#everyone should be throwing flowers to nie mingjue

[songofclarity]

skdhhejdh i like to think there were gay men throwing flowers at nmj but wwx was just so caught up in his comp het that he only noticed that the women weren’t

Honestly, if you suggested that there were gay and straight men cheering Nie MingJue's name at the top of their lungs and/or throwing flowers to him, I would be inclined to believe you because I am all for it! The novel simply specifies the men were cheering while the women were just standing in closed-fist silence and letting their hearts burst with yearning and just, RIP them all but I’m different!

I’m getting the impression that people are treating my post/this situation as inclusion/exclusion of who was doing what along gender and sexual-orientation lines. Could an older gay man have thrown flowers to Nie MingJue? Absolutely! Could a little straight girl have thrown flowers to Nie MingJue? Of course! The author wrote it with generalized gender groups but having one or two or more people acting outside the norm wouldn’t be wrong! It happens in real life!

What I noticed was that Wei WuXian throwing a flower was not something that drew attention. Men throwing flowers isn’t apparently worth social commentary. What does make it stand out is that he throws a flower at the very unimpressed Lan WangJi, and no one wants to deal with them arguing right now -- because Wei WuXian throwing a flower to him, with their turbulent history, is perceived as teasing at best or mockery at worst.

But this is true for Nie MingJue as well: Nie MingJue looks heated as a solar flare so to see any delicate flowers fluttering about him would draw attention. To see any flowers would raise the question: who would be so bold!? Such a question would absolutely be of Wei WuXian’s interest, because Nie MingJue is indeed fearsome to behold, but Wei WuXian is not interested because he doesn’t see anything beyond the women holding back.

With that said, my “but I’m different” post is just playing on the grand scheme of things, because it was never defined that Nie MingJue didn’t receive any flowers. The main take-away, as I understood it, was that everyone else, from the Lan Sect to the Jiang Sect to the Jin Sect, was getting a torrential downpour of flowers while Nie MingJue, noticeably, did not.

When men who were high up on the list of cultivators entered, almost all of them couldn’t be spared from being showered with a faceful of flowery rain.

As the one ranked seventh, Nie MingJue, however, was an exception... even if the maidens could already feel their hearts bursting from their chests, clutching in their palms sweat-soiled flowers, they didn’t dare toss them out no matter what, afraid that they’d anger him and his saber hacked into the watching tower. However, many of the male cultivators who admired ChiFeng-Zun cheered for him. The cheers almost brought pain to the ears. (Ch. 69, ERS)

I love this because it’s a clear show-don’t-tell of what Wei WuXian identifies more clearly later on during empathy:

On Koi Tower, people came and went. Before Nie MingJue’s high viewpoint, the crowd parted again and again, with both sides nodding at him in respect, calling him “ChiFeng-Zun”. Wei WuXian thought, Such a show of extravagance is going to reach even the heavens. All these people both fear and respect Nie MingJue. There’s quite a few people who fear me, though not a lot who respect me. (Ch. 49, ERS)

The power Nie MingJue holds is unmatched! No one is throwing Nie MingJue flowers out of fear, but they respect/admire him so much they literally can’t shut up about it. Where he walks, the sea of people part. The power of the gods is being challenged. And dropping flowers on him might evoke the god-like wrath that made him MVP of the Sunshot Campaign.

Nonetheless, he still could very well have gotten a few flowers from anyone! But compared to how many flowers all the other top-ranking cultivators was getting, it was negligible. Nie MingJue’s aura and reputation precedes him. Even though we have evidence to show he means no harm towards innocent men, women, or children, people are still in fearful awe of him.

In closing, we should also bring up how if Nie MingJue isn’t getting a face full of flowers then Nie HuaiSang isn’t getting any secondary flowers either! Our boy came dressed to the nines, has rings on his fingers, has his fan in hand, has his saber for once, and he’s having a great time! But he, too, could do with more love in the flower department!

The Qinghe Nie are good men and deserve all the flowers from everyone is what I’m saying 🥺

#anon #asked from above #mdzs thoughts #mdzs quotes #nie mingjue #nmj is getting all the posts today apparently #i mean this in the nicest way possible #and as clearly as possible #everyone should be throwing flowers to nie mingjue #i don't care about gender or sexuality #or your zodiac sign #or what sect you're from or who you're voting for chief cultivator #or if you don't like pineapple on your pizza #or if you have pre-existing conditions #or are eligible for financial compensation #throw. flowers. to. nie. mingjue. #and flowers to nie huaisang as well he just wants nice things! #on another note i believe wwx is demi lol

[robininthelabyrinth]

i've been keeping a list of possible prompts for you and there's one i have no memory of adding that just says "courtesan nmj????" so i guess that's the prompt you're getting lmao

What Does the Fox Say - ao3

“Second Madame Nie!” a disciple shouted, rushing into her little garden. She didn’t recognize him, but he was solidly built and well-muscled like most of the others – truly, the Unclean Realm was a rapturous feast for one with eyes to see it. Yum, yum. “Second Madame Nie, I have bad news!”

Boo. She hated bad news: bad news meant she’d have to do something, usually, and right now she was seated very comfortably in a pleasant piece of sun in the garden path that’d been made up just for her and to her preferences, with her feet up on a chair and a full plate of fruit from the kitchen on the table in front of her just begging to be devoured, morsel by delicious morsel.

Her schedule was packed!

“I regret to tell you, but your husband has been killed!”

“Oh,” she said, frowning slightly. “Has he? How obnoxious of him.”

How unreliable. Men.

She sighed.

“Second Madame – Second Madame – you don’t understand!” The disciple was all red-eyed and weepy, which was a look she liked, especially in big, stout men like this. The salt added a bit of spice to the whole thing. “You must flee at once! He was killed by Sect Leader Wen in an act of outright aggression – Sect Leader Wen has declared war – the Wen sect is invading!”

She nodded and picked up another lychee to start peeling it. She’d get around to fleeing in her own time. As long as this Wen sect or whatnot was being led by a man, she wasn’t terribly concerned.

“They intend to wipe out the inheritance of Qinghe Nie! They will rip out the child in your belly!”

She hummed noncommittally. Really, how attached was she to having a child of her own? Really?

“They will slaughter civilians – execute Nie-gongzi –”

Her hands stilled.

“What,” she said, and the disciple took a step back automatically, proving that he, at least, had something more of a survival instinct than her late husband did. “Hurt my little meat bun? My darling rice roll? My savory zongzi?”

She stood up, diminutive height and over-large belly and frilly clothing doing absolutely nothing to diminish the vaguely menacing aura that darkened the sky around her. She bared her teeth.

“Who does this upstart Wen dog think he is?!”

The disciple blinked owlishly, but nodded, seeming relieved that she’d finally accepted his concern, though she could see on his face that he was thinking that her reasoning was – characteristically – a little strange. But then again, and she could see this thought process on his far too honest face, it was well known that the second Madame Nie been quite strange ever since Sect Leader Nie had found her in some lonesome place with no family or background and brought her back to be his new wife nevertheless.

Such a charming man. Pity about his loss, really.

“You have to flee at once, we can’t possibly fight so many people,” the disciple said once more, and this time she nodded in agreement. “We can escort you to a hidden exit –”

“No!” a little voice called. “We can’t go.”

She turned to look, and there was the little pork-and-shrimp dumpling himself, chubby-cheeked and earnest-eyed, looking as delicious as always.

“What do you mean, fish cake?” she asked. “Of course we have to go. Didn’t you hear what this strapping young man said? This Wen person wants to kill you!”

“If Father is dead, then I’m the sect leader,” her stepson said. He was serious and solemn in a way that made her want to pinch his cheeks and bury her face into his belly to blow raspberries, and also possibly to eat him right up, flesh and marrow and gristle and all. “That means it’s my responsibility to preserve the Nie sect.”

“Nie-gongzi, no!” the disciple cried, throwing himself to his knees in a dramatic display of loyalty. “You would only die – far better for you to run, and live!”

“Then isn’t the same true for everyone else?” the tasty little dish asked, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting. Possibly he was trying to put on a fierce expression, maybe, she couldn’t quite tell sometimes. He was so cute. “Why should I live, and them not? I refuse to buy my life with their deaths!”

“But – Nie-gongzi –”

Her charming little honey cake shook his head and held up a hand to stop the disciple, turning to look at her instead.

“Second Mother,” he said, and he had that wholesome trusting expression again that was such a perfect little one-shot-kill to the heart, ugh. “You always said you’re the best at hiding. The best in the world, no one better among all the gods or demons!”

She was, too. She couldn’t help but preen a little, proud.

“– can’t you do something?”

“Oh, darling cabbage bun,” she said, not without fondness. “I can hide myself from even the net of Heaven itself if I so choose, from gods and demons alike, and I can most certainly hide a small group from any mortal eyes that dare to look, if you don’t mind being a little tiny bit dishonorable about the business. But an entire sect? That’s a bit much, even for someone as talented and skilled as me.”

Her stepson looked up at her, all straight-steel sincerity and upright righteousness wrapped into a perfectly edible little snack-sized package. “If we split them up, the sect could be small groups,” he said eagerly. “Couldn’t you do something then?”

He was so cute, and he trusted her. He trusted her, believed in her, felt that she could perform miracles with a wave of her sleeve if only she so wished.

