I see a lot of childhood best friend headcanons for gaz, soap, and ghost, but never price.
I need that old man running into “the girl next door” that he lost touch with ages ago. The one that got away after you both grew up and life got busy. I need him making contact after 10, 15 years. I need him pulling you into a tight, overly familiar hug when you meet up at an out of the way cafe. I need him reminiscing about long summers spent together as kids and teens: riding your bikes all over town, swimming at the community pool, buying ice cream with your pocket change, all while you smile and laugh. Because, honestly, you haven't been this happy in ages.
Stalking your socials didn’t quite scratch the itch for him like it used to. It used to be enough to swipe through your photos and imagine being there. On dates in cute little pubs and parks. Taking you on surprise sunny little holiday getaways. Putting a ring on your finger.
That one hurt. Really fucking hurt. He tried to be happy for you, grimacing as he swiped through picture after picture, one gushing congratulation after another. He really did. You’re almost too beautiful in your wedding pictures; airbrushed and photoshopped to perfection in your white gown as you gaze lovingly at your new husband on the chapel steps. Bastard doesn't know how lucky he is.
Well, was.
So what if a sick part of him twists when suddenly that album is deleted, hubby’s name disappears from your profile, and your relationship status updates to “single”? He lays careful traps, small bits of bait to lead you right where he wants. Then, he waits patiently for the noose to tighten, the cage to clatter down around you. You tell the whole sad tale as he nods, pretending not to know every detail already. How you tried to make it work. About your regrets. Maybe things moved too fast because you pushed for a commitment, you say as you laugh through tears.
Or, he suggests as he lays a heavy hand over yours, maybe he wasn’t right in the head because he’d marry you in a heartbeat. Your laugh then is musical. His heart soars. He let you slip out of his hands once, when he was too young and stupid to know better, but he won’t let that happen again. You let him wax poetic about life and loss. He knows what it really means to have your life on the line, he says, to fight like hell and somehow come out the other side. So, he continues, eyes casually following the swirling dregs at the bottom of his cup with your hand still clasped in his, you'd never have to fight for him. Never.
A story about girlhood, friendship, grief, and racing, in which various ships haunt the narrative.
MASTERLIST, OC MASTERLIST
Featuring: Nina Reyes (OC), Zoey Valente (OC), Sofia Torres (OC), Courtney Carter (OC), Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Max Verstappen, George Russell, Kimi Antonelli, Austin Taylor (OC), Alison Reyes (OC), Alejandra Reyes (OC), Maria Estrada (OC), Zak Brown, Andrea Stella, Mark Webber, Laurent Mekies, Sebastian Vettel, Fernando Alonso, Lewis Hamilton, mentions of: Domingo Reyes (OC), basically the rest of the 2026 grid.
In 2026, there's three new rookies on the grid: Nina Reyes, Zoey Valente, and Sofia Torres. Though it is a dream come true, it comes with its many challenges, some of which they're more prepared to face than others. The following chapters see them (and other characters, like Courtney Carter and Austin Taylor) through the 2026 Formula 1 season, seeking to prove that they deserve to stay on for next year.
Switching third person POVs, updates every two weeks!
Prologue
Chapter One: Silly Season
Chapter Two: The Audition (There Goes The Season)
Chapter Three: Let The Games Begin
Chapter Four: Rain On Our Parade
Chapter Five:
(expected number of chapters for this season is 18!)
So I'm an assistant teacher for the first grade and that's got me thinking, what if the mötley guys were primary/kindergarten teachers? BTW the guys are all 30 and older in these scenarios (minus Tommy) because young crüe is not teacher material (they are first grade student material 💀)
NIKKI🐉
🐉 Nikki's class is called the dragonfly class, and the kids don't know it, but Nikki's class is for all the kids who were considered “troublemakers” by previous preschool teachers, in fact it was recommended by their previous teachers that the school not take on these kids, but having been a troubled child himself, Nikki doesn't see a bunch of misbehaved kids, he sees children in desperate need of some genuine love and encouragement
🐉That being said Nikki is no push over, he has a record for being heard quieting down the kids from two classrooms down.
