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skzhocomments · 1 year

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Broken hearts can heal - Choi Minho SHINee Fanfic - Chapter IV - Home is a person

Story masterlist - please consult it for the summary of the story, trigger warnings etc.

Wattpad link

AO3 link

Chapter III / Chapter V

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Chapter IV - Home is a person

word count: 1.6k words

"Okay, time to get up." Minho said sternly approaching the bed. Despite the harshness in his tone, his eyes were very much gentle, but extremely tired, and still red. "You've laid in bed too much. You have to exercise."

You sighed. You didn't want to get up. You wanted to lay there and die.

Why weren't you in the same car as Kibum?

No, Da-Eun, you can't be selfish like that. You scolded yourself and petted your belly, who was already weighing you down a lot after 7 long months of pregnancy.

"Okay." You got up and made your way towards the bathroom to wash up a bit.

It felt hard to function.

Still, it wasn't just you you were killing, and your baby didn't deserve it.

You love him so much.

Kibum loved him.

"Let's get you dressed and go out for a walk." Minho smiled at you and looked proud of the small achievement you did today: getting out of bed.

Taemin and Jinki were lying on the floor in the living room and watching TV, laughing loudly.

You wished you could laugh like them.

You nodded shortly and went back to the bedroom, finding some comfortable clothes.

You sighed again.

It was so hard to do even the simplest tasks.

Still, Minho was right, and you needed to exercise a bit. You couldn't just lay in bed your whole life. Not when someone else will soon depend on you.

Minho drove you to a nearby park with a big lake. You walked together along the shore and you breathed in fresh air for the first time in 2 weeks. The shy autumn rays felt pleasant on your face.

"Doesn't it feel better?" Minho asked you, smiling.

"Yea. This place is beautiful. It's new."

"Really? How so?"

"Mhm. I haven't been here with Key before. It feels good... to be somewhere where I don't have any memories to remind me that he's gone." You said quietly, but Minho heard you, and he hummed.

"It will feel like that for a while, but... time will pass, and you will stitch the wounds, and you won't always bleed. One day, you'll even be able to look back on the life you had with him and think of all those memories fondly, without pain." He placed his hand on the back of your waist and hugged you as you started crying.

He was crying too.

"You think so?" You asked him.

"Yes."

"Will it keep hurting?"

"Yes. But not as much as it does right now. I promise."

You nodded and hugged him tighter.

You started spending more time with the boys, who seemed to be on rotation to stay with you. All of them had work, but Minho seemed to always be there, either doing something around the house, trying to cook, cleaning, or taking you out for daily walks and just staying in your presence.

You also started spending more time outside the bedroom and tried to create a little routine. The first few days, it only consisted of getting out of bed and walking to the living room to watch TV with Taemin for 30 minutes or so. Then, you started talking to Jinki more, and even did small tasks with Minho around the house. Laundry, simple things.

"Uhm, Minho?" You hesitated, but seeing Minho's kind smile made you gather your courage.

"Yes, Da-Eun?"

"Do you... happen to have some time tomorrow at 1?"

"Of course. What do you want to do?"

"I'm around 34 weeks now, so I have a doctor's appointment... just a regular check-up. Do you maybe... uhm, want to come with me?"

"Sure, I'll take you." He smiled.

"No... not just take me. I'm... asking you if you want to come with me."

"Oh."

"It's okay if you don't-"

"I'd love to." He looked at you sincerely. "Thank you so much for asking me. I'd... really love that."

"Okay." You smiled, happy for your little conquest. "I'm seeing a new doctor because my old one has some health issues, and I'm a bit nervous. Thanks."

You needed support for this pregnancy, so you really wanted someone to come with you. While Taemin and Jinki were good friends of yours, you felt the closest to Minho lately, as he's been your rock through everything.

You wondered if he even had time to process his own grief. That worried you.

Still, you needed to be selfish for your baby's sake, so you didn't bring it up. It wasn't the time.

"It will be okay. I'm sure the new doc will be great. It's the same practice, right?"

"Yep."

"There's nothing to worry about. We'll go together, yea?"

You nodded.

"And there's something else... Key and I were in the process of building up the nursery for the baby. Do you think we could also go shopping for a bit afterwards? There's still things to be bought..."

"Yes, let's do that too. Do you have a list of what you need?"

"I'll go make one."

"Great." Minho smiled. "Let me know if you need any help."

"The baby is healthy and thriving! Heartbeat is normal. He's already getting into the headfirst position, which is amazing." The doctor nodded his head and smiled.

"That's good to hear." You smiled, holding Minho's hand.

"So, did you have any unusual symptoms, something to worry about? Your complexion looks a bit weak. Any discharge, bleeding or contractions?"

"No, everything's fine."

"What about movement?"

"He's very active. Kicks a lot." You chuckled.

"Maybe you've got the next biggest football player in there." The doctor joked, and Minho smiled.

He held your hand tighter.

"Okay then, since everything seems normal so far, you can go home and just continue as usual. Don't overdo things around the house, though. Since we're approaching your due date, I'd like you to come weekly for check-ups, okay?"

"Okay." You nodded.

"Are there any questions you'd like to ask me?"

"... no, not really." You replied after thinking for a bit.

"No?" He chuckled. "Most couples would ask me if they can still have sex. For the record, the answer is yes, of course, it doesn't hurt the baby in any way, nor does it induce labour. You'd better get at it while you still can, since you'll have to wait at least 6 weeks, if not more, after delivery. Just don't go crazy on positions. You got that, dad?" He playfully slapped Minho's back two times, and both of you grew red in the face.

Of course, your new doctor wouldn't know that Minho and you were not together, and neither of you felt it was necessary to correct him at that moment. The only thing that mattered to you was that, despite him not being the father of the child or your boyfriend, he was there for you, holding your hand.

After the doctor's visit, you went out just as discussed to pick together items for your nursery. You already had most necessities for the baby. All you wanted to get today was a bassinet and a cabinet that acts as a changing table as well, so you can change him, and keep all his diapers and bodysuits in the same place. Minho graciously paid for everything, despite your protests.

On the way home, you got to talk a bit more.

"So, how was your time in Europe?" You smiled, noticing a sparkle in his eyes for the first time ever since Kibum died.

"Key told you about it?" He chuckled.

"He was missing you." You laughed. It was weird to talk about him in past tense. You didn't like that. "Did you shoot a movie, or what was that about?"

"Yea, a new drama. Do you enjoy watching them?" He asked you, taking his eyes off the road every few seconds when you or he would talk.

"Yea. Actually, I think after we're done unboxing and building those," you pointed to the back of the car "I'm going to start a new drama and binge watch it..."

"You can start it as soon as we get home." He chuckled. "I'll build them."

"I'd rather we build them together and then watch the drama..." Your voice trailed off. You didn't want him to misunderstand you in any way, but you felt the need to be in someone else's company. "By the way, are the others still there?"

"Hmm, I'm not sure. Jinki needed to go take care of some business, so probably not, and Taemin is, well, Taemin. He's unpredictable." Minho laughed.

"He has two kids to take care of anyway." You joked, referring to his adorable cats.

"That's true."

"By the way... you know you don't have to... stay with me, right?" You smiled. "Don't get me wrong, I appreciate your support, and I am extremely grateful that the apartment is not empty, and that I got to see and hear other people when all I wanted was to melt away in my bed, but... you also have a life to live."

"We know that, Da-Eun, don't worry. It's just... we want to be there for you. Of course, when the baby comes, we'll let you have privacy, I'll come visit to bring you food and stuff, but we won't wear out our welcome."

"I just needed you to know that while I appreciate it, I don't want you to feel forced to... spend time with me, you know?"

Minho placed his hand on your arm tenderly and smiled at you nodding, letting you know that you can relax and not overthink about it.

"I can't believe he's going to grow up without a father, Minho..." You looked down at his hand and felt a terrible dread settling down in your stomach.

You just told Minho everyone can keep going with their lives, but you were so scared of doing it alone. You truly appreciated everyone being there for you. They don't know how much it meant to you to not be utterly alone in that depressing house that you couldn't call home anymore.

It's true when they say home is not a place, but a person.

---

Chapter III / Chapter V

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frontproofmedia · 7 months

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JOSH TAYLOR AND JACK CATTERALL SET FOR HUGE REMATCH ON APRIL 27

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Published: February 20, 2024

‘The Tartan Tornado’ and ‘El Gato’ look to settle the score at the First Direct Arena in Leeds. Taylor-Catterall II will stream live and exclusively on ESPN+ in the U.S.

LEEDS, England — After more than two years of waiting, bitter rivals Josh Taylor and Jack Catterall will finally meet in a hugely anticipated rematch at the First Direct Arena in Leeds on Saturday, April 27, shown live on DAZN in the UK and around the world and exclusively on ESPN+ in the U.S. The enemies have been embroiled in a heated war of words since February 2022, when they met on an unforgettable night at The OVO Hydro Arena in Glasgow for Taylor’s undisputed junior welterweight world title. Intense debate has raged in the aftermath of their first fight, when Scotland’s Taylor (19-1, 13 KOs) protected his unbeaten record with a hugely controversial split decision win to retain his crown. During a pulsating battle, Taylor was cut twice by the left eye and was put down by Catterall in the 8th round before he was deducted one point in the 11th for punching after the bell. Catterall, meanwhile, was deducted one point for holding in the 10th. Chorley’s ‘El Gato’ (28-1, 13 KOs) appeared to outbox Taylor for long periods but ultimately tasted defeat for the first time in his career after Taylor clung onto his titles. The decision caused outrage among some boxing fans and the two have been at loggerheads ever since. Following his clash with Catterall, ‘The Tartan Tornado’ relinquished his WBC, IBF and WBA world titles due to pending mandatory orders – and then lost his WBO crown to a resurgent Teofimo Lopez in New York City last June. Catterall ended a 15-month ring absence by widely outpointing Irishman Darragh Foley over ten-rounds at the Manchester’s AO Arena in May 2023 before sending multi-weight world champion Jorge Linares into retirement after dominating the Venezuelan legend over 12 rounds in Liverpool last October. In what is one of the most eagerly anticipated rematches in modern British boxing history, the fierce rivals will go head-to-head once more in a 12-round junior welterweight contest on neutral territory - with plenty of bad blood and animosity guaranteed in a blockbuster build-up. “I’ve never run from anyone in my life, especially not Jack Catterall,” Taylor said. “He has spent the last two years running from promoter to promoter while living off my name. Jack should be careful what he wishes for because he’s getting battered on April 27. I am going to enjoy every second of this. See you soon, Jack.” “I’ve wanted this fight since the moment the scorecards got read out in Glasgow,” Catterall said . “A few people say ‘move on Jack’, and that’s easy to say to when you’re not in my position. I get asked every day of my life multiple times a day, ‘when are you fighting Taylor again?’. This isn’t about belts, this is personal to me, and I can’t wait to get my hands on him. I don’t like him, I don’t respect him and on April 27 I’m going to end him.” "I’m so happy to get this fight made," said Matchroom Sport Chairman Eddie Hearn. "British boxing has been crying out for a big fight and now we look to settling the score of one of the most bitter rivalries in the sport. It will be nearly 2 years to the day since their controversial ndisputed fight and not a day has past where opinion and debate has not ensued. The pair have engaged in a back and forth full of hatred and now the time has come to finally meet again in Leeds on April 27. Despite the offers to stage this fight on PPV, I am proud that Matchroom and DAZN have stepped up make this fight available to subscribers as part of their subscription and I can’t wait for the intense build up and a huge event on April 27." “This is the ultimate grudge match between two of the world’s top 140-pounders,” said Top Rank Chairman Bob Arum. “These two warriors will settle the score in front of what I’m sure will be an incredible crowd in Leeds. If you look at Josh Taylor’s career, he has never, ever backed down from a challenge, and he will be in peak form on April 27.”

#HF #Josh Taylor #Jack Catterall #ESPN #DAZN #Matchroom #Top Rank

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magnusrosen-blog · 11 months

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Blog 7

"The Tree Of Life Tour" together with Green Cross blogs for Sweden Rock Magazine.

Breakfast at the hotel started a very eventful day. Teacher Ivo came and picked us up this morning / forenoon at 10.00. A very hot day like any other day, but it felt a little extra hot this day. But it worked fine despite a few beads of sweat on my forehead😅. The temperature is between 35-42 degrees C so far. This day we went out to their state university “ Institute Federal pernambuco/ Campus Afogados da Ingazeira ” which was surprisingly impressive. A very fresh school with many fine laboratories from 3d printers, chemistry, electronics, high-level computer courses, food handling, psychology support, etc. The school has 40% solar energy, which is very good. The students make new discoveries that can be used in the world outside the school. The whole feeling was very lovely and inspiring.

Me and Bengt did both information plus some bass playing for the students in the afternoon and a little more lyre in the evening. The appreciation and curiosity was very great, I must say. Between these performances, we also planted some trees symbolically both at the university but also out in the countryside. Yes, they had most certainly never had this combination of Rocker and Social Entrepreneur.

After the last performance, as the crowning glory, we received an invitation to next year's city festival next year, which we accepted on our feet.

Along the way, opportunities arise and problem solutions, changes and new parts of our program are added. Ivo has been added on part of the trip and other collaboration partners have dropped out due to various reasons. This is precisely what makes it an adventure. You live life to the fullest where security is your own inner compass and good travel companions with a focus on what will be best for our mission.

I'm certainly not better than anyone else for doing stuff like this, but it fits my person like a glove. With passion, the days are filled so meaningfully at the same time with the music that is my greatest interest, which comes with hanging on my back in a gig bag. The instrument also functions as a megaphone, as I mentioned before, where the spell-binding forces of culture create attention and illumination of our mission.