It was awful.

She couldn’t bear it.

“Oh all right, you nummy little slice of roast pork belly,” she said, yielding. “But I’m telling you now, it won’t be the least bit honorable! There’s only so many excuses you can come up with for having a lot of strong men with wide shoulders and women with thick thighs hanging around, and not a single one of them has the slightest bit to do with what you people consider to be appropriate.”

“That’s all right. Preserving human life comes first, always.”

The disciple looked between them, clearly completely confused. Clearly all his effort had been spent on developing the muscles in his arms (quite nice) rather than his brain (quite slow).

“What?” he said. “What’s happening?”

“We’re saving the sect,” Nie Mingjue announced happily, clapping his hands together. Too precious, too precious entirely; she’d have to make sure no one else even thought about going near her darling little snackling. “Tell everyone to prepare to evacuate.”

“That will take too long,” she said, and smiled, with teeth. “Let me call some friends to help.”

-

When the Wen sect arrived at the Unclean Realm, they found the gate open.

That was unexpected enough, but when they entered, they found that the entire place had emptied out – not just of people, but of everything else, too. There wasn’t a single intact chair or table in the entire place, not a scrap of cloth nor a bit of food, like it’d been swept clean by locusts or wild monkeys come to pilfer whatever they could.

Even the paving stones where arrays had been laid out by the Nie sect’s ancestors had been pried up and carted away.

Sect Leader Wen ordered a search, but there wasn’t any trace of it – of the people, of the stuff, anything.

No one ever found out what happened.

-

Jin Guangyao despised social events, he’d found.

It was one thing when it was something he’d planned himself, where the work was interesting enough to distract him, but when he was an honored guest for someone else…miserable. Utterly miserable.

The only thing more miserable was when the host was his erstwhile father, from whom he’d forcefully extracted recognition. With Wen Ruohan as his backer, indulging his favorite torturer as if a beloved pet, there wasn’t much Jin Guangshan could do to refuse, and neither could he force Jin Guangyao to do anything on his behalf, either. And so Jin Guangyao, sitting as always by Wen Ruohan’s side, right beneath his sons, was now an honored guest at his father’s house, getting offered his pick of prostitutes as if the man had no notion of the irony.

Maybe he didn’t. Jin Guangyao couldn’t quite tell if his father had just forgotten his origins, thinking his bastard son too unimportant to remember the details of, or whether it was meant as a deliberate insult – who could tell?

“Oh, right,” the simpering idiot in front of him, a nephew or cousin of some sort to the sect leader, said. “Our dear Jin Guangyao is known not to like the gentle flower queens, even when they come from the finest houses in Lanling. Isn’t that right, cousin?”

Jin Guangyao’s fists clenched. A deliberate insult, then.

Despite that, his face remained neutral. Instead, he chuckled and said, “The appeal is limited. After all, I have seen the best of them.”

Beside him, Wen Ruohan nodded and smirked. He appreciated Jin Guangyao’s devotion to his mother, though Jin Guangyao suspected it was because he thought it funny that Jin Guangyao would bother to honor such a lowly woman – but what he thought didn’t matter, not really. All that mattered was that he let Jin Guangyao pay his respects to her to his heart’s content.

“Well, you’re in luck!” the idiot Jin Zixun said, looking absurdly smug. “We have something of a different flavor than the usual tonight – we’ve invited entertainment from the local branch of Splendid Spring.”

Jin Guangyao barely managed to avoid rolling his eyes.

The Splendid Spring Palace was a series of brothels that had popped up fully formed just about everywhere some years back, with madams and girls and musicians and bodyguards of all sorts. It was so patently a political move that Jin Guangyao had barely bothered to pay attention to it once he’d become actually powerful, and Wen Ruohan hadn’t paid attention to it at all. After all, in the unlikely event that the business really was backed by a cultivation sect that didn’t care about its face any longer, anyone who needed to use such a façade to gather power was clearly beneath notice.

Jin Guangyao had paid only very little attention, but to different and unusual aspects of the place: by all accounts, they were surprisingly decent employers as far as places like that went. They didn’t steal girls or accept unwilling goods – they had some connection with the merchant caravans, or at least one of the companies that helped coordinate routes and provide protection to such things, and they were as meticulous about checking things over as they were about seeking refunds if they were dissatisfied – and they did accept married girls fleeing unhappy marriages, which not everyone did. They did buy up all the girls in the local markets wherever they were, but they swept them away and brought them back transformed, even the ones that wouldn’t sell because they were too ugly; Jin Guangyao assumed that meant they had people who were talented in make-up and clothing, since the usual rumors of the girls being blessed with a yao’s enchantment were obviously ridiculous and nothing more than the usual marketing gimmicks that brothels since time immemorial had tried.

Even once they had the girls in hand, the places were pretty decent: they had physicians on staff to help with the usual side effects of the business, made sure their girls were clean and healthy, and were said to even limit the number of customers a girl would be obliged to take on in a given evening…honestly, knowing as he did the brothel business, Jin Guangyao sometimes wondered how they’d managed to bespell enough people to even make money in the early days. At any rate, whatever they’d done, it’d worked, because by now they had a solid enough reputation to trade on.

In short: a decent enough place, far better than the usual run of the mill. Once he’d had the ability to do so, he’d even pulled a few strings and arranged for the better of his mother’s old compatriots to end up there, since he couldn’t convince them to leave their old professions behind entirely.

Anyway, if they also seemed to have a sideline in information brokering and assassinations, well, let them. In the cultivation world, where the only thing that mattered was strength, real strength.

A little thing like that wouldn’t make any real difference.

Or so Jin Guangyao had thought.

He found himself re-thinking that, though, when the entertainment in question came out. There were the usual set of attractive (albeit in a wider variety of shapes and sizes than usually seen) dancers, dressed up in silks that seemed actually high quality, and plenty of strapping young men carrying sabers – dancers as well, once assumed, to provide some spice to the entertainment, and implicitly on the offer for men who cut their sleeves or women with more flexibility, like widows or ones with especially permissive husbands. Wen Ruohan’s wives were in that latter category, and they were already whispering to each other excitedly, looking at them.

They’d even brought in the local madame, who was…

Well, she was actually breathtaking, even by Jin Guangyao’s extremely jaded standards. She had hair that fell almost all the way to her ankles, shimmering in the light, and dark eyes shining with liveliness, a smooth and ageless face that simultaneously suggested youth and health but also winked at knowable experience, the features characteristic of what his mother’s employers had called the ‘fox-face’. As if to emphasize that, the lady was wrapped in fox-fur and draped in embroidered brocade, with little stylized foxes running up and down the hems of her clothing and along the gazy silk draped on her shoulders.

It ought to have looked absurd, looked gaudy and overwrought and overdone, but it didn’t.

She was a thousand dreams of wealth and beauty and power and sex appeal all wrapped up in one, and even Jin Guangyao – who was in his personal preferences quite firmly a cutsleeve – couldn’t help but intrigued by her, wondering what it might be like to touch the hem of such a glorious creature.

And next to her…

The lady was accompanied by two men that seemed completely different from each other. One was a slender and winsome young man, fluttering his eyelashes from behind a fan with a charming smile, emanating the appeal of softness and weakness, ready to be indulged. While the other…

Jin Guangyao swallowed.

He was the exact opposite of the first man. Clearly strong, muscular and powerful, and tall to the point of towering, with wide shoulders and a narrow waist, a chest that you could lean your head against and an ass that begged to have someone’s hands on it – and there were his hands, big and broad, perfect for holding someone down or up if they so wished and of a size that was very promising as to what was only hinted at under his clothes. His face was hidden behind a veil as if he were a woman, marking him, like his comrade, as one of the available courtesans of the Splendid Spring, but his body was visible under clothing clearly cut to put it to the best advantage.

And oh, what advantages it had…!

“It seems we found something to the tastes of dear cousin Guangyao after all,” the idiot said mockingly, sniggering and snorting like the pig he was, and for once Jin Guangyao didn’t even care.

“Who’s the woman in front?” Wen Ruohan asked, ignoring their interplay. He seemed utterly fascinated, almost spellbound, and Jin Guangyao couldn’t blame him one bit. If this woman had been at the same brothel as his mother, there wouldn’t have even been room for jealousy or shame; his mother would have gone straight up to her to ask for some tips. “She seems…familiar, somehow.”

“That’s the madame of the Splendid Spring,” Jin Zixun said proudly, as if he’d done anything at all in relation to this – nonsense, of course. Everyone know which brothels were backed by the Jin sect, and Splendid Spring wasn’t one of them. He was acting as if he deserve a pat on the back just for the introduction! “That means she’s not for sale.”

His smile faded a little, twisting in a small bit of bitterness. “Or so she told my uncle, anyway…although I’m sure if it were Sect Leader Wen asking, the answer would undoubtedly be different.”

Probably because Jin Guangshan couldn’t slaughter prostitutes with impunity if they said no to him, whereas no one could stop Wen Ruohan from doing any damn thing he pleased.

Wen Ruohan grunted, pleased by the answer – he was a possessive man, in the rare events that he did exert himself in the realm of women, and there had been more than one instance where he’d stolen away some girl his sons had been eyeing first just for the joy of having had her first – and raised a hand, catching the lady’s eye and gesturing for her to come over, which she did.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

She laughed. “You can call me Hu Jiuwei. With the ‘Hu’ being the character for fox.”