🐉A day in Nikki's class is best described as organized chaos, there's no real set routine that the firefly class follows Nikki pretty much decides what he wants to do today on his drive to work or even as he's greeting his class but when Nikki does decide what their going to do today he sets it up perfectly in a way that causes the least amount of chaos possible.
🐉 Nikki has mentioned on the Eddie trunk podcast/radio show that he has this thing in his house called “the talking chair” and he'll take his own kids there to talk to them about a serious issue or to help sort out some intense emotion. So I'm gonna take that concept and marry it with this AU, he's got a talking chair in his class for whenever some of the kids need to talk something though or there's been a fight between friends at break time, Nikki will call them over to the talking chair to get everything sorted out. Everyone in school knows that if Mr. Sixx calls you over to the talking chair, everything is gonna be okay.
🐉 Nikki has also used the talking chair on a few of the parents and you'd be shocked by how well it works. He's a firm believer that communication is everything.
🐉 This also leads me quite nicely to his teaching style, he's an auditory kinda guy, he will explain everything thoroughly and really loves getting the kids involved by asking questions and making them a part of the conversation.
🐉 As well put together as Nikki usually comes off, every year in the middle of the school year Nikki has a mental breakdown of epic proportion that always leaves him in absolute shambles, it usually happens in private though, keyword usually, the one year it didn't was quite the experience. He just takes way too much on his plate and ends up spreading himself too thin and eventually spirals out of control.
🐉 Mick is well aware of these yearly breakdowns and can sense when one in bubbling near the service and when he can tell Nikki is about to explode soon, he let's Nikki's class sit in with his for story time so they don't have a repeat of Nikki having one in front of the kids.
🐉 Nikki then usually has to take a week off just to get his head together again.
🐉 Nikki is also the best at giving the kiddos art, he's always so kind and mindful of everyone's skill level, he definitely has a board in his class to pin up all the drawings he gets given throughout the year.
VINCE
🐬 His class is the dolphin class, named after his favorite football team :)
🐬 Vince is definitely one of those teachers who reads off of Word documents he definitely didn't make himself, however he gives such an entertaining performance that no body even cares about that, he's laughing joking around and in general making the vibe of the classroom nice and airy.
🐬 Nobody is allowed to leave Mr. Neil's class without feeling confident, Vince doesn't know how he'd have made it this far in life without his charisma and self confidence and when he sees one of his students lights flickering he'll always be there to reignite it.
🐬 Though not technically allowed if his class are being too rowdy and he just can't take it anymore, he'll allow them an early recess to burn off some energy so that they can come back to class after recess spent and tired and quiet so he can get though the material they need to learn.
🐬 Vince gets wayyyy to enthusiastic about the sport, especially the baseball which he coaches. He's been known to bad mouth refs from other schools in front of the children.
🐬 Absolutely does NOT preach good sportsmanship, fucking kill em out there kids, no mercy. (He has gotten a written warning about this)
🐬 He is also definitely one of those teachers that bribes his kids to pay attention like “Jennifer you got that right, come get yourself a lollipop from the treat jar!”
🐬 “Mr. Neil! Toby pulled my pigtails!”
🐬 “It's cause he's jealous that you have nice hair and he's bald Samantha.”
🐬 All the little girls in his class see his pretty long blonde hair and immediately want to play with it, he says no every single time so they have to settle for braiding Mr. Lee's hair instead.
🐬 The dolphin class has a set routine from day 1 and they follow it everyday up until the day before summer, Vince hates a disorganized clas cause it causes chaos (he would have a heart attack if he saw Nikki's syllabus)
🐬 I actually wanna say that Vince and Nikki low-key had beef with each other when the first started working with together. I think they both started in the same year and thought the other was a terrible teacher, Vince was like “How are they ever gonna learn anything when all you do is read from a book and yap at them, that's never gonna stick!” And Nikki is like “How are they ever gonna learn how to be good human beings in society with such a self obsessed teacher!”