Bengt, who has been on this adventure for more than 30 years, has all the experience needed to make a difference. Hats off to him and his associates in Brazil 🇧🇷 🎩

The next day!

Now we are at the bus station (lunchtime) the next day waiting for a bus that will take us to Recife, about a 6-hour journey, then it will be a change to a flight of almost 4 hours that will take us to Manaus. This city is located in the middle of the Rainforests northwest from Recife inland and up the country. We will arrive in the middle of the night around 01:30. So it will be an evening flight.

Brazil is so big and the trips take a long time. But it is also a relaxation as I see it. There is good air-conditioning in the bus and although it is now no more than 1:47 p.m., I feel a little sleepy. Bengt and Ivo fiddle a bit with the phone while the other has his eyelids closed, which I will also do now 🥱

I believe human rights is Peace. if you cant find a peace solution then its wrong people round the table!!! Thats what i believe!!!

Make the world a better place 🌍 Love Peace Understanding Questions give knowledge Free Speech is given a Free World

Magnus

For those interested in the following, Sweden Rock Magazine's page is: https://www.facebook.comswedenrockmagazine Green-Cross www.green-cross.se

Magnus Rosen - Ambassador for Green Cross www.magnusrosen.com

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roseserpentpress · 2 years

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How do you do your book binding? Would you be willing to show the process? I find book binding so fascinating and your finished products are so rad!

Oh sure! And thank you so much for the complement! There's lots of ways to bookbind, and there's lots of different material out there to teach you how to bookbind as well! I'm actually part of the renegade bindery discord sever which is a collection of fanfiction bookbinders who also share tips and trick and resources with each other (you can ask to join by searching up their tumblr @renegadepublishing and requesting access. It's a really lovely and supportive community).

Specifically I've learned from the book Hand Bookbinding: A Manual of Instruction, as well as the Google docs How To Make a Book by ArmouredSuperHeavy, (the person that founded renegade publishing) although I've used the latter mainly for how to typeset something before I print it out, even if it goes into detail on how to physically bookbind. There's also lots and lots and lots of YouTube tutorials (DAS Bookbinding is one favoured by the renegade publishing community) and written tutorials online (I wouldn't be surprised if there's a PDF copy of the book I learned from out there as well), but I haven't really learned from much of them, although they'll teach you the same things (or another slightly different but valid) way of doing bookbinding.

Below the cut I'll go over a breakdown of my general methods; I'm not going to go into details on how exactly to do it, just the materials and techniques I personally use as well as some tips I find handy that weren't in the materials- because otherwise we'll be here for a long time, and there's plenty of much more accurate instructions out there then me, since I'm still learning and playing around with things.

To be noted, I use some specific tools which don't nessecarily need to be used for bookbinding. It just makes it faster. Also, here's a bunch of great resources for bookbinding, including links to places that tell you how you can make these specific tools.

1. Printing out of materials (If you intend to print out a book, not just bind a blank book)

2. Folding of papers to create signatures. I just use my hands at first, and then I either use a triangle/protractor or a seal's rib I found on a beach to go over it again to entirely flatten it (normal people who aren't a cheapskate purchase a bone folder. But I've honestly found using a triangle works perfectly for this, so I haven't really been inclined to buy one). Normally after this I set it in a 'press'- either squished beneath books, or set inbetween books on a bookshelf that then is tightly wedged with other books, to fold them as flat as possible.

Please ignore how messy my desk is god the triangle is beside the papers in the middle to be folded into a signature.

My beautifully versatile 'press'- there's a half finished book in there, plus a bunch of signatures ready to be punched being pressed.

3. Punching sewing holes into the signatures. I've created a punching cradle for myself, and I use a template to first denote where the holes will be punched and then punch them through with an awl. Then the signatures go back into the 'press'

Difficult to see, but the long piece of paper in the middle has marks along specific lengths where I leave marks for where to punching holes through. I prefer an open ended cradle as that I can hold the papers down with my thumb, but most people prefer a close ended one as the papers in the signatures are exact (which... Yeah I can see why. I find that I get exact enough paper alignment however, but I guess I'm not the most picky perhaps in that manner).

4. Sewing the signatures together; here there's a lot of variability depending if you want to use ribbons, cord or just sew the signatures together. I use ribbons, since that's the way I learned in hand bookbinding, although that's a bit overkill for small novels. I've whipped up a shoddy but functional sewing frame, which makes this much easier to do. I cut three ribbons to align with the holes in one of the signatures which I'm laying flat on my frame; I tape them to the bottom of my frame and pin them to the frames bar so they align. Then I sew the signature together, passing over and around the ribbons so that the ribbons get clamped to the signatures. For thread, I use white Gutenberg thread (it's just what I have on hand) that's been passed over a chunk of beeswax to both make the threads stick to each other while sewing to minimizing knots, which also makes them a bit stronger and makes the thread last longer. I sew using the kettle stitch, so tying a knot at the end of each signature to keep the signatures tight to each other; I press down with my fingers of my other hand when I tie a knot, to make sure it is as close as possible. After that's done, I put it back into the press to flatten again.

A just about finished textblock in the frame.

5. I then cut some linen (I buy those cheap Micheals squares of linen) to paste onto the back of the book; I cut it so it just covers the ends of the sewing holes on the top/bottom, and with about 3 cm of linen off each side of the spine to be glued to the bookboard that will become the covers. I paste it onto the sewn signatures by clamping the signatures between two large books, and then rounding the spine of the signatures, so they can fit nicely within the spine cover once it's made. I do this by lightly hitting the signatures with the flat area of the handle of an Swiss Army knife (normal people use a mallet). I make my own book binders paste to paste the linen down (it's literally just boiled flour and water). You can use any glues as well, and most people prefer to use pH neutral PVA since there's issues with acidity in paper and longevity. I use bookbinders paste because it's (theoretically, in my brain) pH neutral, and I'm... A bit cheap. With bookbinders paste, if it's too wet then the papers in the signatures might get wavy though, so you want to make sure it's pretty thick and rather the texture of custard (just follow the recipe properly). I also suggest you try to get the backs of the signatures as close as possible to where you clamp it between the books, as this means that once you've clamped it as much as possible, the signatures will be glued into a closer position to each other, and will not gape between signatures (or at least, not as much) when you are flipping through the book later.

Were ignoring that in this photo I've already added endbands (again, you can move around some steps- I like to add endbands after the bookboard is added as the textblock rests on the bookboard instead of the textblock, which minimizes any bending of the textblock. It's a little annoying to push the needle through the linen on the back, but I don't particularly mind). I like to measure and add lines for where I should be attaching the linen so it's not wobbly.

6. Cut the bookboard (there's a lot of things you can use as bookboard, and I've used varying things as well. I've used chipboard, backs of sketch books, and actual bookboard). I like to cut the bookboard so that there's a 4 mm overhang from the signatures inside, with a 7 mm space from the hinge for the bookboard.

I find using the heavy duty fixed x-acto blades is best for hand cutting bookboard, as they are the least liable to snap when putting pressure while cutting (I use scalpels for cutting the actual paper, not board, as a rounded edge cuts through cross-grain paper better as the cutting pressure is less horizontal and more downwards, and will not 'snag' the paper and give it little rips which can happen with the above). I find it best to not put a great amount of pressure to get it cut through in one cut, as you're more liable to slip your triangle/ruler- going over it a couple times with more moderate pressure tends to give me more accurate results. As well, using a ruler or triangle that has a flat surface that touches the paper surface will be more accurate as well- there's some rulers out there that hover over the paper since they have a cork bottom, and that means you're going to have more wobble in your cut as well, even when your ruler doesn't move at all.

7. Paste the bookboard to the signatures; I always make marks on everything where it should be aligning to, to keep everything as straightened out as possible. I put paste on the outside of the linen, with cardboard underneath so no paste gets on the signatures; I then press the cover on, and gently flip it to do the other side. I then place a heavy book on-top to ensure it dries correctly. After, I glue on the ribbons in much the same manner. After the ribbons are dried, I trim them along the linen, so it keeps them tidy.

Post ribbon trimming; unfortunately you can't see the outside lines on the linen I denoted for where the boards should be attached. Scalpel which I used to cut the ribbons and the paper is also within the photo (I bought mine off of Amazon for 20$ I think? I got one handle and a pack of 100 blades).

8. Create head/ends bands. I follow this tutorial for sewing headbands; there's lots of different ways to do it as well. For materials I use DMC embroidery thread (which is pretty thick... At some point I'll probably try actually thread, rather than embroidery floss as you can get more exact and even lines with thread) and cotton twine- I like this one as that I've found it keeps its circumference even, while other twine I had previously been using didn't always do that.

9. Attaching cover papers and spine. The way I've done them varies depending on my plans for the cover. I tend to paste down the paper of the covers first before the spine paper. For the spine, what I do is I first add the title, before attaching the spine paper (I do my titles by printing out the title to the size I want, rubbing graphite to the back of it and then tracing aggressively the title over the spine paper). I like to use Oxford hollows for my spine, and generally follow this guide (also done by one of the renegade bindery folks). I however like to paste in a thicker sheet of paper which over the area of the spine to add some heft to the spine and then curving it once it's dried, before glueing the spine paper onto the signatures. An important thing for when you're pasting paper/cloth to the covers, is that when it dries, if you haven't placed it under books/in a press it'll immediately start to curl the covers edges up. To minimize that, place it in a press immediately after you're done with pasting. Adding endpapers will remove/minimize the effect, although you can also get the covers to curl in the opposite direction then.

Cover paper added before spine. The type of embroidery thread I use for endbands is to the right.

Spine being worked on. For this one I cut out tabs for where the spine goes for an easier fold-over, but either way is fine I find.

10. Endpapers. Make a mark of where the text block ends on the covers; measure the amount of space between the edge of the cover to the mark, so you can make guiding marks for where you want the end papers to go. I cut the end papers and actually line them up before pasting- you want to make sure the paper will align to the textblock, so adjustments are often required to the marks you've made following the edges of the textblock. I apply paste to the bookboard, then align the paper to be just inside the marks, gently smoothing it with my hands (I find doing it with an implement can cause warping/tears in the paper. It's the same with any paper, although thicker paper definitely can take a lot more, and the stock coloured paper I use my triangle on for flattening, but only for edges). Once the end paper is gently pressed down against the cover, I press a triangle into where the spine would bend the endpapers to begin making a fold there; after going over it once or twice, I then begin to fold the book with the triangle still in, so that the crease remains, and after going over it another few times, I put a piece of cardboard and thin plastic (old overhead plastic papers, but others often used wax paper) and let dry overnight. If you don't add cardboard and plastic, the moisture will migrate into your textblock making it wobbly. Once it's dry (and not cold to the touch. Cold means it's not actually dry) I open it back up to add a small strip of paste on the first page of the text block near the hinge, so that it sticks to the end papers, and leave it again to dry over night with the same set up. And voila! You've got a finished book!

Tracing the edges of the textblock for endpapers

Using a triangle to guide the fold of the endpapers

11. Extras: you can also at this point make a extra cover, or add art to the covers on the book, like a nice title or something. You can also add a waterproofing step, which I've been meaning to get around too in my books. Some people have suggested spray acrylics, or simply clear acrylic medium as well, as it'd work (there's some resources out there about it). I personally apply a beeswax/mineral spirits mixture, which another binder in the Renegade discord has been recommending (it's a 50/50 ratio recipe. I just heated my beeswax slowly in the microwave at 1 min intervals, and then added and mixed in the mineral spirits). It very minimally at worst darkens the paper, and leaves a nice sheen along with making the cover water resistant. The book may be at first a bit tacky feeling, but as your hand oils get onto the cover it'll feel nice and smooth.

One note: For the icha icha books I swap around some of the stuff as that the paper I purchased isn't big enough to wrap around the whole book- so I actually attach the spine before the bookboards and wrap the bookboards with the cover paper before assembling all of it, to avoid having a line though the bookboard covers. I prefer the way I've outlined above over this method though as this method I personally find a bit more messy.

Aaaaaand that's pretty much my method! Hope this was helpful- if you have any specific questions feel free to ask 😊

#bookbinding #books #ficbinding #fanfiction #bookbinding tutorial #somewhat???#bookbinding links #renegade bindery #ask response #asks #asks are always appreciated!#rose serpent press #rose serpent bindery #renegade collective #me: 'otherwise we'll be here for a long time' me: is still here for a long time anyways #fanbinding resources

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ruins-posts · 3 years

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Umm, do you write fluff alphabet? could you do it for Sebastian Michaelis from black butler?

It's alright if you don't, sorry for the trouble.

🤍 Sebastian Michaelis Fluff Alphabet 🤍

Activities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Sebastian would love to spend time with some of his feline friends with your company, the two of his most favourite creatures on Earth. Sebastian also enjoys taking long strolls along with you, engaging in some deep and meaningful conversation.

He enjoys teaching, and so he'll always be up to teach his s/o something new that they've been wanting to learn or something he feels they should learn. He'll probably end up showing off his skills though.

Beauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Sebastian is beyond petty concepts such as physical attractiveness, if his s/o's personality has managed to intrigue and interest him, he will greatly admire that. He'll admire how your personality stands out compared to the other human beings, your unique traits and interests, the way you view the world, and above all, your ability to love a monster like him.

Comfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down?

Sebastian will give you your space to figure out things on your own, but if you require his comfort and support he will immediately rush to your side, providing you with any and every thing you need. He will listen to all your feelings if you're willing to pour them out, he's more than willing to provide you with a shoulder to cry on.

Even though he doesn't understand the complexity of human emotions, he's learned comfort mechanisms over the years.

Dreams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Given the current situation, he does not see his relationship with you evolving at all. However, if a miracle happens and the contract does reach an end, he might drag you to hell with him.

Equal - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

No, Sebastian will not see you as his equal or as superior to him. Humans are lowly creatures, and to be honest, you're no exception. He's definitely the dominant one, but he is also very respective of you.

