjue-xiong, ‘do not tell lies’ is a rule.”

“So is ‘do not insult people’,” Nie Mingjue said sulkily, and refused to say another word no matter how many ways Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen asked. He’d already figured out that not talking was the best way to avoid getting into trouble – the Lan sect was much more insular than the Nie sect, with all sorts of restrictions about getting brought in, and he didn’t have any confidence that expressing grievances would result in anything other than more shunning.

Eventually, Lan Qiren dismissed him, frowning, and Lan Xichen escorted him back to his rooms.

“Is it because you don’t trust me?” he asked, and Nie Mingjue stared at him.

“What are you talking about?” he said. “Of course I trust you. You’re my friend.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me that there was something wrong?” Lan Xichen demanded. “And don’t say nothing’s wrong, that’s obviously a lie.”

“It’s because we’re friends,” Nie Mingjue said with a sigh. Most of the time, he forgot that there was an age gap between him and Lan Xichen – three and a half years, same as the gap between Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji – but sometimes it really hit home. “I don’t want to make trouble for you. This is just a place I’m staying for a little while, but you live here; after I go, we’ll still be friends, but you’ll still be stuck with whatever mess I make for you.”

Lan Xichen was scowling, his lower lip trembling a little, and Nie Mingjue cautiously reached out a hand to put on his shoulder, squeezing. He would prefer to give him a hug, but he didn’t know if it would be welcome – he’d already told Lan Xichen that he himself was always open for hugs, but he knew very well that Lan Xichen was uncomfortable with too much contact.

“It’s all right,” he said.

“No, it’s not,” Lan Xichen said. “Wangji noticed that you were unhappy, and I didn’t! What kind of friend am I?”

“You’re a good friend,” Nie Mingjue insisted. “You are. It’s not about you. I promise.”

They still hadn’t resolved it by the time Lan Xichen left him at his room. Nie Mingjue sighed, hoped that he hadn’t inadvertently ruined everything, and went to sleep.

The next morning, he woke up when the door to his room opened abruptly with a slam that seemed, in his sleep-fogged brain, to echo throughout the entire Cloud Recesses.

“Mingjue-xiong!”

“…Xichen?” Nie Mingjue said, and rubbed his eyes disbelievingly. “Did you just slam a door?”

It wasn’t really a slam. It was a small shove, at best.

“Why didn’t you tell me people were being mean to you?” Lan Xichen demanded, and Nie Mingjue stared at him. “I would’ve made them stop! Really, I would have! I don’t care if they’re Lan sect and you’re not, they shouldn’t be – I shouldn’t be – making assumptions about you or pushing you out or – or – or anything!”

“Where did you get all of this from?” Nie Mingjue asked, utterly at sea. He was right, of course, about the problems Nie Mingjue had been having, but he certainly hadn’t known it last night before curfew and while, yes, it was only morning by the standards of guest disciples and not Lan sect members themselves – he got an extra shichen to sleep in while he adjusted to the earlier schedule, of which he generally tried to use only half – it still seemed a little implausible that Lan Xichen had managed to puzzle all of that out overnight.

“Wangji!” Lan Xichen said, and threw himself on the bed next to Nie Mingjue and gave him a hug, a good proper one like the ones he used to get all the time back in Qinghe and which he missed rather terribly. “He actually came and talked to us! With words! Well, a few words, anyway, but he hasn’t said anything to Shifu or me for six months up until now. He said you were unhappy because of the other Lan disciples persisted in thinking that you were stupid and angry when you’re neither.”

Nie Mingjue felt warm inside.

“Your brother’s smart,” he said gruffly.

“He is,” Lan Xichen said. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I also thought you were stupid and angry and nothing more than that. I know you’re not.”

“I didn’t think that,” Nie Mingjue said, and it was mostly not a lie. “We’re friends, aren’t we? A friend wouldn’t think that about another friend.”

“That’s right,” Lan Xichen said, nodding firmly. “And friends don’t let friends go around thinking they didn’t do anything when they did something big – I still don’t know what exactly you did, Mingjue-xiong, but you helped Wangji a lot, and I’m eternally grateful.”

“There’s no need for thanks between friends,” Nie Mingjue reminded him, the first rule of their friendship formed in the spaces between discussion conferences that neither of them had any choice but to attend, and Lan Xichen smiled.

“I know,” he said warmly, and Nie Mingjue felt warm in response. “But I’m going to abuse my privilege and ask you to keep spending time with him – with both of us, sometimes, but with him by yourself if you don’t mind – so I think you’re owed at least one ‘thanks’.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” Nie Mingjue said, grinning. “You just want a free babysitter, is that it?”

“It is not! Mingjue-xiong!”

Nie Mingjue started laughing. Lan Xichen smacked him – lightly by Lan standards, no doubt, but it was a good thing Nie Mingjue was as strong as he was.

“I don’t mind,” Nie Mingjue finally said. “I like your brother.”

Lan Xichen’s smile was as dazzling as the sun. “Good,” he said. “He likes you, too.”

Ant Cthulhu

Tumblr ate my story! Goodbye to. just. so many thousands of notes. This was one of my first stories that people on tumblr liked. So I’m making it a new post, so that people can find it. Plus, of all the thousands who read the first one or two installments, not nearly as many discovered that I had written a third and final installment that ends the story, so here is a chance at that. 

The story was inspired by a pair of observations on Tumblr, where users probablybadrpgideas and 20thcenturyvole said, respectively 

“if Cthulhu can be summoned by humans who are so far beneath it, why can’t humans be summoned by ants? The answer is they should be.” and “Well if a bunch of ants formed a circle in my house I’d certainly notice, try to figure out where they’d all come from, and possibly wreak destruction there.“

It gets just a little dark, but any story named for Cthulhu surely must have some death and destruction, right?

ANT CTHULHU

That’s why knowing and correctly pronouncing the true name is so important to the ritual. Imagine how impossible it would be to not go take a look if the circle of ants started chanting your name. And they’re like, you can’t leave because we drew a line made of tiny crystals - now you have to do us a favor. And you’re like, let’s just see where this goes “yup, you got me… what’s the favor?” and usually the favor is like, “kill this one ant for us” or “give me a pile of sugar” and you’re like… okay? and you do, because why not, it isn’t hard for you and boy is this going to be a fucking story to tell, these fucking ants chanting your name and wanting a spoonful of sugar or whatever. And SOMEtimes you get asked for things you can’t really do, one of them, she’s like, “I love this ant but she won’t pay any attention to me, make me important to her” and you’re like… um? how? So you just kill every ant in the colony except the two of them, ta-da! problem solved! and the first ant is like *horrified whisper* “what have I done” …. _____________________________________________________________________

Meanwhile another colony of ants invades your house, and evidently that last ant has gotten some of them to join her in a circle and taught them the ritual because you’re coming out of the bathroom one day and you hear the ants singing your name. Sure enough it’s that ant, but she’s dark and fucked up now, and she’s like, “kill the queen. I will rule this colony” and you’re like, sure, I guess I kinda owe her, and you do it. And she manages to become queen, and they worship you. Which is cool, you’re not, you know, very important in the human world, but to these ants you’re practically all-powerful.

Your beloved Naya doesn’t understand your fascination with the ants at all, but you easily train her to leave them alone. She’s such a good dog. The ants are horrified that you command such a beast.

You begin to realize can’t be just, doing everything a bunch of ants tell you to all the time. When would you watch Netflx? So you tend to only show up for super important ants; you teach them some extra words and when hear them you go see what’s up. Usually. Also though, you’ll show up to just your name, if you’re bored and you hear it. And, sometimes some of the ants are like, tell us more human names, and you’re kind of jealous of the idea of some other human diluting your private godhood, so you refuse. Your roommate Greg is like, yo, that’s fucking awesome, I want ant worshipers! But whenever he approaches any, they run away, because it turns out that the illusion of control from the named summoning is what makes them feel safe around you. That’s great, because Greg is a dick who never does the dishes, and one day you decide to teach Greg a lesson. So you show up at the colony, and you’re like, “yo, witch queen, did you think there would be no price for all these things? Your colony must do something for me, go to the Room of the Housemate, I will meet you there.” And you go sit on the couch and play Overwatch for a while. You’re like, right there, you can clearly see the ants all marching along the wall to Greg’s room, but to them you’re not even there, you’re so far away they can’t see you. It takes them, like, an ant week to make the journey. They have to figure out ways to get over and around things. Some of them drown, or get stepped on by the dog, or whatever. You win a game, you lose a game, you look over, and they’re trying to get through some cobwebs… looks like they’re mostly going to live, you keep playing, you look over, okay they’re all in there, and you stand up and walk over and by the time they’ve chanted your name once, you’re there. “right, hold on” and you look around and you see a twelve-pack of Greg’s precious fucking soda, that he keeps in his room and refuses to ever share, even though it’s a communal food household and you share your hot chocolate with him all the time. So you gather the ants unto you, and you poke a little hole in each of the sodas and you leave the room to the sound of the ants rejoicing. Greg will suspect of course, but he’ll never be able to prove the ants didn’t chew holes in the plastic and steal his stupid drinks.

He actually tries to blame it on Naya. What a prick. You insist with wide eyes that the ants must have found it somehow — maybe he shouldn’t leave soda pop laying around his room. But later, while you’re at work, Greg destroys most of the colony in a rage, and you come home to find the witch queen gasping her last. “The Dew of the Mountain, which you had us steal, was cursed - and so I lay my curse on you” she manages, and then she dies. Well first of all, you don’t really believe in curses, but last month you didn’t believe ants could know your name, so that’s unsettling. And second of all, you feel kind of bad. You know, not SUPER bad, cause she’s like, an ant. But still. And most importantly, third of all, Greg must pay. Like some kind of movie villain, you pet your loving Naya and say out loud “Oh yes, and pay he will.”

But Greg has done more than kill a bunch of the colony. As you wait for eggs and pupae to replenish the ant population, you discover he has found some ants that didn’t go on the Mountain Dew raid, and he’s spared them, told them his name.

He’s made himself a good sized cult in YOUR fucking ant queendom. Greg has started locking his door. So now you NEED the ants. Once again you direct the ants loyal to you to journey to Greg’s room. You meet them at the door. A locked door means nothing to the ants, they don’t even know there is a door, and can barely perceive the difference between it being open and shut - either passing the threshold on the floor regardless, or being on its surface no matter the position. But you need them to get inside. You’re going to put itching powder in his underwear drawer and leave a raw fish under his bed. So you instruct the leading party of ants how to go into the Cave of Keyhole, and position the Magic Megaliths inside just right to enable the opening of the Great Door and allow you to pass into the Realm of Housemate. Crouched by the door, you can hear when your ants are met by a party of Greg Cultists, who insist that if the Great Door is opened, the colony will be doomed. There is fighting. Your ants prevail, the lock tumblers are moved into place, and you swing the door open… To find Greg! In his room all along! It’s a trap! His cultists attack you! I mean, they can’t do much real harm, but it kind of hurts and it’s super annoying. You order your ants to attack him, and they do, but he storms over and pours bleach down the colony entrance.

It’s the end of their world. Now you and Greg are at war, and you both understand the unspoken rules to your fight. You can’t do things directly to each other, why, that would be assault. But anything you can get your ants to do is fine, because “she told the ants to do it to me” isn’t going to get very far with any authority figures that get involved. Later, nursing your anger, you confer with your few remaining ants and stare moodily at your new prize, the ant farm that came in the mail. It will take time to integrate them- your ants have to get access to the new ants’ scent marker chemicals and go undercover. Meanwhile, you’ve got a laptop schematic to go over with your high priestess. It’s finals week, and if you time it right, he’ll lose everything. … You look down into the summoning ritual. The current high priestess, Zé, is an ant of great influence and personality - you quite like her, inso far as a human can be friends with an ant that worships them. You thought the new queen would become the next high priestess, but according to Zé the queens don’t like to come out of the colony after they shed their wings. Plus they are very busy laying eggs and supervising the care of their ant larvae. Zé says it’s a better deal for you, this way your high priestess can have the time and energy to really serve your interests, and wield an authority among the colony that is purely yours - no conflict of interest, and no baby making duties. It’s really just what’s best for both you and the colony queen to have her as high priestess, she informs you, making you laugh at her flattery-wrapped ambition. There’s no laughing this evening though. It’s serious business on the docket tonight. “O wise and ancient entity of power, you grace us with your presence!” and for formality’s sake, she intones the additional ritual greeting from their holy books “You Look Fantastic, Have You Done Something New With Your Hair?” Ants don’t really understand hair. You respond as you have become accustomed “Thank You, Yes.” It’s just easier. They mean well. Mystic greeting complete, Zé and the rest of the dark clergy move straight to business. Several 10s of them line up in formation, creating a diagram of the apartment complex. You had to coach them into how to make it, as far as they are concerned it’s a complex sigil that conveys knowledge to you - for creatures that traverse the building in long journeys along the pipes in the walls and in the spaces between the lower ceiling and upper floor, it looks nothing like the apartment complex as they know it. Zé claims to understand it, but secretly you suspect she’s just mostly cementing her authority among the clergy. She has, usefully, memorized which parts of the sigil correspond with what parts of the building, and that’s good enough for your purposes. “O mighty being, we have done as instructed. Our scouts had to search wide for them, but we have left the corpses of many termites in all the locations you specified, every night this week. “Very good,” you assure them, “and the Greggorites?” “Our spies among them have learned of their next attack. We should be able to influence their timing somewhat.” “Good. And..” your eyes narrow, “the other thing?” “Ah, yes.” Zé’s antennae wave and dip in that way you know means she is uncomfortable. “to the best of our ability to find out, the… Antifreeze initiative was entirely conceived of by the Demon Lord Greg.” “Just Greg,” you tell Zé with bitter hatred as tears threaten to spill down your cheeks. “Greg is not a lord, just a fucking prick who’s going to get what’s coming to him. I swear by all of creation he will.” “Is there…” Zé trailed off and tried again. “O Deity of my heart, far be it from me to question Your Exaltedness, but help your poor servant to understand… your plans have become, ah, they seem perhaps, I am sure I am wrong, but they seem, overly audacious? Your recent change in demeanor has made some of us nervous - not me! - but some of the less devout among my sistren, have become… concerned.” Your fists clench. “I don’t expect you to get it. I’m pretty certain none of you could possibly understand.” Your voice breaks. You clench your teeth. You won’t, you won’t cry in front of your ant worshipers. You lean down and say in the strangled half whisper that is the only way you can force the words past the lump in your throat, “He killed my dog, Zé…” The ants flee the sound of your terrible wailing. The great Finals Erasure had worked to more devastating effect than you had anticipated, and things had… escalated. Then Greg proved himself to be less human than the ants , who themselves had turned out to be such surprising little beings. So. The orders for the heinous deed did in fact come from him. Now, there are things that have to be done. You call the ants back out of hiding and get to work. In the end, it was easier than you thought it would be. You talk to all the neighbors, without Greg. You hide the relevant pieces of mail. You have the scuba gear and the stuff from the sex shop shipped to a friend’s house. You ensure your spies among the Greggorites have escape plans, though Zé assures you they are ready to sacrifice themselves to the cause. “I’m not that kind of Deity,” you tell her. The night before, your ants slip a double dose of tylenol p.m. into Greg’s milkshake. You almost laugh; all your efforts to make sure there is only soup to make for dinner, and he comes home with Burger King. He sleeps so soundly that he never comes close to waking the whole time you are attaching the padded bondage equipment to his limbs and hiding with him in the closet. The walk through by the company inspectors that morning is a tense moment, but as you suspect, they don’t open the closets. After they leave to do their work outside, you finish your work inside, tying Greg to his bed. By the time he starts to wake up, you are sitting in a chair in the doorway to his bedroom, with your mask on. The air is beginning to thicken and discolor. Greg coughs around his ball gag and opens his eyes. You feel curiously calm and empty. “Hi, Greg.” Your voice is muffled, “You like my dive mask?” Greg makes an angry questioning noise, spread eagled to the full extension of his limbs. “Oh, yeah, that must be uncomfortable. Can’t give you enough slack to jerk against the ropes, though, or you might leave tell-tale bruises through the padding.” More angry noises, coughing. “Hhhmm? Oh, did I forget to tell you? It’s termite day, Greg, they’ve tented the house. That’s Sulfuryl Fluoride you’re breathing. You’ll cough for a bit, you’ll throw up, and your heart will stop.” He’s thrashing around as much as the ropes will allow, which isn’t a lot. He’s pretty energetic about it, though; maybe he can’t hear you over his efforts. “You shouldn’t have meddled around with godhood, it didn’t suit you. Power compromised your judgement. You definitely shouldn’t have fucking killed my dog, Greg” You’re suddenly filled with rage. You need to know he hears you. You stride over to the bed and grab him by the throat. Not too hard, you try to remember through your anger, no bruises. The grip is enough to make Greg stop thrashing and look at you with wide wide eyes. “YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE FUCKING KILLED NAYA YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT! WHY? WHY? HOW COULD YOU!? SHE NEVER DID ANYTHING TO YOU!” Just as suddenly, your anger is gone. You feel tired. You look down at him and shake your head.”Time to die, Greg.” You cross the room and sit back down in your chair in the doorway. Watching him die isn’t easy, but it’s not as hard as watching Naya suffer through acute kidney failure. Afterwards, you take off all the bondage gear, throw it in a duffel bag. You leave through the back, rolling out from under the fumigation tent against the back fence, and packing the scuba gear into the duffel before you climb into the neighbors yard. A month later, you’re moving from town to town. The colony has become so large you’re going to need a bigger truck full of clay for them to live in. Maybe an old Uhaul. The ants bring you a newspaper. They bring you everything now, food, money, information. Word of how you value the life of each individual ant has spread through the colony, and reports brought back from the apartment by scouts confirming your status as a godslayer has …elevated… their worship of you. You open the newspaper to find Greg’s death has made the papers. No suspicion of foul play despite the exterminator company lawyers insisting on an autopsy. Tylenol p.m. in his system accounted for his presence in the building, it was decided, and the failure of the inspectors to notice Greg in bed during their walk through was settled out of court, paid off by their insurance. The ants bring you a conga line of grapes, peeling them for you while you stare off into space. A small line of ants brings the peels back to the colony larder. You’re going to have to teach them how to disable cameras - the leaked security footage of hundred dollar bills slipping themselves out under the bank doors has caused a bit of a stir on some parts of the internet… you eat another grape, and count your money. As usual you put half of it in an envelope, uncapping a sharpie to write “From Naya” on it. The ants will slip it under the door of the local animal shelter for you tonight. END

_____________________________________________________________________

so, looking back, I feel I should tell you that when I wrote the final chapter of this I had just become homeless and had to leave my dog in a better home than I could provide. It’s cool, we still see each other a lot these days, I was just real sad about it and it effected what I wrote. Anyway, that’s the Ant Cthulhu story

You Know I'm No Good - four

First Day

Warnings: mentions of drugs and alcohol, mentions of sex

[photo of Tallulah and Lina]

don't call me kid, don't call me baby, look at this godforsaken mess that you made me

Tallulah was the first one awake in the morning, the sunrise just peeking through her blinds as she laid in bed on her side, staring at the wall. She struggled to get back to sleep and tossed and turned, feeling an uncomfortable pit in her stomach that she decided had something to do with it being her first day at La Push Tribal School.