🐬 They are both wrong about each other and honestly….I don't think they ever learn from the experience I low-key think they just found out a system to work around each other and have a stay out of my business policy, which does at least graduate them to the frenemies status.
MICK
🌙 Mick is has been teaching at the same school for 20 years and he is one Nonsense email for a parent away from quiting this profession entirely.
🌙 His class is called the moon class. His first year teaching at the school all the teachers had solar themed classrooms like one class was the sun class, another class the star class etc. And the name just kinda stuck forever despite all the other classes setting a very clear animal theme, Mick truly does not care even when given a “subtle” nudge from Nikki to potentially change the name maybe like 100 times, he just refuses.
🌙 “Come on Mr. Mars, all of our classes have animal names, your the odd one out here, I'd really like for us to be uniform for once.”
🌙 “Son, my class has been called the moon class since before you were born and it will stay that way until the day that you one day rest in your grave, understood?”
🌙 Mick is the oldest member of the staff and is subject to a lot of judgment from these younger teachers who don't agree with the good old fashioned way of doing things, but all the young teachers cave after like 2 months of trying to work their class with a gentle parenting style and all come crawling to him for tips when their children just won't listen.
🌙 Storytime in Mr. Mars's class is a star studded event, because you know he's doing all the silly character voices, and each character has a very distinct way of speaking so the kiddos never wonder which character is talking at any given moment, the students are always laser focused in on Mick completely mesmerized by the story.
🌙 Unlike Nikki, Mick is a physical learner, so you'll always catch him giving the kids little gummy fruit snacks to learn how to devide, or showing the kids little models he'd built to explain the concept of the water cycle or something.
🌙 If the moon class is really good all week then Mick allows them a little treat and he'll play guitar for them, he even takes song requests, though not usually too complicated the kids minds are always blown when he plays anything, even twinkle twinkle little star.
🌙 Whenever a kid is having an emotional problem of some kind he is guilty of loading them off on Nikki or Tommy, he isn't unfeeling but he's bad with words and not really all that sensitive and even after 20 years of teaching Mick is afraid he'll say something insensitive and totally traumatize a child so he'd rather they go to one of the more emotionally inclined teachers.
🌙 Nap time in Mr. Mars's class is also so nice because Mick has one of those star light mobiles that make it look like there are moving stars on the roof.
🌙 Also when the kids nap, so does Mick, he gets Tommy to wake him up then they wake the kids together.
TOMMY
⭐ Tommy is a teaching assistant, he doesn't really know what he wants to do with his life but he knows it has something to do with music so he figures he'll just take this job for a year to safe up some money to go study music at college.
⭐ He mainly helps out in the moon class in fact the school originally hired Tommy just to help Mick out after he informed the school about his AS, but Tommy does end up jumping between classes sometimes, like when Nikki's class of cute little gremlins get a little to hard to deal with without backup.
⭐ Tommy and Mick end up playing a game of good cop, bad cop more often then not, Tommy being good cop of course.
⭐ The kids all take to Tommy like ducks to water, he's funny, charming,closer to all their ages then their teachers and he even plays games with them at recess so they see Tommy as more of a cool big kid friend that ties their shoes rather then a teacher.
⭐ This has its pros and cons, while the kids do like him and are more likely to confide in him then others they also tend to not take him too seriously and totally ignore him when he asks them to quiet down or do something.
⭐ Tommy uses the school's printer and tape to make stickers for the birthday kids that say “it's my birthday and all I got was this lousy sticker from Mr. Mars and Mr. Lee” Mick despises them but the kids love them so they stay.
⭐ Tommy as the assistant is also always put on accident duty, so if a kiddo doesn't make it in time he's the one who has to get them a change of pants and keep them calm, this is his least favorite task to do and as the year processes luckily gets much less likely to pop up.