Jin Guangyao tried not to choke. There were false names and then there were false names – the lady’s theme was already clearly related to foxes, given her fox-face and fox-fur lining and the foxes embroidered onto her robes. Was the over-the-top name really necessary?

“It’s a fake name,” she added, unnecessarily.

“I see,” Wen Ruohan said, sounding a little choked himself. Possibly it was the woman calling herself ‘Foxy Ninetails’ and then kindly reassuring them all that the name was false as if she thought them too dumb to figure it out that was tripping him up a little. Jin Guangyao couldn’t tell if she was doing it deliberately in order to make her frankly inhuman beauty a little less frightening, or maybe she was blessed with so much beauty that she hadn’t bothered to cultivate her brain at all. “Are you our entertainment for the evening?”

She smiled, and any complaints Jin Guangyao (or indeed Wen Ruohan) might have had about her intelligence faded away at once.

It was that type of smile.

You could wreck nations with that type of smile. Jin Guangyao couldn’t help but wonder: how had a woman this extraordinary ended up in a brothel, of all places? How had no one snatched her up to keep her all for himself before now?

“My sons and I –” she gestured at the two behind her, “– would be more than happy to provide you with all the entertainment you could possibly want.”

Her smile widened.

“We’ve been hoping for an opportunity like this for a long time.”

#mdzs #nie mingjue #second madame nie #jin guangyao #wen ruohan #my fic #my fics #what does the fox say

[abraxos-the-phantom]

Scum Disciple Deleted

-scenes. Here you go @vodkassassin. Unformatted and mostly unedited save for some awkward phrasing I fixed as I skimmed through it. I have a habit of merely taking out scenes rather than straight deleting them when I don't think they work out so if you see it on the fic shhh I probably just found a better place for it, but for the most part I think these are unused

TLJ + MF; Flashback/Illusion

[Log: File:Save_??-???.?.????.log]

“You know, for a man so keen on maintaining the preference of a dignified cultivator, you are fairly quick to disband such things as you see fit,” Tianlang-jun mused.

Ming Fan threw a dirty look to the former Overlord of the Demonic Realm over his bowl of beef stir fry lily bulbs. It was a specialty in this region, boasting a sweet lily bulb due to the length of time the farmers around the area spent cultivating the plant. In other words, it was delicious and a welcome change to the guilt trip galore that was eating Lou Binghe’s cooking.

Oh to eat that delicious snow congee without feeling the compulsion to throw it all back up-

Well, no use dwelling on such things.

“Most of anything could be considered vulgar when in close proximity to you,” Ming Fan quipped, taking a generous helping of the stir-fry between his chopsticks. “If you had as much sensibility as you had sensuality, I guarantee that people would be more fond of you. Unfortunately, it is too late for me.”

“Hoh? Is that so?” Tianlang-jun’s lips curled in a smirk in spite of the fact that Ming Fan had no interest looking his way, regardless of the other demon happened to do. Some odd five or so years have taught Ming Fan that there were times when the best move for dealing with the other was simply ignoring him.

Ming Fan maintained his bland tone as he briefly paused to speak, “Yes.”

Tianlang-jun shook his head, “Honestly. Are all disciples of Cang Qiong like you, or are you just the special one.”

Said disciple only gave Tianlang-jun a significant dirty look, “You’d have to actually behave yourself to get to know another disciple of Cang Qiong.”

“Eh,” the Heavenly Demon leaned back against his chair with his hands crossed behind his head. “Too boring.”

Ming Fan made a noncommitting sound as he finally ate the last of his order, letting out a satisfied sigh as he leaned back in his seat.

“Ming Fan, a question if you are so gracious enough to grant me such a thing.”

Ming Fan only raised a brow, “You may ask, whether I answer is not on the table.”

“Why?” Tianlang-jun paused as he attempted to think about his question. “Why do you maintain this relationship of ours? It’s not as if you’re on any obligation to maintain basic relations for a political reason, and you hardly ask me anything so you aren’t after my wisdom. With Lou Binghe going in and out Cang Qiong Sect, it’s not as if I can threaten your Sect any more than I could try and fight with my son.”

Ming Fan crossed his arms, humming for a moment tilting his head just enough to convey thoughtfulness he turned to look the demon lord in the eye, “If you were to be confronted with a former enemy of a war without meaning, what would you do?”

Tianlang-jun hummed, “I wouldn’t care.”

“Exactly,” Ming Fan pointed out. “Now what would you do if you discovered you were on the wrong side of that war?”

“…I still wouldn’t care.”

“Would you?” Ming Fan hummed, “Well, that’s your choice.”

“So is that all? You pity me?”

“Not quite,” Ming Fan shrugged, idly arranging the finish plate on the table. “More like my recompense of sorts.”

Tianlang-jun’s expression was unreadable as he stared, quietly adding, “You realize that I’ve killed hundreds of cultivators like you. Your age, younger- older. It didn’t matter, they were obstacles in my path and I removed them.”

“Of that I do not doubt, but these days- the line between righteous and mad is thin,” Ming Fan snorted. “I stand at the meager in-between myself. But what else can I do? I am but a mere mortal, attempting to right his wrongs.”

Ming Fan took a final sip at his tea, “Sometimes, that is all one can do without going well and truly mad.”

Tianlang-jun chuckled, “I suppose that’s true.”

The hours seemed endless after that, a moment in time felt like hundreds upon billions as the two simply- existed.

“So,” Tianlang-jun said after an eternity’s moment. “What are you doing here Little Cultivator?”

Ming Fan blinked, “Is this not one amongst our many meetings?”

The world seem to blur around him like ink amongst a pool of water. Fading into implied images as the sky and trees distorted. The sounds of the earth quieted to a hushed whisper. Ming Fan’s eyes casted around in confusion as the lively village dulled into a dead silence.

“It isn’t,” Tianlang-jun leaned back, smirking. “You’ve spent so long with me that I am now here with you- in limbo. I’m flattered Fan-er.”

Ming Fan narrowed his eyes, scowling, before looking away, “Definitely. Tianlang-jun never called me that to my face.”

Ming Fan twisted away from the…demon for some time to think.

TLJ + MF - Actual Flashback

“You look like you went a round and three more with a golem,” Tianlang-jun tsked at him.

“Are you going to lecture me about coming out while I look like I lost against said golem or are you going to sit your ass down and have some tea like we agreed?” Ming Fan snapped, wincing as he sat.

Tianlang-jun whistled wolfishly. “Why, I never took that War God to be the kinky type.”

“Don’t be so obscene,” Ming Fan rolled his eyes. “He landed me flat on my ass almost a dozen times. Of course sitting down would be a pain.”

“You know there’s this flower that-“

“No.”

“But I hurt just looking at you,” Tianlang-jun whined like a particularly annoying brat. “One tiny little adventure to look for a flower that heals bruises instantly, it’s a Lotus of a blue hue, I hear those people from the far West have been using it for some time.”

“And then Liu Qingge will have me spar against him, again, and this hellish circle will repeat itself. I am only saved by the fact that my cultivation is not as advanced as one of a Peak Lords, otherwise I would be healed by the end of the week and my pain begins anew,” Ming Fan shook his head. “I appreciate your concern, I really do, but no.”

“Aww, well since you’re being so polite about it…” Tianlang-jun sighed and sipped from the tea. “Mn- this is good. Where did you get it?”

“Shang-shishu taught me how to prepare lemon tea before the fruits go out of season, apparently there is a sweetened-cold version of this as well, but he has yet to refine the technicalities of the ingredients. I worry for him, he always seems so busy.”

“He looks like a rodent who accidentally ate a pepper, though I suppose in this case it would be a block of ice what with Mobei-jun being his lover and all.”

“I did wonder how that happened, and worried a brief time. An Ding Peak’s disciples had said that their master would occasionally come home bruised and barely able to walk, they were rearing to go to war with the Northern Demons far before everything else happened.” Ming Fan sighed, “Well, it isn’t any of my business. I’m sure they’re dealing with the situation in their own way.”

“True that, those An Ding Peak children…physically they are weak, but it is always the weaker ones that surprise you the most. Especially when angry,” Tianlang-jun smiled as he mused. “Afterall, hornets don’t seem like much at first glance. That Mobei-jun has his work cut out for him, ah, speaking of. What of those two? Surely the boy is tip-toeing these days.”

“He tends to keep to the bamboo house, and we tend to stay far away from the bamboo house, especially at night.” Ming Fan raised his hand to drink. “That is all I will say of the matter.”

Ming Fan sighed, rubbing a hand against his eyes, “I am getting far too old for this.”

“Oh please, you’re not even a century old.”

“Hm, and yet somehow I am still significantly more mature than you. Have you reached the regression stage of life Tianlang-jun? I must say, I’m rather peeved that it’s a mental deterioration rather than a physical one for you demons.”

“Hoh?” Tianlang-jun leaned forward, smirking. “Wish to test how youthful I can be Little Cultivator?”

Ming Fan raised a hand idly pointing at the silks of Tianlang-jun’s clothes, startling the heavenly demon as he wondered just what the other had found on his clothes.