Starting a new school in the second semester of her senior year did not bother her as much as it should have, what concerned her more was that she was walking into a school that never gets new students, let alone mid semester. All eyes were going to be on her, and she was sure that some of them had already conjured up their own preconceived notions of her. Oh the joys of small town gossip, she thought to herself as she climbed out of bed, grabbing her clothes for the day. She told herself that making friends was not a must here, because as soon as she graduates she will be back in Seattle with her old, real friends, living the life that she wants to live. She could let herself be picky, or else she’ll end up with a Josie, who seems trustworthy on the outside, but isn’t in the end. Tallulah rolled her eyes at the thought itself, if that's how she wants to be then so be it.

Tallulah quickly changed into her black tank and oversized flannel shirt, before pulling on her jeans, she tried to tame her hair without ruining her natural waves into a frizzy mess. She wasn't one for much makeup, especially not for school considering the frequent rain on pacific northwest.

Rushing downstairs to the kitchen, the uncomfortable pit curbing her appetite, Tallulah settled on just coffee, as she poured it into her mug she had grabbed from the cupboard, she heard footsteps entering the kitchen. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Lenna out of the corner of her eye, all dolled up as if she were going to Paris Fashion Week.

“I heard about what Josie did.” Lenna stated as she searched through the fridge, “you’ll get used to it.” This made Tallulah scoff audibly, “get used to being thrown under the bus for doing absolutely nothing wrong beside talking to some guy I’ve never even met before yesterday?” she asked sarcastically, turning to face her younger sister, mug in hand. “No, well, yes. It just means she did something she doesn’t want to get in trouble for, so she throws gasoline on someone else's fire to make it seem bigger than the one she started.” She keeps her eye on the tall, raven-haired girl as she closes the door, “She means well Tally.” I bet, she thought to herself. Maybe this is what sisters do, and she's the one that's being unreasonable. To be fair, she's never had to deal with someone snitching right in front of her face to her mother. At least she had the guts to do it at the dinner table.

She watched as Lenna looked over her outfit, making a face that Tallulah couldn’t quite comprehend, “is there something wrong with my outfit?” she asked, eyebrows raised in challenge. Lenna shook her head, “Nope, not at all. Between that, the tattoos and the nicotine addiction, I’d say you’ll fit right in with a few groups at school. I can point them out if you’d like, I heard dad tossed your vape maybe you can snag one today.” Tallulah shook her head before taking a sip of her cooling coffee, “I can make my own friends, and I’m not addicted” she fought the urge to roll her eyes again as their dad walked into the kitchen, clearly dressed for work. “Tally, Lenny, ready for school? Dakota picked up your sister already this morning, something about a project that's not finished yet” the short laugh that came from Lenna did not go unnoticed by Tallulah, but she said nothing, nodding her head at her fathers question. “I have to go to a tribal meeting tonight with Kira, so it’s going to be pizza for dinner, Lenny can pick it up on her way home from work, right Len?” he asked as he filled his to-go mug with coffee, even though he really wasn't asking, “Tal,” he said, looking directly at his eldest daughter, “I know this has been a big change in just a few days, but you’re doing great kid, but let's keep those rules in mind when making friends today,” clearly referring to something she has no clue about. “So, you mean I can’t skip school and sneak Paul through my window while you’re gone?” she joked half heartedly. She had no intention of ever speaking to him today, but seeing the looks on Lenna and their dad's face was probably the best start to her day she was going to get. She finished off her coffee and placed her mug in the sink, grabbing her book bag from the counter and heading to the front door, yelling ‘kidding!’ over her shoulder as she left, while her dad yelled ‘have fun!’ right back at her.

Tallulah drove in silence to the school, following the directions Josie had shown her during their day out, for once wanting to be early. She wanted to scope out all her classrooms beforehand to minimize the amount of interaction she would have to have with anyone in order to just keep her head down and float by as unnoticed as she could.

As she pulled into the small parking lot there were very few students and teachers mulling around. The school itself was small, only two stories, with a few portables that were quite run down. Nothing like her old school of 5000 students, every hallway crowded and parking lot full every day.

Tallulah parked her car and pulled out her phone from her pocket, checking the few messages she had, despite it only being 8 in the morning. One message was from her mom, wishing her well on her first day, telling her she had shipped the rest of her personal belongings that she may want or need and that she loved her. Tallulah rolled her eyes, she loved her so much she didn’t want to deal with her anymore. She checked some more of her messages and replied to those that warranted them only stopping as the incoming call notification lit up her screen.

A photo of Lina, her best friend, and her graced the screen, she quickly hit accept before placing the phone to her ear, breathing out a quickie ‘hello’. The two haven’t been able to have a conversation in days to discuss the tragedy that had unfolded the night her mom caught her sneaking into her bedroom, the dramatic gasp on the other line made her smile, “You picked up!” Lina all but shouted excitedly, before saying to someone else ‘told you she would’, clearly she wasn’t alone. “Of course I did, Li. Just because I've been shipped off to the middle of nowhere doesn’t mean I dropped out of school.” she said looking at the tiny building, that more students were now filing into. “Besides, I always answer your calls.” she stated, which made Lina laugh into the phone, “Right, right. Well I was just calling to see how you were, Kits here too.” she said and she could hear Kit bid a hello in the background, “and we wanted to invite you to this party that's happening at some club in Port Angeles next Friday. We figured it would give you some time to ask your dad if you can come or plan an escape. He can’t keep you from us forever.” she rambled, clearly excited.

She knew what club she was talking about, they had been planning on going once they had all turned 18. As exciting as it sounded, she knew her dad would never go for it, and sneaking out to Port Angeles and back would be next to impossible. “I don’t know about that, Li, but I'll try. I’m sure I could convince him to let you guys come out here if he doesn’t budge?” she asked absentmindedly, hoping she’d take the bait. Tallulah listened as Lina talked to someone away from the speaker before hearing the phone be passed to someone new, she furrowed her brows at the silence before the new speaker breathed out, “Luie.”

Xander.

The only person on planet earth who was allowed to call her ‘Luie’. The nickname started with him and ended with him. She hated the nickname when he had first started using it, he would say it in such a condescending way. Like he was reprimanding a child, but it grew on her as her relationship with him developed. They had never dated, but everyone assumed they were with how touchy-feely they were with each other. But, they both hated commitment, saying that it was the root of all sadness, and they had enough of that in their life already. As if that stopped them from hurting each other anyways. Xander was all of her firsts, first friend, first kiss, first time drinking alcohol with him, first cigarette, first time sneaking out, and first hookup. It's why she always went back to him after a fight, no matter how bad it was, all her good memories are tied to him.

“Hey, Xan” she said softly, “Are you coming to Port Angeles for the party?” he asked in a nonchalant tone, knowing she could never say no to him. “I want to..” she started, “But no promises. My dads a lot stricter compared to my mom.” Tallulah heard him grunt in acknowledgment. He wasn’t going to beg, or plead her to come like Kit or Lina would, he knew he didn’t have to. “Well, let us know, ya?” he stated, voices in the background signaled that they were most likely getting ready to take the train to school, like she would be in normal circumstances. “Oh, and Luie, have a don’t do anything I wouldn’t do on your first day.” she could practically hear the grin that she knew he had before the line went dead, he wasn’t much for formal goodbyes.

Sighing, she shoved her phone in her pocket before exiting her car, grabbing her bag off of the passenger seat and slinging it over her shoulder. She made sure to lock the car before placing her keys in her bag and grabbing her timetable as she walked towards the entrance of the school. She was too busy trying to figure out what classroom she needed to head to first that she wasn’t paying any attention to any of her surroundings. Hence why she walked head on into someone, dropping the white sheet of paper in the process. Hot hands steadying her by the arms. It felt as if she had walked straight into a brick wall, she would’ve laughed it off if it wasn’t the root of all her problems so far in La Push.

“Are you stalking me?” she asked the older man, everywhere she went, there he was. Paul shook his head with a chuckle, causing the teen to glare up at him. “Well aren’t you a little too old to be hanging around a high school?” she questioned, arms crossing over her body as the heat from his hands had made her realize just how cold it was outside once they were off of her. “Relax, I was just dropping someone off.” he stated, his voice was deeper than it was the day before, like he had just woken up. She averted her eyes from him as she could feel the blush heat to her face at how silly she must have sounded. Of course that's why he's here. She hadn’t realized he had picked up her schedule for her until he read out a name from it, “First period: Miss. Young.You’ll like her, everyone does.” he said while handing her back the slip. She nodded her head, “right, well i should go find her class then.” she mumbled as she took a step back from him, he responded by giving her the directions to the class, which made her want to question how he knew that but Tallulah wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the answer, so instead, she thanked him and walked away heading towards the front doors, each step closer she filled more and more with dread, wanting to turn around and get in her car and drive away as far as she could.

She turned back to where she had left Paul standing to see him still there, only now he was talking on the phone. His whole demeanor had changed, he looked rigid and frustrated. Before she turned to completely walk through the doors, he caught her eye and gave her a small smile, the feeling of dread dissipating in that moment as she entered her new school.

A scene from the Omashu AU

It was a small thing for Zheng, a thing she remembered vividly from what she called the 'lost year.' The year she'd spent time recovering, adjusting to what it was to be one-eyed. The Fire Nation had nothing for her, now. Only memories of her cousin and her brother Iroh, of the quiet words he'd spoken to her after the strange vision of bright blue light.

Small things. The capstone upon a life of harshness and bitterness. She had brooded on it from time to time in the wake of her change, of her taking an Earth Kingdom name and in many ways casting aside the past. Azula, daughter of Azulon, was no more.

That moment, when she had taken a name from this people, when she had begun to bow as they did, not as her own people did, had stood out to them. They had seen her that way. She practiced her Firebending, not with the monomaniacal drill that Azulon had mandated. Bum-no, Father, he was not like Azulon.

He expected her to learn, but to also be more than the blue fires that blazed from her hands and her very being. Sometimes she feared that this place, like Caldera, had never seen anything else. That people did not see the one-eyed child, even when she was formally adopted by their King. That they saw a beast with blue fires and lightning and the power of flight.

And then the day her life truly changed, the memory that lingered.

A soldier of the Earth Kingdom Army appeared with a worried expression on his face, blinking, breathing heavily.

"The Fire Nation Army, my King," he said to Bumi. "They are attacking this place."

It was that moment that she'd stood up and stepped from the throneroom. Step by step to the walls of Omashu and the Palace. She could see the torches and the old training meant her lip curled. "Flank exposed like a great big kick-me sign." She shook her head.

"Can't be a real general leading that."

She stood back, holding her arms out from her, palms up, and then focused her fire down to her feet. She began to levitate and the people watched in fear for a moment. A flicker of light on a cloudless day, like the Sun's glares reflected off a glass.

---------

Ukano put down the spyglass in disbelief.

"Impossible," he said, "she's....."

Mai took the spyglass herself and then dropped it, grateful Father wouldn't rage at her for damaging something she knew was far more valuable to him than she was. There was a figure levitating above the walls of Ba Sing Se. Fires were blazing beneath its feet. The figure's fires were blue.

She picked the spyglass up again and then the figure began to move upward and descend with both grace and menace, fires blazing in her hands. And then she saw the figure's face and the look of the one eye and two bangles, one black and one white and this time the glass did shatter when she dropped it.

"No," she said, "no, no, no."

Ukano turned to her.

"It's her isn't it?" His question was rhetorical but she answered it anyway.

"Your friend, the Princess."

Mai nodded, gulping.

"For someone murdered by assassins she's looking remarkably healthy."

Her father's feeble joke passed over her, as Mai sunk to her knees. Her best friend was alive, alive and clad in green.

Thunder echoed as the flying being trailing blue fire moved toward the army and for a moment the column paused in stupefied disbelief.

An old word, a word of the far southern islands echoed. "Chotgor." The dead that walked, the restless soul.

So it was that a column at the head of a full invasion force was halted in sight of walls of stone when a single figure swooped down upon it with thunder in her train, and the vengeful dead seemed to be all too alive and full of a vicious and terrible rage.

Mai wanted to call it a nightmare and then the figure was increasingly visible and seemed to halt in midair, her right leg curled as her left leg was descended. The lightning was charged around her hands and mirrored in reflections in her eyes. A dragon's eyes or a cat's eyes.

She was close enough that Mai had no doubt. For a single terrible moment the vanguard of the army froze as thunder echoed in the sight of a figure hovering in the air, like the ghost of the long-dead Airbenders.

And then the lightning came down and those who felt discretion the better part of valor began to flee and the chaos began to spiral as the army's cohesion began to break down.

The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T (1953)

Theodore Geisel, better known as Dr. Seuss, remains best-known for his children’s books. The Cat in the Hat; Green Eggs and Ham; and Oh, the Places You’ll Go! are household names in English-language literature. Seuss’ bibliography overshadows his work in films, beginning with the adapted screenplay of his own book, The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins (1943) – directed by George Pal as part of the Puppetoons series. During WWII, Seuss was heavily involved in propaganda films and the Private Snafu (1943-1946) military training films. After the war’s end, Seuss returned to writing children’s books, but also continued to write for movies. The Academy Award-winning animated short film Gerald McBoing-Boing (1950) benefitted from Seuss’ story work, and Seuss’ success there inspired him to write a screenplay for a live-action fantasy film. That screenplay – the unwieldy rough draft coming in at over 1,200 pages – was The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T. The eventual movie, produced by Stanley Kramer (1960’s Inherit the Wind, 1961’s Judgment at Nuremberg) and directed by Roy Rowland (1945’s Our Vines Have Tender Grapes, 1956’s Meet Me in Las Vegas) for Columbia Pictures, would be Seuss’ only involvement in a non-documentary feature film.

Like many who speak English as their first language, Dr. Seuss’ books graced my early childhood. So integral to numerous children’s youth is Seuss that his whimsy, wordplay, and authorial stamps are easily recognizable. In that spirit, the cinematic record of live-action Seuss adaptations consists of the scatological Jim Carrey in How the Grinch Stole Christmas (2000) and the visual nightmare that is Mike Myers as The Cat in the Hat (2003). Compared to the original works, both films are ungainly, casually cruel, and overcomplicated. Not promising company for Dr. T. But even taking into account the three animated feature adaptations of Seuss – Horton Hears a Who! (2008), The Lorax (2012), and The Grinch (2018) – and the fact that Columbia forced wholesale deletions from the rough draft script of Dr. T to achieve a feasible runtime, The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T is arguably the most faithful feature adaptation to Dr. Seuss’ authorial intent and signature aesthetic.

In other words, this is one of the strangest films you may ever encounter. No synopsis I could write in one paragraph will ever capture the film’s bizarreries.

Little Bart Collins (Tommy Rettig) is asleep during piano practice and his teacher, Dr. Terwilliker (Hans Conried), is furious. His overworked, widowed mother Heloise (Mary Healey) intuits Terwilliker’s unrealistic expectations (Terwilliker wants to teach the next Paderewski) towards Bart’s piano skills and inability to concentrate. Heloise also appears to be quietly eyeing the plumber August Zabladowski (Peter Lind Hayes) and his wrench. With the lesson done for the day, Bart falls asleep again. This time, he dreams that Terwilliker is now the leader of the Terwilliker Institute, a pianist supremacy mini-state which is built upon five hundred young pianist slave boys (hence, 5,000 fingers) forcibly playing Terwilliker’s latest compositions. His mother is Terwilliker’s unwilling, hypnotized assistant and plumber August Zabladowski (Hayes is essentially playing the same character, but in a different world) is Bart’s only ally around. Together, Bart and Mr. Zabladowski must evade the Institute’s guards as they attempt to undermine Terwilliker’s plans for his next concert.

In its final form, The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T is a muddled mess of a story. The analogues between Bart’s reality and his dreams are inconsistent, several would-be subplots never resolve (or at the very least develop beyond a basic idea), and the film’s initial lightness is subject to rapid mood swings that make this picture feel disjointed. Indeed, Seuss’ sprawling social commentary in his first draft – including allegories and themes of post-WWII totalitarianism, anti-communism, and atomic annihilation – is in tatters in this final product. The viewer will witness brief fragments of those ideas, remaining in this movie as the barest of hints of the contents of the original screenplay’s rough draft. Even now, Dr. T inspires psychiatric analyses and accusations that Bart’s relationship with his mother reveals signs of an Oedipal complex (to yours truly, the latter is too much of a reach). The grim nature of Terwilliker Institute renders Dr. T unsuitable for the youngest children. For older children and adults, try going into this movie without expectations of narrative logic and embrace the grotesque aspects that only Seuss could imagine.