No light, no light in your bright blue eyes
I never knew daylight could be so violent
A revelation in the light of day
You can't choose what stays and what fades away
(and I'd do anything to make you stay)
------------
Shen Yuan wakes up in a woodshed.
He's in a body that's not quite his own.
(WIP also available on ao3!)
He wakes up in a woodshed.
No, actually— let him correct himself. Shen Yuan does, indeed, wake up in a woodshed, but it’s not the first thing he realizes upon waking. No, in fact, consciousness comes quite slowly to him; sluggish, his mind attempting to slog through calf-high bogland without exhausting itself. It’s like he’s trying to drag himself to the surface of a river with a weight tied around his ankle, the weight trying desperately to drag him just as quickly down.
His senses come to him just as slowly, his hearing and touch and smell and taste all trying to claw its way up back into existence till they’re thrumming beneath the thin skin of his body. Yes, it’s very much like trying to wake up from a long, deep sleep where he didn’t get quite enough rest, and he wonders, not for the first time, if he had collapsed again. His mouth is dry, his lips feel crusty, and his eyes are sealed shut by congealed-whatever-mixture of disgusting bodily fluids his eyes are capable of producing.
Much like breaking free from sleep-paralysis, the moment he’s able to register that he’s actually sensing things again, the strange, spongy film that had been dampening them suddenly crumbles and collapses. Everything rushes forth like water spilling out of an open dam, or maybe like blood from an open scab, and Shen Yuan is abruptly accosted by the world and its sounds and sensations.
The sun is hitting his eyes in just the right way that he can see the light burning behind his eyelids – which, that can’t be right, his curtains should be drawn, -- and there’s the distinct and gentle sound of wind rustling past, of birds singing softly, and the faint trill of music floating through. Shen Yuan is abruptly imposed with the mental image of a yellow autumn leaf falling delicately onto a still pond, that is how tranquil the world around him sounds.
It is so, so, incredibly cliche, that he can’t help but open his eyes with a deep rooting incredulity planting itself firmly in the core of his chest. What he expects to see is the ceiling of his bedroom – the ground is hard enough that, for a moment, he thinks he may have fallen asleep on the floor again, or perhaps the hospital, because then that would at least explain better the tranquil sounds in his ears and the sunlight hitting his face.
(Except he doesn’t smell the familiar sting of septic and cleaner, nor does he hear the beeping of the heart rate monitor beside him, the bustle and soft murmur of nurses outside that are always on the move. There’s no paper thin and slightly scratchy blanket laid over him. And never, not once, has he been subjected to the sounds of an eight-hour tranquil music ASMR while in the hospital.)
(In fact, his nose feels rather stuffy. The same way it gets when he has a runny nose that just dried or a bloody nose that just finally stopped bleeding. He smells dirt and wood, and— and… is that blood?)
There’s still crust clinging to his lashes and the corner of his eyes when he opens them, so his vision is immediately blurred in the way only recent consciousness can create. But even then, he can see the roof clearly enough to know that this is neither his bedroom nor the hospital. Shen Yuan sits up while his heart drops right out of his chest, regretting the action immediately as an ache shoots up his arms and staunchly reminds him of a terrible soreness spread throughout his body, one that he was not previously aware of.
The hiss he makes is involuntary, and the sound rusted and weak, irritating his sore throat while his head pounds behind his eyes like a hammer against a nail. Get your bearings, Shen Yuan, he thinks, vision swimming, sucking in his dessert-dry bottom lip between his teeth and catching it on the incisors. The air does nothing for the inside of his mouth. Where the fuck am I?
His eyes flick around the crust poking irritably at his corneas, as he tries to soak in where exactly he is. On instinct, his hands come up to flick away the crust obscuring his sight, and when he pulls his fingers away, there’s dark, brown-red buildup crumbling against his skin.
Wh—? Shen Yuan rubs his eyes again, and realizes there’s a flaking trail coming from his eyes down his cheeks that, when he rubs at it, peels off into what can’t be anything but dried blood. It does nothing for his rapid-beating heart and the sinking shock and horror settling between his ribs. Why has he been bleeding from his eyes?
