#this fic is done and beta'd and ready to post and i'm- | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Premium Tumblr themes are available from anywhere between $9 to $49.

#this fic is done and beta'd and ready to post and i'm-

recurring-polynya · 3 months

Text

Writing/Art Update 3.5.2024

So, Polynya, did you finish the fanfic? Well...sort of? No. No, I guess the answer is actually no.

Last week, I said I had two and a half scenes left, one of which was the epilogue, and one scene I wanted to rewrite. I wrote the scene and a half that were not the epilogue, and then I tried to do that scene re-write. It came out better than it was, but I still didn't love it. I figured I would just go ahead and write the epilogue and then maybe come back and try again. 3/4 of the epilogue went great, and then I just couldn't manage to end it, and got stuck for three days. I went back and tried to re-write that scene I didn't like *again*, and barely got into before realizing that the way I was hoping to make it better did not, in fact. Yesterday, after Much Struggle, I managed to pull together an end to epilogue with is...okay...but I don't love it. So the current state of things is: 107,408 words, and it is strictly speaking, A Whole-ass Fanfic, but with two half-scenes that I hate.

It's really frustrating, because I had a bunch of productive weeks in a row, and my brain has just utterly collapsed on me in the eleventh hour. I've been trying so hard to push it over the finish line, but it's one of those things where I can't just brute force it, I need to somehow have a good idea. I am also so so tired this week. I know, logically, that probably I just need to relax and rest up for a few days and this will be easy to fix when I am feeling better, but it's hard to relax when I have this stupid almost-but-not-quite-done fanfic hanging over my head.

Here are some other stupid facts:

The scenes in question are important and I want them to be good, but they aren't exactly load-bearing, in the sense that nothing else depends on them

I don't even *need* the epilogue, and in fact, after I realized that I end all my Heart is a Muscle fics with people drinking (not on purpose, I'm just unoriginal), it made me want to drop the whole thing on principle (except that I also don't because it's sort of a thematic lead-in to the next story in the series and also Ukitake is there)

The two problem scenes are way at the end of the fanfic. When I do start posting this thing, I plan to post one chapter per week like I often do, meaning that I have literal months to fix these

Chapter 1 is beta'd and ready to go and literally nothing is stopping me from posting it this very second

BUT I don't want to post Chapter 1 until my beta has seen the whole fic because what if she notices something in Chapter 12 that needs to be fixed back in Chapter 1

AND literally nothing is stopping me from just sending my beta the last few chapters with a little note on the scenes I'm not happy with. It's highly possible she might have some ideas! Or just be like "you are insane these are fine"!

EXCEPT I don't want her to see my bad writing that I am embarrassed about

And so, here we are. I am probably going to give it another day or two, and if I can't manage to fix those two scenes, I'll just suck it up and send the rest to her.

I guess I also should re-do the banner, except I don't feel like re-doing the banner. It's....okay. I don't know. I just kind of slapped it together based on a thing we were doing at Art Club. Maybe I don't even want a banner.

Speaking of Art Club, it's March now, which meant there was a new theme at Art Club (nature) and I decided to try to get back into my daily drawing. I think this is possibly what killed my momentum on my fanfic. I am just literally only capable of having one priority at a time, even if it's a little tiny one, otherwise my brain just plays tug of war with my priorities and it's hard to manage either of them.

Anyway, I've been in kinda rough shape for the last few days, but I am sure it will pass. It's got some good bits, but I think I just never really managed to fall in love with this one, and I'm really worried about it getting a cooler reception than I'm used to, since the fandom seems to have quieted down significantly since the last time I posted one of these. On the other hand, I've worked too hard on this to not post it. Also, it's got some stuff in it that had to happen for the series to progress. And maybe other people will like it! Who knows! Not me!!

I had hoped to be able to start posting it this week, but that's not looking likely at this point, so I guess you can have another preview.

--- from Ch 3

"You really didn't have to go to all this trouble," Rukia pointed out, as she methodically piled her bowl with a heaping serving of everything on offer.

Renji grabbed a big pinch of the shirasu before passing it over to her. "It's fine. I'm not sure when I'll be up for cooking again, so I'm trying to clean out my fridge."

"Oh, so I'm helping?"

Renji grinned. "Sure."

"I love helping! If you need me to take this pickled ginger with me, I could take it off your hands."

"I think the pickles will probably keep for a bit."