If my attempts to describe this movie’s preposterousness through its narrative and screenwriting approach have failed, perhaps I can capture that for you by writing on its technical features.

For its sheer narrative inventiveness – inconsistencies, abrupt tonal shifts, nonsense, and Rowland’s uninspired direction aside – The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T is nevertheless an ambitious film, and Columbia bequeathed a hefty budget to match that ambition. Much of that budget went to the film’s visuals. This is an extravagantly-staged motion picture, as nothing could do Dr. Seuss’ illustrations justice without fully committing to his geometric impossibilities: skyward ladders and improbable connections between rooms, an eschewal of right angles and straight lines, and architecture bound to raise the ire of physics teachers. One could compare this to German Expressionism, but Dr. T’s sets tend not to dictate the film’s mood nor are they subject to high-contrast lighting. Seuss went uncredited as the concept artist on Dr. T, and it was up to Clem Beauchamp (1935’s The Lives of a Bengal Lancer, 1952’s High Noon) and the uncredited matte artists to commit those visuals to the real world. Outside of animated film, Beauchamp and the matte artists succeed in creating twisted sets that seem to leap off the pages of Seuss’ most artistically interesting books. Some of the sets appear too stagebound, but the production design accomplishes its need to resemble a world borne from a fever dream (or, at least, a young pianist’s nightmare).

This movie’s outrageous costume design (other than Jean Louis’ gowns for Mary Healey, the costume designer/s for this film are uncredited) comprises absurd uniforms and two of the most ludicrous hats – the “happy fingers” cap (see photo at the top of this write-up) and whatever the hell Terwilliker dons in the film’s climax – one might ever see in a film. Most of the costumes are laughably impractical and ridiculous to even those without fashion sense. In what might be the tamest example, while working under Terwilliker, Bart’s mother wears a suit that is all business formal on the left-hand side and bare-shouldered, sleeveless, and nightclub-y on the right. The delineation of real life – which barely features in the film’s eighty-nine minutes – and this world of Bart’s dreams could not be any more unambiguous thanks to the combination of the production and costume design work.

The disappointing musical score by Fredrich Hollaender (1930’s The Blue Angel, 1948’s A Foreign Affair) and song lyrics by Seuss rarely connects to the larger narrative unfolding. Seven songs make the final print, with nine (yikes!) Hollaender-Seuss songs ending up on the cutting room floor. Seuss’ wordplay is evident, as are Hollaender’s melodic flourishes. Columbia, a studio not known for its musicals, assembled a 98-piece orchestra – the largest musical ensemble to work on a Columbia film at the time – for The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T alone. That lush sound is apparent throughout for the numerous nonsense songs that color the score in addition to the incidental score. It is unusual to listen to a collection of novelty songs orchestrated so fully. Listen to “Dressing Song: Do-Mi-Do Duds” and its complicated, seeming unsingable lines:

Come on and dress me, dress me, dress me In my peek-a-boo blouse With the lovely inner lining made of Chesapeake mouse! I want my polka-dotted dickie with the crinoline fringe For I'm going doe-me-doe-ing on a doe-me-doe binge!

The rich orchestration seems to hail from a more lavish film. But too many of these songs are scene-specific, and rarely does Hollaender utilize musical quotations from these songs into his score. “Get Together Weather” is delightful, but it seems so isolated from the rest of the film; elsewhere, “The Dungeon Song” exemplifies a macabre side to Seuss seldom appearing in his books. Nevertheless, Hollaender is able to demonstrate his playfulness across the entire film, none moreso during any scene with the bearded, roller-skating twins and the “Dungeon Ballet”, in which the music complements stunning choreography and fascinating props that recall the jingtinglers, floofloovers, tartookas, whohoopers, slooslunkas, and whowonkas from the Christmas television special How the Grinch Stole Christmas! (1966). Yet, Hollaender’s film score and the soundtrack with Seuss seems to demand something – anything – to tie the entire compositional effort together. Perhaps a song or some cue like that was cut from the film, which is ultimately to its detriment.

Hans Conried (who starred as Captain Hook in Disney’s Peter Pan several months prior to Dr. T’s release) stands out from a decidedly average Peter Lind Hayes and Mary Healey – Hayes and Healey, in a sort of in-joke, were married. Conried’s performance as the sadistic, torture- and imprisonment-happy music teacher can be considered camp, but this is anything but “bad” camp. He throws himself completely into this cartoonish role, sans shame, complete with mid-Atlantic accent, and topped off with exaggerated facial and physical acting that fits this fantasy. As Bart, child actor Tommy Rettig (best known as Jeff Miller on the CBS television series Lassie) seems more assured in his performance than most child performers his age during the 1950s. His fourth wall-breaking asides seem more appropriate in a Bugs Bunny cartoon, but Rettig makes it work, and inhabits Bart’s flaws wonderfully.

Columbia demanded numerous reworkings of Seuss’ script, leading to several reshoots – most notably the opening scene (Seuss opposed the conceit of Bart’s dream framing the film) – and a ballooning budget. Upon its release in the summer of 1953, The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T bombed at the box office and was assailed by critics. A crestfallen Seuss, who could not stand the production difficulties that beset the film from the start of shooting, would never work in feature films again. He would dedicate himself almost entirely to writing and illustrating children’s books, with many of his most popular titles (including The Cat in the Hat, One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish, and Green Eggs and Ham) published within a decade of Dr. T’s critical and commercial failure. His hesitance to participate in filmmaking informed his reluctance to allow Chuck Jones to adapt How the Grinch Stole Christmas! thirteen years later. Animation suited his books, Seuss thought, and he would never again pay any consideration to live-action filmmaking.

The reevaluation of The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T has seen a rehabilitation of the film’s image in recent decades. Home media releases and television showings have introduced the film to viewers not influenced by the hyperbolic negativity of the film critics working in 1953. This is not a sterling example of Old Hollywood fantasy filmmaking, due to a heavily gutted screenplay, scattershot thematic development, and incongruent musical score. Yet, the movie’s surrealistic charms and Seussian chaos know no peers, even in the present day.

My rating: 7/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

Humans are Space Orcs “Duct Tape”

I was challenged and the challenge was accepted. Thank you  @cyberstrikebeast​ for the suggestion! Also thanks and credit to @impalalord​ for the original post where the idea was suggested to me, and the original inspiration. 

https://impalalord.tumblr.com/post/187591145361/finds-duct-tape-humans-were-here

The intergalactic technology summit was an annual event, or at least it happened once every agreed cycle. Members of the GA excitedly brought forward their best advances in the past year to share with the convention center. This was the first year that the humans had been invited. Of course, at such short notice the humans had only been able to send a few delegates, who were ordered to ‘pay attention, take notes, and most of all, see if there is anyone who would be willing to let us test it out.

For that reason, Commander Vir of the UNSC accompanied Earth’s representative rocket scientist. At first, the two humans had been a bit wary of each other one being primarily a military man and the other being primarily a rocket scientist. First impressions were a bit deflated as the scientist assumed the big, muscular soldier would be bored, stuffy, and kind of dumb, while the soldier assumed the small, tweed-wearing scientist would be boring, stuffy, and kind of condescending. Of course, upon spending the next ten minutes with each other it turned out that geeks come from all walks of life, and by the time they reached the summit, a friendship was forming.

They stepped through the doors with their badges on and allowed both of their mouths to drop open. It was no secret that humans were not far on the end of the technology spectrum. In fact most of their gear was rudimentary if not laughable to other species like the Vrul or the Runid who used anti gravity systems instead of engines to propel their rockets into the sky. There were entire rows dedicated to the advancement of medical science which made humans look like an automobile chop shop where people go to get sequentially dismembered by rusty saw blades.

The Geek fest that followed would have been laughable for an outsider, but with the two of them it was simply a reason for excitement. They pranced about the convention, the rocket scientist asking dozens of questions in an attempt to understand the technology, while the soldier took every opportunity he could to test the object personally no matter how dangerous it may have been. Generally, together, they made a decent team, and the scientist came to find that the soldier was not, as it originally seemed, and idiot. Any technology involving aviation, despite him being a rocket scientist, was quickly overshadowed by the knowledge of this man, who had operated, fixed and MacGyvered most machines without a comprehensive knowledge of physics.

They were sitting down to lunch as the soldier was explaining, “And that’s why the T-8 doesnt work despite being good on paper simply because of human error. Its counter-intuitive and unless trained out of old habits, the pilot is going to crash it.”

The scientist frowned, “Well alright, but the T-8 system is the perfect model. It works with the least amount of energy drop-off, and can be cooled faster and more efficiently than other systems. Its use would revolutionize space flight.”

“And I get that obviously, its super awesome in theory, but I’m telling you the T-8 is not compatible to the way that pilots think, especially under stressful situations. The brain sort of goes back to its original programming while the T-8 forces you to do internal calculations, which is the reason that they constantly crash. I flew one once for like ten minutes and wanted to smash my head into wall after using it.”

“Well…. I suppose-”

“Try to automate the thing, and I bet a computer will fly it just fine, but keep out the human component-” At that moment, the scientist opened his mouth to speak when a group of aliens walked up from ne of the isles, a vrul, a rundi, a tesraki, and a finnari.

“Good morning humans, we are pleased to see that you were able to arrive today.”

The scientist squirmed in his seat nervous and out of sorts, but the soldier simply smiled and launched into his greeting with the ease of a born extrovert, “And it’s a pleasure to be here. I have to say that we are beyond impressed at what we have seen today.”

Together the aliens hummed in appreciation, “we are pleased to find that there is something we can do that you humans haven't already mastered.” 

With a wave of his hand the human brushed off the complement returning it, “Please, you give us too much credit. Our science is practically in its infancy in comparison.”

They spoke for a few more minutes before the aliens paused looking at them expectantly. The scientists glanced over at the soldier with a confused expression which was unnervingly returned in equal measure. 

“Well?” The Vrul wondered.

“Well what?” 

“Well, where is your piece of technology. That is what this conference is for after all, to share your inventions with the world.”

Together the human’s hearts dropped into their stomachs and they glanced at each other with wide panicked eyes, “We were supposed to bring an invention?”

“Of course….” The aliens glanced at each other, “Do you no have one.”

“Well I n-”

“Of course we do! Just messing with you, obviously.” The scientist turned to look at the soldier with a panicked expression of warning eyebrows raised almost to his hairline.

“Don’t tell me you forgot about our invention, Dr. I mean it is one of the most important pieces of technology in human history.”  He continued to glower in panic, what was this blabbermouth doing. It was like watching a man stand with a shovel in a hole seven feet deep and insist he wasn’t digging his own grave.

This was going to be the single most embarrassing moment of his career.

The soldier nudged his ribs, “You know, THAT technology.”

He cleared his throat in frustration and nodded, “Oh yes of course….. I’m sorry I just got so….. Excited that I blanked for a moment. Why don’t YOU show them. You are so much better at  these things than me.”

“Er….” The soldier began, “Of course I will. Hold on and let me grab it real quick.” He stood up setting his bag on the table and then began rummaging through it.

The scientist put his head in his hands, unless he had an antimatter core shoved in his bag they were fucked.

The human held up a finger as the aliens looked on expectantly, “Hold on just have to find it first…..” The scientist felt as if he was about to puke. Then the soldier’s eyes lit up, and his face was crossed with a massive grin. “Ah there it is.” The scientist looked on in confusion

The aliens leaned forward as the human stood taller hand still shoved in his bag.

“What I am about to show you may well be one of the most important inventions is the history of humanity, Nay! The history of the galaxy, single handedly responsible for human innovation 

Beyond the warp core, beyond life support and anti gravity, this is the single most important invention to ever grace the field of human scientific knowledge. Its application is endless as a multipurpose tool and is so adaptable it can be used for ANY, and I mean ANY application.”

The aliens sat wide eyed and the scientist leaned forward with bated breath. What could be so grand that the soldier could spin a lie like that and get away with it. He didn't appear to even be breaking a sweat.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and distinguished others, I present to you the….. The multifunctional Universal Unilateral Bonding Strop.” With a theatrical flourish worthy of a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat, the soldier withdrew his arm from the bag and raised his hand high into the air, where light from the ceiling caught and reflected off its shiny silver surface….

“Duct-tape.” The scientist blurted in consternation. Voice cracking with near laughter and disbelief. 

The soldier gave him a warning look and then nodded, “Yes, of course, Dr. More formally known as duct tape.”

The aliens gathered closer in curiosity, “It doesn’t look like much.” One of them pointed out

But the soldier looked at him with an expression of hurt consternation, “I assure you, it's everything I said it is and more, originally invented in 1943 by a Vesta Stoudt, who was trying to find an acceptable replacement for less durable cloth tape. It was originally intended for use in sealing ammunition boxes, but soldiers later determined that this little miracle could fix anything from achinery to boots, to weaponry. I guarantee you wont find a human that doesn't have some.”

He stepped forward proffering the material for closer inspection.

“What is it made from.” One of the aliens wondered.

The soldier paused then stammered, “Well I…. Um its made of.”

“Well it can actually be made of any number of things.” The scientists piped up, “It is very versatile that way. The woven fabric base can be made of anything from cotton to nylon to fiberglass, specifically designed for flexibility. The back was originally coated with waterproof polyurethane and then coated with the adhesive. The same process is generally used though there are many different varieties. The more plastic the adhesive backing, the more water tight and so can be used to stop leakes, repair pipes, seal gaps and any number of other applications. They even make a more durable reflective variety that is heat resistant, so can be utilized at high temperatures.” 

He turned to glance at the soldier who was beaming openly at him, winking his one remaining eye before turning to the aliens.

“You said it can be used in all applications. Explain.”

“Well I am glad you asked.” The soldier began taking a deep breath, “I've personally seen it used to repair shoes, cars, machinery, pipes, clothing. It has the ability to incapacitate a human ...” He paused there to let that sink in, “It is used to make art, and clothing, hold things together, seal packages. In large concentration it is strong enough to hold a grown man off the ground. I’ve seen it used to make a boat, and once, an entire airplane, with additional equipment of course. Pretty sure someone made a cannon using it once, but that could just be a myth.”

“Point is.” Said the scientists, “Humans use this for everything, and though it is an old invention it is one that deserves to be shared across the galaxy.”

The Vrul crossed his arms, “That is a big claim to make for such an object.”

“Yes.” A Tesraki piped in, “You sell well, but business is business. If the product isn’t up to scratch than how can we trust it.”

“We must have a demonstration.”

The human grinned in response, “Well, I am glad you asked.” He held the roll of tape up picking at the edge with a fingernail before withdrawing a long strip. The sound it made was a satisfying sccriiiitch and then tear as he pulled a piece off sliding the roll over his hand to hold it on his wrist. He held the two ends between his fingers and flexed the strip between his fingers, “See completely and entirely flexible.  

One of the aliens frowned, “I thought you said it was supposed to be durable, but you just tore it in half.”

The human frowned, “Well that is one of the great parts of this tape, tear it just right, and anyone can use it, but exposed to pulling or twisting forces it is difficult to break. Let me demonstrate.” He grabbed the piece of tape by either end and then began to wrestle with it. Instead of breaking the tape stretched and strained slowly pulling apart until eventually it snapped causing the human to stagger a bit.

“See now imagine multiple strips all working together.” 

The aliens muttered. The scientist stared on in awe, they were actually coming around. He glanced towards the soldier with a look of disbelief. The bastard had done it, he had actually done it. Sold a 2,000 year old invention as the most important piece of technology in human history.

The soldier was grinning as he tore a few more strips from the tape handing them out, “Here take a pice, try it out for yourself.”

The aliens tentatively did as told and what ensued was an amusing spectacle of aliens confusedly trying to unstick the tape from their fingers, accidentally sticking it to themselves, and then begging for help in getting it off. A Vrul danced around in circle shaking his hand but the tape wouldn’t let go . This little show had drawn a crowd, and others came forward to curiously sample the strange human invention.

Warp reactors, and medical science was ignored in favor of the humans and their single roll of tape.

When they finally got the hang of using the sticky one sided adhesive the aliens suddenly became obsessed with what they could stick together. Chairs were hung upside down to tables, people’s hands were tied together. One of the Vrul was taped to the floor. The front doors to the convention were sealed shut.

Pandemonium ensued as tape was wrapped around anything that seemed even mildly broken.

To everyone’s surprise, a vrul who had recently received an injury to his helium sack, sealed the hole with a piece of tape, and was able to return to floating within a matter of seconds.

Somewhere in there the Commander and the rocket scientist lost sight of the role, only to find a rundi taped to the wall looking slightly beleaguered a few minutes later.

They stood together at the center of the convention floor staring around as aliens stuck things to other things, waved their hands about, and generally turned the center into a house of complete chaos.

The rocket scientist leaned in, “What have you done.”

Wide eyed the soldier turned to look at him with a grimace, “Er….. I have no idea.”

They looked around surveying the carnage made by one role of tape. There was a slight ripping noise and they turned to see the doors finally opening strings of cut tape billowing in the air rushing out onto the street. Drev security walked in accompanied by a Rundi oversee who paused in the doorway in consternation staring at the carnage. 

Aliens everywhere, and two well-behaved humans standing in the middle of it.

He rubbed his eyes and rechecked as if he was seeing things. Generally when something like this happens you would expect to find the humans being destructive, not the other, generally mild species. 

The soldier shrugged raising his hands in a ‘we had nothing to do with this’ sort of gesture. The rundi didn’t seem convinced.  

It took several hours to deal with the aftermath, and it only stopped when a Tesraki returned to the soldier holding the cardboard center of the role looking saddened by it’s loss, “Do you have more.”

The soldier rubbed the back of his head, “Afraid you used my whole role, but I am sure we could come to an agreement about getting you some.” The Tesraki nodded in a subdued sort of way, handed him the used up role and then slunk away. The Rundi overseer glowered at him with  an ‘i knew it’ sort of expression.