He looks up from his hand. That shock and horror rising as he finally, finally takes in his surroundings, while also realizing, his dry tongue running against the back of his teeth and the corner of his mouth, that he was tasting blood too. Faint and stuck against his gums, but there.
Shen Yuan is surrounded by cut wood, and beneath him he’s sitting on an old, tattered blanket. He’s wearing robes. Robes, worn and slightly dirty, made of a pleasant-to-the-eye green and white fabric, and straight out of every single Xanxia novel, drama, and poster he’s ever read and seen. There’s a simply, if slightly tattered, white fan tucked against his thigh.
Oh, oh no. His hands fly up to his hair and— yep. Yeah, slightly tangled but undeniably soft and smooth, black hair slips against his fingers like silk and pours over his shoulders and down his back. It’s ten times longer than it should be, ten times longer than he’s used to, and he’s sitting on the ends of it. He releases his hair only so Shen Yuan can slap his hands against his face, automatically picking at the trail of dried blood on both corners of his mouth. His fingers are chilled against his skin, and he ignores it to trace his new (he thinks—the bow of his mouth and the curve of his cheekbones feels achingly familiar) facial features.
Whose face am I wearing? What book have I entered? Because wasn’t this transmigration one-oh-one? The last thing he remembers was becoming incensed with the ending of Proud Immortal Demon Way and, in the middle of his scathing rant, dying of food poisoning. This was totally transmigration one-oh-one. Dying after reading a book, only to wake up in a place that was not the modern world, only to realize shortly after that they were now in the book they had just read?
Wait— if he follows that trope, then... Shen Yuan’s heart decides it’s had enough time in his stomach, and leaps right into his throat. His eyes flitter around anxiously. There are bamboo stalks rising out the window, and the music he’s hearing, Shen Yuan realizes belatedly that it’s the sweet plucking of a guqin. Oh no. Don’t tell me--
Like an activation phrase, a too-loud notification ‘ding!’ goes right off in his ear, resulting in Shen Yuan flinching violently as a too-bright and eye-stinging blue message box seals open into existence right before his eyes.
[ SYSTEM Successfully Activated! Welcome to the world of Pride Immortal Demon Way! You are ‘Shen Jiu’ -- otherwise known as Shen Qingqiu, thirteen-year-old Disciple of Qing Jing Peak. Currently your actions are restricted due to a frozen OOC function that will eventually be unlocked after you familiarize yourself with the world. ]
No! Of all the people he could have been transmigrated into, did it have to be the villain? Scum Disciple Shen Qingqiu? No— no, of course it was the villain; wasn’t that also transmigration one-oh-one as well? That the transmigrator was either the hero, the villain, or an NPC related to either one?
Was this karma? Was the world enacting karmic justice on him for all those late nights spent arguing with internet randos online when he should have been doing something productive with his life? Of all those hours spent countlessly researching mythical beasts and animals and folklore all so he could tear the author a new one for his terrible plot and even worse papapa? Did Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky inflict some kind of curse on him that resulted in him being dragged into his shitty, shitty, stallion novel to act as the same guy who later gets his limbs torn off and pickled by the main protagonist?
It had to be. That’s exactly what this was. This was karma.
(Oh god, he’s never going to see his family again, is he? He’d died. He’d died in his world, he knows it. That’s how this always goes. At least he hadn’t been hit by a truck, at least he’d died somewhat originally. But he died. He’d been choking and everything went dark. The fluid filling his lungs, the lack of air, the steady crawl of blackening fuzz slowly encircling his vision--)
(Who will find his body? How long will it take? It’d only been a week prior that he’d gotten into a fight with da-ge and the others, and they usually give him space for a while when they do. It’s not like Shen Yuan had any close friends left either--)
(Will they find him rotting? Will they blame themselves? What will they think?)