"Hmmph," Rukia replied skeptically, and scooped some more into her bowl.

It was always difficult not to just sit and watch Rukia eat, in part because she truly did have an extraordinary talent for shoveling food into her mouth, but mostly because it reminded Renji of why they had come to the Seireitei in the first place, of how lucky he was these days. You have to go to work, too, this morning, he reminded himself, and dug in.

"You know, speaking of helping…" Rukia said a few minutes later, once she'd managed to eat enough to shave the edge of her morning ravenousness. "There's something I want to talk to you about."

The pleasant feelings in Renji's chest abruptly turned cold and gloppy. He frowned, and raised one eyebrow skeptically. “Yeah?”

Rukia looked up at him with her big, stupidly blue eyes. “Do you remember when we talked about how important it was for you to have a comfortable and peaceful recovery from your surgery?”

“I do. I distinctly remember asking you to drop it and not bring it up, again, actually.”

“Right, well, I never actually agreed to that. I think that you should come stay at my house.”

Renji gave her an incredulous look. “Your house? Kuchiki Manor, you mean? Your house that is actually my captain’s house?”

“It’s very nice there, as you know. The food really is very good and we have a million servants with nothing better to do--”

“I am sure they have better things to do, Rukia.”

“--and you can sit in a sunny spot in the garden and I’ll read you books and it will be so much nicer than staying in the Coordinated Relief Station!”

Renji heaved a huge, exasperated sigh. “It’s a nice idea, Rukia, but think about the look on Captain’s face if you even--”

“He said it was okay.”

Renji felt all the blood run out of his face, possibly out of his body entirely. “You asked him?”

“I know you’re only getting it done because he ordered you to. He obviously wants you to do your best to heal up well. He cares about you, too, you know, in his own way.”

Renji stiffened, his fingers tightening on his chopsticks. “You probably told him the whole story, then? How I broke my arm in the first place?” His voice sounded like it was coming from somewhere far away.

“Not the whole thing!" Rukia shook her head vehemently. "He knows you broke it saving me, that's the only important part.”

Renji drew in a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut. All he could focus on was the sound of his own blood pounding in his ears. “Why do you always have to do this?” he finally managed through gritted teeth. “I asked you to just leave it, but you never can.”

Rukia shoved out her lower lip. “Maybe if you took care of yourself half as well as you take care of everyone else, I would!” she protested. “Just let me spoil you for a few days, would it be so terrible?”

“Yes.”

#writing update #art update #here's hoping that posting all this will expel it from my system and i can turn around the fix my stupid bad scenes

14 notes · View notes

carpehistoryandthepens · 1 year

Text

Legacy (what is a legacy?) Part 1

It's planting seeds in a garden you never get to see I wrote some notes at the beginning of a song someone will sing for me

Hamilton, the world was wide enough. LMM.

Summary: Mike is 13. Born May 2009. Sid didn't know he had a son. All Mike had was hope and a prayer for his and his half-sister's safety.

(Sid is a dad of a teen he didn't know about AU) Sidgeno.

Warnings: (for the total story) post-child abuse (all off-screen but it affects things and is spoken about often), learning how to parent, panic attacks, anxiety, based on last season, OCs?, realization about sexuality. Post breakups. Desperate lack of in-depth research for CPS in both PA/CA, melodrama?, kidfic, angst, slowburn, playing fast and loose with the law for drama/storytelling purposes.

i have 31K written, and it will be a longer fic. But I'm impatient and depressed today, so have this. bearly beta'd. this will go on AO3 once the whole thing is done. (on about 50k from now)

The bus pulled into the parking lot across from the rink later than Mike expected by nearly an hour. The sky was overcast and cloudy, dark gray seconds from rain.

Mike glared at the sky for a heartbeat before letting it go. There was no point in holding the sky accountable for the weather. The weather happened no matter what they wanted it to.

The Greyhound was late, and now they were running late. At least they got to the rink when there was still time before the practice officially opened. But it was later than Mike had hoped for. So now, they would be rushing rather than getting food for Marisol before the practice and not missing anything on the ice.

They had to be safe. They had to eat. They had to be good to sleep.

But he also knew exactly what his priority was: ensuring Marisol ate. So while it hurt him that they would miss a few minutes of the practice, the food was more important.

Mike was tired, hungry, and so, so ready to find someplace to sleep. He might be able to get some rest at the rink for a few hours at least. But first, he had to get them off the bus.