Then Ming Fan flicked up, hitting the former Demon Lord up the lip and under the nose, causing Tianlang-jun to recoil, sputtering from the unjust attack. The audacity.

“I’m sure you’d at least warm the bed,” He deadpanned, sipping at his tea without a care as Tianlang-jun sputtered indignantly.

NMJ/MF - Original Re-meeting for ch 52; added here for my convenience (cus i don't wanna make another post)

“Gather everyone who can fight!” One voice called. “Sect Leader Nie is being surrounded by a pack of hell hounds! They need help.”

Ming Fan was out and running before anyone could even blink- with only Liu Qingge and Tianlang-jun holding enough time to react by following him.

-

“Shit-“ Mingjue cursed, swinging around Bàxià to hurl one attacking hound over to the side. “Meng Yao- you alright?!”

“Could use-” Meng Yao grimaced as he had to back off to avoid the snapping jaws of another hound. “Some help.”

“Reinforcements should be on the way!” Mei Lin cursed venomously under her breath. “Just where the hell did all these damned dogs come from?!”

“We’re being overrun!” Lang Fengyi yelped as he narrowly avoided claws.

“Fuck-“ Mingjue gathered his energy, willing it to fill him once more. “Get ready to run! I should be able to distract them long enough to-“

“Don’t worry about that.”

The disciples of Nie turned to find a man arrogantly walking through the field, the hounds yipping in fear and running from him, as well as another man clad in white and silver who eyed the hounds back.

Tianlang-jun stood before the disciples of Qinghe Nie with a bright smile, “Relax now, everything will be fine.”

Liu Qingge huffed, drawing his sword, “Says you. We have to make sure he’s not overworking himself remember?”

There was a distant rumbling- an ominous presence that washed over them to the point where all the hounds began to shudder and shake in fear as they too yipped around fearfully.

Descend with great speed. Swift and merciless. Run my enemies. Leave none left alive. May death greet you well.

Formation formed.

Ming Fan dropped his sword with militaristic precision, tilting all the swords generated by his power towards the ground in varying angles.

Heavenly Wrath Formation.

Tianlang-jun looked up in the surprise, “Don’t tell me that’s-“

“It is,” Liu Qingge scowled.

“Who-“ Nie Mingjue began- before all hell broke loose.

Liu Qingge’s expression was thunderous as he swept past rows of demonic hounds, tilting on hand and waiting-

Another man dropped from the sky not a second later, catching Liu Qingge’s robes and righting him before swinging his legs on the man’s waist to get around and jab another hound in the back- Tianlang-jun was swift to join the fray, allowing the shorter cultivator to move around him to get at all the lucky hounds who managed to move away from Ming Fan’s deadly aim fast enough.

While Tianlang-jun added to the deadly partnership with his own flare, it was the pair of Ming Fan and Liu Qingge that showed the obvious years of partnership between them- for the two had years of spars and night hunts to guide their blades where they need be.

Heads flew, limbs joining them as the immortals of Cang Qiong Sect and Tianlang-jun of the Heavenly Demon Line slaughtered the feared and the rowdy- leaving those of Qinghe Nie in awe.

“..Wei…” Meng Yao said, knees beginning to grow weak. “Wei Fan?!”

The man abruptly froze, glancing towards their direction before seeming to move on instinct- the War God sensing the sudden change and using his arm to propel him outward, allowing the man to fly across the air and land his sword true through the skull of the hell hound that was just about to take a chunk from Nie Mingjue’s side.

Ming Fan, not upset as he was, barked at them venomously, “Just what do you think you’re doing?! Fucking move! You’re in a battle field! Fight damn you! Are you not of Qinghe Nie?!”

“Teacher Wei!” Mei Lin cried- openly actually, crying.

“Oh for the love of-“ Ming Fan cursed. “I’ll take your crying and yelling and cursing later, lift your sabres and fight!”

“Xiao-Fan!”

Ming Fan turned, grunting as he launched his sword in the Heavenly Demon’s direction and skewering the hound. “What?!”

“Lower your blood pressure!”

Ming Fan felt his blood pressure rise out of sheer spite. “Fuck you!”

“A-Fan,” Liu Qingge growled. “You just performed one of the most powerful formations while silent. Calm down.”

“I can’t!” Ming Fan caught himself with a scowl. “But I’m not upset!”

“For the love of-“ Liu Qingge turned to Tianlang-jun. “Can you handle the rest?”

“Yeah I got it,” Tianlang-jun batted away a hound with his bare fist. “Just take care of our pissed off little horse first.”

Liu Qingge wasted no time, grabbing the now fuming Ming Fan, his nose beginning to trickle with a line of blood and generally causing the already shocked disciples of Qinghe Nie to panic.

“Hey,” Liu Qingge’s voice was soft as it was firm. “Calm down. Calm. That’s not a request.”

“I’m trying,” Ming Fan hissed. “You try doing this in the middle of battle.”

“Alright back up plan,” Liu Qingge turned to the still shocked Nie Mingjue. “You. Make yourself useful. He needs a distraction.”

“Wha-“

Liu Qingge shoved Ming Fan into Nie Mingjue, the taller man abruptly catching the man by the waist to steady him before something else caused him to loose balance.

Forgot one: Deleted Extra feat. Yang Yixuan + MF; written with it's og formatting since notes preserved my italics somehow

Cold wind swept past the ravine.

Shaking trees and rustling branches provided the background noise for the twittering creatures who lived in the back mountains. Within this quiet land was a surrounding of high elevation mountains spanning all around the mountain side.

There, Ming Fan sat quietly. Watching the creatures bellow- there were no humans for miles save for those few people within the Ancient Sect, and they were hardly just human anymore.

“So, you’ve finally decided to get off your ass.”

Ming Fan stiffened.

Yang Yixuan’s arms were cross across his breast, idly looking down from the view of Qing JIng Peak.

The landscape had changed much since Ming Fan had last come here, it was greener. With the trees far taller than when Ming Fan had last seen them, the older trees cut down by the ravages of war and time- but new ones taking their place. The silence too, was new. With no disciples Cang Qiong Mountain was a far quieter place than it had been during the height of its Sect Years. Some ascended, some peacefully settling into their next life, and some sticking around. Going to and fro the place carrying out errands and enacting a firm hand where the average Cultivator could not handle. The war had put a damper on such things, what with their stance of neutrality, bu it was no less somewhat of a sobering surprise that those of Cang Qiong Mountain had seen what was happening and judged it would be better to remain quiet.

He knew why of course, it was more practical in the long run for a mythical Sect, they were not here to force the future into their own hands- merely to counter the monsters of the yester years. Still. He wondered.

“You’re thinking so loud I could practically here it,” the former head disciple of Bai Zhan peak, the former Peak Lord himself, continued with a raised brow. “You’re normally quick to empty your mind and dump it onto others.”

Ming Fan scoffed softly, “Normal is a poor basis to use to pass judgement at the moment, even a Bai Zhan Peak buffoon like you should realize such.”

“…”

Ming Fan pursed his lip, anger simmering.

Settle.

Settle.

Settle.

“I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.” He said softly, allowing his fist to slack from their death-like grip.

“You just lost your brohter,” Yang Yixuan said bluntly. “You were a raving asshole when Liu-shifu dragged you here. Pretty much spat at Luo Binghe’s feet and insulted just about everyone.”

Ming Fan restrained the urge to flinch at every word.

“I’d be more than a little troubled if you didn’t act like that after losing your brother.” Yang Yixuan continued with a shake of his head. “It’s good to know that our illustrous Ming Fan is still a human.”

“Have I not proven that time and time again?”

“Dunno,” Ming Fan turned his head, the Bai Zhan Peak’s former sole disciple’s voice turning uncharacteristically soft. “You were doing a pretty good impression of acting like an immortal before.”

#Scum Disciple's Adventures Into the Unknown World #SDAUW #BTS I guess #Are there actually behind the scenes for writing idk #I'll see if I have time to write one since I do have a lot of notes from when i planned this fic #and maybe some bits of the history referenced in SDAUW #MDZS x SVSSS Fanfic #One that is tbh really out there in terms of concept ngl lol #Scum Disciple BTS

[jiangwanyinscatmom]

The funniest thing is JIANG CHENG HAD MULTIPLE CHANCES TO DO THE RIGHT THING but every time his jealousy and resentment towards wwx won. Are we gonna forget that his jealousy for wwx is the main thing that jin sect used to separate wwx from a little "support" he had left

Whuuuut? But he tried so hard during the biggest turning point! 🥺

Jiang Cheng’s brows were knitted. He rubbed the vein that throbbed at his temple and soundlessly took in a deep breath, “… I apologize to all of the Sect Leaders. Everyone, I’m afraid you don’t know that the Wen cultivator whom Wei WuXian wanted to save was called Wen Ning. We owe him and his sister Wen Qing gratitude for what happened during the Sunshot Campaign.”

Nie MingJue, “You owe them gratitude? Isn’t the QishanWen Sect the ones who caused the YunmengJiang Sect’s annihilation?”

Within the last few years, Jiang Cheng insisted on working late into the night every day. That day, just as he decided to rest early, he had to rush to Koi Tower overnight because of the thundering news. He’d been suppressing some anger under his fatigue since the beginning. With his natural competitiveness, he was already quite agitated since he had to apologize to other people. When he heard Nie MingJue mention the incident of his sect again, hatred sprouted within him.