--(...Oh god, who was going to tell Hai-ge--?)--
Shen Yuan drops his face into his hands, ignoring the throbbing of his skull and the influx of nausea that sloshes from his chest to his stomach as he does. He groans, low and painful, ignoring the sharp sting of his throat it causes. Does it have to be Shen Qingqiu? He asks, and wonders if the SYSTEM needs an audial vocal command or if it would just--
[ You have been chosen to play Shen Qingqiu, the Scum Villain Disciple! ]
Annoyance burrows into his throat. That’s... not what he asked. His teeth grind against each other, the stupid message box burning into his eyes. That at least answers that question, though. He won’t have to talk aloud to communicate with the SYSTEM, so at least he won’t look insane for talking to himself in public. Why does it have to be Shen Qingqiu?
[ Shen Qingqiu plays a vital role in Pride Immortal Demon Way! You have been chosen to take on his role as the Scum Villain Disciple. ]
What vital role!? Shen Qingqiu, sure, had a role in the beginning of the book as the disciple who did nothing but cause a ruckus and trouble on Qing Jing Peak when the protagonist’s back was turned; trying to drag Peak Lord Luo Binghe’s precious name through the mud while inciting what was basically tyranny by clawing his way up to a Head Disciple position through being a green tea bitch. He then went and used that power to abuse and bully the younger disciples when the adults weren’t looking.
He only got away with it for so long because Luo Binghe was so busy with important missions and night hunts and the sweeping-of-peerless-beauties off their feet off the peak, that when he was on Qing Jing, it wasn’t long enough to realize just who was behind the disruption. And Shen Qingqiu was sneaky about it, so it took even longer.
Only coming to a head at the Immortal Cultivation Conference when demons attacked and it all came to light like a hellish volcano, resulting in Shen Qingqiu not only finding out about Luo Binghe’s status as a half-heavenly demon, but also him being pushed into the Endless Abyss. He re-emerges half a decade later, brimming with demonic cultivation and a half-crazed lust for power and vengeance — revenge that ends up failing because he’s going up against the powerful protagonist.
He causes a handful of actual problems before Luo Binghe finally has enough, and in the end, Shen Qingqiu ends up with his non-vital limbs cut off and stuffed inside a jar like a human pickle. A horrifying and befitting ending for any villain and antagonist of the main character.
That is to say, nothing about him is actually vital. He was, for all intents and purposes, pretty much a low-tier cannon fodder villain meant to boost up and accentuate the protagonist’s abilities in the beginning of the book. A way to introduce the audience to the might and intelligence of the main character and their problem-solving skills when there is a ‘mysterious figure’ going around besmirching his name.
Which... may just work in his favor, actually. Shen Qingqiu ended up with the fate he got because he went against the protagonist, a big no-no in practically every trashy novel. So, solution so Shen Yuan doesn’t end up a human stick? Don’t get in the protagonist’s way.
That annoying ‘ding!’ rings in his ear, causing yet another flinch out of Shen Yuan as a notification unapologetically forms in front of him.
[ WARNING: OOC! Host’s refusal to stay in character will result in automatic point deductions. If Host’s point score gets too low, SYSTEM will automatically mete out punishment. ]
Of course it wasn’t that easy. Of course not, because why would it be easy? Of course there was a point system, this was a SYSTEM after all. Of course he couldn’t just avoid the villain’s fate, because that’d be too easy. His annoyance simmers out across the plane of his chest, and he decidedly ignores the faint tremor in his arms and the pulsing beat of his heart as he picks himself up off the ground and stands.
His legs, much like his arms, tremble, and his head swims. He pushes through it, ignoring the ill-feeling of fear making itself home in the pit of his stomach. He should ask what those punishments are; what they’ll look like. He should ask about the point system, about how to increase his point score, about all the functions in the SYSTEM and what he has available, and what he does not.
He should ask how old he is – because he’s much smaller than his old adult self had been; probably child-sized? -- and where he is in the book. What year is it, how long until the Immortal Cultivators Conference. Just when is he?