Fight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Sebastian has a good amount of control over his wrath, he won't speak anything till he feels it's absolutely necessary. He'll be fine if you aplogise to him, but it's never the other way around. You'll never get an apology from him, he's too proud to say sorry.

Gratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

He is always aware of the littlest of things you do for him, and he will even try to return your gestures. The return of gestures is mostly done in physical forms, such as hand holding, kisses, cuddles, and sometimes when you're lucky he'll even bake you a few sweets and make you some tea. None of your affections go unnoticed.

Honesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Oh dear, he has millions of secrets that he keeps hidden from you. Mostly because they're horrifying and could give you nightmares for days, they're secrets your frail human mind might not be able to handle.

Inspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

Not really, the only change that came in him after he met you was that he felt a slight amount of love in his cold, ruthless heart, and he was willing to protect someone outside of a contract.

Sebastian usually has no personal problems, even if he did he's perfectly capable of finding the solutions on his own. He'll not want to burden you with his problems.

Jealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

This demon is possessive of what belongs to him, and so he absolutely won't stand it if someone's trying to steal you from him, they will be annihilated.

Kiss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

There's no questioning Sebas-chan's kissing skills, he's excellent. He'll always leave you craving for more. His kisses are the most passionate, rough and yet gentle.

The first kiss was probably planned out by him, even though you were oblivious to it. He took you out for a peaceful evening walk in the gardens, and it naturally happened in the flow of the moment. The two of you leaned in till your lips met, and he pulled you closer to him deepening it.

Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

After the very first kiss that the two of you shared, Sebastian would tell you that he holds some amount admiration for you and that does not consider you as just another pest human. That's it, that was his confession.

Marriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Sebastian doesn't think that marriage is necessary for you two to become closer, but if you want be wedded to him, he will gladly do it. The function won't be a grand or an official one, just the two of you simply declaring your vows to each other.

He'll only marry you after his current contract is over, though.

Nicknames - What do they call their s/o?

You'll be called regular nicknames such as 'darling' or 'my love', but his favourite is surely 'kitten'.

On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

This butler is a master of masking his emotions, nobody will get even the slightest of hint that he's in love with somebody. Though when he's alone with you, he'll allow himself to be vulnerable and show how much he loves you quite freely.

PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Sebastian won't be very affectionate in public, and will prefer to keep his relationship a secret to maintain his 'perfect butler' image in front of people.

He's won't mind occasional hand holding and kisses when nobody is looking though.

Quirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

He's simply one hell of a butler, but I'm pretty sure he can give you a glimpse of heaven, if you know what I mean ;)

Romance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy?

Quite romantic. He'll romance you all he can in his free time. He's an affectionate demon, in his alone time he's always in physical contact with you in one way or the other.

He'll study through human romantic gestures for you, even though he finds them silly. But as long as you're happy, he'll do anything.

Support - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Yes, he will support you unconditionally. And trust me, if he believes in you and says you can do it, you can. He won't give you false hopes and motivate you to do things that are beyond your capabilities.

He's willing too help you if you ever need it. It's a pleasure to him when he's the reason behind your success.

Thrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Sebastian will leave that up to you. If you like routine, he'll stick to it. However, if you believe that you need to try out new things to spice up your relationship, he'll do that as well.

You'll have to specify what exactly you want to do to spice it up though, ask and he will bring it to you.

Understanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

He can read human emotions to some extent, but he won't be able to figure out what exactly is bothering you. If you're vocal about it, he will absolutely help you put. He's always putting in effort to understand you better.

He's a demon, empathy is something he absolutely will not feel. A tiny bit of sympathy might arise, but don't expect him to be empathetic.

Value - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

After his young master, you are his second priority. You hold an important position in his life, but he will never put you before his young master. He's bound by contract to him, after all.

You are the only one who can make him feel the slightest bit of emotion, filling his heart with a strange warmth he has never experienced. Being a demon he must consume souls as food, and other than that, you're the other thing important in his life.

Wild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

Being a demon, he doesn't require sleep, but he does love to lie down and watch you beside you as you sleep. The sight of your chest falling and rising rhythmically and your peaceful face fills him with a peaceful feeling. He only wonders what sleep feels like to humans.

And he loves to coddle you while you're fast asleep. He finds the sight rather cute.

XOXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Sebastian is fond of expressing himself through physical touch, so a certain amount cuddles and kissing is involved. He won't admit it but he misses your touch when you're not around.

Kissing you is one of his favourite things to do. The sight of your flushed face and heavy breathing after he's done with ravaging your lips fills him with pride.

Yearning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

He'll try to lose himself in his work, and even seek the company of his beloved cats. He actually won't miss you unless you're going away for too long, and in that case, secret visits are guaranteed.

Zeal - Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

Yes, you hold an important place in his cold heart, and he's grown rather fond of you. He'll go any lengths to keep you with him and protect you, because you're the only one who he's willing to make himself vulnerable to.

#sebastian michaelis x reader #sebastian x you #sebastian x reader #sebastian x y/n #black butler x reader #fluff alphabet

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gaycrackheadraccoon · 2 years

Text

Sunshine - Russia x Reader

You are my sunshine,

My only Sunshine,

The sensation of grass blades tickling their feet sent slight shivers up their legs as they travelled down the familiar trail to see their beloved friend.

To some, the feeling of dirt, rocks, and sticks would be uncomfortable, the preference to wear some sort of footwear to protect the sensitive area would have been much more desirable; however, to (c/n), anything was better than wearing those horrific tight dress shoes they had been forced to wear through that god awful meeting with Britain.

He had been interested in creating a trade agreement between them, although they didn't quite remember, as their focus had been pushed elsewhere for the entity of the association.

Though, the pain and waiting were always worth it if it meant they could hang out with, him.

Russia, to them, they were one of the strongest and toughest of all the nations, yet kind and caring as well. Despite his, somewhat off-putting demeanour, the country had a soft side that more often than not people failed to see, never bothering to search past his history and aura.

But (c/n) did, and they never regretted it for a second.

Bright heads of golden sunny yellow could be seen through the lush forest, bright, and green with the arrival of spring. The towering flowers were always so lovey this time of year, they had been a gift from Russia when they had first acquainted so long ago.

Nearing the end of the unpaved trail, their head moved side to side, scouring the terrain for any sign of their companion.

“Russia,” cupping their hands around their mouth to amplify their call,” I'm here! Where are yo-”

"SUNFLOWER"

Strong arms wrapped around their navy, hoisting them up into the air, a slight dizziness overcame them as the Russian spun the younger country in the air. Rejoicing after being reunited with them once again.

“Oh, sunflower, it has been so long, Da? How have you been, I hope none of the other countries have been causing you any trouble? If so, I'll hit them with my pipe!” A series of giggles erupted from (c/n)'s lips as they laughed at the protective yet childish antics of the “mature” nation.

“ I'm fine Russia,” their feet landed upon the ground once again, being somewhat released by his constructive hug,” Britain's still as much of a stick in the mud as he was a decade ago, he and France still fighting over property rights of one of my ports down at the southern end of the island, but nothing new.”

The two nations had always gotten on your nerves, claiming to be responsible and functioning countries when they settled their stupid disputes like toddlers.

Wrapping their arms around Russia's waist, bringing him into a calmer hug.

“I'm always fine along as you're here.”

You make me happy,

When skies are grey,

Cold sweat dripped from their forehead, soaking into the roots of their hair, making the strands more matted than before. The substance dripped down their skin, creating a thin coat of moister between their back and thin nightclothes; the two stuck together, adding to the discomfort.

Unequal breathing made its way from their mouth, in a gasp-like fashion. Some are short and shallow, while others were deep but not deep enough to calm them.

The distress rising from other parts of the body distracted them from the thick trail of tears that rolled down their face. Their eyes become puffy and red, causing the purple bags underneath them to deepen. Sobs racked their frame as the horrors from the nightmare came flooding back to them. They weren't real, but they felt so vivid, so life-like, like a reminder of what happened…

that night.

They tried to forget, but they always remembered, that no matter how much they ran or how fast, it always caught up, and always caused the same spiralling panic attacks.

“(y/n)?” there was only one person who would call them that,” did it happen again?”

A small slit of golden light came from the doorway, illuminating a slight portion of the room. Shakily, they rose their reddened face from their clammy hands. Eyes directed toward the voice.

There stood Russia, not creepily or angrily, but with a sympathetic gaze gracing his face, the usual fake smile turning into one of comfort.

“….yea-yeah,” they stuttered a response before wiping away at their nose,” but I'm fine. I'm sorry, did awake you?”

Silently he closed the door behind him and walked into the room, although submerged by darkness once again, the fear evaded them as their protector had arrived.

They felt a dip in the bed beside them as Russia sat down, joining them on the mattress. Slowly, in an attempt to not startle the sniffling teen further, he pulled them into his broad shoulders. Manoeuvring them in a comfortable position, he cradled them like a mother to her distressed child.

Delicately, Russia ran his fingers through their locks, as his breathing acted like a rhythmic melody. He hummed softly, a tune similar to one of the old lullabies his sister had sung to him on nights just like these.

“It's okay,” he hushed,” I'm here.”

Youll never know dear, how much I love you,

It wasn't supposed to happen this way.

He never meant for them to get caught between him and America's silent war, and yet here they were, laying desperately on the ground as their soul began to fade.

Never once had Russia bowed to anyone, whether fellow country or simple human. And yet, here it was, kneeling on the ground full-heartedly for (c/n).

The small nation struggled to breathe, the blood that filled their lungs clogged in their throat; causing them to cough and sputter, flecks of the substance splattering further. The warm crimson liquid left vibrant stains across their injured abdomen, soaking into the once pristine uniform.

Every breath, every movement, no matter how small, sent unbearable spikes of pain across their nerves. The ringing in their ears only grew as they tried to speak.

“… Ivan…,” however Russia did not respond, he couldn't bear to look at them and see the damage he had brought upon them,” please... please look at me.”

His tears only grew, the streams now turning into rapid rivers, rolling down his soft cheeks. Soft sobs racked his frame, he couldn't believe what he had done, he had destroyed the one thing he had promised to protect with his life. Maybe the others were right, he was a monster.

A gentle hand came to his face, cupping it. Despite the pain, they guided the once strong nation to gaze upon them.

“Can you sing for me? Please? Just one last time?” the heartwarming smile never leaving their face, the fear of death drifting away from them having already accepted the inevitable.

His gaze lingered upon them a little longer, hesitant to begin. However, this wasn't for him, it was for them.

He closed his eyes and started the song they had cherished so dearly.

" you are my sunshine,

my only sunshine,

you make me happy,

when skies are grey,

You'll never know dear,

how much I love you,"

He struggled to finish it as he looked back into their eyes, the same eyes once filled with light and love, the ones that looked upon him with such admiration and never with a tint of fear behind them, now dead and lifeless.

Their breathing and movements had succumbed, along with their delicate life.

So please don't take my sunshine away

#russia x reader #aph russia #hetalia

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 22 - ao3 -

Lan Qiren woke in a bed, which was not a surprise. His favorite blanket – the one Wen Ruohan had bought for him – was tucked in around him, and this was also not a surprise.

He was in the Nightless City, which was.

“How…?”

“Your brother gave permission,” Wen Ruohan said, and Lan Qiren twisted his head in surprise, not having seen him sitting there at the desk beside the bed. Wen Ruohan was writing something, his brush movement steady and unhurried; it was a distinct contrast to the seething rage lingering in his voice. “Since I know you care about that.”

“Of course I care,” Lan Qiren said blankly. “He really gave permission?”

Wen Ruohan’s brush paused. “Are you suggesting that I’m lying?”

Lan Qiren considered it for a moment, then said, a little helplessly, “It seems more likely than him agreeing to cut my punishment short.”

Wen Ruohan snorted, and put his brush down. “I insisted,” he said, and the smug curl of his smile suggested it had been more than a casual conversation. “Anyway, he didn’t want a fuss.”

Naturally not, as He Kexin might object, Lan Qiren thought to himself, and shook his head at his own bitterness. He realized a moment later that it didn’t hurt to do that.

“How long did I sleep?” he asked, alarmed. The transit to the Nightless City was long, unless someone decided to waste vast amounts of qi flying by sword – which he could see Wen Ruohan doing – but the staves used for the Lan sect’s more severe discipline were not like those used for more mundane offenses. While they weren’t on par with a discipline whip, they were still made of spiritual wood, infused with qi; the injuries they left would not heal so quickly.

“I applied medicine,” Wen Ruohan said, rising to his feet and coming over to sit by Lan Qiren’s side on the bed, helping him sit up. “You’re not healed, only numb…I understand you’ve been having difficulties in your sect for some time, and that was even before the lady attacked you in an effort to frame you for her own rape.”

“I’m fairly sure she just wanted to show my brother that she wasn’t interested in him,” Lan Qiren said, wincing. He would not have phrased it quite like that, although thinking it over, it did seem to be a fair way to describe it, if an uncomplimentary one. “It’s not a stretch to think that picking his less impressive brother over him would do it.”

Wen Ruohan’s lips curled into a sneer. “Truly, an ingenious mind. Did she think herself so attractive that no man would ever deny her?”

That, or else she’d been truly desperate. Lan Qiren could sympathize with her to that extent. After all, do not take advantage of your position to oppress others was a rule for a reason, and the power and influence a Great Sect could bring to bear against a rogue cultivator was not nothing. But his sympathy ended at the point where she’d decided it was acceptable to harm him in order to achieve her goal – even looking at her actions in the best possible light and assuming that she sincerely thought he would participate willingly in her plan, she’d made all sorts of assumptions and hadn’t bothered to verify anything before acting on them.

He Kexin might be free and unrestrained, as his brother had described her, but she was also perilously reckless, and selfish, too.

