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fandomweekly2025-03-08 07:01 pm
quicksilverfox3) wrote in fandomweekly2025-03-08 07:01 pm
Entry tags:
[#251] of use all shiny and new (SVSSS)
Theme Prompt: 251 - Royalty
Title:
Fandom: Scum Villain Self Saving System
Rating/Warnings: T, Mild Language
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 979
Summary: Shang Qinghua should be used to Mobei-Jun's requests by now. Even the ones that involve a trip.
Really, Shang Qinghua should be used to the sudden arrival of his king. The portals had been so cool when he’d first thought of it, huddled underneath three blankets in yet another power outage as a storm raged outside when he’d wanted to be anywhere except there, but he’s suffering.
Two lifetimes under his belt but he still feels like the skinny teenager he’s been twice over now, burdened with the inherent shame of just existing. It’d be easy to just throw himself out of the window to make it all stop, he’s already shrieking, job half-complete.
“Shang Qinghua,” Mobei-Jun says again in the space Shang Qinghua takes to breathe. “What are you doing?”
Shang Qinghua blinks up at the other man, all shimmering silk and fur-clad towering inch of him. Out of the corner of his eye, backed against the corner of his desk, the towering pile of budget forms sways in the breeze from Mobei-Jun’s portal, a few snowflakes drifting over the barrier and melting on the floor. They’d been a bitch to coax out of the few Bai Zhan disciples he could find and then again to get Liu Qingge’s approval as the Peak Lord tried to vanish on another month-long mission. He’s sick of it! The reports have been overdue for a month and if he has to sit through another meeting when Yue Qingyuan calmly inquires after the completion one more time, Shang Qinghua is going to lose his shit, System consequences be damned.
“Nothing, my king. What can this humble servant do for you?”
He tries to clasp his hands in front of himself — safer that way when he can restrain himself from gesturing as he talks, a swing of his arms that would destroy any chance of getting the stack of reports completed — and adjusts to fold them behind his back as Mobei-Jun’s gaze dips to his scabbed knuckles, his jaw tight. Of course, signs of weakness should be avoided. Shang Qinghua laughs, too high, too sharp, shut up!
“We are travelling to the Lapin Kingdom.” Mobei-Jun’s scowl deepens, his lip curling to revealing the sharp edge of a fang, and Shang Qinghua knows he should love all of his creations equally but self-indulgence had been the only luxury he could afford along with his shoebox of an apartment and the spiders settling in for the long haul in his fridge. “This king wishes to hear any intel you have gathered.”
“Ah? Of course, my king. If this humble servant had some time to prepare, I would have had it ready for you, but this servant will provide.” It had been, after all, some of his best work, twenty thousand words for a subscriber special. He’d teased it for weeks beforehand, dropping random polls into his comments to disguise the actual information he needed, and that had been enough to boost his subscriber account to the next milestone before he had even finished writing it. He’d been able to spring for the good ramen off the back of it as well, so suck it Cucumber-bro and his nine paragraph rant about the sheer impossibility of having a semi-tropical climate so close to an ice desert. He’d had to research the effect of wind on climate to make sure it was right.
Mobei-Jun turns away and sits on Shang Qinghua’s bed, his legs splaying wide as he reclines back, sitting on a throne of his own glorious creation instead of stale rumpled sheets. He inclines his head, his dark eyes narrowing.
“The Lapin Kingdom have long been allies of the Northern Desert and are key trading partners for spices and their gold deposits due to their warmer climate. Because of this, ah, there’s a few cultural differences my king should be aware of.” Shang Qinghua moves away from his desk, shaking his hands as he begins to pace in a wandering circle. His boots crunch against the snowflakes piling up in front of the portal before it vanishes as he strays closer, Mobei-Jun huffing out a quiet sound. “Apologies my king. The people tend to wear limited layers, mostly treated skins and golden jewellery, and they expect visitors to dress in an equivalent fashion.”
The result of another poll applied, again, suck it Cucumber-bro, his writing is a pristine example of democracy manifest.
“This servant can supply us both with robes that will suit, I’ll just need some time, Li Bo owes me a favour from the mess he made with that pack of Greater Horned Sloths and then Zhang Fei for a gift?”
“No need.”
Shang Qinghua stumbles to a stop, his fingers caught on the rough edge of his knuckle, his tongue between his teeth. “My king?”
Mobei-Jun stands and Shang Qinghua is grateful for the high ceilings he insisted on as the other man regards him, his face blank. “This servant is still of use to this king. You will wear this.”
Shang Qinghua flinches as a loose bundle is thrown at his head, his hands flying up to grab it. It is lighter than he would have expected given the usual heft of his king’s cloak on the rare occasion that it is dropped over his head. He shakes out a cloak, dark blue to match Mobei-Jun’s colours with a deep hood and a veil to cover his face. He looks up into Mobei-Jun’s chest, the other man suddenly closer, then his face. “My king?”
“You will come with me.” Mobei-Jun folds his arms and Shang Qinghua’s gaze drops to follow the motion. Fuck, he did such a good job writing him. “Choose.”
There’s two clasps attached to the edge of the cloak, one gold, one silver. There’s a flicker of a thought about the cultural benefit of wearing the gold, but Shang Qinghua tugs it free, holding it out to Mobei-Jun.