Shen Yuan reaches out to grip onto a particularly towering stack of firewood, careful not to knock it or himself over. It feels like physical therapy all over again. Granted, a primitive, unsupervised, cobbled-together version of physical therapy, but physical therapy, nonetheless.
His foot kicks against the fan, he’d frankly forgotten about that, and it slides off the blanket and across the dirt. His fingers twitch to grab it, something possessive and uncomfortably vulnerable rearing in his lungs – ah, an instinctive emotion from the original goods then? He’s heard of that in other transmigration stories he’s read, the novels failed to mention the full extent of how strange it felt.
(It felt so eerily natural to want to pick it up. Of course he’d be upset about kicking it, and the unhappiness of dirtying it slots itself against him like second nature. How strange. How creepy.)
Instead of asking any of that though, Shen Yuan turns his bitter mind inwards to the SYSTEM and asks, perhaps, the most important question of them all; Why did you bring me here if you were just going to kill me again?
Isn’t that unnecessarily cruel?
[ Host has been brought to Pride Immortal Demon Way because it is our sincere hope that Host can transform this stupid work into a magnificent, high-quality, first-rate classic! As part of the welcoming package, and to help ease the transition, a few things have been left in Host’s inventory! We hope you enjoy your time in Pride Immortal Demon Way! ]
To change--
To change--?
To CHANGE--?
Indignancy surges itself from the tips of Shen Yuan’s fingers to the crown of his head, anger not unlike every single time Airplane threw away an interesting plot point for sex fuzzes out his vision and turns his pounding headache into a full-fledged migraine. His grip on the firewood tightens, and he can feel the rough and textured bark digging into his skin.
His mouth curls inward, the cracked skin splitting down the middle of his bottom lip as Shen Yuan threatens to snarl at the SYSTEM. How the fuck am I supposed to change the plot if I can’t even change the way my character acts!
[ Reminder to Host: The OOC Function is frozen, but not permanent. Once Host has become properly settled in and completed the tutorial will he be able to unlock it. ]
Fine, fine! He has half a mind to unload a string of curses at the SYSTEM, because apparently its rules were as stupid as the author who made this world. Shen Yuan refrains; he doesn’t know how sentient the thing is, and upsetting it right now when he has no idea when he is – nor does he know a thing about the point system -- would only be detrimental for him in the long run.
Instead, he lets loose a groan from his throat that could be more accurately compared to as a growl. With his one free hand, Shen Yuan drags his palm down his face, and then loops it back up to comb it through his hair. ...His hair that is much longer than it used to be, and which is snaggled with little knots and tangles that he’ll have to get out.
He hits the first knot and immediately withdraws his fingers, freeing up a few strands of ink black hair while he’s at it. With a quick wrist shake, the strands fall to the floor and Shen Yuan leans the rest of his weight against the log pile. Some of his anger cools down until it’s nothing more than boiled water gone cold, and he sighs out through a clogged-up nose until there’s nothing more than a quiet pressure of unease curled around his shoulders.
There’s really not much he does know about how Shen Qingqiu acts – after all, he put up a responsible and dutiful disciple front when he was in the presence of Luo Binghe, and was only then revealed to be a scumbag later down the line. Which only got backed up with secondhand accounts of the other Qing Jing Peak disciples.
He didn’t show up often either, since most of the time Luo Binghe was off the peak. Nobody wants to read about a powerful peak lord being a teacher after all. Many more interesting things in the world around him than his students.
SYSTEM, how old am I? He must be pretty young if he bases it off how small he is – although, Shen Qingqiu didn’t have much of a description in the first place. He was only described as having skin as white as jade, with glossy black hair and a noble air surrounding him. Height, eyes, and finer details like that were left unmentioned. Why did I wake up in a woodshed? What time is it?
[ Host is currently thirteen years old! Last night Shen Qingqiu experienced a severe Qi Deviation after having an altercation with the Head Disciple. It is early morning; the other disciples will be getting breakfast. ]
That doesn’t explain why he was in a woodshed. But at this point, Shen Yuan was starting to believe that he wasn’t going to get a straight answer out of every question he asks. That does explain the blood in his mouth and crusted on his face – and the soreness and exhaustion currently wrought through his body, though.