Walking out of the convention well into the night after being forced to help clean things up, the scientist looked over at his companion, “That was some serious silver tongue shit back there. How did you do it.”

The soldier simply smiled and shrugged, “Sort of just came to me.”

“If that hadn't worked, we would have been screwed.”

He waved a hand, “Nah, I wasn't worried.”

“Speak for yourself. I was close to pissing myself.

Just then the scientists phone began to ring. He was getting a patched in transmission from his superior back on earth and motioned the soldier to stay quiet. He answer the call and put it on speaker, “Yes sir.”

“I’m just calling to see how the convention went?”

“Uh….. well it went fine considering the circumstances.” The scientist stuttered.

There was a pause over the other end of the line, “What does that mean.”

He shuffled his feet nervously not entirely sure how to say this, “Well, as it turns out that being invited to this thing meant we were expected to bring an invention.”  

He heard shuffling on the other end of the line and some muffled cursing, “Shit, I had no idea. I’m so sorry. How did you handle that mess?”

He scratched the back of his head feeling a smile broke out across his face, “Ur…. well lets just say we should make a note to the UN that, if anyone asks, duct tape is the most important piece of technology ever invented.” 

Hi, love your posts, and any time you're down to talk about Lan Xichen I would LOVE to hear your thoughts! Anything from passivity in interpersonal conflict to the weight of responsibility he bears as heir and head of GusuLan from such a young age to his love for his brother to his adorable shipping of wangxian to how he and his brother act as narrative foils for one another (and their parents). Anything! Do you think he leaves seclusion eventually, and finds healing?

ahhhhHHHHHH I am the worst because I keep making comments about Lan Xichen and my deep and abiding love for him in the tags but not like, delivering on any content. You know how sometimes, your feelings about something manifest in keyboard smashing a four thousand word linguistic dive, but other times, your feelings manifest in filling up notebooks with rough sketches of various fics?

Lan Xichen lands firmly in the latter for me, and it’s becoming increasingly apparent to me as I try to work through asks and other fics I’ve started, that writing the Lan Xichen post-canon roadtrip saga that I accidentally outlined completely in my notebook (I almost never outline fics, this was a very alarming development) will 1) involve a few months of seclusion, and 2) be my farewell letter to this fandom. After writing that, I’ll have the emotional closure I need to move on from CQL.

But! Since that fic is so far on the backburner, I’ve transcribed the most coherent section of it that I have so far – please accept this as an offering and an apology!

When it came to swordplay, it was difficult to tell where innate talent ended and hard work began for the Twin Jades of Lan. It had come easily, intuitively for Lan Xichen, the logic and fluidity of movement animating his bones as if the sword forms flowed from within him rather than impressed from without.

Lan Wangji, in contrast, had thrown himself into hours and hours of unforgiving training as soon as he’d been allowed to touch one of the lighter practice blades. Back then, it wasn’t a surprising sight for Lan Xichen to slide open the front door of their adjoining rooms to find Wangji already up, moving through the elegant patterns of a sword form in the pre-dawn light in their small, private courtyard on the outskirts of Cloud Recesses.

And of course, Lan Xichen had taught him, both in formal settings, with the other members of Lan Wangji’s cohort, and informally, when Wangji begged him – not in so many words, of course – for a taste of the more advanced forms.

Lan Xichen has always been willing to break the rules for his younger brother.

By the time Lan Wangji is sixteen, the only person who can even pose a challenge to his swordsmanship in the entirety of Cloud Recesses is his older brother. Their sparring matches draw spectators more often than not, despite the fact that gossip is prohibited in Cloud Recesses — Xichen with his fluid dancer’s grace, Wangji with his sleek warrior’s elegance. This is part of the reason why Lan Xichen pushes Wangji towards Wei Wuxian — it’s been so long since someone could fight Wangji to a standstill, and Lan Xichen’s duties as sect leader leave him less and less time to spar with his brother.

And then… and then they have to use their swords for their real purpose all too soon, all too often. There were days when Lan Xichen felt like he understood Wei Wuxian’s distaste for carrying his peijian — Lan Xichen kept his blade meticulously clean, but sometimes he could feel the ghosts that lingered with the memories of blood spattered on Shuoyue’s sheath.

So it comes as a surprise when he’s startled from meditation, two months into his self-appointed seclusion, by the decisive click of a sword being placed on the low table before him. Lan Xichen drags himself reluctantly from the comfortingly thoughtless, trance-like state to see Wangji seated across from him, eyes serious and earnest. Between them on the table lies a plain, black-sheathed sword.

Lan Xichen’s gaze flicks up to meet his brother’s, searching for confirmation that Wangji is suggesting what Xichen thinks he’s suggesting.

Wangji’s answering gaze says yes.

Xichen’s blink says you’re not serious.

Wangji doesn’t dignify that with a response, even a nonverbal one.

Lan Xichen lets out a long breath. “I don’t want to touch a sword again.”

Wangji shoots him a disbelieving look — just the slightest tilt of his eyebrows that say don’t be foolish.

Lan Xichen’s mouth tightens in a way that he knows Wangji will understand. 

The truth is, he doesn’t know if he can hold a sword without his hands shaking. They’d recovered Shuoyue from the wreckage of the temple, a few weeks later; the Qinghe Nie Sect, in a remarkable display of initiative, had volunteered to clear and re-sanctify the ground, and sent a messenger bearing Lan Xichen’s personal sword, retrieved from the ruins. Someone had quietly placed the sword just inside the door to his rooms, and Shuoyue has stood there ever since — untouched, gathering dust.

Lan Xichen can’t even look at it directly without feeling sick.

“Why do we cultivate the sword path?” Lan Wangji asks him.

It’s an old question, from a dialogue in the Jiandaojing, in which Jian Shengzi explains to a nameless disciple the principles of sword cultivation that the clans followed. Lan Xichen knows the answer: to forge our souls like naked steel — pure, tempered, disciplined.

“Wangji—” he says instead.

Lan Wangji fixes him with a stern glare. “You cannot cultivate the sword path without a sword.”

That isn’t, strictly speaking, true — there are many more elements to cultivation that can complement and supplement sword-training. Meditation, for one. Music, for another. Kneeling, contemplation, fasting…

Lan Xichen has been retreating heavily into the first, since the second brings up unpleasant memories he’s trying to avoid. He looks down again at the sword Wangji has placed in front of him. It’s a plain practice sword, the kind senior disciples often use before they earn their spiritual peijian — capable of channeling energies, but not as powerful or as responsive as a true peijian. Still perfectly serviceable for beheading monsters and cutting through corpses, of course. Its hilt is bound with black leather that is just beginning to show signs of wear.

He feels an uneasiness in his gut, just looking at the sword. Lan Xichen looks back up at his younger brother. Please don’t make me do this, Wangji, his look says.

“I have a meeting to attend in a quarter of a shicheng,” Wangji says quietly. “I would spend it practicing the fourth sword form with you, if xiongzhang is willing.

People often marveled at Lan Xichen’s ability to understand his younger brother, but what few realized was Lan Wangji’s equally devastating knowledge of Lan Xichen. Lan Wangji doesn’t use this ability often, but he knows exactly how to hit Lan Xichen where it hurts.

This time, it’s a quarter of a shicheng and the fourth sword form and if you are willing. It’s Wangji’s subtle reminder that the responsibilities that make him so busy now had once belonged to Lan Xichen, that his younger brother’s time is precious and rare, and he would spend it with Xichen, his failure of an elder brother, all but useless in seclusion. It’s the fourth sword form, which Lan Wangji had struggled with the most and Lan Xichen the least, and the hours Xichen had poured into it so Wangji could practice it with him. It’s if you are willing because there’s only ever been one answer to that question, because Lan Xichen would pluck every star out of the sky for his younger brother, if Wangji ever looked at them with those eyes that often desired but did not always dare.

Lan Xichen lets out a long, steadying breath, which is how Wangji will know that he has won. Lan Xichen commands his left hand to grab the sword; it shoots out, as if knowing that if Lan Xichen hesitates now, he’ll never be able to follow through. His fingers close around the scabbard, and immediately he feels the tremors begin in his arm.

Wangji is already up and moving to the door, Bichen’s snowy sheath catching the light. Lan Xichen scrambles to follow him, pushing through the wave of dizziness that informs him that yes, he has been meditating for the last forever, and could he please ease into movement more slowly next time?

They assume positions in the courtyard, silently separating the space equally between the two of them. As one, they unsheathe their swords and face north, bowing to begin.

Lunge, sweep, tuck, balance — the fourth sword form is easily the showiest, a sequence built more for spectacle than survival, which is probably why Lan Xichen had found it so simple and Lan Wangji so frustrating. The rhythm of the form asks for massive weight shifts punctuated with delicate balances — an aggravating combination for newly-sworded disciples and teenagers navigating gangly limbs.

Four moves in, and Lan Xichen realizes how woefully unequipped he is for performing the form. Now that he is awake and present rather than half-there in a meditative trance, his body clamors to make itself remembered. He hasn’t held a sword since that night in the temple, his wrists remind him, stiff from disuse. He’s spent the past month meditating in a seated position, his calves and thighs chime in helpfully. Also, his rubbery limbs inform him, he hasn’t eaten in days.

This is alarming; he’s not sure when had been the last time he’d eaten something. Sizhui had come by with some light xifan last time, hadn’t he? But that had been — his mind shies away from the number — three days ago.

Lan Xichen misses a beat as he overshifts his weight. He growls, almost imperceptibly, and taps into his spiritual energy to help him focus on finishing the sword form. Wangji slows his movements enough for Xichen to catch up, and they work through the end of the sequence in crisp unison.

Lan Xichen is breathing harder than he should be after they have finished. His body tingles from the activity, his blood singing. Wangji’s looking at him with the particular blank expression that thinly veils a particular kind of smugness that remained the sole, aggravating privilege of younger siblings.

Lan Xichen sheathes his sword, lays left hand over right, and bows to his younger brother. “Xichen understands Wangji’s intent,” he says, formally. “Thank you.”

Lan Wangji inclines his head, a stately acknowledged hidden in the angle of his gaze. “Wangji only regrets that we cannot finish the sixth form, even if we were to start now.”

If the fourth form had been Lan Xichen’s favorite for its dynamism and delighted beauty, then the sixth form had been Wangji’s — it’s a form of continuous disciplined movement, a test of timing and technique that demands constant, unwavering concentration. Practicing the sixth form yields far more spiritual development than rehearsing the fourth, and Wangji had drilled the sixth into finely-honed perfection. But the sixth form, performed swiftly and impeccably, was at least a twenty minute affair, which they certainly did not have time for at the moment.

“Tomorrow,” Lan Xichen promises before he remembers his seclusion. “We will perform the sixth form together tomorrow.”

The slow widening of the eyes is practically a broad grin from Wangji, who clasps his hands and bows to Xichen. “I will hold you to it,” Wangji says as farewell.

“Tardiness is not permitted in Cloud Recesses,” Lan Xichen says, smile hidden in his voice the way it always was when the two brothers quoted rules at each other. “Go tend to your duties, Hanguang-jun. This foolish brother of yours will be here tomorrow.”

Jiang Cheng / Nie Mingjue fakedating

modern au where jiang cheng needs a date to a wedding he doesn’t even want to go to and nie mingjue is a sucker for his little brother. i don’t even know.

In hindsight, Jiang Cheng would blame everything on Nie Huisang because of course, who else would he blame this on? 

It wasn’t his fault that he’s still trying desperately for his parents approval, it’s not his fault that when his father talks approvingly about how Wei Wuxian is coming back from his travels and is bringing Lan Wangji, and then his mother turns on him and pointedly asks him about who he’s bringing to Jin Zixun’s wedding that Jiang Cheng states quickly ‘I have a boyfriend too. He’s coming.’ Because of course, he loves Wei Wuxian like his own brother but he doesn’t want to forever remain under his shadow.

And when his mother actually smiles at him, he doesn’t want to take back the lie.

So two weeks before Jin Zixun’s wedding, he’s sitting at his desk at work thinking Shit. And because misery loves company, he goes drinking with Nie Huisang who visibly brightens at this idea, and offers to get him a fake boyfriend.

And Jiang Cheng, drunk and miserable and wishing that he had maybe been open to the idea of romance at some point in his life, agrees. What else does he have to lose?

When Nie Huisang texts him two days later with a barrage of texts, exclamation marks and emojis about ‘i have someone for you to take!!!! call me! when do you finish work???? can you meet us after????’ Jiang Cheng almost has a panic attack out of sheer embarrassment.

When he goes to the restaurant and sees Nie Huisang sitting at a booth with Nie Mingjue next to him, face blank and bored, Jiang Cheng almost has another panic attack out of pure humiliation. He wants to turn right back around and hide in his home until all of this goes away but - Nie Huisang has already seen him and is waving at him. 

Jiang Cheng has a lot of flaws but cowardice has never been one of them, so he walks up and slides into the chair with as much grace as he can manage. (It’s not enough).

Nie Huisang doesn’t even give him a chance to speak before he’s speaking a mile a minute, locking his arm around Nie Mingjue’s. “-and I know da-ge was going to the wedding anyway, so it’s not like you need a extra invite for him and he was going to be so bored because Xichen-ge can’t make it and I thought this is perfect! Isn’t it perfect, da-ge?”

Jiang Cheng can barely even get himself to look at Nie Mingjue but he hears him make a non-commital grunt.

“Isn’t this great? Of course, we have to come up with a story of how you guys started dating and why you hid it but this is so fun!”

Nie Huisang’s in one of his excited moods where nobody can get a word in edgewise. Jiang Cheng fiddles with the glass, his hands, anything to keep himself from looking at Nie Mingjue. 

“- and let me just go to the bathroom, I’ll be right back. Da-ge, order for me, please!” Nie Huisang says before bustling out of the booth

“Why are you even helping me?” Jiang Cheng asks because he has to know - people don’t just help him or make his life easier without some other hidden reason.

Nie Mingjue just shrugs, “I owed A-Sang a favour. I also just don’t want to be there so decent company helps.”

Which - it makes sense. It makes sense but Jiang Cheng has to tamper down the little thrill that tries to unfurl itself at the idea that he’s not bad company. He may not be great company but at least he’s not scraping rock bottom in Nie Mingjue’s eyes.

(So, he may still not be over his apparent schoolboy crush on Nie Huisang’s cool older brother. He was 15 when he had a spiritual awakening when he was at their house after school and Nie Mingjue had walked past him without a shirt and that - that had been an interesting revelation.

Being Nie Huisang’s friend means that Jiang Cheng’s life has circled around Nie Mingjue’s - they had sat next to each other at Nie Huisang’s graduation, ignoring Wei Wuxian loudly whooping next to them. When Nie Huisang had drunk called Jiang Cheng at 3am crying and asking to be picked up and Jiang Cheng went to the bar, it was mere seconds after Nie Mingjue, who nodded at Jiang Cheng and muttered ‘thanks and sorry’ while hauling his brother to the car. When Jiang Cheng moved and it turned out that Nie Mingjue went to the gym near his house and had offered to spot him, he had accepted and very carefully not looked too long at Nie Mingjue’s arms and broad shoulders and thighs.

So. He may not be over that crush yet.

He figures he’s always been stupidly loyal about things, why would this be any different?)

“You know you don’t have to do this? It was just a stupid statement - it’s not like anyone’s going to hold me to it,” Jiang Cheng offers. He knows he’s not the most social or charming and he can barely handle himself, let alone asking someone like Nie Mingjue to tolerate that.

Nie Mingjue just snorts. “I know your mother. She’s going to hold you to that.”

Which...is true. Shit.

“It’s fine. A-Sang owes me a favour from this. I might convince him to actually get a real job after all of this,” Nie Mingjue states, and then something like a grin curves at the edges of his mouth. “Really - I’d rather talk to you than have to put up with anymore of those Jin assholes. I’m only going because I’m expected to”

Which makes sense but before Jiang Cheng can think of anything witty or funny or remotely decent to say, Nie Huisang’s back and taking a seat.

“We have to come up with a story, so how about this-”

-

And that’s how Jiang Cheng is standing at his parent’s door with Nie Mingjue just behind him. It’s a family dinner, mere days before the wedding and his mother had insisted that she bring his mystery boyfriend around, to get to know him. It’s his parents and A-Jie and her husband and it should be fine, easy, they’ve rehearsed this story with Nie Huisang and how they should address each other but -

He cannot knock on the door because they’ll know. No matter what he’s done, whenever his parents look at him, he feels guilt and shame and the deep sense of lacking well up in him and they’ll look at him and they’ll know that he’s lying and he’s so useless he can’t even get a single person outside his family who will willingly spend more than 10 minutes in his presence and then there’ll be the comparisons to Wei Wuxian and his perfect fucking boyfriend and A-Jie and her fucking peacock and -

“Breathe,” says Nie Mingjue’s voice behind him, soft and deep. Jiang Cheng wasn’t aware he was so close and that is distracting enough to stop him from his train of thoughts (also distracting enough that he forgets to breathe for a second but he puts that aside to deal with it at a later time.)

“They’re going to figure it out,” he says quietly, staring at the doorbell. 

“Not if we do what we said we were going to, A-Cheng,” Nie Mingjue says and then he rings the doorbell.

Jiang Cheng takes several quick breaths and digs his nails into his palms. He’s not a coward.

When A-Jie opens the door and she almost softens and smiles brightly at both him and Nie Mingjue, he thinks it might be okay. It could be okay. 

“Nie Mingjue, I didn’t expect to see you here,” she says, her voice soft and gentle. “I hadn’t - Jiang Cheng is always so private about his happiness that I had no idea!”

And that’s A-Jie down, which is good. He can do this.

They follow her to the dining room where his parents are talking to Jin Zixuan and the conversation screeches to a grinding halt when they spot Nie Mingjue. The peacock looks like he’s choked on his own tongue and that gives Jiang Cheng at least a little bit of joy.

“Nie Mingjue?” his father says. “What are you doing here?”