The hatred was directed at not only everyone who was seated in this room, but also Wei WuXian.

Lan XiChen responded a moment later, “I have heard of Wen Qing’s name a few of times. I do not remember her having participated in any of the Sunshot Campaign’s crimes.”

Nie MingJue, “But she’s never stopped them either.”

Lan XiChen, “Wen Qing was one of Wen RuoHan’s most trusted people. How could she have stopped them?”

Nie MingJue spoke coldly, “If she responded with only silence and not opposition when the Wen Sect was causing mayhem, it’s the same as indifference. She shouldn’t have been so disillusioned as to hope that she could be treated with respect when the Wen Sect was doing evil and be unwilling to suffer the consequences and pay the price when the Wen Sect was wiped out.”

Lan XiChen knew that because of what happened to his father, Nie MingJue abhorred Wen-dogs more than anything, especially with how intolerable he was toward evil. Lan XiChen didn’t say anything else.

But he's such a wonderful diplomat, who had no way of protecting his brother. Curious how he doesn't expand on what he means by that debt and just lets the hate about the Wens take over even though Lan Xichen tried to get more information even though it would have helped to show Wei Wuxian was not power hungry.

Taking this opportunity, Jin GuangShan spoke, “Sect Leader Jiang, this was supposed to be a matter of your sect. It wouldn’t have been appropriate for me to barge in. But now that things are like this, I’ll have to caution you on the topic of Wei Ying.”

Jiang Cheng, “Sect Leader Jin, go ahead.”

Jin GuangShan, “Sect Leader Jiang, Wei Ying is your right-hand man. You value him a lot. All of us know this. However, on the other hand, it’s hard to tell whether or not he actually respects you. In any case, I’ve been a sect leader for so many years and I’ve never seen the servant of any sect dare be so arrogant, so proud. Have you heard what they say outside? Things like how during the Sunshot Campaign the victories of the YunmengJiang Sect were all because of Wei WuXian alone—what nonsense!”

Hearing this, Jiang Cheng’s face was already quite dark. Jin GuangShan shook his head, “In an event as important as the Flower Banquet, he dared throw a fit right in front of you, leaving however he pleased. He even dared say something like ‘I don’t care about the sect leader Jiang WanYin at all!’ Everyone who was there heard it with their own ears…”

Suddenly, an indifferent voice spoke up, “No.”

Jin GuangShan was in the middle of his fabrication. Hearing this, he paused in surprise, turning along with the crowd to see who it was.

Lan WangJi sat with his back straight, speaking in a tone of absolute tranquility, “I did not hear Wei Ying say this. I did not hear him express the slightest disrespect towards Sect Leader Jiang either.”

Lan WangJi rarely spoke when he was outside. Even when they debated cultivation techniques during Discussion Conferences, he only answered when others questioned or challenged him. With utmost concision, he overcame, without fault, the lengthy arguments of others. Apart from this, he almost never spoke up. And thus, when Jin GuangShan was interrupted by him, he experienced a far greater shock than annoyance. But after all, his fabrication was exposed right in front of so many. He felt a bit awkward.

The good thing was that, not long after he felt awkward, Jin GuangYao came to save the day, exclaiming, “Really? That day, Young Master Wei busted into Koi Tower with such force. He said too many things, one more shocking than the next. Perhaps he said a few things that were along those lines. I can’t remember them either.”

His memory could only be equal to Lan WangJi’s, if not better. As soon as he heard it, Nie MingJue knew that he was fibbing on purpose, frowning slightly.

Jin GuangShan followed the transition, “That’s right. Anyhow, his attitude has always been arrogant.”

One of the sect leaders added, “To be honest, I’ve wanted to say this since a long time ago. Although Wei WuXian did a few things during the Sunshot Campaign, there are many guest cultivators who did more than him. I’ve never seen anyone as full of themselves as him. Excuse my bluntness, but he’s the son of a servant. How could the son of a servant be so arrogant?”

He never believed at all what Jin Guangshan was saying, and he was only jealous because Wei Wuxian always overshadowed him and shouldn't have. Wei Wuxian only ever cared about showing off like he said and never took Jiang Cheng's feelings into account and cruelly ignored him for everyone else. Obviously Jiang Cheng wanted to stand up for Wei Wuxian like Mianmian and Lan Wangji, but he had no power (never mind that Lan Wangji and Mianmian had a lesser position in all of this and despite being mocked tried to be heard and keep Wei Wuxian from being blackened). What? Noooo, he's not at all buying into what Jin Guangshan is saying about his own first disciple he's always expressed faith in Wei Wuxian.

With him having brought up the ‘son of a servant’, naturally there’d be some who connected it to the ‘son of a prostitute’ standing in the hall. Jin GuangYao clearly noticed the unkind stares. Yet, his smile remained perfect, not at all faltering. The crowd went with the flow and voiced their complaints.

“In the beginning, Sect Leader Jin asked Wei Ying for the Tiger Seal with nothing but good intentions, worried that he wouldn’t be able to control it and lead to a disaster. He, however, used his own yardstick to measure another’s intents. Did he think that everyone is after his treasure? What a joke. In terms of treasures, is there any sect that doesn’t hold a few treasures?”

Ignoring the rioting voices behind him, Lan WangJi stood up as well and exited. After Lan XiChen understood what happened a few moments ago, hearing how the direction of their discussion worsened, he spoke up, “Everyone, she is gone already. Let us settle down.”

Now that ZeWu-Jun had spoken, of course the people had to give him some face. In Golden Pavilion, one after another, they began to denounce Wei WuXian and the Wen-dogs again. They all spoke with passionate hatred, letting their indiscriminate, irrefutable loathing dance in the air. Using the atmosphere, Jin GuangShan turned to Jiang Cheng, “He’s been plotting for a while to go to Burial Mound, hasn’t he? After all, with his skills, it wouldn’t be too hard to set up a sect of his own. And so, he used this as a chance to leave the Jiang Sect, intending to do whatever he pleases in the bright skies outside. You rebuilt the YunmengJiang Sect with so much work. He’s got a few controversial traits in him to begin with, and still he doesn’t restrain himself, stirring up so much trouble for you. He doesn’t care about you at all.”

Jiang Cheng pretended to stand his ground, “That probably isn’t that case. Wei WuXian has been like this ever since he was young. Even my father couldn’t do anything about him.”

Jin GuangShan, “Even FengMian-xiong couldn’t do anything about him, huh?” He chuckled a few times, “FengMian-xiong just favored him.”

Hearing the words ‘favored him’, the muscles beside the corners of Jiang Cheng’s mouth twitched.

Jin GuangShan continued, “Sect Leader Jiang, you’re not like your father. It’s just been a couple of years since the reestablishment of the YunmengJiang Sect, precisely when you should be displaying your power. And he doesn’t even know to avoid suspicions. What would the Jiang Sect’s new disciples think if they saw him? Don’t tell me you’d let them see him as their role model and look down on you?”

He spoke one sentence after another, striking the iron while it was still hot. Jiang Cheng spoke slowly, “Sect Leader Jin, that’s enough. I’ll go to Burial Mound and deal with this.”

Jin GuangShan felt satisfied, speaking in a sincere tone, “That’s the spirit. Sect Leader Jiang, there are some things, some people that you shouldn’t put up with.”

After the gathering ended, all of the sect leaders felt that they received a terrific topic for conversation. They walked quickly as they discussed with all their might, their passionate hatred still burning strong.

No this is not Jin Guangshan taking advantage of Jiang Cheng's well known complexes over his dad and Wei Wuxian. He is not using the fact at all that Jiang Cheng hates that people flock to Wei Wuxian naturally to set off Jiang Cheng's complex about being seen as lesser than Wei Wuxian in anyway. Jiang Cheng was powerless after all to stand up for Wei Wuxian's reputation and help.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #lol two prides #at this point Jiang Cheng made it clear his sect leader reputation was what he cared about

[nillegible]

[Deleted* Scene from Stay, the Meng Yao time travel fic. Because I decided that the trope is a little Too Much for this particular story, but I do like cheesy things, so here it is. (*as in, I dismissed the idea almost instantly, but it wanted to be written, so here it is)]

“Da-ge,” says Nie Huaisang and Nie Mingjue looks up. The words ‘why aren’t you at saber practice?’ die on his lips when he sees the expression on Nie Huaisang’s face.

“Huaisang, what happened?”

“Da-ge, I got a. Wangji-xiong wrote me a letter.”

Nie Mingjue tenses. Last he knew, Lan Wangji was collaborating with Wei Wuxian. “If he wishes you to experiment with demonic cultivation, the answer is no. You are forbidden from attempting any-”

“It’s not that! It’s Xichen-ge, he- He’s fine! Da-ge nothing happened to him!” the last part is nearly yelled out, and Nie Mingjue does not know what his face had done to prompt the quick assurance, but the sheer icy terror for that one moment, when he thought that Xichen had died has his heart clenching painfully still, even with Huaisang waving his hands apologetically.

He sits back down, heavily. “Just tell me what it is, Huaisang.” Anything would be better than learning that his best friend was dead, or injured.