In a rapid set of blinks and a little bit of mental fiddling, the message notifications disappear out of his sight and the rest of his senses begin to filter back in, the SYSTEM seeming content to disappear into the back of his mind – which, wow, feels just as weird as the original goods’ instincts from earlier.
More of his own strength had returned, enough that Shen Yuan feels comfortable with pushing himself off the firewood stack and standing on his own. Making sure that his legs won’t collapse under the weight of his own body, he takes a tentative step forward and drops his gaze down to the little white fan sitting on the ground.
...The idea of leaving without it returns that discomforting, vulnerable feeling from earlier, as if he had walked out without a shirt on. The hairs on the back of his neck begin to stand up on its own with unease. Shen Qingqiu was mentioned to hide his face behind a fan in every appearance he made, it must be the original goods’ emotions he’s feeling then. Again.
He leans down, his core trembling just a little, and plucks it right off the ground. The grooves of the wood fit against his fingers perfectly, hinting at weeks, if not years, of use and the oils of his hands wearing it down. He beats the side of the fan against his leg lightly, ignoring the bruising-aches it shoots up his thigh, and brushes off the dirt clinging to it.
Without thinking, Shen Qingqiu flicks it open and flutters it about for a few quick beats. The unnerving, skin-crawling sensation marking across his spine settles down, and he snaps the fan shut before reaching for the door.
[ OOC: Host should make himself look presentable before being seen in public. Failure to do so will result in immediate point deduction. ]
Shen Qingqiu grits his teeth again, there’s nothing in here but dirt and wood, how am I supposed to do that? It’s not like he had the whole layout of Qing Jing Peak memorized; Luo Binghe was barely on so where everything was, wasn’t important. Is there some kind of bathhouse somewhere?
Which, if there was, he wasn’t planning on using until it was entirely empty – the mere thought of it returned that gross, uncomfortable skin-crawling discomfort. He’ll shower at night, thank you, repressing a shudder at the horrifying idea of someone potentially walking in on him.
[ OOC: Shen Qingqiu would never bathe with the threat of other disciples around. There is a nearby creek that Host can clean himself up at. ]
That’s really not much better. But, so long as he isn’t undressing in public, he can probably just... wash the dirt off and get his hair damp enough to detangle it. If Shen Qingqiu was sleeping in here, then he probably has a change of clothes somewhere around here, right? He should look around for any hidden bags before leaving.
He finds a small qiankun pouch tucked safely between a set of wood logs near the blanket, and inside it is a clean set of robes for him to change into, which, perfect! The robes he was wearing right now weren’t terribly dirty, but there were a few dirt spots visible enough that Shen Qingqiu was sure that he’d probably get a point deduction out of it, or a scolding from senior disciples.
(Does Shen Qingqiu sleep in the woodshed often? Shouldn’t he be in the dormitories?)
He plucks the bag out of its little hidey-hole, giving it a place on his belt, along with his newly acquired fan, and turns towards the door. Shen Qingqiu crosses the room in the span of a few large steps, and just as he’s about to curl his hand around the handle, he... pauses.
It’s only for a split second, a moment of hesitation, of personal confirmation that, once he opens this door, there will be no going back. Not that there was since he opened his eyes, but, it would cement it.
Shen Qingqiu breathes in a shaky breath, and then opens the door to the rising sun.
[WIP] Little Gods { ~15k | NR }
a 2024 @slythindor100 Draco/Harry advent fic
The Ministry claimed that the restrictions on magical education were for the good of wizard-kind, but it doesn't feel like that when Harry works his dull machinist job. With a new mission and the advent of a snowy winter season, Harry and his compatriots might find a way to keep their underground organization alive and plan for future teachings one banned artifact at a time.
ft. corrupt Ministry of Magic, forgiveness, complicated Draco/Harry dynamics, melancholy for everyone, book bans & excellent suits.