“Jiang Cheng wanted me to meet his family formally - I apologise for the time it took for me to do this,” Nie Mingjue says, half-bowing gracefully. Jiang Cheng would like to look at him but his eyes are focused upon his parents, who seem to have been frozen in shock.

“A-Cheng?” his father says, mildly, after a beat too long. “We hadn’t known. You’re welcome to our home, please sit.”

Jiang Cheng’s hands are not shaking. He sits heavily on the closest chair, only half-aware of Nie Mingjue sitting beside him.

And - it’s fine. His parents are polite and A-Jie is always so kind and friendly and even the peacock tries his best to hold a conversation. Nie Mingjue is more than fine, he speaks confidently and even gets his father to laugh at a story.

It’s all fine, until his mother tilts his head and says, “How did you - this - how did this happen?”

And they have practiced and Jiang Cheng may not be naturally talented but he’s good with practice so he speaks up - “We were at a dinner party Nie Huisang was hosting and started talking and - well. We like each other.”

His face flushes as he says it. He deliberately doesn’t look at Nie Mingjue or his parents, and instead looks at A-Jie. She smiles at him sweetly.

“That’s hardly the details,” his father says. “There must be more to it? I know our A-Cheng isn’t very good in those situations.”

Which is correct. He’s not but he doesn’t appreciate his father saying it out loud in company. And it’s not like he’s any worse than others, like Jin Zixuan or even Lan Wangji. His ears heat with the embarrassment and he’s ready to speak, eyes still fixed on A-Jie when-

“I’ve liked A-Cheng for a while. It was very nice of him to give me a chance,” Nie Mingjue says. “I think things happened at the right time for us.”

“Surely, you don’t think you’re suited to each other?” his father says and - oh. It had been going too well, of course he should have expected this.

“You’re very different from each other,” his father continues. “Do you think this will last?”

Oh. 

Jiang Cheng swallows down the humiliation and the hollow feeling in his gut, finally looking at his father. He opens his mouth but once again, Nie Mingjue is answering for him. “As much as anyone knows they will last. I like A-Cheng a lot - is that not enough for now?” Nie Mingjue even reaches and squeezes Jiang Cheng’s hand under the table.

(Jiang Cheng is not going to combust. He’s not.)

His father blanches and Jin Zixuan, who occasionally has moments where Jiang Cheng can understand why A-Jie tolerates him, asks how they plan on getting to the wedding.

Nie Mingjue keeps his hand on Jiang Cheng’s for a few moments longer before he lets go.

-

“I,” Nie Mingjue says softly when they’re in the elevator, “do not like your parents.”

Jiang Cheng snorts. “They’re fine, they’re just. Expressive. About their opinions.”

“Don’t defend them. Who even talks like that?”

While the idea of Nie Mingjue defending his honor stirs up something small in him that he can't name, he can’t let this go further. Logically, he knows his parents haven’t necessarily been what he’s needed growing up but he’s an adult now, with a job and his own apartment and a life outside of his parent’s expectations and requirements. He’s doing fine. He will be fine. “They’re my parents. They want what’s best for me.”

Nie Mingjue glowers at him, his voice low and mutinous. “Wrong is wrong, Jiang Wanyin.”

Annoyance flares in his gut. “Don’t.”

Nie Mingjue actually rolls his eyes. “At least the actual wedding weekend will be easier. And there’ll be alcohol.”

Jiang Cheng is used to his parent’s disapproval and disappointment. He’s not ready for Nie Mingjue’s on top of that, especially not when he’s been so nice and not even made fun of him once for this stupid lie that is his life. He feels bad and he hyper focuses on his guilt, as he always does. “You don’t - you know you don’t have to do this, still? We can just pretend we broke up now -”

“I am not a quitter.”

And that is the end of that conversation. They’re silent for the rest of the elevator ride.

---

i’m just a big fan of jiang cheng.

What’s New, Scooby-Doo?|| Agatha, Grace, Julie and Remmy

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @detective-keen, @silveraccent, @purelikeviolence, and @whatsin-yourhead SUMMARY: An old treasure map, four meddling (not) teens, and a dog. What could go wrong?

Remmy couldn’t help but feel a tad anxious as the bus pulled up to the Commons drop-off. The map was stuffed in their bag, as well as a bunch of different things people might need on a trek through the woods. Water bottles, snacks, a blanket, a flashlight, flares, extra shoes, a jacket, and, stuffed way at the bottom, a handgun. They shuffled off the bus inside a crowd of people, before breaking away and heading towards the fountain, where they’d all agreed to meet up. Moose by their side helped quell some of the fear, but it was still there. It was sort of always there, now. The distinct thought that maybe gathering up a bunch of people they didn’t know to go on a wild goose chase was a bad idea came up, but Remmy pocketed it, remembering that Julie was going to be there, too. And even though they hadn’t hung out much lately, Julie had defended them without even really knowing them the first time they’d hung out together, and the thought of her being there made their relief almost palpable. They sat down on the ledge of the fountain and dug through their bag for the map, unfolding it to reveal the contents. It looked like whatever it was was around the cliffs near some sort of peak or drop-off, but Remmy was no genius at reading maps, or having a sense of direction. When they looked up, they saw a figure heading towards them, and though their stomach clenched at first, they grit through the anxious feeling and put up a smile. This was going to be a good day, they’d make sure of it.

 Grace hadn’t been too sure what she was doing when she had agreed to go on a literal treasure hunt, especially with people who she didn’t know. It was odd, the amount of times that she had broken down her own barriers for the sake of letting other people in-- even if it was held at surface value. Grace checked her backpack 3 times before heading out the door, and even then, she wasn’t quite sure if she had everything. Still, it wouldn’t do her any good to keep checking, and so she forced herself out of the entrance of the apartment building, her legs having felt like jelly the entire walk to her car. The drive was short, and Grace was thankful-- Portland wasn’t large, not by usual city standards, but White Crest felt smaller and smaller every time she ventured out. After finding a place to park in the area that she had agreed to meet Remmy and the rest of the individuals who had wanted to go on the trip, she surveyed the area, hand held over her eyes. Once she spotted somebody who looked familiar, attached to a dog she had been made aware of, Grace held up her hand to wave, heading over to them. “Hey,” Grace said, trying to keep her gaze from going back to the dog every five seconds. “I’m Grace-- I agreed to go on on this thing with you, I mean the treasure hunt--” she laughed, moving her hand to push the hair out of her eyes. It was strange, as Grace had come across individuals in White Crest so far that were either normal in terms of emotions, or dulled. Now, she felt nothing. Maybe Remmy was good at hiding whatever it was they felt. “It’s nice to formally meet you--” Grace cringed at her words, but before she could finish her sentence, somebody else had walked up. 

 Well, this wasn’t milkshakes but Julie supposed going on a treasure hunt with Remmy would at the very least be entertaining. It’d been too long since she saw her buddy so she jumped at the first chance she got. It’s not like she had anything better to do with her time anyway. Although she was curious as to what other people had agreed on this hunt - maybe some more of Remmy’s friends? Julie was sure Remmy had plenty of other friends, they were just that kind of person. Nonetheless, they headed toward the meet point shortly after waking up. It was a little earlier than Julie would have preferred to be woken up but it was fine. Better to wake up and have something to do then to wake up and have nothing to do. Julie was doubtful that the treasure map would lead to anything truly… treasurable but she was interested in finding out what it led to, even if it might be a dead end. There was little thought of the safety of the whole situation (going out to explore unknown parts of the town) because Julie rarely felt her safety in danger. If there was one thing she was good at, it was being able to get out of tricky situations with herself intact. As she came closer she easily spotted Remmy with their mutt - her eyes narrowed at the sight that Remmy had brought Moose. A dog. But she knew he was trained and so he was considerably more tolerable than most dogs. “Sup, fuckers.” She greeted as she hopped closer to them. She smiled at Remmy before turning to the stranger, her smile dropping as she inspected them. “Is this everyone?”

 Agatha, while she was convinced that there were no such things as treasure maps, had decided that she would tag along, and traded her brogues for a pair of trekking shoes. She had packed a backpack with snacks, water, a first aid kit, a flashlight, a survival blanket, a map of the town and a compass. She left her bicycle tied to a lamppost with her bike lock and approached a group of three who seemed to be waiting for her. Well, arriving last was not really what she had planned. Waving cheerfully at the group, she smiled at the trio, then glanced down at the service dog with an even bigger smile. Focus. “Hey, I’m Agatha,” she introduced herself, still radiating with positive energy. “Were we waiting for more people?” She had a look at her watch, and figured that she was probably the last. She sat down on the ledge to have a look at the map Remmy was holding. “Okay, I was a bit suspicious, not gonna lie, but this does look like a treasure map.” And it looked old too. She wondered if they knew when it dated back to. “Where did you get it?!”

 The first person to arrive introduced herself as Grace, and Remmy was in the middle of saying hi when a familiar face caught their eye. “Hey! Hi!” they said, a bit excitedly. “It’s nice to meet you, Grace! Um-- like, formally. Or uh-- for real? Yeah! Hi.” Nerves buzzing just beneath their skin, they waved at Julie, giving a low chuckle at her. “Hey, Julie. Um-- I think we’re waiting for one more, the only person who said she can actually uh...read maps. So, we should probably wait for her.” They gave a sheepish grin, looking between the two. “Oh, uh-- Grace, Julie,” they said, pointing from the new comer to Julie, “Julie, Grace.” No that they knew Grace all too well, but from their conversation online, Remmy felt like they could be friends. They hoped nothing strange would happen here and scare Grace away. They just wanted a nice, normal trek through town. Using a treasure map. From a pie contest. Hmm.

 The last person to approach looked a bit older than the others, but her smile was all the same and the friendly greeting helped calm Remmy’s nerves. Moose watched all three of the newcomers arrive with practiced patience, his tongue hanging out as he panted quietly. “Welcome! Uh-- I think this is about it, huh?” They held the map out to Agatha. “I’m Remmy. The map bearer. I’m...not really good at this, but I think it says we have to head towards Dark Score Lake and uhh...a cemetery near there? There’s something marked there, right?”

 Grace looked at the new arrival, quick to be named as Julie. She didn’t miss the way that the woman looked at her with reproach, but instead of pointing it out, Grace smiled as Remmy introduced her. “I’m Grace.” Hadn’t Remmy just said that? She couldn’t get a read on Julie, but didn’t have time to sit on it too much, because another figure was bounding towards them. Grace was glad for the interruption. She despised small talk. Grace had gotten into the habit of not bothering to look at somebody’s body language, mostly because she almost always knew what emotions they were cycling through, but as she looked at Remmy, she picked up the telltale signs of nervousness-- not that she could feel any. It was replaced quickly by Agatha’s bouncing and bubbly manner. The difference was astounding and left Grace to reach up and press her index finger against her temple. “A cemetery?” Grace asked, an eyebrow raised. “Sounds like this is going to take us on quite the ride.” She grinned at Remmy, already feeling Agatha’s mood beginning to rub off on her. Better to be elated than to be down, she guessed. “So.. which way should we go?” She asked, tongue in cheek. She didn’t want to step on any toes, so from the get go, Grace decided to take the backseat and follow, rather than to try and lead. Though leading hadn’t ever been her thing anyways. 

 Julie curled her lip at the positivity from one of them, wondering who the fuck would have the energy to act like that. She stepped aside, moving closer to Remmy (unfortunately that meant closer to Moose). She looked down, mindful to not touch him. Her eyes darted from speaker to speaker, suspicious of the two strangers, naturally. She trusted Remmy but not these two, especially not the peppy one. “We can cut behind some of the businesses to get to the lake faster, if you want.” Julie wasn’t the most familiar with the area but she knew where the lake was in relation to where they were. Although, she wasn’t looking forward to going to a cemetery where they would run into lonely emo ghosts who are dying (hah) to talk to someone. As long as you didn’t acknowledge their presence though, they should be fine. Hopefully. Ghosts will do anything to get the attention they want. Needy fuckers. “What cemetery is it?” Julie asked, leaning over to look over Remmy’s shoulder, setting her chin on it. Depending on the one, they might either have to cross the lake or head into vampire territory. She wasn’t sure which she preferred.

 Agatha smiled back at Grace, with all the warmth she could muster before she turned her attention back on Remmy. “That is correct, and that is also correct. Not so bad with maps, are we?!” She clasped her hands together enthusiastically. “I brought a compass and a town map, just in case but I think your map is good enough for now,” still she took the compass from her backpack and put it around her neck. “That sounds like a great idea,” she replied with enthusiasm as Julie suggested cutting behind some shops to get to the lake faster. This was going to be a lot more fun that she would have thought. “Could be Jericho Hill,” she mused, thinking out loud. She went on, inspecting the map a bit closer: “Could be Gallow’s grove, honestly.” Her brows furrowed. No, that could not be right. Her nose wrinkled. She paused, took out the map she had in her backpack and fell silent for a good minute before she looked up and declared, with undying glee : “We are going to Gallow’s Grove. I hope everyone likes completely gloomy cemeteries.”

 “Well…” Remmy started, “at least it’s daytime, right? No uh--” glanced at Julie, her head on their shoulder, before looking back at Agatha, “--no weird things around during the day, right?” A grin, before they picked up their bag and slid it back on, nudging Moose along, falling in stride with Julie. The sounds of the bustling town faded as they cut across the fields behind the building, and Remmy glanced around at the other three with them, feeling a quiet sense of peace. Even though they didn’t know the other two, it felt almost comforting to have them around. Both Grace and Agatha seemed like good, normal people, and maybe that was all Remmy really needed right now-- something good and normal. “Thanks for coming,” they said to Julie after a moment, “I know it’s not milkshakes, but I’ll defs buy you one after this.” They turned back to Agatha, leading the way. “Once we get to the cemetery, what does it say we do? Or uh-- go? Can you tell? I couldn’t really figure it out. It looks kinda like it’s pointing to a house type thing...but there’s not like, uh, houses in cemeteries, right?”

 Grace listened to the group as they spoke, only able to pick out pieces of the locations that they mentioned. She had taken a look at a town map, maybe when she first arrived. Most of Grace’s time had been spent looking up where to get the best chowder from her desk at work, however. Not knowing the people in front of her, Grace didn’t want to make them uncomfortable, but the way that Agatha was getting excited, Grace couldn’t help but exert the same energy, “I don’t think I’ve ever used a compass,” she admitted with a sheepish grin. Grace tightened the straps on her backpack after the blonde confirmed where it was they would be heading to. “Cemeteries are usually quiet, and the only reason people find them gloomy is because they probably have somebody buried there, otherwise it’s just a bunch of stones.” Grace shrugged and looked at Remmy as they began to speak. “There might be a tomb? Maybe the groundskeeper’s shack or something.” Grace knew little to nothing about White Crest’s cemeteries, but if they were anything like Portland’s, then maybe she was right. “We could just look for bigger structures when we get there?” Grace suggested, her voice sounding a little too high and peppy for her usual disposition. 

 Gallow’s. Julie’s brows raised at the mention as she glanced over at Remmy but gave nothing more than a telling smirk. She definitely knew how to get to Gallow’s, having been there before but they were in luck that it was daytime, otherwise she’s sure as hell wouldn’t do much to stop hungry vampires from attacking anyone other than Remmy… and Moose (although they would stay away from both of them). Turning as Remmy spoke to her, she gave a small nod, genuinely in good spirits to be hanging out with Remmy. Even if there were two weirdos being taken along with them. “Yeah for sure, don’t sweat it.” Although, she would prefer milkshakes on their next outing. Come to think of it, she hadn’t eaten since she fell asleep. As Remmy mentioned the map, Julie recalled what she had seen. It was probably a mausoleum. Great. The vampires will love their resting places to be opened to sunlight. This was going to be lots of fun. As she looked over at Grace, she found it weird how upbeat you sounded. “You okay? You sound very happy to be going to a cemetery.” She looked over back to Remmy. “Jesus, Remmy, where did you find them?” She muttered, trying not to be too vocal about her thoughts concerning Grace and Agatha. It was too weird for Julie - she’d expect some ambivalence, potentially fear from either of them at the thought of going to a cemetery. Especially Gallow’s. Did they not know what they were getting into? All she knew was she wasn’t going to be pulling either dumb ass from harm’s way if they walked into it. She might push them towards it if they kept up this cheery routine. It was getting annoying.

 "Nice observation," Agatha looked up at the sun, wrinkling her nose. "We have about 10 hours at least before the sun goes down, and the vampires come out," she said the last part with the most ominous tone to her voice. A diabolic laugh probably would have been too much and so, she refrained herself. Apparently those stories probably had gotten to Remmy's ears and they had stuck. Oh well, she was not here to argue about how stupid it would be for vampires to live in cemeteries when basements are a thing. Realistically speaking. Or at least as realistic as you could get when talking about myths. Grace then said something about never using a compass and Agatha was more than happy to get it off her neck to hand it to Grace and explain the basics to her. "Simple, right?!" She listened, stayed quiet and waited for their suggestions on where it was they were heading. "Could be, although I'd bet on a mausoleum. Lots of families have those in the area, although I'm not sure there's still a lot of these standing. That's a pretty old cemetery, and pretty big too," she paused. "But since mausoleums stand out it cannot be that hard," looking over her shoulder at Remmy and Julie, she grinned with genuine kindness. 

 Oh, good. Agatha knew about the supernatural. That was a relief. Remmy looked back over at Julie and shrugged. “Internet,” they answered simply, before observing the interaction between Grace and Agatha. They all seemed genuinely excited to be here and Remmy’s anxiety was dissipating more and more. Even as they approached the cemetery and pushed the gate open, they couldn’t help but feel that excitement rubbing off on them. Moose must’ve too, because he gave a small bark as they headed inside, sniffing the air. “Come on, whatever happens, it’ll be fun,” they said to Julie, before giving her a little nudge. “Better than sitting around doing nothing, right?” They scanned the area, trying to pick out any sort of larger building. “Anyone see anything?” they asked, coming to stand near Grace. “I don’t think I mind cemeteries, either. They are always kinda quiet, huh?” Before shrugging and heading up the path. “What’s the map say? I think it looks like it’s a little farther in.”