He picked up Marisol's pink Peppa Pig-decorated bag and attached it to his rolling hockey bag before he moved her. She was still far too light, but then again: so was he. The last six months have sucked for them both. Fuck California. Mike missed his parents. He missed his life when he and Marisol were happy, healthy, and well fed. or at least better fed than the value menu at fast food restaurants.

He had to get lunch when they got into the rink. Rinks always had a food stand. Churros and nachos were everywhere; cheaper than McDonald's anyway. Mike mentally went over the last of the funds he had. He had enough left to feed them for a few more days, but the money was almost out. He really didn't have much money left for travel. If they needed to go, it would be on foot. Or he didn't know what he would do.

"Mikey?" Marisol sleepily murmured into his shoulder as Mike adjusted her weight.

"Yeah, Mari?"

"'m hungry." She muttered in Spanish, not moving her face from where it was plastered to his chest.

"I know, Mari. We're getting food at the rink." Mike hoped he sounded just like his mother, as she said this many times. He was doing his best to sound like her when it came to Mari. She was three and was exhausted. He hated that they had to do this, but it was better than staying where they were. Why did his dad's parents have to pass away before Marisol was born?

"K," She murmured before falling back asleep. Mike stared at her for a long moment centering himself. The bruises on her arms were mainly faded, but the last few months were long and tiring, and they both showed wear, especially after.....

He would get her into a jacket once they were in the rink.

He was too young, and he knew it. This was a lot for him, and he's overwhelmed. And God, this had to work.

This is it. Mike left the bus stop with Marisol in one of his arms, and the other pulled his overpacked hockey bag. So the last week of running across the country on a Greyhound bus in hope and prayer all comes down to the next few days.

Mike had to be correct. This was his last hope of them staying together. If this didn't work, if Mike wasn't right, he would lose his sister - the only person left to him.

As they left the bus stop and crossed the street, Marisol didn't wake again. Mike breathed a sigh of relief. At least she could sleep through this and not see him panicking.

The rink was cold, and Mike's shoulders loosened a little as he was assaulted by all the familiar sights and scents of a hockey rink. Even though this rink was one of the biggest and most modern he had ever been in. He was used to training in rinks much like this one. His parents had done everything they could to keep him skating, and he had always loved it.

It had been months since he was in a rink. His Mama would be so upset—nothing to say of his Papi. Yet, both loved seeing him skate.

They would be here if they could. Mike missed them; he paused for a second inside the doorway, feeling the grief and upset hover in his chest. He pushed them down. He didn't have time for the feelings right now. He would have time later. Not now. Not in the past six months. He had to make sure that Marisol was safe.

If their parents were here, he and Marisol wouldn't have taken so many Greyhound and city buses over the last week to make it from Anaheim to Pittsburgh. Actually, to the practice rink just outside Pittsburgh.

He passed the main desk and headed to the rink that had most people near it. That was probably the rink where the team was.

At the sight of the ice and the few players already warming up in black and gold, Mike took a deep breath.

God, he hoped he was right. It was such a long shot, but it's all he's got.

If he's not…. then… he's going to the police when the money runs out and making sure Marisol is safe. The foster system must be better than where they came from. Pennsylvania just won't send them back to California. Or at least it won't send them back to Aunt Cynthia and Rodger effortlessly at least.

He might get in massive trouble for essentially kidnapping his sister, but it was safer than where they had last been, and Mike wasn't going to stop a little thing as legality prevented him from keeping his sister safe.

So.

Now what's left is to find the courage to actually tell an NHL superstar that he might be Mike's biological father.

He fidgeted with the nearly dead phone in his pocket; it was not his. His phone was left on the table near the bed in his aunt's house; it had no use except to be a tracker for his aunt and her husband. Yet, the phone in his hands held so much: the only picture he had that might prove his story, The evidence of their injuries, their last photos as a family, their last pictures of Mama and Papi.

He found an excellent place to sit and arranged the bags to be comfortable for Marisol to rest on. She transferred with little complaint. They were both very used to sleeping in weird places recently. He would leave to get food in a moment, but first, he had to see.

He only sat down on the benches for a moment when a helmeted figure with 87 stamped across the back stepped onto the ice. Then all of Mike's attention that wasn't on Marisol was on Sidney Crosby.