“During a night hunt, they found the half-eaten remains of a rogue cultivator,” says Huaisang. Nie Mingjue doesn’t like how this is going. “Xichen-ge.. from the hair ornaments, and the handwriting on the talismans – there was not much else to identify him with – he thinks that the cultivator was Meng Yao.”

Oh.

“What could have…” he trails off. It does not matter what sort of monster had finally killed Meng Yao, not when Huaisang just shrugs, lips pressed together the way he does when he’s trying not to tear up. Meng Yao had been one of Huaisang’s dearest friends once.

Nie Mingjue holds his arms open, and his brother accepts the hug, throwing himself into his arms silently. He doesn’t say a single word, but the silent tears against his shoulder are accusing.

Why didn’t you check up on him?

Why didn’t you invite him to come back?

How could you let him die, all alone?

“Wangji says that Xichen-ge is taking it very hard. He asks if you would go to him,” says Huaisang, voice thick.

Nie Mingjue nods against his brother’s hair. He will go, and he will apologize to Lan Xichen for counseling him against accepting Meng Yao into his own clan, or claiming him as a sworn brother. Not because he thinks that it was the wrong decision, but if he takes responsibility then maybe Lan Xichen would feel less guilt.

“I will visit him,” he says.

“I want to come too,” says Huaisang.

“Huaisang?”

“I know you were angry with him, but he didn’t… I want to say goodbye. They’re holding a service for him.”

“He did terrible things,” Nie Mingjue says. This is not the first time his brother has pled Meng Yao’s case in his absence. The words feel off this time, knowing that he’s no longer speaking ill of a wandering cultivator and ex-Nie… but a dead man.

“And some really great things, too,” Huaisang says firmly. “I want to come with you.”

(Huaisang always gets what he wants.)

*

The memorial is held at the place where Meng Yao died. Someone – the Lan, most likely - have cleaned up, have brought flowers and lamps to light the way of a spirit that could have gotten lost in its final moments of distress.

Nie Mingjue can see remnants of the battle, anyway, in the felled trees, gouges in the wood of several others. A broken Lan arrow that was not retrieved, shining with its distinctive fletching from where it lies discarded on the ground.

While the elders set out a soul-calming array, others leave offering at a small memorial. Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang approach that small cluster of people, intending to leave their own offerings there, and to light some incense for Meng Yao.

When people make room for them to approach, Nie Mingjue finally sees the painting that forms the center of the memorial.

It is in Xichen’s hand, Meng Yao’s likeness brought perfectly to life, warm and smiling, cheek dimpling with mirth. Nie Mingjue’s hand shakes faintly as he forces himself to move. The bottles of expensive Nie perfume suddenly feel cold and impersonal, as he lays them down among the other offerings.

It has been… years, since Nie Mingjue remembered his ex-deputy this way. He’s been remembering him in Wen-flame robes or in Qin-sect blue, even though he knows that Meng Yao had been a spy, and then banished from Qin sect. He’s been remembering him with an unnaturally fixed smile and aged eyes that seem to pass over everything, like Meng Yao was no longer here.

What didn’t I see? he wonders, faced with Meng Yao as he had been. Before the war, before the Wens, before Langya.

The Meng Yao on this memorial is not the one who had died here, he’d died long before… but Nie Mingjue realizes he’d not cared to see it, at the time.

Nie Huaisang tugs his sleeve lightly, and Nie Mingjue allows himself to be led away. Of course. There are more people to leave offerings for Meng Yao. He watches politely as strangers leave offerings. A regretful looking Qin Cangye and his daughter, as well as several of their disciples light incense, and then form a small group of just themselves, at the edge of the gathering.

Apparently Nie Mingjue is not the only one who feels guilty, today.

The air of the congregation tenses when Jin Zixuan and Jin Zixun arrive to pay their respects, but for once the latter does not pick a fight, and Jin Zixuan is perfectly polite even though he’s visibly uncomfortable about being here. It was no secret that Jin Guangshan had resented his bastard turning his offer down.

(Why? Meng Yao, your ambition… why didn’t you join Jin sect? Nie Mingjue knew better than to believe that nonsense about feeling it disloyal to reject Sect Leader Qin’s generosity. But he had never challenged it, had never asked Meng Yao what changed. And now he’d never know.)

Once the crowding at the memorial thins out, Lan Xichen kneels before it, guqin out, and everyone falls silent as the haunting notes of Inquiry begin.

(Nie Mingjue recognizes one repeating series of notes, can hear every time that Lan Xichen plays Meng Yao, because Meng Yao had played it for him and Huaisang one evening, shortly before the battles turned for the worst. Back when they could afford an evening to themselves, to comfort Nie Huaisang before he had to be hidden away in the Cloud Recesses again, he’d shown them what Sect Leader Lan had taught him, while he was hiding him. “See? This is Meng Yao,” he’d said, and played it quickly, Meng Yao, Meng Yao, Meng Yao, Meng Yao, making Huaisang giggle, and try it out for himself, while Nie Mingjue watched in amusement.)

Every time that Xichen’s fingers still on the guqin, there’s only eerie silence, no spirit taking the chance to fill in, to answer Lan Xichen’s call. Nie Mingjue watches in silence until Lan Qiren sets a hand on Lan Xichen’s shoulder, bringing his music to an end.

“The Soul-Calming array is complete. If he does not wish to answer us, we should proceed,” he says. There’s something gentle in his usually stern voice, something edged with fear. Once this is over, Nie Mingjue has to find Lan Xichen. He must be taking it even worse than he appears, to frighten his uncle so.

He’s relieved when Lan Xichen looks up at them and rather than react with anger, joins them. He’s carefully sandwiched between Nie Mingjue on one side and a dutiful Wangji on the other, while the calming ritual is completed. For once, his face is as jade-like and expressionless as his brother’s beside him.

For Xichen’s sake, at least, Nie Mingjue mourns Meng Yao’s passing.

(He’s lying to himself. There’s just something about this, about knowing that Meng Yao, that bright workaholic with plans upon plans for every contingency, could be felled like this. Alone, and with no back up, that makes the whole world feel off-kilter.

The Nie die alone in the raging madness of qi-deviation, but even then they are not alone.

He’s never had backup, a voice like Huaisang’s chimes in his head. Da-ge, no one’s ever had his back. Not even you.)

*

He leaves Huaisang in the care of the other Nie disciples, and spends the night at Lan Xichen’s, letting him play piece after piece, and never pointing out that these are not cultivation scores but Gusu-Lan story songs. Nie Mingjue can guess why Lan Xichen is playing these today. Guess who heard them last, from Xichen’s clever fingers.

*

Lan Wangji is missing the next morning, and Nie Mingjue feels a stab of irritation that he would leave when Lan Xichen is so fragile. In his place, though, Nie Huaisang sticks to the Lan Sect Leader’s side, never allowing him a moment’s peace.

Xichen accepts the coddling with a faint smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, and by sneaking an extra sweet onto Nie Huaisang’s plate when they take tea, later.

Nie Mingjue’s tentative, “Can we talk, Xichen?” is met with a tired, “There’s nothing to say, Mingjue-xiong. Please. I cannot say it aloud again,” and Nie Mingjue doesn’t try again.

*

Three weeks later, an aide rushes into his office to tell him that Sect Leader Lan had arrived without warning. Worried, Nie Mingjue rushes to the entrance to meet him.

There’s pure unbridled joy on Lan Xichen’s face, but it’s the smaller figure at his side that stops Nie Mingjue in his place.

“Meng Yao?”

“I’m not dead, Sect Leader Nie,” he says, smiling.

“I am glad,” says Nie Mingjue, and it’s the absolute truth.

He ushers them into his office to speak in private, after sending an aide to fetch Huaisang, and hears a quiet, “Did Sect leader Nie always have dimples?” behind him, that makes Lan Xichen laugh out loud before he stifles it. Nie Mingjue throws them an injured look over his shoulder, but at the matching laughing grins that face him, he can’t help but smile, and turns away quickly so as not to give them proof.

*

It turns out that it was a case of mistaken identity. The man was a rogue cultivator, one that Meng Yao had traded talismans and a hair piece, for a small, deadly dagger that he now shows them.

“Imagine my surprise when I hear that I had died,” he laughs, but Nie Mingjue thinks there’s something weary within it.

“I am glad that Wangji and Wei Wuxian found you,” says Lan Xichen. Then, softer, gentler, “I’m glad they knew to look.”

Why didn’t you come to us? he means, though he does not say so outright. Why would you let us think you had died?

“I did not know you cared,” says Meng Yao, answering the unspoken questions. “I thought it would be easier to let you think me gone. That we would all get new beginnings.”

“Where would you have gone?” asks Nie Mingjue.

“Dongying,” says Meng Yao, eyes bright like it’s significant. Nie Mingjue doesn’t know why that makes Meng Yao laugh so hard, but it takes him a moment to compose himself.

“Meng Yao, Lan Xichen,” says Nie Mingjue before he can change his mind. “Would you be my sworn brothers?”

He gets two surprised looks, one more so than the other. “Sect Leader Nie,” he says. “Why? What do you want from me, that you’d? I don’t…”

“I don’t want you to go,” says Nie Mingjue honsetly. “You don’t have to do anything for us, but…” Don’t just vanish, for months at a time. It’s unsettling, when you’re missing. “Please stay,” he says.