“This servant will wear his king’s colours.”
Title:
Fandom: Scum Villain Self Saving System
Rating/Warnings: T, Mild Language
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 979
Summary: Shang Qinghua should be used to Mobei-Jun's requests by now. Even the ones that involve a trip.
Really, Shang Qinghua should be used to the sudden arrival of his king. The portals had been so cool when he’d first thought of it, huddled underneath three blankets in yet another power outage as a storm raged outside when he’d wanted to be anywhere except there, but he’s suffering.
Two lifetimes under his belt but he still feels like the skinny teenager he’s been twice over now, burdened with the inherent shame of just existing. It’d be easy to just throw himself out of the window to make it all stop, he’s already shrieking, job half-complete.
“Shang Qinghua,” Mobei-Jun says again in the space Shang Qinghua takes to breathe. “What are you doing?”
Shang Qinghua blinks up at the other man, all shimmering silk and fur-clad towering inch of him. Out of the corner of his eye, backed against the corner of his desk, the towering pile of budget forms sways in the breeze from Mobei-Jun’s portal, a few snowflakes drifting over the barrier and melting on the floor. They’d been a bitch to coax out of the few Bai Zhan disciples he could find and then again to get Liu Qingge’s approval as the Peak Lord tried to vanish on another month-long mission. He’s sick of it! The reports have been overdue for a month and if he has to sit through another meeting when Yue Qingyuan calmly inquires after the completion one more time, Shang Qinghua is going to lose his shit, System consequences be damned.
“Nothing, my king. What can this humble servant do for you?”
He tries to clasp his hands in front of himself — safer that way when he can restrain himself from gesturing as he talks, a swing of his arms that would destroy any chance of getting the stack of reports completed — and adjusts to fold them behind his back as Mobei-Jun’s gaze dips to his scabbed knuckles, his jaw tight. Of course, signs of weakness should be avoided. Shang Qinghua laughs, too high, too sharp, shut up!
“We are travelling to the Lapin Kingdom.” Mobei-Jun’s scowl deepens, his lip curling to revealing the sharp edge of a fang, and Shang Qinghua knows he should love all of his creations equally but self-indulgence had been the only luxury he could afford along with his shoebox of an apartment and the spiders settling in for the long haul in his fridge. “This king wishes to hear any intel you have gathered.”
“Ah? Of course, my king. If this humble servant had some time to prepare, I would have had it ready for you, but this servant will provide.” It had been, after all, some of his best work, twenty thousand words for a subscriber special. He’d teased it for weeks beforehand, dropping random polls into his comments to disguise the actual information he needed, and that had been enough to boost his subscriber account to the next milestone before he had even finished writing it. He’d been able to spring for the good ramen off the back of it as well, so suck it Cucumber-bro and his nine paragraph rant about the sheer impossibility of having a semi-tropical climate so close to an ice desert. He’d had to research the effect of wind on climate to make sure it was right.
Mobei-Jun turns away and sits on Shang Qinghua’s bed, his legs splaying wide as he reclines back, sitting on a throne of his own glorious creation instead of stale rumpled sheets. He inclines his head, his dark eyes narrowing.
“The Lapin Kingdom have long been allies of the Northern Desert and are key trading partners for spices and their gold deposits due to their warmer climate. Because of this, ah, there’s a few cultural differences my king should be aware of.” Shang Qinghua moves away from his desk, shaking his hands as he begins to pace in a wandering circle. His boots crunch against the snowflakes piling up in front of the portal before it vanishes as he strays closer, Mobei-Jun huffing out a quiet sound. “Apologies my king. The people tend to wear limited layers, mostly treated skins and golden jewellery, and they expect visitors to dress in an equivalent fashion.”
The result of another poll applied, again, suck it Cucumber-bro, his writing is a pristine example of democracy manifest.
“This servant can supply us both with robes that will suit, I’ll just need some time, Li Bo owes me a favour from the mess he made with that pack of Greater Horned Sloths and then Zhang Fei for a gift?”
“No need.”
Shang Qinghua stumbles to a stop, his fingers caught on the rough edge of his knuckle, his tongue between his teeth. “My king?”
Mobei-Jun stands and Shang Qinghua is grateful for the high ceilings he insisted on as the other man regards him, his face blank. “This servant is still of use to this king. You will wear this.”
Shang Qinghua flinches as a loose bundle is thrown at his head, his hands flying up to grab it. It is lighter than he would have expected given the usual heft of his king’s cloak on the rare occasion that it is dropped over his head. He shakes out a cloak, dark blue to match Mobei-Jun’s colours with a deep hood and a veil to cover his face. He looks up into Mobei-Jun’s chest, the other man suddenly closer, then his face. “My king?”
“You will come with me.” Mobei-Jun folds his arms and Shang Qinghua’s gaze drops to follow the motion. Fuck, he did such a good job writing him. “Choose.”
There’s two clasps attached to the edge of the cloak, one gold, one silver. There’s a flicker of a thought about the cultural benefit of wearing the gold, but Shang Qinghua tugs it free, holding it out to Mobei-Jun.
“This servant will wear his king’s colours.”
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