Still, at the same time Lan Qiren thought about Wen Ruohan’s smirk when he mentioned his ‘insistence’ with his brother – he wasn’t sure if it involved physical violence or not, although the mental image of such a confrontation was oddly satisfying – and grimaced at the thought of the same sort of pressure being brought to bear on someone without a Great Sect’s protection. “About - He Kexin…”

“You needn’t concern yourself for the lady’s sake,” Wen Ruohan said, and his tone was a little unpleasant. “Even after all that, she permitted herself to be convinced by one of her friends that the advantages of receiving Qingheng-jun’s affections outweighed the disadvantages, despite her own better instincts; that seems punishment enough for the moment. Someone who does not hesitate to blind themselves at the say-so of another will reap the reward they deserve in the end…”

He shook his head, and smiled once more, displaying a glint of teeth.

“You may take comfort that I took no action against her. However, I did suggest that the lady in question consider avoiding Qishan on her future travels.”

Lan Qiren felt something warm pricking his heart. “The thought is appreciated, although unnecessary. The one whose conduct is in the wrong is my brother.”

He’d appreciate an apology from He Kexin, whether for misjudging him or ignoring his refusals, but he wouldn’t hold out hope for it.

“I can be angry at more than one person at once,” Wen Ruohan said. A strange expression flitted over his features. “I admit, I would have thought Lao Nie would have done something about the entire situation sooner. Even if you weren’t writing to me, why didn’t you write to him?”

“I did,” Lan Qiren said. “His initial reply was – unsatisfactory.”

Lao Nie had responded rather casually to Lan Qiren’s message laying out the situation with his brother and He Kexin, speaking light-heartedly of the burning ardor of first love; he had assured Lan Qiren that it was normal to feel troubled by the thought of being left behind, even when the relationship was not good, and that his brother would probably resurface from his infatuation a happier person in the end. It was fairly evident that he hadn’t read all of Lan Qiren’s carefully composed letter.

“I asked him to come by the Lan sect,” he added. “But he was otherwise occupied.”

Wen Ruohan pressed his lips together in irritation. “He’s been otherwise occupied for some time now. You’re not the only one whose letters he’s disregarded.”

“Even you?” Lan Qiren said wonderingly. “But he likes you so much.”

The tightness in Wen Ruohan’s face eased a little. “I’ve asked him to visit here on account of your health,” he said. “I expect to see him arrive in his usual ridiculous flurry of temper and hen-like concern soon enough – once he reads the letter, anyway.”

Lan Qiren nodded, then hesitated. “The last time I was here…”

Wen Ruohan gazed at him sidelong.

Lan Qiren bit his lip. “I understand that I overstepped –”

“Don’t apologize.”

Lan Qiren stopped.

Wen Ruohan looked irritated again. “Don’t apologize,” he said again. “Are you not my little brother? If you cannot scold me, who is there that lives who can? I am not Qingheng-jun.”

Lan Qiren wasn’t entirely sure how the two were connected.

“If you want to make it up to me, go back to the way you addressed me before,” Wen Ruohan added.

Lan Qiren frowned, confused. “How do you mean?”

“Call me da-ge. Not xiongzhang.”

“…the latter is more polite.”

“So is listening to your elders,” Wen Ruohan said haughtily. “As you’re so fond of saying, it’s what I asked.”

“All right, da-ge,” Lan Qiren said obediently, and Wen Ruohan looked pleased.

“Rest,” he ordered, rising to his feet. “There will be dinner soon, and perhaps we can play weiqi once again…is there anything else you need for your room?”

Lan Qiren’s room in the Nightless City was very similar to the room Wen Ruohan had prepared for him in the Cloud Recesses; he couldn’t think of anything else he might need. Except only…

“I don’t suppose you could ask your spies to check in on my rooms back home,” Lan Qiren said, even as he settled back down to rest as instructed. “There was a painting there that you gifted to me that I liked a lot. It fell during the fight, and I haven’t been back since. I don’t want it thrown away.”

“Which one? I got you several…the mountain pass? The flowering tree?”

“No, the landscape with the rolling hills,” Lan Qiren said, and Wen Ruohan, who had been about to leave, stopped abruptly by the door. “It’s a little burned at the edges; you can’t really mistake it for anything else.”

“You liked that one?” Wen Ruohan’s voice was strange, full of some emotion that Lan Qiren was too tired to even try to decipher. “Above the others? The quality is much less, and the skill with the brush inferior.”

“The person who painted it was happy,” Lan Qiren explained. “There’s an echo of the painter’s residual qi trapped in the ink, you can tell a little bit about who they were from that. Whoever it was, they were brash and bold, arrogant and carefree – full of potential, like a phoenix about to alight to a higher branch. Their soul was like a falcon’s, tied down by nothing. Looking at it is an inspiration, and a comfort. I use it sometimes as a focus for meditation.”

“…I’ll have my spies check,” Wen Ruohan said, and he must be truly perturbed by Lan Qiren’s punishment-induced injuries if he had actually just admitted to having spies in the Cloud Recesses. “In the meantime, I have several other works by the same…artist. If you’d like.”

“Oh, very much!” Lan Qiren said enthusiastically; he tried to struggle up to sit again, but he started to feel pain even through the numbness of the anesthetic he’d been dosed with. Wen Ruohan glared him back down, and he yielded meekly, knowing that he was in no state to be really protesting. “Thank you, da-ge. I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

Wen Ruohan huffed and put a hand behind his back, sweeping out the door like a gust of wind.

Lan Qiren lay back down, staring up at the ceiling.

Are you really going to do this? he wondered. Will you really forgive him for what he has done, for what he is, just because you desperately need support? What happened to your principles? Your rules?

He exhaled hard, almost a sigh. He still wasn’t all right with the torture, still thought it was wrong for a man to exult in the pain of others in such a grotesque fashion, but he’d gone back to his standby, the rules, and he was reminded brutally that they were designed to function as guides for the self, not for the world. You were supposed to embrace the entirety of the world, to shoulder the burden of morality, to refuse to tolerate evil – and yet the rules of hospitality, of host and guest, of neighbors, were ranked just as high.

He could choose to continue to hold back, to express his disdain of Wen Ruohan’s ways with distance and reserve, but it wouldn’t stop Wen Ruohan from doing what he wanted anyway, and it would leave Lan Qiren even more isolated and friendless than he was already.

It would be better to compromise.

And yet – it was hard, perilously hard, to force himself to do so. It was one of his flaws, he knew: how uncompromising he was, how unyielding, how bitterly he held onto his opinions, refusing to change, especially when he thought he was right.

For his own sake, he needed to try to do so. But he also needed to at least try to salvage his conscience, too.

He’d have to find a way to do both.

So decided, Lan Qiren reserved the issue of how he would do that in the back of his mind, returning to sleep. It would be easier, he thought, to resolve the issue in the morning, once he’d healed up a little more.

It wasn’t, but that was mostly because he was horrified to discover that he had no proper clothing.

“You have clothing that fits,” Wen Ruohan replied, the mildness of his voice failing to conceal the glint of amusement in his eyes. “It’s even in your clan’s colors. What’s the problem?”

“It’s too much,” Lan Qiren insisted, shaking the clothing at him. He had at least been left his inner robes, though he felt naked without the extra layer. “My formal clothing is less excessive than this!”

“That is surely a matter for your sect, isn’t it? I don’t think it’s excessive.”

“You have no sense of proportion!”

Wen Ruohan shrugged. “I can send for something else,” he said. “Even from your home, if you like. By regular post, it should only take a week or so to arrive.”

Lan Qiren scowled.

“If you really prefer, you’re welcome to walk around naked until then –”

Lan Qiren was so aggravated that he actually hissed at him, surprising Wen Ruohan into a laugh that interrupted his words, and returned to his room to begrudgingly put on the robes. They were white and silver, his usual preference – not interwoven with blue, but that wasn’t a surprise, given that white was a secondary color for the Wen sect as well as the Lan – but they were also ridiculously overwrought: embroidered brocade, silks so fine that they had to be layered in order to not be translucent, studded with shining pearls and what might be actual silver…

“Absurd,” he grumbled, but put on the clothing and came back out. “Do you enjoy tormenting me? Is that it?”

“At times,” Wen Ruohan said, his eyes curved and merry. “Come, sit. It’s your move.”

Lan Qiren permitted himself to succumb to his sworn brother’s atrocious taste for the evening, then stole away to the laundry room the first chance he could, determined to beg for a set of clothing that was somewhat more normal – even mourning clothing would be acceptable, as long as it was neither Wen sect nor horribly garish.

Wen Ruohan found him there, arguing spiritedly with the tailor, and whisked him back to his rooms on account of Lan Qiren’s injuries, arguing, correctly, that Lan Qiren was on the verge of collapsing and coughing up blood from having been a bit too enthusiastic.

Eventually, after some of what Lan Qiren called reasoned debate and what Wen Ruohan called flagrant sulking, Wen Ruohan agreed to get him something a little more normal to wear on the condition that he wear at least one adornment of Wen Ruohan’s choosing along with it.

“You secretly wanted to play with dolls as a child,” Lan Qiren said accusingly, even though the initial adornment – a belt loop made from moonstone and jade – was entirely appropriate, even by Lan sect standards. “You were denied the chance then, and now you make it everyone else’s problem. Is that it?”

“Perhaps,” Wen Ruohan said. “It’s been so long, how would I remember?”

Lan Qiren rolled his eyes and gamely lost to him at weiqi a few more times.

It was perilously easy to slip back into the comfortable camaraderie that they’d developed on his last visit, he reflected as he prepared for bed that evening. It was something he enjoyed - something they both enjoyed - and if Lan Qiren only kept his opinions to himself, convinced himself to actually bend for once, he might be able to actually keep it, this time.

The next morning, he went to the extensive library kept by the Wen sect and took down several books on anatomy, carefully copying out the goriest parts of it in his best calligraphy; he wasn’t an inspired painter like the nameless ancient that had done the pictures that now hung in his room here, but he excelled at dry and lifeless copies, which was about what you wanted from an anatomy text.

He finished the small booklet within a few days, and gave it to Wen Ruohan one evening before dinner.

“What’s this?” Wen Ruohan asked, flipping through it with a slightly bemused expression. “Medicine?”

“Anatomy,” Lan Qiren corrected. “Since you – like that sort of thing. It’s a gift.”

Wen Ruohan blinked very deliberately. “Little Lan,” he said, staring down at one of the more explicit illustrations. “Did you get me a gift to help me torture people better?”

“I got you a gift because you’re my sworn brother, and you’re taking care of me,” Lan Qiren said with as much dignity as he could muster in light of the patheticness of his abject surrender. “I got you this gift because it seemed relevant to your interests. Anyway, it’s not something I can share, or even really countenance – and in all honesty I would prefer that you not do it while I’m around, or at minimum try not to mention it to me, to make it easier to look the other way – I mean, it’s not going to be easy, but easier – well, my scruples aren’t important. It’s something that matters to you, so I’ll just –”

Wen Ruohan cleared his throat, interrupting him. “You don’t need to worry about that,” he said, looking at the space above Lan Qiren’s head for some reason. “The Fire Palace has had trouble keeping my interest recently; the entertainment has gone stale. I have moved on.”

Lan Qiren had not expected that, and he smiled happily, his pricked conscience unexpectedly granted a reprieve. For some reason, it made Wen Ruohan stare at him.

“Well, I’m happy to hear that you’re not torturing people for sport any longer,” Lan Qiren told him, in case it wasn’t clear. “As for the booklet, even if it’s not quite right for your interests right now, I still hope you enjoy the work...I’ll get you a better gift next time.”

“No need to strain yourself,” Wen Ruohan said. “I will be pleased no matter what it is, I’m sure.”

He gestured for Lan Qiren to enter the dining room first, which Lan Qiren did. Oddly enough, despite his cliché and rather condescending reassurances, Wen Ruohan looked especially pleased throughout dinner, almost as if he really meant what he’d said.

It was nice, Lan Qiren thought, to be liked. One could get used to it.

His injuries were healing very well, between the medicines Wen Ruohan’s doctors plied him with – Lan Qiren attempted not to calculate the value of them, certain that they were probably worth more than a small sect’s heirloom treasure – and the rich spiritual energy Wen Ruohan insisted on infusing him with, morning and night. Lan Qiren tried to protest that the latter was unnecessary, but Wen Ruohan had stood on his rights as the host, and at any rate he simply had so much qi that the effort seemed not to wear on him at all. So Lan Qiren let him keep doing it, Wen Ruohan’s warm hands conveying warm qi as he spoke to him of various matters, important and trifling, and Lan Qiren – liked it.

“In the Nightless City, we release lanterns several times a year, not just on the Lantern Festival,” Wen Ruohan murmured into Lan Qiren’s ear as he sat there, eyes growing heavy as his rules-mandated bedtime approached. “It’s a celebration of the sun as our sect’s sigil. The lanterns come in all shapes and sizes and colors, and we light the flames with spiritual energy. There’s a day not far from now where we will do it; people are making preparations already. Your body is still stiff and unbending, your wounds still healing – you’ll be here to see it.”

Lan Qiren nodded.

“Good,” Wen Ruohan said. “Very good…ah, little Lan, what a strange thing you are. When you were gone, I thought of you often no matter what I wished. I thought that I could cure it by having you here, but now you are here before me, every day, and yet I think of you no less. It seems that seeing you every day does not cause me to tire of you.”

“Yes, you’re very easily amused,” Lan Qiren said, his eyes sliding shut as the warm qi circulated through his body. “I think we long ago established that.”

“Is there any feature of yours that you actually like, little Lan? Or is it all self-depreciation?”