Meng Yao turns to Lan Xichen, as if asking him to disagree. “I have already told you my mind on this, Meng Yao. In my mind, you were already my younger brother,” says Lan Xichen.

There’s a long silence, in which Meng Yao’s smile turns brittle again. He’s going to say no, thinks Nie Mingjue, and didn’t expect to feel as disappointed as he does at that.

“Okay,” says Meng Yao, smiling. “Okay, Da-ge, Er-ge. This time, I’ll stay.”

#alternate universe: time travel #au of my jgy time-travel au #meng yao #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #lan xichen #cw: temporary suspected character death

[henshengs]

Hunger Games AU Part 9

previous parts

or read the whole thing on ao3

They descend in the elevator. Nie Mingjue stands at Meng Yao’s shoulder, vibrating with arousal and undirected rage, and it’s uncomfortable and a little terrifying, but the way he’s standing between Meng Yao and the Wens is protective and Meng Yao is grateful for it, the sick anxious gratitude of a dog who knows he is about to bite the hand giving him a charitable pat. The elevator descends beneath the garage level, and when the doors open they’re hit with a draft of air that smells of damp and mildew, though the bare walls around them look recently whitewashed. Fluorescent light strips and the gestures of the guards direct them down a corridor to a platform where most of the other competitors already wait. It’s a train platform, Meng Yao realizes after a moment, and then he realizes the train is already there and the others are getting on.

There’s a panic that started building in his stomach when the elevator sunk underground, and it’s increased by the sight of the small train doors and the crush of people. He knows where it comes from, and he tries to breathe through it. The air tastes acrid and strange, and that ought to help- the basement under the club didn’t taste like this- but the alien nature of it all only makes it more unsettling. He wants Mingjue to notice his distress. He wants to be comforted. It’s juvenile nonsense. Why should Mingjue notice anything is wrong, when Meng Yao is only trying harder to project an air of confident serenity? He feels his fingers clench around the leather of his robes.

“Meng-gongzi?”

Briefly he thinks his spiralling mind has summoned up an illusion of Lan Xichen, appearing in front of him like a cool calming snowfall, but a hand touches the back of his arm, and then takes his elbow in what feels like an iron grip. Whoever is styling the Lans, they haven’t let the futility of the exercise prevent them from fully devoting themselves to their task. Lan Xichen is- Lan Xichen looks-

Ethereal, is the only possible word.

Lan Xichen is dressed for his interview, not in the blue tones of the morning’s robes but in the pale pale blue of very pure ice, draped in layers of gauze that sparkle like fresh fallen snow. His guan is a magnificent flowering of silver antlers and dark tree branches. His eyes are kind and concerned.

Meng Yao can’t stop himself from turning his head to look anxiously at Nie Mingjue. Chifeng-zun has taken a step back from Meng Yao, and he’s looking away from Lan Xichen. Meng Yao wishes very much to know what they said to each other, when he left them alone.

“Are you all right?” Lan Xichen asks.

He is, at least, distracting. Meng Yao smiles, eyes lowered, and the familiarity of the action is grounding. “This servant is fine, Lan-gongzi.”

The interior of the underground train is not as luxurious as the one which carried him from Qinghe. There is a loud background roar of machinery and air conditioning. Meng Yao sits on a hard seat between Nie Mingjue and Nie Zonghui, the three of them, for now at least, a united front separate from their Wen escort and stylists. Across the foot and a half of passing space, the Lan brothers sit together on another bench, with their escort and stylists, a small, round young man and two identical-looking women. There’s no sign of the Lan mentor.  Meng Yao remembers Su Minshan in the elevator, losing his nerve before reaching the dining hall, and wonders if he is even on the train.  

There are guards at the door to each carriage, blank-faced, eyes empty.

With a jolt, the train begins to move. Meng Yao lets the motion of it throw him against Nie Mingjue’s side. Nie Mingjue glances at him, and then quickly away. He puts a hand on Meng Yao’s back, to steady him. Meng Yao tries to estimate the speed of the train, tries to remember each shift in direction, tries to build a mental map. There are no maps of Nightless City in Qinghe. His mental map extends, and extends. Surely the city can’t be that large. Can it? Surely they’re being taken to somewhere on the outskirts. Are they? Is the capital of Wen power simply ten times as vast as any city in Qinghe or Yunmeng?

The train stops. The doors slide open. There’s another fluorescently-lit underground level outside, the same whitewashed concrete walls. But the air is cooler.

Outside, steps lead up, flights of stairs, switchbacking around until the concrete changes to painted paper, until the sounds of climate control fade and are replaced by a distant roar of some vast audience.

There is a waiting room. Comfortable couches, upholstered in red rather than white. The servants are wearing white, though. They stand ready to provide refreshments. They do not speak, or make eye contact.

Nie Mingjue chooses a couch and Zonghui and Meng Yao sit on either side of him. It is uncomfortable for Meng Yao, to be sitting next to Nie Mingjue, instead of standing behind him. He wonders how Zonghui feels about it. Here, Nie Miingjue is not their martial brother, not the head of their sect. He’s their mentor, and they’re the competitors.

The others settle, too. The Lans sit on a couch across from the Nies, their stylists kneeling in front of them to make last minute changes. Wei Wuxian, dressed flashily in black leather, floats across the room to lean over the back of the couch and hand something to Lan Wangji. HIs stylist, a boy who looks unusually young, with an unusually open and expressive face, pulls at his robes and says something pleading. Lan Wangji crumples whatever it is he’s been handed, and lets dust trickle out of his closed fist.

“Wei Wuxian,” a bored voice calls over a speaker, and guards step forward from the doors on the other side of the room.

Wei Wuxian makes a face, and then turns to smile sharply at the guards. Someone else gets up- Jiang Yanli, a delicate lotus in layers of pink and purple. “A-Xian,” she calls, anxious.

“Don’t worry, shijie, it’ll be your turn next,” he shouts back at her, as the guards push him towards the door.

“Wei-gongzi,” the young Jiang stylist calls, and Wei Wuxian calls back, “Don’t worry, I remember!”

The huge screen hanging over the east wall clicks on with a loud hum and crackle. There’s a familiar theme song playing. Meng Yao experiences a moment of violent disorientation. He’s in the Unclean Realm, in Nie Huaisang’s room, sitting on Nie Huaisang’s bed. The competitor interviews are playing through the tinny speaker on Nie Huaisang’s tablet, propped up against a pile of untidy art supplies. Nie Huaisang is lying on the bed, his head in Meng Yao’s lap. Meng Yao is stroking his hair, absently. It is not unlike petting a cat. There was a cat who would scavenge for food in the garbage bins outside the club. Meng Yao brought food for it, when he was sent to sit outside on the steps. Sometimes it allowed him to pet its patchy off-white fur. Sometimes it scratched him. He wasn’t angry about the scratches. Sometimes he hurt people for no good reason, too. And he already had plenty of practice hiding marks on his body from his mother.

He’s brought back to the present by a heavy hand on his arm. He turns his head, and looks into Nie Mingjue’s face.

“Don’t watch,” Nie Mingjue says. “That’s what they want you to do.”

Meng Yao makes himself smile slightly, and nod, eyes downcast. The hand on his arm squeezes a little. “Don’t,” Nie Mingjue says, and Meng Yao is surprised enough to look up again.

Nie Mingjue’s jaw is clenched, his brow wrinkled as he searches for the right words. On the screen, in the corner of Meng Yao’s vision, the host is introducing himself and warming up the audience. “That smile,” Nie Mingjue says at last, and like always, the other sounds of the world fade away when he speaks; Meng Yao couldn’t pay attention to the tv instead even if he wanted to. “You never gave me that smile, before I left. You gave it to other people. Not to me.”

That startles Meng Yao. “I-” he says, and then stops, not having any words with which to finish the sentence. He doesn’t want to have this conversation in public, with more than fifty bored sets of eyes watching them. They never have this kind of conversation in public. They rarely have it in private.

-you’re already very popular with the young ladies. Is there anything you’d like to say to them today?- the screen hisses.

“Everyone looks at you differently, afterward,” Nie Mingjue continues. “Even the people you hoped would think no less of you.”

“Nie-zongzhu,” Meng Yao whisper-shouts.

“Shut up,” someone says. Meng Yao has to turn to see that it’s the girl from Shudong. “Not everyone can read the subtitles. I want to hear.” Her partner, the boy, gives an apologetic shrug.

Nie Mingjue lets out a harsh breath, and then straightens, looking away from Meng Yao. Meng Yao tries to regain his composure. The screen wavers a little before resolving into an elaborate stage, false fire licking around its edges and up the support columns. A man in Wen white and red is interviewing a relaxed and grinning Wei Wuxian. The host seems very pleased with his subject; the crowd is certainly happy, judging by the roars of applause and laughter whenever Wei Wuxian makes a joke.

“So, Wei-gongzi, we all saw you volunteer for the Jiang Sect’s first young master,” the host says. “Can you tell us why you chose to volunteer?”

“I’m sure you know what the Jiang Clan motto is,” Wei Wuxian says.

“‘Attempt the impossible,’” the host quotes with a smile.

“Exactly,” Wei Wuxian says with a firm nod. “How could I, the head disciple of the Jiang Clan, pass up such an opportunity to fulfill our founder’s words?”