 Grace wasn’t sure what to say in response to Julie. She knew she sounded far too upbeat, but all in all, for whatever reason, Grace hadn’t had any issues with cemeteries to begin with. In Portland, she and Renee would grab breakfast burritos and sit on the hill overlooking the largest one in the city. She didn’t suppose it brought back great memories for everyone, based on the way that Remmy was reacting. At Agatha’s words, Grace blinked, but was unable to ask for clarification on the point made about vampires before she was being shown the compass, instructions pulled from Agatha’s lips. Grace thought back to her conversation with Blanche about the lighthouse. People surely believed in anything around here. “Oh, a mausoleum! Maybe.” Grace hadn’t ever seen any in the cemeteries in Portland, so she had forgotten they existed. “If anything, we could always split up and look.” The gate didn’t look half as ominous as Grace had expected it to, and as she stepped through with the remaining members of the little tour group, Grace looked to Remmy as they spoke. “They’re quiet, which is great for me.” She hummed absentmindedly as she took a step further, gaze flitting from plot to plot. “I can’t see anything just yet,” Grace said over her shoulder as she crouched down next to a dirt and vine infested headstone. “Nobody’s seen you in awhile, huh?” Grace muttered to herself as she got to her feet. She wondered how long it’d be before she’d go to visit either her Grandmother or Renee. 

 Julie snorted as they mentioned they enjoyed the quietness of cemeteries. She wanted to know which ones they went through. Anytime she crossed through one she kept her head down and walked through as fast as possible before a ghost could try and make itself known. God forbid she ever makes eye contact with one. Even just giving one the time of day would attract a bunch more and Julie would never have enough time to listen to a ghost bitch and moan. At Grace treating a headstone with kindness and cleaning it, Julie couldn’t help but side eye the whole thing. Girl… “It’s probably for a good reason.” Julie muttered knowing not everyone who was buried was a good person and deserving of being visited. As if to voice her thoughts she set her sights on a fallen pinecone and punted it into a headstone. Dead whiny fucks. She didn’t dare lift her gaze as they continued to walk, knowing well enough that they were drawn to her just as she was to them and if they were to make eye contact, she’d have to ignore them the whole fucking trip.  Julie threw her hoodie over her head for good measures, blocking out her peripheral vision. Impatient as she was though, she picked her head up. “Are we almost fucking there?”

 Agatha had been walking ahead of the rest of the group, stepping on a bench to see things from a pedestal. “Guys…” One mausoleum stood taller than the rest of them, and while it was in a poor state, like the rest of the tombs here, it stood out. If they had been in a video game, this would have meant that this was their goal. What could go wrong with trusting video games logic? “You okay Julie?” Jumping off the bench, she joined the rest of the group, her cheerful demeanor replaced with worry as she looked at the woman. She then glanced at Remmy, who seemed like they knew her best. “But to answer your question, I think we should head over there. This is where shit happens for sure,” she had literally no proof of that, but considering the instructions on the maps and their lack of clarity, it would do. Leading the way once again, she made her way to the mausoleum. “Mmmh, looks like that door hasn’t been opened in a while,” she observed, as she started to pull on the handle, with no luck.

 Remmy paused to wait for Grace when she knelt to brush off the dirty grave. Julie’s comment could’ve been true, but Remmy knew Julie was more prone to looking at the darker side of things rather than the brighter. They didn’t really blame her for that, though. Everyone was different. When Agatha led them up to the mausoleum, Remmy came up behind her, examining the door. “Here uh, lemme try,” they said, before shuffling around, looking over their shoulder at Julie, then tugging on the door. It was definitely stuck, but all they needed to do was put a little of that getting hungry zombie strength into it and, boom. The door opened with a loud, forceful crack and Remmy stumbled back a little. “Must’ve uh-- just been stuck,” they said with a grin, before peering in. It was empty and smelled musty, spider webs and dirt lining every inch of it. “Uh, so….now what’s the map say?” 

 Grace followed after the group after brushing dirt from her knees. The words that came from Julie weren’t necessarily wrong, and Grace knew that, but they still didn’t sit right with her. She didn’t know this woman, however, so she kept her mouth shut. It was easier to let Agatha’s curiosity get the better of her than start an argument over something that was… technically true. Grace looked at the door with eyebrows raised. Just before she could open her mouth to ask how they’d get it open, Remmy was trying the door with a force that she hadn’t thought could come from them. Surprised, Grace took a step back and looked over them with astonishment before wiping it clean from her features. “You’re strong,” Grace said as she took a step around Remmy, into the doorway. There were spiderwebs scaling the ceiling, at least, as much as Grace could see. Before going in much farther, Grace turned her attention back to the group and looked from face to face, trying to gauge their reactions from Remmy’s strength. 

 “Oh, you’re sooo strong.” Julie mocked under her breath as she passed by Remmy, shooting them a knowing look. As she took the place in, she realized it was different than most mausoleums she’s been in. It was darker the further down and Julie wasn’t one to fear the darkness so she continued walking ahead, having lost sight on the map and more interested in exploring the area. However, she remembered that Remmy was here - along with the dog so she turned, only to see what they were doing. The whole feeling would have been unsettling to any normal person but Julie had seen worse than this. It was far too ridden with cobwebs to be a place where vampires stayed during the day. Then again who knows if they were trying to create an aesthetic of sorts. Vampires were just those kinds of people. She brought out her phone to scroll through it as she waited on the others only half listening to them.

 Grabbing the flashlight in her backpack, Agatha then turned it on and started having a look around, inspecting the place as if it were a crime scene. Quite frankly, the place might as well have been one. It was one hell of a mess in here. The scent of dust, spiderwebs was everywhere, as well as a musty smell. You would have expected the place to be silent but the wind could be heard inside, whistling through stone. Strange, she thought. There was no sun coming through. She looked over at Grace and raised an eyebrow. Apparently she and Agatha were the only one surprised with Remmy’s strength. “You’re going to tell us where you go to the gym or…?” Kneeling down, she had a look at the name on the tombstones, to see if she recognized the family name. After all, with her mom being the former sheriff, they used to know a lot of the White Crest families. However, the name on these did not ring any bells. “Honestly, I don’t know where we are supposed to go next. There seems to be a path leading from this place to… I don’t know. Maybe it’s a tunnel but…” There nothing here, she left that part out. Standing up, she aimed her flashlight toward the walls, which would be when she noticed an engraving in the stone. A similar one could be found on the map. “Remmy, that was on your map…” The sound of wind grew bigger when you got closer to the symbol, and while she didn’t see how, she could guess that whatever path there were searching for was somewhere, close.

 Remmy gave a sheepish grin to Julie and shrugged. “Uh, I mean-- I used to be a soldier. That uh-- that must be it.” They followed Julie inside and squinted against the darkness, before Agatha’s flashlight illuminated the inside. It was relatively small, just large enough to fit the lot of them. Lining the walls were plaques where bodies were stored, and there was one large tomb in the middle of the place. Agatha went over to the far wall, pointing her flashlight at it, where there was something on the wall. “Huh...weird…” they muttered, coming over and examining it. They looked at the map, then to the engraving. “It’s the same thing. What do you think it means?” They glanced back at Grace and Julie, as if they would be able to present the answer.

 Well of course that explained it, Grace thought. Remmy had been a soldier, of course they were strong. Still, she was impressed, and she made no move to hide it. Grace crossed her arms over her chest as she watched them look around. Agatha seemed like she knew what she was doing, so she sidled up next to her. “It looks pretty narrow,” Grace said as she looked over her shoulder at the other two. This was quite the treasure hunt, she had to admit. Though, wasn’t it better than holing up in her apartment with the same book she had read over a dozen times? The contradiction of her actions for moving to White Crest in the first place were not lost on her. Grace followed Agatha’s gaze to the engraving on the stone and looked at it. “I don’t know, I’ve never seen anything like that.” Grace reached out and padded her index finger against the wall and traced the pattern. “It looks like whoever did it, it took them a long fucking time.” Grace straightened up and looked between the three. 

 Julie sighed, kept in place because they were all busy looking at some symbol on the stone. “It means keep going,” Julie bluffed, still on her phone with her arms crossed. “So are we going to keep going or stop here and look at the wall until it gets dark?” Maybe they were scared - it seemed reasonably so, going into further darkness with people you don’t know and seemingly only one way out. Still, wasn’t that part of the whole excitement? Julie glanced up at them, wondering if she had anything to fear from Agatha and Grace. She knew better than to assume they were “normal” if there was anything she learned from this town was that the people here were more often unnormal than normal. However, Julie felt confident in her ability to evade trouble no matter how unexpected it may come for her so she had no reason not to continue on this treasure hunt.

 Agatha looked over her shoulder to watch Julie, who was looking like a teenager who got dragged on a family trip. “Are you sure, Nancy Drew?” Yes Agatha still had her collection of Nancy Drew books, including the secret code activity book, and no she was not ashamed of it. She was pretty sure Julie would hate this, but that was kinda a compliment in Agatha’s mouth. “Alright, well the wall seems a bit…” She approached her palm from the nearest stone, and started pushing it. She expected some sort of struggle but the stone looked heavier than it actually was, and instead of bothering with the rest of them, she gave one kick in the whole, and hoped (way too late) that the others weren’t granite, and that this meant going to the hospital for being a stupid bitch. “Ta-dah, a doorway. Good job Julie,” she nodded in appreciation. Pretty and clever? “Let’s go?” She offered with a shrug, leading the way with her lamp.

 The wall crumbled in front of them, and Remmy felt that little rush of excitement again. “Wow! Neat! Who woulda thunk, huh?” they asked, looking back at the other two. Grace looked a little nervous and Julie looked bored, but Remmy wasn’t going to let that get any of them down. Remmy paused to dig through their backpack and pull out a few flashlights, passing them around. “Ready?” they asked, before heading into the tunnel and shining the light ahead. After a moment, they looked over for Agatha and the map. “Well...what uh, which way do we go now? It looks like there’s more than one tunnel to follow.” And although Remmy and Julie didn’t have too much to fear, they weren’t sure the others could say the same. Getting lost wasn’t going to be a good idea down here, and Moose wasn’t exactly a tracker dog.

 Grace jumped in surprise as the wall crumbled before them. She glanced between the group. Agatha’s energy continued to rub off on Grace, but her own uncertainty about the situation as getting the best of her. “Ready for what, more cobwebs?” She joked and took the flashlight from Remmy. Grace shone her flashlight at the map, careful not to hit anybody in the eye as she did so. “I think we go that way?” She said as she looked up from the map, then to their surroundings. “See that object there on the map? It’s on that wall--” She pointed to the wall with her flashlight, then back to the map. “They’re almost identical.” Okay, so maybe Grace wasn’t entirely horrible with directions. Or maybe she just knew how to look for context clues. Grace took a step forward after she directed the flashlight at the floor, checking to make sure there were no traps. Didn’t treasure hunts usually run into those? “It looks like there’s another door,” Grace said as she approached the end of the walkway. 

 Now things were getting interesting. Julie was first to step through the door, eager to see where it would take them. Lo and behold it took them to a fork in the path. Julie had not a clue what was the right path and turned back to see if those who had read the map would be able to figure it out. “Yeah, the map should tell us where to go next.” Ideally since it was a map it wouldn’t get them lost but who knows. Julie looked behind the group to where they had entered and chose not to think about that. Leave it to Julie and she would have taken any path as long as it kept them moving but unfortunately she had to wait once more. 

 “We could always split, but I’ve seen enough movies to see it not end well,” Agatha wrinkled her nose. The map was not exactly professionally drawn, and it was hard to get a good idea of where they were meant to go. Grace was however a lot more adventurous than them. Agatha directed her flashlight toward the door Grace claimed to be seeing, and followed behind her. “I swear to God, if that door is locked,” and expecting it to be so, she almost fell over. Stumbling into a new tunnel, she heard something crack under the heel of her shoe and grimaced. What exactly could make such a crunchy sound here? 

 Remmy was beginning to feel nervous. Could the other hear those noises, too? The low groaning up ahead? They glanced over at Julie as they stepped into the new tunnel, and then Agatha was opening the door. Remmy tried to hurry forward, to suggest they open it first, but the loud crunching of bone made them stop. The quiet groaning stopped, too. “Uh...must be real old,” they said, ushering everyone inside. Could the others see the red eyes watching them, too? They gave another glance to Julie. “Maybe we should just keep moving?” They suggested, putting themself at the front of the group, Moose trotting beside them, glancing at the map. “We’re almost there!”

 The door opened and Grace followed Agatha through it, arms coming to wrap around herself. The sound of the bone that crunched underneath Agatha's foot made her wince, but she wonders if anybody else knew what it was. Grace nodded at Remmy’s words as she followed them further down the hallway. There were bones littered everywhere, and the air was growing cold. “Is anybody else freezing?” She asked in passing as they walked, keeping her voice low-- why, she wasn’t sure. 

 Julie was ready to jump in any direction and so she entered with confidence not even paying any mind to the sound. She knew what it was but was more interested in what laid ahead of them. Her hand reached out to touch the nearest wall, curious about these tunnels. It wasn’t like Julie to get scared but something about this was giving her just the slightest sense of unease. She wasn’t sure what it was though and glanced back at Grace whose tone seemed to be not as excited as it was back then. Was she scared? Probably. Underground tunnels would do that to you. Dark, ominous. One way in and probably only one way out - if that. For now though it seemed the best thing to do was to follow the straight path of the tunnel. As she kept ahead, Julie felt it was safe enough to ease her discomfort. She allowed herself to feel the dark in her hands not strong enough to turn it physical nor to create any darker shadow than there was but just enough to give Julie the peace of mind that if anything did happen that might threaten her or Remmy’s lives - she was still in control. “Maybe you should have brought a warmer jacket,” Julie threw over her shoulder as she dropped her hand back to her side. “You guys don’t have anything in those bags of yours? Like… food or something?” Julie has to admit this was working up her appetite.

 Working as a homicide detective, Agatha had gotten used to a lot of things, but that did not mean that she found stepping on bones a pleasant Sunday activity. Cringing, she wiped her shoe against the floor. Even if she found it stupid to be scared of cemetaries or morgues, this place looked like a horror film set. Still, she managed to tell herself that the tunnel would have been not scary at all with proper lighting, and so she followed behind the others. Another silver lining of this would be telling the medical examiner about this place. Agatha wondered who those bones belonged to, and what else they would find here. Holding her flashlight tight, she went by Grace’s side, figuring that her company might reassure the other woman. “It will be fine,” she assured her. Other than perhaps rats and insects, she doubted they would cross anything’s path in here, and much like Julie, she was starting to get hungry. “You want something sweet or something salty?” She asked, her backpack now against her stomach. Searching through her things, she pulled out a lunch bag and handed it over to Julie. 

 Snacks were being handed out now, and Remmy glanced around the rag tag group. This was gonna be fine, right? There wasn’t anything down here that would, like, hurt them, right? Their skin crawled a moment as the moaning increased. Moose’s body stiffened and his ears went back, but Remmy kept him reigned in. The red eyes were still behind them. “Umm, maybe we should pick up the pace? We probably uhh...wanna be outta here before nightfall, yeah?” They stopped and went around to the back of the crew, waving their arms, trying to usher them all along faster, glancing back over their shoulder. Forms began to show in the shadows, crawling slowly after the group. Their noises getting louder. How could the others not hear? Did Julie hear them? “Uh, yeah, hey, so-- maybe we should um-- run.” They said, shoving against Grace and Agatha, hoping Julie got the idea as well, as they took off down the hall. 

 Grace looked to Julie, confused why anybody could be hungry when they were in the dark trenches of the unknown, but her own stomach growling made her look to Agatha’s backpack with vague interest. “I didn’t think I would need a jacket, I don’t know,” Grace finally responded to Julie, casting her a sideways glance. She looked to Remmy, then back to Julie, and finally to Agatha when she heard the deep groan. Grace turned around and peered into the darkness, trying to gauge where the noise had come from. There weren’t any pipes that she could see, but it didn’t mean that there weren’t any. Why did it suddenly smell like a morgue? Grace opened her mouth to speak, but focused on Remmy as they began to usher them forward. “What--” Grace asked, reaching up to cover her nose with the back of her hand, “what is that smell?” It smelled like a decomposing body, and she wondered if they had walked upon a horror house. Before she could investigate it any further, she was being pushed forward, Remmy’s hands at her shoulders. She followed the directions, despite being confused. She took off alongside Remmy with an urgency that matched the other two, the nerves suddenly draining the color from her face as she ran. “Why are we running!” Grace called out, breathing heavy, focusing on not tripping over the clutter of leaves, vines, and bones at her feet. 

 Julie just grabbed whatever she felt first in the bag before tossing it back to Agatha. Unwrapping it she started walking again but noticed Remmy coming close as if trying to rush them through it. It was fine with Julie to hurry through things but Remmy seemed the type to enjoy the moment. Then again given the current environment, most people would want to get out there as fast as possible. “Dude, what gives -” Julie shrugged it off, still eating before catching the slightest movement out of the corner of her eyes. Julie knew what could lurk in the dark and while she wasn’t terrified, she knew better than to put herself in a position to reveal herself as anything more than human in front of anyone. Remmy already saw part of what she could do. She didn’t really want them to figure out what else came with it. Not that she didn’t trust Remmy but - okay maybe she didn’t trust Remmy. Trust was hard, okay! Either way Julie wasn’t quick to get the memo until she caught one coming out of the shadows. She had no idea what the fuck it was and offered a menacing look before jogging behind the others. Julie knew better than to try and scare the others by saying she saw a humanoid figure with missing limbs and red eyes so she went for… “I think I saw a big rat. Maybe the food attracted it. My bad.”