“I have a good brain,” Lan Qiren said. “I’m creative and analytical, and I explain things well; I make for a decent or even accomplished teacher. My musical ability is good, both in terms of playing and composition. Also, I’m informed that my face is first rate.”

Wen Ruohan laughed behind his shoulder. “I stand corrected.”

When they parted that night, all was well.

The peace did not last until morning.

#mdzs #lan qiren #wen ruohan #my fic #my fics #spilled pearls

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camelotsheart · 4 years

Photo

It has recently been brought to my attention that there has been a lot of reposts happening in regards to Merlin edits, so I want to make a post to talk about this issue. Both to speak up for editors who’s edits are being reposted and to help new editors with resources and tips so they don’t end up turning to reposts.

Consider the gifset above. The left gifs are unedited, while the gifs on the right are. This is to give you an idea of the amount of adjustments we do to scenes on a show, which are often dark, have horrible colour balance, and lack sharpness. This applies to fanvids, photo edits and any other kind of edited content. It is not fair, then, for someone to take an edit from a creator’s account and use it to make their own. You are disrespecting the creator and the time and effort they spend into making these edits look presentable. You are also violating Tumblr’s rules regarding reposting and attribution.

For our reposters who don’t know any better because they are new to tumblr and haven’t yet been told of the rules regarding reposting and gif-making, consider this your first lesson: never, ever use other people’s edits as part of your creations . This includes gifs, photos, manips, fanvids, and all other kinds of original content (e.g. don’t use a gif to make your own, don’t make a gif from a fanvid, don’t take photos of a gif to make a photo edit, don’t use another person’s fanvid in your own fanvid.... you get the idea). Doing so will run the risk of the owners of these creations reporting you and your account getting suspended.

Now that the nitty gritty part is done and over with, I’ll offer solutions to three of the most common complaints I’ve seen with creators who are at the initial stages of trying their hand at creating content 😊 :

1. “I don’t have HD files of my show so any edits I make are bad quality.” Try asking around! Make connections, join a tumblr group, join a discord server, heck -- ask your favourite giffer! They’ll certainly prefer you asking them for files than stumbling across a repost of their gif. Lots of people are willing to help new editors ✨

2. “I don’t have fancy programs to edit with.” Photoshop is by far the most efficient and popular program for editing. Again, don’t be afraid to ask around for download links! (Here are some very detailed step-by-step tutorials for giffing on photoshop: 1, 2, 3) Another option would be Da Vinci Resolve, which is free to download here.

If neither Photoshop nor Da Vinci works on your laptop because it takes up too much RAM, there are also online programs that are free to use like photopea, which has similar functions as photoshop. Here’s a tutorial on how to make gifs using free onlline websites. The above gifsets were made using this method.

3. “My editing skills are horrible.” Practice, practice, practice! Editing is a hobby and a hobby should be something you love. Believe me, it’s much more satisfying when you learn to edit scenes the way you want it to look instead of mix-matching from other people. The gifset looks way prettier, and you won’t run the risk of someone reporting you and getting your account suspended.

All in all, have fun! Don’t stress if your first edit doesn’t end up as good as you want it to be - we’ve all been in that position. Keep on learning and growing, don’t compare yourself to other people, do what you love to do and never stop as long as it makes you happy ✨

#bbc merlin #merlinedit #giffing #reposts #merlin #merlin bbc #just to clarify: i'm not trying to call out anyone with this #these are just general trends that i've seen amongst reposters #to all the newbie gif makers -- good luck with gif making!#we're all here to help you. don't be afraid to approach any one of us for links or tips #or even just to have a chat!

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fandomscreenshots · 3 years

Text

(Repost from my Instagram since it will be helpful for you guys as well) Long story short so you can choose to scroll past or read: I'm dealing with ADHD and I never knew I had it until now, at age 27. I'd like to spread more awareness about this condition since a LOT of people might be struggling with it without even knowing. It can give you the feeling you’re failing in everything you do and that there’s something wrong with you, while there is an explanation!

In the first 5 slides you can read what ADHD means and what types there are. I personally have inattentive ADHD, meaning that I’m physically not hyperactive but am only dealing with a brain that has trouble with certain things. I don’t always deal with all of the symptoms, though, and it depends on what situation I’m in and how I feel. So many people around me have recently discovered (at a later age) they have ADHD because the pandemic is making the symptoms stand out more. When I look back I already had symptoms as a child, but they have never been noticed by anyone, ever. I've always been undereducated about ADHD and thought it was just something that simply 'gives you too much energy'. School never taught me what it really means, unfortunately. But according to science it's harder to recognise ADHD in women (slide 8) so I guess it was only a matter of time to discover it myself. A bit later than I would've wanted, but better late than never. Now it all makes sense why I was so 'obsessed' with everything related to the IT movies (and other movies/characters throughout my life) because it's common for people with ADHD to hyperfocus on something they're interested in (slide 6). No matter how much you'd like to focus on other things for a change, it's pretty much impossible and the only way to deal with it is to just go with the flow. If it makes you happy and gives you positive outcomes, then don't feel sorry. Personally the IT fandom in particular gave me the chance to develop myself in art, meeting new people, making friends, inspire and becoming inspired by people and even make me appreciate the horror genre. The first time I was reading about Leonardo Da Vinci having ADHD (slide 7) it was almost as if I was reading about myself. I abandon my projects all the time whenever I find motivation in something new. It's something you hardly can suppress and you feel terrible about all the projects that end up unfinished. Personally it makes me feel like I'm failing, thinking I'm not good enough or that I don't deserve my talents. I wouldn't be surprised if I'm also dealing with anxiety, since it's common for adults with ADHD to deal with at least one other mental health condition. I'm scared to apply for a job, scared that I'm not talented enough and scared to disappoint people. But thankfully I don't feel alone in this anymore. The questions about my behavior traits finally have been answered and the ADHD community really makes you feel you matter. I still don't know how to deal with it, though. The pandemic has definitely worsen my symptoms and I can easily say that I am the worst version of myself I've ever been. I am barely functioning because there is no daily rhythm (school, job, activities) I can hold on to. If you recognise yourself in my story and the slides of information, remember that you're not alone. I hope people can tell me their experiences and tips how to deal with ADHD.

#adhd #adhdawareness #adhdartist #somethingpersonalforachange

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sugarmaplewings-fics · 4 years

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Partners

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Warnings: None

A/N:

Okay, so this one has a lot behind it. Technically, this is the first request I ever received (I’d say I got this one around late July?). It was 100% my intent to do all three characters, and it still is, but I got caught up in Bakugou’s and kind of konked on the other two. Also I realized how fricking long this was and thought it would be weird to have as a headcanon-y format.

I spent way too much time strategizing this (I remember literally laying in bed from like 2-4 AM rewatching episodes to get Bakugou’s fighting technique down and taking notes while also thinking about my new OC, who debuts here), but I honestly had the most fun writing this??? Like, I was high key using my brain for this and it was fun. Anyway, I hope it didn’t come out too cringey. If you want to talk to me about my OC, please please please come in my inbox, I am so happy to see you there!

I will finish this request! Sometime! When motivation re-strikes me! I’m about half-way done with Kirishima’s and I have a solid idea for Amajiki’s (different quirks).

I really hope you like this! This was new and experimental for me, and I’m pretty happy with how it turned out!

-Sugar

The class of 1-A stood in a small grouping, facing their teacher, All Might. They were preparing to begin their hero training for the day, anticipating for when the instructor would receive the go-ahead to begin class. Finally, All Might tapped a finger to the piece in his ear, a person on the other end offering confirmation that the grounds were ready.

"All right, young boys and girls," he said. "Today, we're doing some sparring practice in pairs. You will be graded on your tactic and skill."

He began to go over the general rules, which were the same as always; quirks are completely allowed, nothing dirty, he would interfere if he thought necessary. The objective was much like the sports festival where you needed to either immobilize your partner or push them out of bounds, yadda dadda da.

When he finally began listing off teams, you eagerly listened for your own last name to be read off his sheet.

"—Tokoyami and Shouji, (L/N) and Bakugou, Midoriya and—"

There it was! Your name! And a certain someone else's . . . .

Your eyes flicked around your assembled class, easily locating the blond spikes haphazardly sprouting from his head.

If it wasn't your sweet rival, Bakugou Katsuki.

The two of you were at the top of the class, constantly bumping heads on everything from test scores to hero training.

Oh, this is going to be good . . . .

You'd never fought one on one with quirks with each other before, and you already anticipated getting to know how your respective powers might clash. It wasn't as though the thought hadn't crossed your mind before—quite the opposite, in fact.

You felt considerably prepared for your mini battle with how much you'd watched him over the past months; learning his moves, how he thought, anything from what drove him forward to things that made him tick. You'd caught glimpses of Midoriya's hero notebook where he had information on all his classmates, and a part of you cockily doubted that you would even need something like that when it came to how well you knew your rival by now.

Nevertheless, you began to plot out strategies and stretch while you waited your turn, scenarios playing out in your head as you attempted to plan for any move he could try to pull against you.

Your quirk was called Panic. You could affect the fear response in someone's brain with high frequencies. Your signature attacks came from long, loud screams to make someone wet their pants, but you were also perfectly capable of making odd squeaky noises for a tasty sense of looming uneasiness in your opponent. You had learned some combat techniques, but for the most part you did better at long range; trying to immobilize the enemy enough to swoop in unexpected and secure them.

No one was wearing their hero costume, only in their gym uniforms. This would provide a slight disadvantage to you because you didn't have your directional speaker, but it wasn't the most necessary support item. You could function well enough without it.

Every now and then, you'd be knocked out of your meticulous scheming to watch some of your fellow classmates spar. There were a few pairs going at one time, but you were placed in one of the last sets, so you had the advantage of time to strategize. Eventually, however, you were called into one of the training rings, straightening and confidently adjusting your blue and white jacket.

You met Bakugou's fiery red eyes from across the way, teasingly waving at him and smirking. His gaze darted away from yours, stubbornly deciding to glue itself to the floor.

He wouldn't go easy on you. In fact, quite the contrary. You knew he'd give you everything he had and more, and you were more than prepared to do the same for him.

In a matter of minutes, your feet were planted in the loosely packed dirt of the training ring, several meters away from where Bakugou stood across from you, stretching out his arms. Your heart pounded in your chest as you waited for the signal to go, scraping the most important points you'd worked out earlier to the front of your brain.

After what felt like forever, the siren blared in your ears, causing you to tense, ready to begin your round with your explosive rival.

You shot towards him, wanting to get as close as possible. You expected he might try to stay away, keeping a distance so your quirk wouldn't affect him so much. Instead, he stood his ground, holding out his palms to you as you approached. Internally, you faltered, wondering what he was planning to do.

Nevertheless, you kept running forward, getting as close as you dared before drawing in a breath to scream and release your power. You noticed Bakugou flinch as sound began to leak from your throat, but he quickly fired off an explosion in your direction, drowning out the sound.

Of course! You internally smacked yourself. You relied on him being able to hear your screams in order for your quirk to affect him. He would have to use his explosions to drown out the sound.

Your mind began to spin, trying to formulate a new plan, when he began making an advance on you. Loud, crackling explosions danced off his hands, not horribly powerful, but boy, were they loud. You cringed at them, resisting the urge to cover your own ears to protect yourself from the noise. He kept coming closer, heat and smoke flickering over your face, causing you to take a step back, then another.

So that's his plan, you thought, taking another step in the direction of the boundary lines. He knows he can't really fight hand-to-hand, and there's no way either of us are going to admit defeat, so he's trying to push me out.

Your objective was to either knock him unconscious or chase him out of bounds, but this could be used to your favor if you timed it correctly.

Quirks are physical abilities too, you remembered hearing Midoriya say. Even Kacchan has his limits.

Push him to his limits. That's what you had to do.

You let him fire off blast after blast, keeping as far out of his reach as you could while leading him around the arena. He didn't have much choice but to keep going. If he stopped, you would be able to use your quirk on him, and you had a good chance of winning with one as powerful as yours. He simply had to keep a clear head and try to push you further towards the white boundary lines. Every now and then, he would lunge forward, trying to grab at you, and you would shriek at him, smirking as a moment of panic flashed across his face when the piercing noise slipped into his ears. This also served to make him all the angrier, lips curling into a snarl at your dominion over his emotions.

You made sure to keep your distance. You weren't wearing your hero costume, which would have helped in the sense that he wouldn't have been able to grab your mouth from under the directional speaker you wore over your mask, but you were grateful you didn't have to deal with his gauntlets.

You didn't like that he kept moving, and a small part of you was almost certain your fear and anxiety-inducing quirk would make his palms sweat even more, but there wasn't more you could pull against him. You just had to keep going until one of you exhausted yourself.

The smoke wasn't helping you. It scratched at your throat and stung your eyes. The scent of burning sugar filled the air, and you wondered how much more the both of you could take.

There it was, a wince from behind one of the black clouds, a falter in one of the fiery blasts. He was growing tired, but you knew from his expression of blank determination he wouldn't stop no matter what toll it took on his body. Anything for him to win, but you were the same way. Though he'd been focusing on the sound levels of his quirk rather than the force of each blow, it had still been taxing, and you knew that now was your chance.

The whole time, you'd been on the defensive, trying to save your voice and keep out of the way until this very moment, but now was the time of offense. You began to work the two of you over to the boundary lines, hoping to lull Bakugou into a false sense of security that he was getting you where he wanted.

Without warning, you leapt forward, going in to knock his feet from under him. If you got him on the ground, it would be easier for you to secure his hands and grab his head, which would ensure the win for you.

He snarled and leapt back. His reflexes were phenomenal, but in his moment of defense, he dropped from using his quirk. Bingo.

A deafening sliver of silence followed his motion, which you quickly filled with a piercing scream, one of the loudest you could muster.