“So you stole the opportunity from your martial brother? Isn’t that rather shameless?”

Wei Wuxian grins. “Everyone in the cultivation world can tell you, when it comes to shamelessness I’m at least in the top five,” he says. He stands up, and steps almost into the flickering flames, to address the crowd. “Can any of you think of someone more shameless than me?” he asks, and they roar back, “No!”

“You’re number one, Wei Wuxian!” someone shouts, and Wei Wuxian does an elaborate bow. He looks smaller, on the screen, but older. They’ll probably all look older, Meng Yao realizes. That’s half the purpose of the makeup.

“Jiang Yanli,” the bored voice says over the speaker into their waiting room, and Jiang Yanli stands up quickly. She looks very small, as the guards walk towards her. Her stylist presses something into her hands, and then lingers for a long moment, their hands entwined. Then she steps back, and Jiang Yanli walks towards the door, head held high.

Wei Wuxian doesn’t reappear. There must be a second waiting room on the other side of the stage.

The interviewer is gentle with Jiang Yanli, apparently charmed by her softness and shy quiet. She’s not a pretty girl, but her makeup and styling has transformed her to a near magical degree, and she looks like a softly glowing lotus blossom under the studio lights. “A-Xian is like a brother to me,” she says. “I just want to help him and keep him safe.” The audience coos at this. No one’s going to sponsor Jiang Yanli in hopes of her winning, but they might sponsor her in hopes of keeping her around for a few episodes, making sure her image is emblazoned in the public consciousness so they can make her a brand to sell clothes and perfume and posters.

Meng Yao’s stylist scolds him for streaking his makeup. She dries his eyes and dusts his cheeks with a final layer of something just as the speaker calls out his name.

He stands up. He’s not entirely surprised when Nie Mingjue stands up, too, and draws him into the least-crowded corner of the room, moving close to him for the barest illusion of privacy.

“Meng Yao,” Nie Mingjue says. “I know you’re clever, that’s why I have always valued your advice. But you’ve never been a competitor. I have. I am your mentor. On this occasion, I ask you to take my advice.”

“Of course,” Meng Yao says. “I am honored to receive advice from-”

“Don’t play their games,” Nie Mingjue says. “It isn’t worth it. The more you give, the more they will take. Stay true to yourself, as much as you can. You are a good and honorable person. Hold on to that.”

“Don’t you dare ruin my work again,” Meng Yao’s stylist scolds Nie MIngjue. The guards are close now. Meng Yao pulls Nie Mingjue’s hands off of his arms, one finger at a time. His back aches. It doesn’t want a repeat of the previous night.

“Will Nie-zongzhu wish me luck?” Meng Yao hears himself ask.

“Good luck,” Nie Mingjue says, voice rough, blinking tears out of his eyes.

The guards each put a hand on one of Meng Yao’s shoulders, and he goes with them, walking fast to avoid being pushed. He doesn’t turn around; doesn’t look back. The door opens. Beyond is a corridor with mirrored walls. He avoids meeting the eyes of his reflections, as an infinite array of Meng Yaos walk down the corridor to the door on the other side.

That door opens, and beyond it is light and a roaring of sound.

#the hunger games au #nieyao #3zun #meng yao #my fic

[ceescedasticity]

MDZSBURB

I've settled on Classpects and moons and Lands but I've still got two distinct possibilities for timeline. Here's one of them.

It starts sometime in the chaos that should be leading up to the Sunshot Campaign but won't, exactly, in this timeline. It starts slowly, subtly even -- maybe there are meteors and maybe there aren't, but there's no rain of them, and people are already disappearing for months at a time. They could easily just be dead. There's no Game structure to lure them into it -- it just takes them, with little warning, and they have to learn the rules afterwards.

Maybe it's Wen Ruohan triggering it somehow -- he certainly tries to take advantage of it once he understands what's happening (as much as it's possible to understand anyway). He's powerful and cunning and he gets himself and some of his into the Medium, to try to seize the power there, and they do impressively well. For a while. He doesn't really understand how to deal with an environment where he is defined as a superfluous obstacle. Skaia has chosen its protagonists and will not be swayed.

I'm not sure of the full order entry, or the exact circumstances under which they're all taken, but I know a lot of it.

Wen Ning is taken early. He's Page of Life, a Derse dreamer, of the Land of Chains and Flowers. He is probably the Hero Least Traumatizing To Consorts.

Wen Qing follows not long after, and she was one of the very few to actually anticipate it. She's Seer of Doom, after all. --And she even understood it would be wise and safest to take her close kin with her, as little sense as that seemed to make, so she has quite a lot of company in the Land of Silk and Needles. She's a Derse dreamer, too, and wakes up fast to look for her brother.

Nie Huaisang goes pretty early, too, completely unobserved, out of somewhere that was supposed to be safe. He's just missing, no clues. (NMJ is Very Unhappy About This.) In fact, of course, the Bard of Void is sound if not safe in the Land of Wind and Whispers. He's not very happy about it either, but at least the current situation enables more unconventional fighting. Derse, again.

Jiang Cheng is snatched out of the ruins of Lotus Pier (before he can get his core destroyed). It is the opposite of subtle. The good news is that a handful of not-yet-executed disciples were hauled along to the Land of Mist and Causeways, too, and attending Wens helpfully were not. The less good news is he ends up with his mother for a sprite. It's stressful. He's Knight of Rage, and yet another Derse dreamer.

Wei Wuxian has his core intact but still runs afoul of Wen Chao and flunkies and still gets thrown into the Burial Mounds. A rather regrettably large chunk of the Burial Mounds accompanies him to the Land of Chimes and Ashes, leading to his not actually realizing he's in another dimension for about a month until he manages to get out through the borders which are at least not warded. He's still developed demonic cultivation, although in the end he uses Chenqing less for controlling corpses and more for his new powers as Rogue of Time. --The corpses do come up some, though.

I think at this point we finally get a Prospit dreamer with Lan Wanji, Mage of Space. He's not completely alone like some of the others, but he was off roaming. He may end up bringing some random people along to the Land of Rabbits and Frogs, but no one terribly interesting.

I'm not sure if there's any feasible way for Jiang Yanli to figure out where the hell her brothers have disappeared to and how to trigger the thing that will take her after them, but she's Witch of Hope, so maybe. She rounds out the Derse dreamers from the Land of Earth and Sky. Don't have more details here yet.

Next up we have a spectacular exit from Jin Zixuan, accompanied by way too much of Koi Tower, way too many hangers-on, and both his parents. It's frankly a nightmare. He spends as much time as possible out exploring the Land of Twists and Feathers. He's Heir of Light, although he's not particularly good at it. --Both his parents will end up sprites eventually, but he's fortunate enough that his is his mother. Prospit.

Depending on what canon we're going with Mianmian may or may not be in fairly close proximity, but either way she's next. Maid of Breath, and I can't say more about her circumstances of entry but I can say she's the only candidate for a Breath player in this horrifically unfree and entangled group (with the possible exception of WWX but I need him for Time).

I'm not sure what order the next two are in. By this time they definitely know something bizarre and catastrophic is going on at least.

Lan Xichen is Sylph of Heart, Land of Leaves and Hindsight. He probably gets pulled out of the Cloud Recesses survivors' camp; he probably has a lot of company; his sprite is probably either his father or Lan Qiren and I'm honestly not sure which would be worse. Prospit.

Nie Mingjue is Prince of Blood and probably gets yanked off the battlefront somewhere. (He's one of the top candidates for Wen Ruohan to follow into the Medium.) Prospit. He is arriving late if not last and a lot of other people understand the rules here a lot better than he does and he does not enjoy it.

And, finally, Meng Yao. Thief of Mind (I wanted to give him Vriska's Classpect but I was running low on Aspects and I didn't think JZX could carry Mind). I have no idea when and where he is when he falls off the map and into the Land of Mirrors and Stains. Has he become a spy yet? Did he even get a chance to start working for NMJ? Did he meet LXC? Had he fallen down the stairs yet? Which Meng Yao is being asked to become a hero? This is obviously a very important question but I do not know the answer. --But regardless of the answer he ends up with JGS as a sprite, and then probably kills him.

So anyway there's quite a bit of carrying on and fighting and reunions and dealing with Wen Ruohan's doomed but troublesome power grab, and it all ends up… I don't know. Everyone's alive, anyway.

—The other possibility is similar in its mechanics but kicks off right about when WWX absconds with the Wen remnants — they end up in LOCAA instead of the Burial Mounds, or possibly the Burial Mounds immediately followed by LOCAA. And then there's increasing chaos and confusion that's all blamed on the completely unlocatable Yiling Patriach (despite demonic cultivation's lack of association with giant meteors) as everyone else gets grabbed up over the next… while. (Not too long a while, though, because I have limits and I am not throwing JYL into a Game with an infant, let alone pregnant.)

#crossover classpects

[songofclarity]

as a gay man i would also like to throw flowers to nie mingjue

Please throw flowers to Nie MingJue! 🌸

Everyone should be throwing flowers to Nie MingJue!

#anon #asked from above #nie mingjue #if this is in regard to my post #the novel specifies maidens #and as a woman i'm looking at these other women #i'm throwing the man flowers!