 Agatha covered her nose. She knew that smell. She knew that smell too damn well. Okay, as soon as they got out of here, she’d have the WCPD back in here. Clearly there was a corpse, somewhere, or maybe several corpses. And according to Julie, there were rats in here too. Fucking perfect. Sure those two things sometimes went hand in hand, but that did not make it more okay. “I’m pretty sure that’s not the food they came here for,” she commented, following behind the rest of the group without asking any questions. No way she was staying alone in the dark with a bunch of rats having maccabe snacks. No way. “Remmy, do you know where we are going right now?” She tried not to talk too loud as she called them out, and she hoped that they had heard her. Whatever they were searching for better be worth all of this because she really did not like that she was fleeing a possible crime scene right now. 

 “Yes!” Remmy exclaimed, “rats! I saw uh-- giant rats! And those are like-- not things we wanna mess with!” They hurried everyone along until they couldn’t see the red eyes following them anymore, down a hallway and around a corner, before realizing that they didn’t know where they were going anymore. “Uhhh, yeah, totally!” they lied nervously, pausing to glance around then back at the map. “It’s um-- here!” they splintered off to head towards what looked like a door, sliding it open-- only to find pale, fanged faces staring back at them. Remmy cried out and slammed the door shut, turning to look back at the others. “Uh-- not that way, actually. Um-- this way,” they pointed, walking back through the group and grabbing their hands to usher them away from the door with the scary monsters behind it. And as they came upon another hallway, a chill creeped in-- one that even Remmy felt-- and their breaths began to billow in front of them. A loud clattering up ahead could be heard. Remmy paused. “Do-- does anyone else hear that?”

 “Rats?” Grace yelled out, “we’re running from rats?” She had lost it at the sight of a mouse in her apartment, so much so that a neighbor had knocked down her door at the screams, and now she was getting logical about rodents? Grace huffed as she followed Remmy, trying to ignore the burning in her calves, as well as her ankles. “You don’t sound like you know where we’re going!” Grace yelled out after them. She didn’t need to feel Remmy’s emotions to tell that much, despite not being able to feel it at all-- the nerves from the other two was enough, however, to know that there was confusion around them, and outright fear. Grace nearly rammed into a wall, but managed to push off of it in enough time to follow Remmy in their new direction, before coming to a stop just behind them. The door slammed before she could reach it, which made Grace wonder what Remmy saw, because she saw nothing, but smelled death. “Hear what?” she asked as she reached out towards the grimy wall, her hand coming into contact with something sticky and sopping wet. She quickly rubbed her hands against her jeans. “What is that smell?” Grace knew what it was, but she didn’t want to be right, didn’t want to come across decomposing bodies, didn’t want to see death etched in the ground at her feet. Grace swallowed thickly, the smell of death filtering into her nose. 

 Julie just hoped they didn’t catch up to them and by the time turned back, there was nothing in sight. She wondered for a moment if they were lost and then remembered there was a map. She didn’t really understand how they could be lost but nonetheless followed the group into a hallway. “Are we going the right way?” Julie supposed they were but had her doubts. “Can’t you guys check the map?” She was about to say something sassy but heard a noise up ahead and took note of how she could see her breathe. “Where the hell are we going?” She muttered as she stepped forward, wanting to see what was up ahead and not really afraid to confront it. It might be those red-eyed fuckers but so what if it was? If this was the way out, then there was no choice but to go straight to the source of noise.

 Can’t you guys check the map? Agatha’s eyebrows raised, and she had to prevent herself from being unpleasant with her reply. “Weird smell, weird noises, this is great,” she said instead, blocking the flashlight between her cheek and shoulder to examine the map. Truth was, with them having run around like that, she had no damn clue as to where they were, but if she were to take a wild guess, from what she was observing, and what her compass was telling her, she would have said that they were… “Here.” Totally winging it, she thought to herself, cringing internally. But hey, if she was right, this would be great. All she knew was that she needed to be out of here. The atmosphere of the tunnels alone was certainly eerie, but she couldn’t stop thinking of the graveyard of the sort they had stumbled upon. And unlike others, it took her more than an old creaky house or a swampy basement to get scared. Proving that ignorance was truly bliss. “We need to head this way,” she sounded pretty damn sure of herself, but she rarely didn’t. 

 When Agatha finally set them on what seemed like the right path, Remmy felt a little wave of relief. It was, however, staunched when they saw a shimmering form up ahead. It wavered, disappeared. Remmy turned to look to see if anyone else had noticed, before leaning over to murmur to Julie. “Did you see that, too?” they asked under their breath. It shimmered back into life, in the same spot, and Remmy stopped, prodding Julie. “There!” Oops, too loud. They looked at the others. “Uh-- a doorway! Look!” And there one was. And it looks different from all the other doorways, with a large arch above it and those same engravings they’d found upstairs in the mausoleum around the threshold. That was promising, right? Remmy went to head in when a voice stopped them. “None shall enter!” rang the small voice-- a very distinct child’s voice. Remmy paused, looking around, but no one else had reacted yet. “This is my castle! And my stone treasure! On guard, ye trespassers!” Something swung by Remmy’s face, but when right through. They spun on their heel-- only to find themself face to face with a child. Except, they could see right through them. And the kid was floating about three feet in the air. “Ah, some sort of ghostly fiend, I see!” the kid spat, swinging around what was once probably a wooden bat in life. Remmy blinked, dumbfounded. The ghost-child frowned deeply, then pointed his sword at Julie. “I know you can see me, too, shadow monster!” he said in his attempt at an intimidating voice. It was more like a puppy trying to bark. Remmy looked back at Julie and shrugged. 

 Just inside the room, they could see the chest. It was covered in dust and grime and cobwebs, untouched for decades. Maybe even centuries. Remmy wondered what could possibly be inside. The ghost-child phased through them to stand in the doorway again, hands on his hips. “I will guard this treasure with my life!” he shouted, pointing the sword at all of them. Remmy didn’t know what to say-- if they spoke, they risked looking crazy. If they didn’t, would the ghost get mad? “Let’s um-- let’s just take it easy and all go inside real slow, yeah?” they said, putting their hands up. Hoped that wasn’t as weird as it sounded, to either party.

 “I think the map is only useful if you’re following it to begin with…” Grace muttered under her breath, loud enough so anybody could hear. It wasn’t that she cared-- she didn’t know what was happening. Her heart rate was abnormal and there was sweat beading at the back of her neck, dripping down the back of her shirt, leaving her shivering. Despite their situation, it seemed as though Agatha had found where it was they needed to go, and so she followed blindly. Did she really have a choice? She was stuck now, and the only way she was going to get out of here was if she followed them. Grace’s eyebrows furrowed at Remmy’s sudden burse, and she looked towards where Remmy had motioned. The doorway lay before them, and Grace felt her heart sink. It looked like both Remmy and Julie were focused on something, but Grace couldn’t tell what. She decided to ignore it, because as long as they weren’t running, there was no threat… right? She swallowed thickly, trying to get rid of the taste of death at the back of her throat. The room looked as though it hadn’t seen the light in what could’ve been eons, and she was careful with her steps as she looked at the chest. It was just like on the map. She couldn’t believe they actually found something, especially with all of their running. Grace looked to Remmy, “but it’s right there?” She hesitated before taking a step forward, closer to the chest. It looked like any old chest. “There’s no lock on it,” she observed as she knelt down close to it, interest piqued. “I can’t believe we actually found something,” Grace said as she turned back to look at the group. She reached for the lid and heaved it upwards, revealing an assortment of rocks. “It’s not… gold, what are these?” She asked, eyebrows furrowed. 

 Oh hell no, Julie was not going to have to deal with a child much less a ghost one. Rolling her eyes she fought the urge to argue back with it. However she couldn’t help but feign a move toward the ghost, trying to get the kid to flinch. However as they entered the room her attention went to the chest and… of course it was disappointing. A bunch of rocks. “Looks like some kids lame ass rock collection.” Julie scoffed as she crossed her arms. As if on cue she heard the child’s annoying voice. It was easy to tune out but then she saw him shut the lid and lay down on it. “Oh come on…” she muttered as she rolled her eyes, looking over at Remmy seeing what they would do. Julie had no patience for children and even less for ghosts. It seemed though that he wasn’t willing to get off the chest now, using his own energy to keep weight on it. Julie tried to tip over the chest with her foot. “Get off,” she mumbled as his weight was more than she was expecting. 

 Agatha didn’t interject with what Grace had to say because negativity was really not needed right now. Instead she put the light of her lamp below her chin and gave Grace a force smile, nose scrunched up and all, as if to say Don’t. “See, I told you it was the way to go.” Oh Agatha please, she told herself. She had absolutely no clue of what she was doing, but this proved one thing, sometimes, you could just be lucky. She approached the rest of the group, although as she looked over Julie’s shoulder, she watched the chest’s lid close shut, and she couldn’t help but be startled, jump a little and cover her mouth to muffle a scream. Would rats be drawn by screams ? Probably not. Who knew? Not her. "Are we really going to fight this chest for a bunch of old rocks?" Her brows furrowed. She hadn't even gotten to see what was inside and she was curious. Sighing, she tried to assist Julie, with no goddamn idea of what was truly going on here.

 Agatha and Grace didn’t seem to see the child, but Remmy knew Julie did. She was even talking directly to him. Remmy gave an innocent smile when he slammed the lid shut. They looked between everyone. “Uh, well-- maybe they’re special rocks!” they said, eyeing the ghost. “Rocks that...mean a lot to someone. And they’ve been here...where it’s safe so that the wrong people don’t get their hands on them.” When the ghost perked up as they spoke, they took that as a good sign to continue. “But we’re, you know-- good people, right? Whatever this treasure is, we won’t misuse it, will we? We’ll cherish, and um, well--” they looked at the boy with a big smile, hoping this worked-- “treasure it, pun intended.” He chuckled at first, then laughed a little harder. Then he burst out laughing, rolling around so much he toppled from the chest-- allowing Agatha and Julie to finally open it again-- before floating up and away. “Okay,” he said in his sing-song voice, “but if you’re mean or not nice to my treasure, I’ll come haunt you all forever!” Remmy grabbed the map from Agatha as they all dug into the box, and turned to the boy, hushing their voice a little. “Here, I think this is yours,” they said, before reaching in and taking one of the rocks and holding it out to him as well. “We’ll guard your treasure now, and make sure everyone knows how great it is. Okay?” he seemed forlorn, at first, as if he were about to cry-- but then his hands took the objects Remmy was holding out to him, and he smiled, big and bright. “Thank you,” he said, “that’s all I wanted. And also! I made a special, hidden door. It’s behind the chest. You all can get out faster that way. I would use it when my mom would call me home.” Remmy grinned. “Thank you,” they muttered. “Okay. Bye funny people! Remember what I said!” And when his outline disappeared, Remmy couldn’t help but feel a little sad.

 They turned to look back at everyone, before grabbing a few of the rocks. They looked relatively normal, though they were smoother and had funny patterns inside the stones themselves. And, somehow, Remmy knew they were special. When they looked up again, they pointed to something on the map.

 Grace yelped as the lid to the chest shut. She wasn’t sure what had happened, maybe one of the hinges was loose? She folded her hands in her lap as she rocked back on her heels. She twisted around to look at Remmy as they spoke, and it seemed far too encouraging to be for any of them. She wondered if Remmy just really liked rocks. Grace stood up and dusted her hands against the backs of her jeans. She looked down as Agatha and Julie were successful in re-opening the chest. She looked on at the rocks with a tilt of her head. She still wasn’t sure what was special about them. Grace wasn’t blind to the fact that Remmy was suddenly speaking to the air, their hands outstretched with a rock in their palm to nothing. She bit her tongue, not sure what was going on-- she couldn’t discount that there was something going on, especially with what she had already been through. She looked at the rocks in Remmy’s hand, interest baited her, “what are those?” She wasn’t sure what was going on, or why Remmy had spoken to the air, but she wanted to know what was so special about the rocks that they’d go on a treasure hunt to find them. Grace was curious, to say the least. “Should we get out of here? Look at them where we’re not being threatened by killer rats?” She asked, half-jokingly.

 A way out? That was good to know. This trip had run its course. Julie reached for a rock, turning it over in her hand before putting in her pocket. She wasn’t really one to carry things like that but eh, it would be nice to have something to remember this trip. Moving to the chest, Julie pushed it away, surprised the ghost runt was telling the truth. “Hey, seems like this is the way to go.” She pointed at and glanced over at Remmy who was well aware. She gave them a knowing smile before looking at everyone else. This was definitely a lot weirder than she had anticipated but hey, at least they got some lame rocks at the end? She winced at her own thoughts. It was definitely time to go home before she started to feel touched by some stupid ghost’s rocks. 

“We could have arrived through here the whole time?!” Agatha exclaimed. All this had been a lot of fun, and she had grabbed a rock as a souvenir of their adventure. Had they arrived through the exit door, it might have not been as enjoyable. She wondered if the rest of them had had as much fun as herself, or if they would admit to enjoying their little trip. The memory of those bones was however feeling like an itch in her head, and she wouldn’t take too long to report it, starting with animal control. She doubted anyone would be thrilled by the idea of working among rats after all. “Well, this was fun. We should do it again sometime soon!”

 As everyone dispersed, Remmy couldn’t help but smile. They climbed up the back stairs and found themselves almost on the complete opposite end of town that they started in. Not only had they had a good time, no one had gotten hurt, and they’d made a few new friends-- at least, they hoped. Agatha was nice and not afraid to take control, and Grace was sweet and seemed new to all this. Both of them seemed like great people Remmy wanted to get to know more of. And Julie, of course, was her usual self. Not that Remmy minded. Her casual demeanor and grumpy attitude was kinda cute, after all. She reminded them of Luce a little. And, even after all of that, they’d been able to help a ghost move on, even if just a little. All in all, it had been a good day. Maybe things really were looking up. 

“C’mon Moose,” they said, patting him on the head, “let’s head home. Figure out what’s so special about these rocks, huh?”

About the whole Percyrisse (is that even their shipname) tension thing, I've always headcanoned them to be secretly kickass dancers, so what if they're having this very intense battle at camp one day and everyone's like "first of all since when can they fricking dance and second, are they going to jump on each other or what??"

Absolutely. I mean, dancer!Clarisse has been a major headcanon of mine for a few years. I think that her mom was a professional ballet dancer, so Clarisse took dance from three years old until she went to camp when she was ten. 

When she started at camp, she kept up barre and center work in secret to maintain the balance, strength, flexibility, and coordination that dance offered. She had never really given a shit about artistry or performing, but having a dance background gave her a huge advantage over her brothers. (I imagine that camp has some basic dance materials, like a ballet barre and a good floor. They’ve had dancers before, and Chiron knows about her dancing)

She’s still incredibly flexible. 

Percy never had any formal dance training, but he has great dancer instincts. He has a lot of rhythm, coordination, and grace. He has to for sword fighting. 

One morning, at like five am, Percy wakes up from nightmares and can’t go back to sleep, so he goes to the arena, and Clarisse is in there in leggings and a sports bra with ballet slippers on, and a ballet barre following along to some youtube video. One hand is on the barre, the other is up in fifth, and her leg’s up in an extension.

“What the hell?” 

Clarisse, drops her arm and leg, and turns around, red faced at being caught. 

“Are you doing ballet?” 

“Don’t judge me too much, Jackson. It helps with fighting,” 

“I’m sure it does. Tell me, do the tutus keep monsters at a distance,” 

“If you tell anyone -” 

“What?” He smirked, “You think I’m afraid of a ballerina?” 

“Oh, you think this is easy? Why don’t you come try it?” 

She switches to a beginner barre as he slips off his shoes so he’s just in his socks. He starts trying to do some basic moves, but Clarisse keeps stopping him to give corrections. 

“From the hips, Jackson.” “All five toes on the ground, don’t roll.” “Elbows up.” (Fuck, she sounded too much like her mother.) 

He’s basically dead by the end. 

“Alright, so that wasn’t easy,” he admits. 

“Wait till you try stretching,” 

“What?” 

She makes him do her stretching routine. At one point, they have to do the splits. He’s like a good two feet off the ground, but she slides into it easily, and his eyes just go wide. 

“How long have you been able to do that? How long have you been able to do any of this?” 

“My whole life. My mom was a ballet dancer with the Paris Opera ballet for nineteen years,” 

“Shit. What was that like?” 

“A nightmare. But hey, cool party trick,” she said, stretching out more. 

Percy just watched. “Yeah,” he mumbled, “cool party trick.” 

When they were done, Clarisse packed up her stuff, ready to leave without saying anything (her signature move). 

“Wait,” Percy said, “I actually liked this. Would you wanna teach me more? We could use my cabin so people don’t find out that you do this,” 

Clarisse rolled her eyes. “I’d rather people find out I do ballet than have them see me leaving your cabin in the wee hours of the morning,” 

Percy smirked at the implication. “I’m better at that than ballet,” 

Clarisse raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Everyone thinks they’re good,” 

Percy ignored that comment. He wanted to keep practicing with her, learning from her, watching her. 

“Look, doesn’t matter where we do it,” he paused, and felt his face get. He saw a smirk flash across Clarisse’s face. “Dancing, I mean. Can we do it together?” 

Clarisse smiled for real this time, like she was trying not to laugh. “Sure, we can do it together. We’ll have to. Because in my experience dance classes are expensive,” she said, turning to leave. “You’re gonna have to pay for them some how,” she said, her back turned to him. “Meet me here tomorrow, same time. And buy some ballet slippers. You’ll kill yourself in those socks,” 

Percy smiled, unsure if he had a dance class or a hookup booked for the next morning. He wasn’t sure he cared either way. 

(Where are Chris and Annabeth in this? Don’t know. Don’t care.) 

TALKING TO EXPLOSION BOY (BNHA)

Cat: Lil floof and if you squint, angst

Agender! Reader was nervous about their internship with Thirteen already, but throw in the sparky porcupine? Anxiety maxed out. But surprisingly, he just isn’t as explosive as usual. (Reader has a fire related quirk)

Y/N remembered when they first decided to try out for cross country.