His eyes widened and he stumbled, another explosion firing off as a flash of fear coursed through his body. You went for his feet again, and this time you wouldn't let up, pulsing high-pitched shriek after shriek to keep him on edge. He tried to keep on his toes, swinging at you almost blindly as you darted forward and dodged.

You'd learned that if you didn't do it enough, the fear and adrenaline of your enemy could work against you, heightening their senses and reflexes, and if you did it too much, your opponent might get used to your effect. Now, however, you knew to work quickly, forcing your influence into his head until he would struggle to think clearly, landing a good blow to his knees.

He crumpled forward, and you straddled yourself on top of him easily, taking his hands in one of yours behind his back and using the other to clutch at the base of his neck. You could feel his heart pounding underneath you, see his eyes rolling in his skull. The thought crossed your mind to pity him.

You loved your quirk, occasionally delighting in how easy it was to assert a certain amount of control over people. But you weren't a monster, and the idea of needlessly terrifying your classmates brought a curl to your lip in distaste. But this was your rival, Bakugou Katsuki. Maybe he deserved to be put in his place. Just a little.

You leaned forward and put your lips to his ear, letting out a final, high-frequency hum directly into his canal. You felt him seize up beneath you, hearing how his breathing changed as he tried to suck in breaths to calm himself. You wouldn't let up, however, and before long, you felt him go limp under your belly.

You stood after making sure he had slipped from consciousness, pride filling your chest. You'd done it. You'd won out over your rival.

You looked around and made eye contact with Cementoss, who had been monitoring your half of the fighting rings. He nodded at you approvingly and advanced to take Bakugou out of the ring.

You flounced back to the room where your classmates had been watching the sparring matches, allowing yourself to relish in the way everyone's eyes turned towards you.

"(L/N) shojo," All Might said. "Excellent job."

The silence of the class was cleared and everyone who was still in the room surged forward to congratulate you.

"You beat Bakugou!"

"That was amazing!"

"You really did it!"

Once everyone had settled, you excused yourself to go to the locker rooms.

On your way, you ran into Bakugou, who had since woken up from the little nap you'd forced him into.

"Oi, Bakugou," you said, the sound of your voice causing his blond head to whip around. You approached him and stuck out a hand. "Good match."

He glared at your hand and smacked it away. Why did his reaction kind of . . . hurt?

"Shut up!" he yelled. "Next time, you won't—you won't beat me so easily, mouse." He nearly choked when he had to admit that you had won against him.

"Still calling me a mouse?" you asked, tilting your head and smirking.

"You still squeak like one," he grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Don't think I'm done with you. You might have won today, but don't get used to it."

"Oh, I think I just might," you said cockily, breezing past him to slip into the girls' locker room door.

Bakugou growled at your disappearing back. What the hell was wrong with you? More importantly, what the hell was wrong with him?

He gripped at the back of his neck where you'd grabbed him, shivering at the memory of the sensation of your lips to his ear.

He had to snap out of it. You were his enemy. The only place you should have in his mind were in thoughts of how to overcome you, how to pound you into the ground until he came out on top above you.

And yet you wouldn't leave his head, and he found his eyes chasing your form nearly every day he saw you.

Bakugou snarled to himself, snapping him out of these thoughts and pushing himself from the locker room entrances. He would find a way to beat you. He wouldn't stop until he figured out a way to do it.

He wouldn't rest until he sorted out these feelings too, whatever they were.

Bakugou's black boots clicked on the floor as he exited the building. This was only the beginning of your saga together, and the two of you refused to enter passively.

*✲ﾟ*｡⋆♡⁎*✲ﾟ*｡⋆♡

Taglist: @basicaegyo @iiminibattlehero @katsugay @nabo39 @pyrofanatic @sendhelpimstupid @sokkasangel @xoxopam4

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author-a-holmes · 3 years

Text

Underwing Challenge Day 3

"Who is your main cast? Describe as many of your OCs as you can cram into one post."

(Event Link) - (Day One) - (Day Two)

As many as I can cram into one post? Whooo-boy, you have no idea what you've asked for <3

Because Stolen is a Fantasy Romance, it's written in Third Person Close/Limited from the points of view of Stella Korazon and Reilly Mosswolf.

Stella Korazon

"Loving someone forever is the easy part, so long as you actually love them in the first place." - Stella

At the start of Stolen, Stella is a young but very talented thief. She was raised by her Da', Colm Korazon in a wagon that they used to travel the East Coast caravan route of Moryann.

Her greatest skills include being able to read a persons body language, and her pick-pocketing. She was taught how to fight, but her preferred reaction is to evade, dodge, run, or a mixture of the three.

Physically she's small. Short, and very slim, and with long blonde hair to her waist/hips and large blue eyes that make her look younger than she is, a look that she often uses to her advantage.

Stella's also a very good mimic, she can copy people's patterns of speech and behaviors as long as she's given sufficient time to study them.

Her biggest disadvantage is innocence. While Stella isn't naive to the dangers of Moryann, or the darker sides of the world she lives in, her Da' always encouraged social isolation. Teaching her to trust him, herself, and no one else. This makes for a strange dichotomy to her character that I enjoy playing with where she might be able to flirt with a mark and fluster them enough to rifle through their pockets unnoticed, but blush and stumble when being on the receiving end of genuine thanks or kindness.

Reilly Mosswolf

"You're in trouble, and I can help. Do I need more of a reason than that?" - Reilly

Reilly's parents were murdered when he was very young. He's elven, so very young for him was around 22 years, the developmental equivalent to mid-teens.

After his parents death, Reilly had his younger sister to look after, so he took to stealing. He was rather bad at it, and was caught. Luckily, for him, but the Guild Master of the Antillune Thieves Guild, Aldune Lamuird.

Instead of turning Reilly over to the guard, he took Reilly and his sister into the guild and looked after them, training both siblings himself when they expressed a desire to learn the trade.

At the start of Stolen, Reilly is 252 years old, and the current guild master having inherited his position from Aldune. Despite that he, and the guild, are in trouble.

For the previous year or two, there has been a rival guild from the Western side of Moryann beginning to encroach on the Antillune Guild's territory and while it hasn't yet escalated to an all out war, tensions are building.

Not least because around 6 months prior, Reilly's sister was found dead, having been clearly tortured. While Reilly is sure that the rival guild are responsible, he has no evidence and won't put the thieves under his protection at risk for a personal vendetta.

Physically, Reilly has the black eyes and sun-burnished skin of his mother's Desert Elf heritage. He also has black hair that he keeps shoulder length, and a scruff of a beard that helps give a messy edge to a face that would otherwise stand out in a crowd. He also has the traditional Forest Elf tattoo's that span from shoulder to wrist along his left arm; His family history written in elven.

His strengths are his experience, and his willingness to listen to opinions and advice other than his own. Reilly is a strong fighter, and Aldune taught him to carefully balance the racial specific talents of both his parents bloodlines, and to use them to his advantage. He has the powerful blows that belong to the forest clans, but the speed of the desert elves, making him a formidable opponent before he even picks up a blade.

Reilly's biggest disadvantage is his fear of losing people. Over the years, Reilly has lost almost everyone he's ever loved or cared for. His parents, Aldune, his sister Eryn, even a lover or two. He has an inner circle of people he relies on within the guild, six people he trusts above all others, but his best friend and the only one truly able to get through to him is Dara Brookor.

Reilly uses nicknames and pet-names to distance himself from his guild members, giving the illusion of closeness, but using the affectionate names to distance himself, and make sure he can't put a real name to a face should one of the people under his protection turn up dead.

It's when Reilly begins to use a person's real name, that they've truly begun to worm their way under his armor.

***

Stella and Reilly are surrounded by a small supporting cast, each of whom has a very important part to play in either the main characters lives, or the main plot, although that may not come to fruition within the first book...

Dara Brookor

"So you're trying to tell me that, when you realised you were developing a meaningful connection to a person you have known for less than a decade, you didn't panic, pull back, and avoid them like a complete moron?" - Dara

Dara runs most of the administrative side of the Antillune Thieves Guild. She handles all the records, job allocations and thief payments, and is also responsible for pairing up thieves whose skills will compliment each other.

She's also the best friend to Reilly Mosswolf. She met Reilly, and his sister Eryn, when they were attempting to steal from one of her clients. Before joining the guild, Dara ran a brothel in Antillune, and when Eryn Mosswolf tried to disguise herself as an employee to get close to her target, Dara interfered in an attempt to protect her staff.

Once the situation was explained, she ended up helping Eryn and Reilly with their job, and occasionally passing along information on good targets if a client tried to skip out on their bill.

Dara is over six feet tall, and almost half as broad, which is the only sign of her part ogre heritage. She has honey-blonde curls that she keeps cut to her jaw, and dark blue-green eyes.

She made good use of her imposing form to keep her staff protected and her clients in line, but eventually her establishment was set on fire by a competitor, which is when Reilly asked her to work for him instead, in the administrative side of the guild.

The fact that it meant Reilly got out of most of the paperwork was, he swears, simply a bonus.

Dara's strength is her ability to connect with people. While she isn't a thief, her long history in Antillune has given her a network on contacts across the city that feed her a steady supply of information, and Dara can quickly utilise those contacts to seek out any specific leads she or the guild needs.

Her weakness is that she doesn't want to think badly of anyone, and it can cloud her judgement. She doesn't automatically look for deceit and deception, which has often led to her finding herself in dangerous situations.

Thankfully, Dara strikes an intimidating form, can curse like an Antillune sailor, and knows how to wield blades well enough to back up her threats.

Myris Orinan

"I am not the youngest graduate from the college of Wizardry in nearly two centuries for nothing." - Myris

Myris Orinan is, simply put, a genius.

A forest elf in possession of extremely powerful elemental magic, Myris is one of only 3-4 people in Moryann who can control all four branches of elemental magic and manipulate them simultaneously to access the rare Kurro or Healing magic.

He completed his training at the College of Wizardry in less than 100 years, making him one of the youngest graduates to ever complete the training and he is also passable-to-fluent in over ten languages.

Myris is also entirely mute.

Married to Tanar Orinan, the pair met when Tanar had been hired to steal something from the library in the College of Wizardry. Myris discovered the thief, mid-job, because he'd been working late into the night and bound Tanar before demanding an explanation for his presence.

Tanar agreed to surrender the book, and forfeit the contract, in exchange for being allowed to court Myris and the pair were quickly inseparable.

Due to this close association with the Antillune Guild, however, Myris was attacked, kidnapped, and tortured for information on the guild, and on Reilly Mosswolf in particular.

Even though, at the time, he had no knowledge to give, his attackers punished him for withholding information by forcing an alchemical mixture into him that burnt away his vocal chords, effectively rending his magic useless as it's commonly accepted that without the ability to speak a spell, spellcasters and wizards are rendered powerless.

Myris proved everyone's theories on elemental magic wrong however by slowly developing his own language using hand positioning and finger shapes to communicate words and phrases, and with practice and strength of will he gradually taught himself how to cast spells with a non-verbal trigger, instead of a spoken one.

While Myris has physically recovered as well as he can from the experience, and his magic is as strong as ever, despite requiring more effort to cast non-verbally, Myris has been left with a powerful hatred of Vine, and an ever encroaching fear that such an attack will happen again.

After his recovery, and several assessments by the College to prove that he could continue to retain his Wizard title, Myris moved to the Antillune Thieves guild to work as their wizard in residence, providing wards and magical services to the guild in exchange for a modest fee and even working to create unique items to help the guild function better and to keep its members safer.

Myris does not leave the Guild grounds without Tanar by his side, and even then only in exceptional circumstances. If he is required to leave the guild for any reason, it also tends to leave him with nightmares for several weeks.

Honorable Mentions

I had some others I was going to do but this is so long already, and I'm already 7 hours into Day Four that I'm pushing them into an honorable mentions section instead.

Tanar Sotor Orinan, Indre Larieth, Lurall Penrith and Nilion Kurez are all additional members of the guilds Inner Circle.

Tanar is half plains elf and half human, and is married to Myris. He used to be the thief partner to Eryn Mosswolf after Reilly was made guild master.

Indre Larieth is a half-elf who was recruited by Nilion Kurez, but has remained steadfastly loyal to Reilly for many years. Due to her Snow Elf heritage she can appear stand-offish and cold, but she cares deeply for her chosen few, and will go to extraordinary lengths to do whatever she thinks is nessecary to protect them.

Lurall Penrith was once trained by the Ikhari guild of assassins. It wasn't a path he chose, but instead of running her decided to become good enough that the guild would have no choice but to allow him to leave. After he met Reilly, he leveraged the backing of another guild to convince the Ikhari to let him walk away. Lurall now runs the Guild Outpost in the Western Desert, but frequently visits Reilly in Antillune.

Nilion Kurez is a Forest Elf, and has been a member of the Antillune thieves guild since Aldune Lamuird founded it. He helped write many of the guilds laws, and has known Reilly most of his life, having watched him grow up inside the guild, and in many cases been one of Reilly's teachers.

Hawk Denill is the face of Vine in Book One, and the person who hires Stella to break into the guild and steal from Reilly Mosswolf. He is a dark character who I intend to be a thorn in Stella and Reilly's side for at least the first three books. Once a member of Reilly's own guild, Hawk was banished when the guild discovered he was responsible for a series of grisly murders in Antillune. Hawk has returned to the city only recently, confident with the backing of a new guild.

Liandra 'Andy' Jenkin is a bright but brash young thief who Dara partners with Stella once she settles into the guild. Andy is Human, but makes up for the disadvantages this gives her in speed and strength by sheer enthusiasm, and stubborn determination. Andy has a grudge of her own against Vine, since their people laid an ambush on her last job that injured her and killed her previous partner.