#'sid has a teen he didn't know about' au #sidgeno #8771 #i write?#this will take a while to write #working title: Legacy (what is a legacy?)

22 notes · View notes

gimme-a-thrust · 1 year

Text

I finally have only one fic to edit (one of the companion fics to the Fizzarozzie week fics), and then I'll be almost ready to post everything. I need 7 fics beta'd currently (it'll be 8 when I finish editing this last one), and then I'll be totally ready.

I've also started the Hey Sweetheart fest for a writing server I'm in, and wrote a fluffy Mammozzie fic! I finished it in one go, and now I plan on editing. Once that's done, I'll probably move on to the next Hey Sweetheart fic. They aren't due until February but I want plenty of time to do things with them.

#Mr. Meek Speaks (Key Talk)#My Fic #My Fanfic #My Fanfiction #My Writing

3 notes · View notes

epersonae · 2 years

Note

Fic asks: 37, 38 (I'm done now xoxo)

Talk about your current wips.

First: BOATS! AND PLOT! ok, so my post-S1 longfic; you know much of this, but the two drivers of the story have been:

Stede gets the Hot Topic Boat

Jim is actually a prisoner in the Kraken Era

And then a whole ton of other stuff has spiraled out of that, including: Olu recoups his investment with Abshir, what I have described as The Spanish Jackie Plot, competent lesbians dunking on Calico Jack, art therapy, more death faking, and tattoos! Plus I keep futzing with it as I read new metas and analysis, trying to just absorb all these interesting ideas (blender noises intensify). And also I'm using it to work through Some Stuff about love and grief and burnout (and burnout in grief times, even).

Also there are so many fucking boats in this dumb fic. (at least four?) And so many POVs! (at least 8?)

I am hoping to get the first chapter out soonish, since I have four chapters more or less nailed down (altho only the first beta'd), which should give me enough space to get farther in a few weeks. (the doc is about 30k, altho a good chunk of that is notes)

The other main WIP is ofc Hungry for love, ready to drown, my Stede POV canon retelling fic, which has turned out to be so much more than I expected when I started! I do love poking around in Stede's head, though; I've seen lots of stuff I didn't notice originally in the show, and I've had some uhhhhhh interesting personal revelations as I've been writing.

I'm currently noodling around in episode 6, which I started from the ending (sort of), because something struck me about the duel scene that I hadn't noticed, and I think it's going to thread through the whole chapter? But then also I enjoyed writing this bit this morning, which is a fun counterpoint to Izzy's narration from the actual show:

There is a sweetness in those days, an unhurried joy in the time they spend together. In his memory, the light glows around them like honey or amber, as they talk, as they sip brandy from cut crystal, as they lounge on the deck, Ed's hand on his knee, Ed's hand on his shoulder, Ed's laugh warm as the sun.

Talk about a review that made your day.

There was someone back when we were posting The Reckoning Arrives who left just fantastic comments on every chapter, to the point where I remember Ryn and I looking forward to them, and sending each other messages when there were new ones. (I would have to go back and look for more details than that, it's been forever, and I only just now remembered about that!)

That, and the people who commented on from here the view goes on forever, which is the technically unfinished last collaboration of the series that Ryn and I wrote together, because those comments were also condolences in a way, and hearing from people who only/primarily knew us through our writing together meant so much.

TBH, every comment makes my day, even if it's just a heart emoji. It's so lovely to hear from someone who enjoyed something I wrote.

#boats! boats! boats!#also: smooches to everyone who has ever left a comment you are my personal hero #my fic #god it's been a while since we wrote Reckoning #(again: 2018 was An Time)#asks #ask games

5 notes · View notes

thetomcruiseblr · 7 months

Text

I wrote my last post in the middle of the night, and I realized I forgot to censor the word "Roosmav" in the middle of a tag, so I quickly changed it now. I've even had to be cognizant of the fact that I can't use the words "Roosmav," "Tom Cruise," "Miles Teller" in the body of any tags I write because it accidentally causes my post to show up in the mobile version of their tags, so I haven't been able to even openly talk about the things that I love because I don't want to cause drama, I don't want to draw attention to myself, but I still want to be able to express my interests. I don't know if they felt I was being nefariously secretive for the first half of this year, but I genuinely just didn't want to cause drama while I was still trying to figure my own feelings out. And I do say what I feel, what I've been thinking, on here.