It was the summer before 8th grade when they vowed to make themself into a person they could like. Their sister had given them a ride to the school, they’d retied their sneakers about fifteen times on the way, and they’d practically had a death grip on that poor plastic water bottle.

They’d been so nervous that they refused to get out of the car. They remembered knowing absolutely nobody on the team, feeling so socially inept because they hadn't talked to anybody all summer. It wasn't until their sister reassured them that they finally found themself unlocking the door.

That's what they thought internships were gonna be like.

But rather than the hellish experience their middle school self endured, it was quite different.

They chose to intern with Thirteen to learn how to use their quirk in rescue scenarios. Thirteen, who they’d recently learned went by xe/xyr pronouns, was a pretty nice person, who took their wall of awkwardness and formality into consideration.

Y/N was finally letting the wall drip down a bit, allowing Thirteen to see their real personality. And the acceptance was nice.

That's why they didn't really mind it when Thirteen said xe needed to drop by Best Jeanist's agency. Something to do with the author and plot lines.

So they followed Thirteen through the building, politely smiling at the passersby they happened to make eye contact with. The two stopped at a door in the building, pushing it open, and just like that feeling of finding someone you know in your home town, Y/N felt like they’d been smacked with frying pan.

Bakugo and Y/N made eye contact from both sides of the room, a silence as his hair sprung back to its normal state.

Oof.

If the rest of the Bakusqud were here, Y/N probably would've been able to sneak in a laugh under Mina, Sero, and Kaminari’s cackling, but alas that was not the case. And despite the self destructive ramblings of Y/N’s rather common mental breakdowns, they valued their life.

Best Jeanist sighed as though this weren't the first time this occurred, flicking his comb into his pocket. "Thirteen." He said in greeting. "What brings you here?"

"I just need to do some touch ups on the paperwork for the collab takedown we did last week. Turns out the villains quirk wasn't energy mutation." Xe replied, while Y/N suddenly begun to wish they had Hagakure's quirk instead as Bakugo’s eyes burned into their skull.

"Is that your intern?"

Uh oh.

"Yep," Thirteen said, pushing Y/N forward much to their dismay. "They’ve got quite the quirk."

Best Jeanist hummed in response, having been there in the stadium. He remembered sending them an invite to intern with him after the festival, but he supposed they were searching for something specific.

"You two are in the same class right?" Best Jeanist asked. Y/N stiffened as he acknowledged Bakugo's presence. Without waiting for a response, he carried on, "You two stay here. Thirteen, the reports in my office."

And despite every cell in their body yelling at the two to stay, the door closed behind the two leaving both Bakugo and Y/N in immediate discomfort.

Silence.

Y/N looked around the room at anything and everything except for Bakugo. They spotted a chair, the only other one in the room placed right across from the blonde porcupine.

With an internal groan, they shuffled over to the chair, sitting uncomfortably still as they pulled out their phone. They stared at the screen, pretending to be doing something while attempting to negotiate a ceasefire with the whatever deity above was listening.

Whatever I did to deserve this, I am so sorry. It'll never happen again, bro, just get me tf outta here rn before my soul skrrt skrrts from my body-

Oh no, now their nose was itchy. The temptation was there, but the risk of drawing attention was even greater. Were they gonna sneeze? Were there tissues in here? Jeez did hearts always beat so loudly? And what is up with the whole breathing thing? It sounds like there's gonna be a whole goddamn tornado-

"Hey. Depressed Flambé."

Y/N hesitantly looked up from their screen, wondering if they placed their funeral plans in an obvious enough location. Top left drawer of their dresser, beneath their will. Dang they forgot to write if they wanted red camellias or white camellias. Surely class 1-A would know they were a red camellias type of lad. And they had to change the song from "Thriller" to "E-Girls Are Ruining My Life", ya know, get with the times-

"I know you're avoiding me. Your damn phone isn't even on." Bakugo's brash voice said, and they suddenly felt like dropping an anvil on their head.

Y/N gave a smile that may as well have said, "I've been caught" and tucked the phone into their pockets where their hands could fidget out of view.

Silence.

Depressed Flambé, Y/N pondered.

They hadn't thought they had a nickname, they figured since they had barely interacted with him all year that they were in the clear.

Guess not.

Their thoughts and the room stayed radio silent for a bit before they hesitantly spoke up, "Trying out a new hair style?"

"Mention it to the rest of 1-A and I’ll kill you!" He barked defensively, huffing when he saw them flinch almost unnoticeably. "He won't let me patrol with him until I 'reform my appearance' or some bullshit like that."

Y/N nodded, though they didn't really see much difference. He was intimidating either way, one just made him look a little more idiotic. "Some bullshit sounds about right." Y/N replied, trying to let themself relax.

Bakugo seemed content with their response, and once again the two fell into silence. And just like a hand reaching out, they felt their voice wanting to come out, to keep talking, but maybe he didn't want to. Maybe it'd be better to take the chance and have no regrets later? But what if he just told them to shut up? They probably would never get over that. It was probably best if they-

"How's your internship?" Bakugo asked, clearly uncomfortable with asking the question. He wasn't even making eye contact which was supposed to be Y/N’s thing.

By the author's grace, was this the power of those behind the divine fourth wall?

"It's good!" Y/N said, a little too quickly for their liking.

Stupid social anxiety.

"Um, Thirteen's trying to teach me how to use my quirk in rescues." They added slowing their words, before their voice lowered into a murmur. "I just kind of wish I knew that they don't really teach fighting techniques."

"Well why don't you teach yourself?" He asked.

Why do you have such good hearing, they thought. "I mean I tried a while ago, but I wouldn’t know where to start."

"Is the phone you were using to avoid me just for show or can you actually use it? Just look some up or walk yourself to a library."

OML THIS IS A HISTORICAL MOMENT HE GOT THROUGH A SENTENCE WITHOUT CURSING OR INSULTING ANYBODY IM SO PROUD OF YOU, BRO, WE NEED TO CELEBRATE THIS MOMENTOUS OCCASION- "I guess that make sense." Y/N replied, sheepish but surprised.

They really thought it would be like that first day at cross country. Like everyone would be looking at them, judging them, ostracizing them. But it was all their head, just as it was then, just as it was now.

There was a gap of (you guessed it) silence, but this time it was less awkward, more...comfortable.

"It's too bad, Best Jeanist, isn't what you thought he would be." Y/N said.

He hummed in response.

"It seems more like he's trying to change you than train you." They thought aloud.

"It's annoying. I wish he'd finish this damn haircut, so I can skip to the fun part, and kick somebody’s ass."

Y/N snorted audibly. "If it's about getting it to stay, I think I can help."

Bakugo raised an eyebrow, which before may have had them thinking they were on his kill list, but now not so much. "You do hair?"

"I mean, I take care of mine almost every morning, and I'm pretty good with gel at this point so why not?" They shrugged.

"Hurry up then, I don't want to have to do this for any longer than I have to."

"Your hair is surprisingly soft."

"Shut up, Flambé!"

"Seriously, what conditioner do you use?"

"I WILL BLOW YOU UP RIGHT NOW!"

•••

"Thanks for stopping by Thirteen, it's been nice." Best Jeanist said, as the two stepped out of his office.

Thirteen replied. "No problem. See you around."

The two turned to the other duo and though neither visibly shown it, the surprise remained present.

"Did you do his hair?" Thirteen asked in mild confusion.

Best Jeanist was past the point of mere confusion, he was borderline baffled. "You fixed it?!"

Y/N tucked away a comb granted by the author, "Magic."

"Are we gonna patrol now or what?" Bakugo asked, a grin tugging at his lips.

Even though it looked borderline evil, Y/N was still pretty proud they made him smile. Even if he looked like he was about commit a homicide.

A/N Feel free to hit me up via anything if you have any requests. Whether it’s headcanons, scenarios, or different pronouns lemme know! I really like writing these and wanna make everybody feel ✨comfy✨💕

Freezerburn Week 2020 — Day 3: MMA AU

WordCount: 2000

Weiss restlessly tapped her nails against the sleek, wooden table. Her eyes were never settled in one place as she scanned the establishment over and over again. She could not help but glance at her phone and groan at the time.

I’m still early…

Today she was meeting with someone for a special day out. A date of sorts, though Weiss refrained from referring to it as such.

To be honest with herself, Weiss had not planned on dating anyone for a while. She knew she was out of practice and was only doing this because her friend, Blake, begged her to.

Weiss could not remember the last time she was this on-edge about meeting someone. She generally thought of herself as a confident, competent, and forward-thinking woman. Though, she knew exactly why this particular meeting was so precarious.

She did not like to admit it, but Weiss was not the best at interpersonal communication when it came to finding a potential spouse. Sure, she had met some wonderful people in the past, but it never got to the point where she seriously felt anything for them. After a few months of focusing on her job, she received a much-needed push from her best friend to start actively looking for someone.

It was then that Blake suggested using a dating app on her phone.

Of course, Weiss was skeptical. She was aware of the reputation of certain dating apps, and she had no intention to hook up with anyone for a night. She was looking for something real.

After some help from Blake with setting up her profile and a week or so of using the app, Weiss finally found a match with someone. She was a woman with long, curly hair of the brightest shade of gold Weiss had ever seen, and a pair of absolutely mesmerizing, lilac irises.

From the pictures on her match’s profile, Weiss noticed how warm and friendly she was with everyone. Photos of her with friends and family, along with a few selfies. There were plenty of photos of her in a sports bra and training shorts as well.

Weiss bit her cheek as she caught herself thinking about those photos. Chiseled abs Weiss never knew were attainable on the human form, flawless skin that glistened with sweat, and toned arms with the perfect amount of muscle…

And her name was Yang Xiao Long.

Weiss could not recall any person she had ever known that was more beautiful; more stunning, than this bombshell. She thought she had every right to believe Yang was out of her league, so she nearly leaped with joy when she matched with her.

Since then, she and Yang have had a few conversations. She learned that Yang goes to the gym frequently—as she could have surmised, has a younger sister named Ruby, really loves her family, and has broken her arm not one, but three times.

Weiss genuinely enjoyed texting with Yang, which excited her greatly. She wasted no time in inviting Yang to meet up in person, to which she agreed happily. Now, she waited, still a few minutes early, in a restaurant she and Yang agreed on to have lunch together.

The waiting around only served to make Weiss more anxious. She could not help it when the thought of being stood up crossed her mind.

Oh, God… I am such a wreck.

Weiss sighed as she rested her face in her palm and pulled out her phone. Without even meaning to, she opened up Yang’s profile and marveled at the many photos she had there.

Yang was just gorgeous in every way.

Weiss was so busy gawking at Yang’s photos that she nearly failed to see her sit down across from her. She hastily placed her phone, face down, on the table and met Yang’s lilac eyes with her own.

They’re even more captivating in person…

“Weiss! Hi!” Yang’s jovial voice greeted, “It’s nice to finally meet you in person! I’ve got to say, the pictures on your profile don’t do you justice. You look absolutely beautiful.”

Weiss nearly forgot to pick her jaw up from the floor and allowed a wide, genuine smile to grace her lips.

“Thank you! That’s so sweet of you, Yang. I was just thinking the same about you,” Weiss giggled as her cheeks heated up, slightly.

They had both decided semi-formal attire would be appropriate for this meeting, and Yang did not disappoint at all. She wore a bright sundress that was perfect for the beautiful day it was today and carried a small, yellow handbag to match.

“You’re early,” Weiss commented in an attempt to break the ice.

“So are you,” Yang smiled, brightly, “I wanted to make sure I didn’t keep you waiting, but I guess that didn’t happen.”

“Funny,” Weiss chuckled as she tucked a strand of her white hair behind her ear, “That’s why I got here early as well.”

“Oh! Well, that is very considerate of you, Weiss,” Yang chuckled, “Now, what do you say we order soon. I’m so hungry.”

“Same here,” Weiss agreed as she passed Yang a menu.

The two women looked through the menus for a few seconds before Yang smiled at Weiss again.

“I really love your dress,” Yang complimented, “I think it perfectly matches with your hair and really goes well with your eyes.”

Weiss felt herself blush and tried to hide her smile behind the menu, “Thank you! You are too kind.”

“Don’t hide your smile,” Yang chuckled as she set her menu down, “It’s one of the many things that add to your beauty.”

“Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever been complimented this much on a first date before,” Weiss smiled as she lowered her menu.

“I tell it how it is,” Yang shrugged.

The two talked for a while longer before the waiter came around to their table and gathered their orders. Not too long after, their food was on the table and they began to eat together. They talked the whole time, and Weiss found herself become more relaxed by Yang’s presence as time went by.

“So, there I was just sitting there with banana cream pie all over my face and in my hair. And these kids! I swear, they were ruthless. It was the last time I ever volunteer to fill in as a clown at a birthday party.”

Weiss struggled to keep herself from falling out of her seat from how hard she was laughing. She could feel tears building up at the corners of her eyes, and your abdomen was starting to ache.

“I’ve never met a kid who was capable of such evil,” Weiss wheezed as she clutched her stomach.

“They're about one in a million, to be honest. I think most kids are awesome,” said Yang, “But enough about me, I want to hear about the life of Weiss Schnee.”

“Oh! Um…” Weiss thought hard about something interesting she could tell Yang, “My best friend and I recently went to Spain for a vacation.”

“That sounds fun! What did you guys do there?”

“We mostly relaxed at the beaches,” said Weiss.

“Yeah, I’ve been to Spain too, but I didn’t get to stay there very long,” Yang explained, “I never got to see the beaches, either.”

“They were beautiful, but it was always crowded. My best friend thinks it was because there was some big MMA fight there at the time.”

“Oh, that’s a bummer,” Yang chuckled as she briefly looked off to the side, “Do you have a favorite color?”

“That’s an odd segue,” Weiss laughed, “But I guess I would say… either white or light-blue. What about you?”

“Yellow for sure,” Yang chuckled as she gestured to her attire.

Weiss giggled as she leaned forward on the table, “I don’t know what it is about you… You just make me feel so relaxed. I really needed this.”

Yang smiled warmly and folded her hands on the table, “I’m so glad to hear you say that. I’m having a great time getting to know you, Weiss.”

The whole restaurant shook as the door was bashed open.

“Everybody, stay in your seats!” a loud voice boomed.

Yang turned in her seat and watched as two men with knives walked into the restaurant.

“Everyone, just stay calm and put any money and valuables you have in the bag!”

Weiss froze as Yang looked between her and the man that was coming around to each table with a worn-out, burlap sack.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Weiss whispered as she tried her best to hide her purse under the table.

She was surprised to see Yang was unnaturally calm and simply waiting for the man to get to the table.

At last, the man was shaking his bag at Weiss.

“This is all I have,” said Weiss as she dropped a twenty-dollar bill into the sack.

The man curiously looked at Weiss through his black ski-mask, “Wait a second… You’re Weiss Schnee! You’re rich! You’ve got to be hiding something else!”

Without any further hesitation, Yang jumped out of her chair and sent her knee straight into the man’s stomach while grasping the hand with the knife in it. With another swift move, Yang disarmed him and struck his nose with a speedy hammer-fist.

“What the—” started the other man as he prepared his knife.

Yang was on top of him in seconds as she grasped his arm and landed two swift punches to his gut and one directly under his chin.

She dusted off her hands and stood over the two unconscious robbers as rapturous applause filled the establishment.

Weiss stood up with her jaw wide open, “What was that!”

Yang flinched and hastily turned to face Weiss as she scratched the back of her head, “Heh… Did I mention I’m a professional MMA fighter?”

Weiss closed her mouth and timidly held her arm, “You may have let that slip.”

Yang chuckled, uncomfortably as Weiss approached her.

“Yang, you’re bleeding!”

“What?” Yang asked as the cut on her forearm was suddenly made known to her as well as the few spots of red that dotted her dress, “Oh, man! My dress!”

Weiss scoffed and help up Yang’s arm, “You are literally bleeding and you’re worried about a dress.”

Yang waved the injury off, “Nothing a band-aid can’t fix.”

“No, what you need is a bandage and some gauze! This cut is deep! I’m calling an ambulance.”

Soon, the restaurant was surrounded by police cruisers and an ambulance. Weiss watched as Yang’s wound was tended to by a paramedic. As the paramedic finished up, Yang waved to him in thanks and found Weiss looking at her.

Weiss blushed and approached Yang, who was currently sitting on the curb near the front of the restaurant.

“Uh… Thanks for calling the ambulance. I actually could’ve lost a lot of blood,” said Yang, bashfully as Weiss sat down beside her.

“I wasn’t about to let you leave the place without proper treatment,” Weiss chuckled, “Does it hurt much?”

Yang held up her bandaged arm, “Nah, it’s not bad.”

A few moments of quiet settled on the two women as they watched the police haul away the robbers and the paramedics pack up their equipment.

“I’m sorry our date kind of fell apart,” Yang sighed.

“Are you kidding?” Weiss asked, incredulously, “This is the most fun I’ve had on a date ever. And, for what it’s worth, I thought you were very brave.”

Weiss swiftly pressed a soft kiss to Yang’s cheek, causing the latter to blush, lightly.

“It was no big,” Yang chuckled.

“So… A professional MMA fighter, hm?”

“Yeah…”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Weiss asked.

“In my experience with dating, I’ve found that being an MMA fighter is a major turnoff for most people… And I really wanted this date to go well, so I didn’t want to risk ruining things. I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you.”

“No, I understand completely,” said Weiss, “I wanted this date to go well, too, and I think, for the most part, it did. I hope we can do this again?”

Yang smiled, brightly, “I’d love that!”

“I’m glad to hear you say that,” Weiss laughed, “And, if it’s all the same to you, maybe you could save a seat for me at your next fight?”

Yang could not help herself and pulled Weiss into a big, strong hug.

“Bet on it.”