Colm Korazon is Stella's Da'. While Colm is also a thief, he's not a particularly good one. He raised Stella in a travelling caravan, using it as a base to sell all sorts of false herbal remedies, imitation magical items, and any other junk he could con people into purchasing. All the while training Stella to do what he could not. By the time she was old enough to blend in with the crowds that gathered around his stall, the items he attempted to sell were merely a distraction to allow Stella to silently search through pockets.

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sergeantsporks · 3 years

Text

Swapped

Rating: Teen

Relationships: Changeling OC/Zoe (But it’s functionally Zouxie)

Ch 1/5

Tag warning for blood

"I didn’t ask for any of this! But when the Pale Lady says she’s picked you, and you’re living in the darklands where everything is a living nightmare and Gunmar has control over everything you don’t exactly get to say ‘no thank you! I’d rather not be a changeling if it’s all the same to you!’"

Changeling Douxie AU

Ao3

Or read under the cut

He’d been chosen.

A mission from the pale lady herself.

It was an honor.

It didn’t feel like an honor. It felt like being singled out, and not in a “oh, you did a good job” kind of way, but more like “a troll born in the darklands? You’ll die in a month” sort of way.

And when they’d told his parents, they’d smiled, and said “wonderful.” They’d said “oh, yes, what an honor.” They’d said that they were “so proud” of “their little son.”

Right. Proud. Honor. Chosen. All of it was pretty words, little lies to cover up a hard truth; that being a changeling wasn’t an honor. That it meant he couldn’t ever be completely part of any world, and that he, Dalmar, would be rejected by both sides. Changelings were called “impure” for a reason.

His parents had said goodbye to Dalmar.

And then he wasn’t Dalmar anymore.

He was Hisirdoux Casperan. “Douxie” for short. He was taken by Dictatious, kept in some part of the darklands he’d never been allowed before (because he wasn’t important, they didn’t care about him, they never WOULD have cared about him if they hadn’t gotten some message from some dead sorceress, he knew that, he knew all of the special treatment now was an ACT and they didn’t care if he lived or died), having his head crammed with random facts about some wizard kid that he didn’t know and didn’t WANT to know, some kid he’d never met with a cushy little life up on the surface world that now he had to pretend to be—no, not pretend, pretending wouldn’t be good enough, he had to be this kid, no pressure or anything. No one called him Dalmar anymore. They kept calling him “Douxie” until he’d gotten used to it—until it became his name.

It would be hard, they told him. Harder than any other changeling’s job, because before, changelings had replaced babies. They didn’t have to impersonate someone with memories, and a personality. They could be themselves, just turn into a blank-slate-baby. But Dalmar—no, Douxie, he was Douxie now—had to be someone he wasn’t.

And that was why he was on the surface now, lurking in the shadows and watching the real Hisirdoux Casperan. Noting how he interacted with others, especially with the wizard girl he’d recently taken up with and, of course, his familiar. Familiar. Da—Douxie held back a laugh. Little did Hisirdoux Casperan know, he was a familiar to TWO creatures.

Well. Not yet. Douxie wasn’t a changeling yet. But he would be. Whenever the elusive and vague “process” was complete.

So he watched Hisirdoux Casperan. Studied him. Learned everything about his behaviors, everything that made him Hisirdoux Casperan, apprentice to Merlin, one of the last remnants of a time long gone.

God, was this guy an idiot.

He bumbled around, making mistakes that didn’t lead to deadly consequences. He stumbled over his spells, doing things quickly and then yelping for his familiar when things went wrong and brooms went flying into his face.

Dalm—Douxie silently seethed. He’d been born in the darklands, with no recollection of the world that Gunmar was so eager to conquer. But now that he was here, here in air that didn’t seem to suffocate you when you breathed, here in a place awash with life instead of decay, a place of glittering lights and exciting noises and smells… he could see why the Gum-Gums were ready to break free of the darklands.

And Hisirdoux Casperan had been BORN here.

He didn’t know how lucky he was.

He took all of this for granted. All of the humans did. They didn’t know what it was like to live in a dying land, where if you weren’t SO careful, you could get eaten, and only the strongest survived.

He’d seen enough. It was time to get this show on the road.

He’d shrunk himself to fit through the fetch, a difficult spell, one that the real Hisirdoux Casperan could probably only dream of. He shrank himself again with a small, satisfied smile. That was something, at least, he held over Hisirdoux Casperan. He’d had no formal training from a great master wizard. But the harshness of magic in the darklands had been a better teacher than some crusty old relic could have ever been.

Dictatious was waiting for him. “Are you ready?”

“I’m ready,” Douxie agreed, “But—Dictatious. You said this mission was important?”

“Deadly so.”

Douxie crossed his arms. “Then I’m not doing it for free. I want a promise. I want you to make sure my parents are taken care of down here.”

“You don’t have parents. They died in a tragic fire where you met your familiar, Archie, leaving you orphaned.”

Douxie bit down a sour reply. “Dictatious. Promise me they’ll be alright.”

The troll rolled all of his eyes. “Very well. We shall look after your parents, as long as you forget they were ever your parents.”

“Deal.” Douxie let out a deep breath. “So. The, uh… process?”

Dictatious gave him a grin that looked just a bit too gleeful. “Hold on to your horns. This is going to hurt.”

Xxx

Hurt was an understatement.

Being ripped to shreds was probably closer to the truth.

Magic, but not his magic, pulsed through him, shattering his skin, splintering his horns, crushing his bones and it hurt like nothing he’d ever felt. No falling off of a ledge or getting hit by a Gum-Gum’s blade could compare to this. Everything squeezed, and pushed and pulled and tore, and it was like every part of him was being ripped up and stuck back together, but all wrong, and it hurt!

Dalmar screamed for his parents, but of course they wouldn’t come, and a cool voice reminded him that he didn’t have any parents.

Everything burned and froze and broke and mended and GOD, what was that oozing out, red and sticky and then it was gone, and he was crumbling into pieces, torn apart by wind and swirling back together into something new, then breaking again, and tearing like a hundred blades doused in poison.

An unearthly, echoing howling was everywhere, and it was him, but not him, and he didn’t even have ears to hear it, but he felt it in his bones, his bones that were being crushed to pulp and remolding and breaking and remolding and breaking and—

Something was oozing out of him again, but it wasn’t red. It was clear and salty. Douxie was on his hands and knees and it was over, thank the pale lady, it was over, and ugly, heaving sobs were tearing out of his new, human chest, and salty water was dripping from his eyes.

“The binding was a success,” Dictatious crowed triumphantly, “Congratulations, Douxie, you are officially a changeling.”

It was horrible. There was so much texture. Everything was so sensitive. The stone beneath his hands was rough and unyielding. The fabric of clothing rubbed against his new (light pink instead of blue—strange) skin, and Douxie winced at the sensation. Ow.

He staggered up to his feet, stumbling around on weird, straight legs, and long feet instead of delicate hooves. Douxie wobbled as he walked, nearly falling over. Dictatious just watched.

“Do you think you’re up to this?”

“I’ve got it,” Douxie snapped, rolling his weird new ankle joints experimentally and kicking his feet. Right. He could do this. He teetered a few more steps. “I’ve got it,” he repeated, walking across the room, “I can do it.”

“Congratulations,” Dictatious said dryly, “Now, there’s only one step—pardon the pun—left.”

Douxie turned towards the fetch, preparing the spell that would shrink him enough to get through. “Kidnap my familiar.”

Xxx

Douxie watched his familiar, waiting for him to be alone long enough to make his move. But Hisirdoux Casperan was rarely alone. He was always with Archie, or that new wizard girl. Was that going to be Douxie’s life, now? Never alone, not for a second?

And then, finally, the moment he was waiting for. Hisirdoux wandered off to go to the bathroom, and Douxie pounced, hitting him with a sleep spell before he knew the changeling was there. He couldn’t do the shrinking spell on anyone but himself—as a few disastrous attempts to shrink a Gum-Gum small enough to get through the fetch had proved. So he was just going to have to entrust his familiar to the Janus order, who claimed that they could yes definitely get the wizard through the fetch.

And sure enough, there were a few changelings and a pack of goblins waiting for him. Hisirdoux Casperan started to wake up as Douxie handed him off to the Order, and he blinked blearily at Douxie.

“Wha…?” Realization seemed to dawn in his eyes, and terror sparked. “No!” he shouted, just as the Order dragged him away.

Douxie shrugged off any uncertainty, turning to get back to Hisirdoux’s friends before they realized anything was off.

Sorry, Hisirdoux Casperan.

But this is my life now.

#toa #tales of arcadia #swapped #douxie #my fanfiction #my writing #original characters #my oc #dalmar #toa fanfiction

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im-the-punk-who · 3 years

Text

20 Questions - Writer’s Edition

Tagged by @myrmidryad <3 <3 <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

40, which seems...low. lmao. but mostly because i never end up posting things i write LMAO

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

96,197! which....is hilarious considering one of my eternal WIPS also jut hit 90k last week woops.

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

On AO3:

Black Sails (20)

Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019) (11)

Captain America (Movies) (5)

Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling (2)

Kingdom Hearts (Video Games) (1)

The Umbrella Academy (TV) (1)

Marvel Cinematic Universe (1)

On ff.net/LJ i had more Harry Potter stuff and i know there is still some Zim fanfic on my DA....

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Memories, Like Water, Can Be Tainted or Distilled; Sometimes Will Evaporate

is unfortunately always going to be first because it was written at the height of Stucky fandom and you just don’t recover from those sort of numbers xD

The Trouble With Jersey (Working title) - same deal. CapFam/Stucky fic at the height of CapFandom whoops

Between Breath and Love, I Choose Him - Okay I’m actually pretty happy this is number three because Black Sails fans are sluts and I love that journey for them <3 Also choking kink my beloved. <3

The Corner Booth - Drarry fic (antagonistic). what else is there to say.

Play, Boys - oh, abandoned WIP, my beloved. You deserved better but alas the hyperfixation wants what she wants.

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Ohhhhh god i don’t know. I know the angstiest ending I ever *planned* was for I Couldn't Get The Boy To Kill Me but I never posted the rest of that. Hmm, otherwise maybe the On Purpose series, which is a Black Sails post London series about Miranda and James so like. Angst angst angst angst.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Bold of you to assume I’ve written an ending to any of my fics. Okay well, Tying Rockets To Shoe Strings is going to have a happy ending if it kills me. Most of my one shots end ...fairly happily....? I think....?

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I don’t only because if I don’t hyperfixate on something the brain simply Turns Off.

8. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA almost exclusively. BUT I am very very into kink smut and D/s, A/B/O fic(although I don’t think I’ve ever posted any...) ot so much into the more vanilla smut - most of my explicit fics will have some level of light kink even if it’s just a little bit of choking play or like. Brat Michael.

9. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Oh god. You know how you go ‘I will do this when the Brain Returns From War’ ? Yeah. I do try to respond to comments but I’m....so bad at it. If I didn’t respond to your comment it’s not because I don’t appreciate it, it is that The Brain Turned That Function Off.

10. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

You know what I actually don’t think so which is weird but maybe I’m just not popular enough to receive that kind of attention. xD Although I have gotten plenty of hate on meta I’ve written so maybe that balances it out?

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

God Bless if I have.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope <3

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I had co-written or started co-writing a couple things but they never got published for one reason or another. I would really love to, though!

14. What’s your all time favourite ship to write for?

I don’t think i could ever pick a favorite but honestly Axel/Roxas will always get me. But Malex is right now the favorite child.

15. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Did You Mean, All Of Them? I am notoriously so bad at long fics that I feel like this is All Of Them but the one I absolutely know I will never finish is Play, Boys (Umbrella Academy) and I Couldn't Get The Boy To Kill Me (Captain America)

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue, I think? Also I think I’m pretty good at writing smut.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Finishing my goddamn fics, honestly. I also tend to be not great at keeping a consistent verb tense and...if I let myself go on an internal character monologue I *will* ramble for one thousand words without any physical indicators.

18. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I LOVE it, i love it i love it i love it, although same as Gin, because I’m not *reaaaally* fluent in anything but french and english i haven’t written much actual dialogue. Although in Doubting Thomas I play around with how the language barrier affects the communication and such by using other indicators other than typing out hte dialogue, which has been a really fun process. (Although none of that part is posted because.....see ‘weaknesses’ LMAO

19. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Neopets. I said what I said. (actually it was probably Sailor Moon or Tamora Pierce’s Protector of the Small series.)

20. What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

God okay listen I love all my children equally but honestly Doubting Thomas and Tying Rockets To Shoe Strings, the parts i’m working on right now are just REALLY GOOD okay i know i’m never probably going to post them but they’re SO GOOD. Posted, I am actually REALLY please with how Sound Garden turned out, and Sometimes A Family and Into The Blinding Sun both just HIT that found family vibe that sets me off. Special shoutout to Hand In Unloveable Hand and Some Boys Do for being my own personal comfort fics <3

UHHH TAGGING???? YOU WANT ME TO TAG???? PEOPLE???? lmao @queer-crusader, @angrycowboy, @ladynox, @bydayornight, UHHHHH literally anyone in the black sails discord please i know none of your tumblr handles but I know you’re all fantastic writers. @haloud IDK EVERYONE?????

#about the author #tag memes #about milo #milo writes #IDK yall im an aries i cant finish anything that takes more than a week to write sorryyyyyy lmao

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

Note

Do you think it's would make a difference of the war aftermath, if nie huaisang Mother was a wen ?

Nie Mingjue had never really known what to do with Nie Huaisang’s mother, a feeling that was most decided mutual.

Concubines were quite common among the regular folk, but they were fairly rare for cultivators, a function of the relative rarity of female cultivators; virtually all the men Nie Mingjue knew preferred visiting prostitutes or setting up mistresses from the ranks of women who couldn’t cultivate over bringing them into the household.

And yet Nie Mingjue’s father brought her home, pale-faced and already pregnant, after having spent nearly two months away at a discussion conference to rehash the boundary lines, and married her according to their clan’s customs, bringing her into the household to stay.

There were whispers, of course. There’d been talk about how his father ought to have another son to replace Nie Mingjue ever since his mother had left as swiftly and unexpectedly as she’d arrived. But that sort of talk faded soon enough when a rumor leaked that the Wen sect had sent her to Nie Mingjue’s father’s quarters as entertainment, and had never expected him to marry her to legitimize the child.

Nie Mingjue didn’t hear about that until much later, when he was older, but he thought they might even be true – a disappointing failing in a man he’d always revered, but it wasn’t as if he could or would say anything about it. At least his father had always treated her well, no matter how she flinched and shied away from everything at the start. The rare few times Nie Mingjue saw her, she was always looking wan and sad as if she’d left her heart behind in Qishan.

Maybe she had.

But she was his father’s concubine, so it wasn’t as if Nie Mingjue could ask, nor do anything about it if he did.

She fell sick not long after the birth, which was a difficult one, and became bedridden; to ease her burden, Nie Mingjue quietly took over caring for the baby, his brother, with the intention of handing him back to her when she was better.

She eventually got better, mostly, but she didn’t take Nie Huaisang back.

Instead, she burst into tears at the sight of him, every time.

Nie Mingjue might be a child, and more inclined to be martial than cognizant of feelings, but he was still young enough to be hurt and indignant on his brother’s behalf. He still remembered the bitterness of asking why he didn’t have a mother only to learn that she had left him behind – he had no memories of her – and to think that this mother was right here, and yet…

In the end, he continued to raise Nie Huaisang as best as he could between training and classes and learning to be a sect leader, and began to treat her coldly, like a stranger.

Still, when his father lost his mind, she was the second person he thought to save, after securing Nie Huaisang’s safety: like a little bird, she was fragile and delicate, faded from years of self-imposed confinement even though Qinghe lacked the restrictive rules of Qishan – she wouldn’t last a minute against the full force of his father’s mad range that even he could only redirect, not stop.

(He woke up, later, to her trembling hands trying to apply healing salve onto his injuries, and he thought it might be the first time she’d ever looked directly at him. It didn’t last: she didn’t speak other than to ask him if Huaisang was all right, and he’d snapped in a helpless rage that she’d lost the right to ask him that years before, and after that they had mutually agreed that it would be best if he locked her in her room for her own protection until his father died.)

After that he became sect leader.

“I have a request,” she said to him one day, a few weeks later. “If you would grant it.”

Nie Mingjue shrugged and gestured for her to come into his office. Nie Huaisang was sitting in the corner painting a family picture – Nie Huaisang and Baxia, himself and Aituan – and he looked up briefly, curious to see what woman was brave enough to dare his brother’s temper, but the interest quickly drained out of his face after he’d managed to place her.

“You want to go back to Qishan?” Nie Mingjue asked when she seemed to be unable to speak. “My father is dead; surely your mother’s family would take you, if you didn’t mind the rumors.”

To his surprise, she paled and shook her head rapidly.

At his questioning look, she lowered her head and whispered, “The women of Qishan Wen cannot – it would be a disgrace. And it is – it’s a harsh place to live, cruel and unkind.”

Nie Mingjue had always supposed that to be the case, but he thought he might as well ask. “What, then?”

“I…I would like to bring someone here. If you don’t mind.”

Nie Mingjue’s eyebrows arched. His father hadn’t been in the ground a full month, and she wanted to move her lover in? He ought to cut off her head even for suggesting it.

But she was Nie Huaisang’s mother, however much he despised her for neglecting him, and so instead he said, “Who?”

She told him.

Baxia screamed in metal and Nie Mingjue was on his feet, feeling his eyes pound as his sight flickered red with rage: “You had children?!” he snarled at her, ignoring how her eyes went wide and she backed away from him even though after everything that had happened with his father he hated being feared the most. “You had children and you left them there?!”

“Da-ge, you’re blocking my light,” Nie Huaisang said, not looking up from his painting, and the moment Nie Mingjue saw how his knuckles had gone white around his brush he turned to face the wall to take deep breaths until he was calm again. He was still facing it when he heard Nie Huaisang speak again, his voice even. “You should leave, Concubine Wen.”

“I only –”

“It’s your fault he’s so angry,” Nie Huaisang said, and his voice was as mature as a seven year old could make it – mature, and angry as well, in his own way, really angry rather than throwing a temper tantrum that was halfway for effect. “Go away before you make it worse. We’ll have an answer for you later.”

She left.

A small hand made its way into Nie Mingjue’s, squeezing it lightly. It helped, a little. “What did she do?”

“She has children,” Nie Mingjue said, still staring at the wall. “A girl and a boy – their father died shortly before she met our father. She just…she left them behind in Qishan, which she clearly hates, and she never…she’s lived here for years. The boy’s only a year older than you. And I had no idea! She never once mentioned them, or visited, or let them visit, or – anything.”

“Why do you care?” Nie Huaisang asked, tone curious.

“Because it’s wrong,” Nie Mingjue said. “She abandoned them. Just like –”

He shut his mouth, unsure if he wanted to say you or me, but nevertheless Nie Huaisang’s hand tightened on his own, understanding.

A better man might think to himself that this loss was the reason behind her reluctance to get close to Nie Huaisang; Nie Mingjue, whose mother had left him behind and through another woman’s negligence became a parent when he was the same age as her older son would be now, had no space in his heart for sympathy, and all he felt was disappointment.

Still, it was not in the nature of the Qinghe Nie to do nothing when faced with an injustice.

It took a few months to make it work, painful negotiations with Wen Ruohan smirking at him across the table because he had something Nie Mingjue wanted and he knew it, but in the end he managed to arrange for the two children to come to visit Qinghe without explaining exactly why he wanted them.

Not to stay, because Wen Ruohan wouldn’t have leverage that way, but it was – something.

“Nie Huaisang can show you around,” Nie Mingjue told them, because they were obviously terrified of him and no one, not even little sheep-like Wen Ning, could be scared of Nie Huaisang. “And take you to meet your mother, if you like.”

“And what if we don’t?” Wen Qing asked, crossing her arms. She was a little older, though still a few years shy of Nie Mingjue’s age.

“Then don’t,” Nie Mingjue said shortly. “I brought you here for your sake, not hers.”

Somehow, and he really didn’t know how, that day had ended with him teaching Wen Ning how to shoot arrows to Nie Huaisang’s over-excited cheering and Wen Qing’s dramatic eye-rolling, and by the time they left they were calling him da-ge the way Nie Huaisang did, even Wen Qing.

He still wasn’t sure if they’d visited their mother.

But then – that wasn’t the point.

“They’re your brothers and sisters, you know,” he told Nie Huaisang, a slight frown marring his face. “They’re as close to you in blood as I am.”

“Obviously,” Nie Huaisang sniffed, rolling his eyes – an entire production when he did it, shoulders shrugging and head lolling. “Why do you think I told them to call you da-ge? Brother and sister of a brother; it’s close enough.”

Nie Mingjue rolled his eyes in return and cuffed him as a brat, but his heart was lightened, a little. From what he knew of the woman, the two Wen children might never have a proper mother, but that was fine; he could do that for them, the way he’d done it for Nie Huaisang, and this way Nie Huaisang would have a er-jie and a san-ge as well.

But the thought was easier said than done – Nie Mingjue was determined to go to war against Wen Ruohan to avenge his father’s murder, and it was difficult to balance that enmity with the need to ensure Wen Qing and Wen Ning remained safe, and were not considered hostages.

Jin Guangshan, of all people, ended up helping with that, his mouth so full of sly innuendo about pretty young Wen Qing that even Wen Ruohan seemed halfway convinced by it, and equally convinced that Nie Mingjue would get bored of her quickly enough, an impression Nie Mingjue did his best to encourage.

On the surface, he even let that seem to be the case, letting the visits cease and adopting a blank and uncaring expression any time she was mentioned.

When the war drew nearer, Wen Ruohan’s excesses more unforgivable, Nie Mingjue sent a missive – through five different layers of secrecy that Nie Huaisang had somehow concocted, and Nie Mingjue really didn’t want to think about how his useless baby brother figured out something his spies couldn’t – asking if Wen Qing and Wen Ning would be willing to seek refuge in Qinghe.

Wen Qing refused, but shared all the information she could, as a healer, in good conscience pass along. She thought they could do more to help people by staying where they were, and Nie Mingjue couldn’t fault her for that even if he disagreed – and she promised him that both she and Wen Ning were doing everything they could to fight against injustice, no matter what the circumstance.

Nie Mingjue tried his best to keep track of both of them.

He didn’t want to find them dead with a Nie saber in their chests, but he couldn’t let people know about their connection, either, or else it’d be a Wen sword in their backs instead. It was a hard balance to draw.

After Meng Yao killed Wen Ruohan, and the sun on earth fell from the sky at last, leaving all those surnamed Wen to pay for the sins of their clansmen, Nie Mingjue made it a priority to find them.

“You won’t be able to find anyone if you can’t walk,” Nie Huaisang scolded him, shoving him back down onto the bed. “I’ll go look for them myself. It’ll be fine.”

“If you can’t find them in any of the remaining Wen strongholds, try the prisoner of war camps,” Nie Mingjue said muzzily. He wasn’t sure what was in the medicine Nie Huaisang continuously poured down his throat, but it was very strong; he could scarcely feel how many broken ribs he had, but he couldn’t feel much else, either. “Maybe someone took them somewhere they’d be safe…”

“They’d better be safe. They promised.”

“Huaisang…”

“What if they’re not safe?” Nie Huaisang fretted. “They’re still surnamed Wen. Someone could be bullying them –”

Nie Mingjue reached out with a hand to pat Nie Huaisang’s knee. He missed the first few times, but eventually got it. “Don’t worry about it,” he said firmly. “They may be surnamed Wen, but they’re wards of Qinghe Nie; if you see someone bullying them, bully them back – who’d start something with us now?”

He was speaking lightly. Unfortunately, given that he was talking with Nie Huaisang, he probably shouldn’t have been.

“So, there’s good news and bad news,” Nie Huaisang announced, blowing into Nie Mingjue’s office. “Also, you shouldn’t be working.”

Nie Mingjue’d heard the same thing from about seven different people – “you’re still three broken bones over the work limit, Sect Leader” – but he was dying of boredom; they should all be happy he was voluntarily limiting himself to paperwork instead of seeing if willpower and some braces could stand up to a basic round of saber training.

“What’s the news?” he asked, then brightened when he saw Wen Ning trailing after him. “You found them!”

“I did! Well, Wen Ning, but he says Wen Qing is still free and looking for him, so I can’t imagine she’ll be that hard to find. Also, I may or may not have started a war by stabbing one of the Jin sect main family cultivators.”

Nie Mingjue stared at him.

“He was beating Wen Ning!”

Nie Mingjue glanced at Wen Ning, who looked anxious enough for it to be true. “Well, in that case, he deserved it,” he said, a little bit begrudgingly. “Is he dead?”

“Maybe?” Nie Huaisang thought about it. “…probably. You know how Aituan gets. I’m not sorry; Jin Zixun was an ass.”

“Did you at least challenge him to a duel first? It’ll make things easier if you did, though I suppose it’s not strictly necessary…”

“You’re not mad?” Wen Ning blurted out, wide-eyed. “Sect Leader Nie, if you have to fight another war because of me –”

“Against Lanling Jin?” Nie Mingjue snorted. “I could beat Jin Guangshan with both hands tied behind my back even if I were twice as injured as I am now, and that’s assuming he lets it get to a fight. He’ll want something else instead; the question will be to see if it’s something I’m willing to give.”

What he wanted was Wei Wuxian’s head on a platter, or at least his Stygian Tiger Seal.

Nie Mingjue thought about the rumors about Wei Wuxian, frowning, and agreed to think about it, committing to nothing.

He was glad for that, later, when the man himself showed up at one of the Jin prisoner of war camps that Nie Mingjue was demolishing, Wen Qing at his side, clearly ready to tear down the sky to get Wen Ning back.

“Uh,” Wei Wuxian said, staring blankly. “You’re – taking them somewhere?”

“Back to the Nie sect,” Nie Mingjue said. “You too, Wen Qing; we’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“Is this okay?” Wei Wuxian asked her.

“This is fine,” Wen Qing said, beaming. “Da-ge will take care of us.”

“…us?”

“After that scene you made back at Lanling, you’ll need it,” she said briskly. “Didn’t you hear? Some people were saying that you killed – what’s his name. Jin Zixun.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Nie Mingjue said. “Nie Huaisang killed him.”

“Nie Huaisang?”

“Yes.”

“With – what?”

“His saber, of course.”

“His…saber?”

“Yes.”

“No wonder they think I did it,” Wei Wuxian said. “Even I don’t believe that story. No offense, Chifeng-zun.”

Nie Mingjue suppressed a sigh, though in fairness he really couldn’t blame him. “Does he really need sanctuary?” he asked Wen Qing. “The Jiang sect…”

“He needs it,” she said firmly.

Nie Mingjue’s eyes narrowed, because he knows his younger siblings too well. “You did something.”

“How do you do that?” she complained.

Nie Mingjue just shook his head. “I’m your da-ge,” he said. “All right, come on; help pack everyone up and come to Qinghe. We can deal with the rest of it later.”

“But –” Wei Wuxian started to say.

“You can argue back at Qinghe. It’s probably better than wherever you were planning on taking them, anyway.”

“…I was thinking Yiling?”

“The Burial Mounds? My young siblings? Absolutely not.”

(When they arrived, there was a woman standing at gate, watching them. She seemed pleased.)

#mdzs #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #wen ning #wen qing #wei wuxian #my fic #my fics #Anonymous

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