The reason I wanted to befriend Kat, even besides that she is an amazing writer and was so kind to be one of the few people to leave genuine feedback on what I've done this year, is that she was finally the person to have an interest in common with myself outside of Roosmav that I felt I could carry forward if this doesn't work out for me. I still have so much that I want to do, that I want to give to Roosmav, but I've always said that I couldn't do it by myself, and I can't. I just can't do it myself. It would take me 1000 years to be able to get to 5% of the level of writing that the people there are on, and the stories that I feel deserve to be told for Roosmav.

I've talked about how there are still 90% of the things I want to see for Roosmav - and the truth is that I want everything for them. Every scenario, every AU, every weird sex thing possible for them. I honestly didn't realize what it was to be married to a ship until Roosmav. I don't look for anything else, read another ship (outside of Fuddle's CyMav because I do have nostalgia for how that was originally how I discovered her - her second Roosmav fic was gifted to me because I had been one of the people to encourage her to continue writing for them in her very first Roosmav fic), my eyes haven't strayed to anything else for this entire year. I have not watched another movie, another TV show, played a videogame. Every spare moment I have had has been devoted to writing/drawing/reading/commenting Roosmav. This is how single-mindedly devoted I have been to Roosmav this year.

I have had a very difficult, intense, sad story with this ship. And I don't want to drag it out much longer. I do want to thank Kat for having danmei in common with me, and if Roosmav can never work out, I am ready to go back to what I had thought I was going to be doing by now last year and start watching TGCF, go back to drawing those Chinese twinks. I don't think I will ever try writing again after Roosmav - it's true that I've only ever felt compelled to express actual written thought for them, and I'm glad that I did.

I never got to even talk about my own fics with other people outside of the two very kind people who have beta'd them, and I did put a lot of things that I loved in those fics, that I wish I could have discussed with people. I'm still glad that I wrote them because they have been fun for me to re-read for myself - my bottom!Bradleys were truly all gifts to me for myself: I love Bradley, and I was happy I got to write my Maverick (me) loving him the way I wanted to.

I want to give some things time, but I don't want to drag any of this on to the next year. It's been a very difficult, lonely year for me, and I think through this I've gotten to appreciate everything. Just having one conversation with a friend every two weeks. But I've wasted enough people's time outside of my own - it's the writing that has wasted people's time because those people really did take the time out of their busy adult lives to help me do something like this. No matter what happens, I will always appreciate that they helped me, and even getting their little comments while beta-ing my fics felt like that little bit of Roosmav interaction that I have been so desperately wanting.

I do have nothing but love for Roosmav, the Roosmav fandom, and every friend that I have ever known. I'm so sorry if even writing things on my tumblr has inadvertently caused any conflict in the fandom - I've tried to be careful not to tag anything I say, and I was terrified this morning when I woke up when I saw that I had accidentally written "Roosmav" instead of "R00smav" in my previous post's tag body. I hope it isn't showing up on the actual tag.

#personal

0 notes

chromatic-lamina · 10 months

Note

Get to know your fic writer-ask game!

6 Do you have your work beta'd? How important is this to your process?

9 Do you comment on stories you read?

23 Best writing advice for other writers?

24 Worst writing advice anyone ever gave you?

29 What’s your revision or editing process like?

40 You’ve posted a fic anonymously. How would someone be able to guess that you’d written it?

70 When asked, are you embarrassed or enthusiastic to tell people that you write?

74 You’ve posted a fic anonymously. How would someone be able to guess that you’d written it?

Ah, you are the best! I think I'll have to answer these under a cut after the first one. It's my only mail, so I'll answer all :D

Asks are from this link

6, 9, 23, 24, 29, 40, 70 and 74 finished (74 & 40 are the same above, but 40 is different on the ask). Asks still open if anyone wants to play!

6 Do you have your work beta'd? How important is this to your process?

No, except if it's a piece I really want to get right. For example, a story based on artwork, or for a gift exchange, etc. Sometimes I get friend sto beta fics for zines, etc., even if there is a writing mod. For anything submitted professionally anywhere, creative or non-fiction, I highly recommend getting a second pair of eyes on the work.

9 Do you comment on stories you read?

Not all, but a fair number, yes.

23 Best writing advice for other writers?

You can't edit anything if you don't have anything on the page. Write out of order. Write through your blocks. There is no such thing as a filler chapter. If the chapter is boring for you, it's boring for others. If you work on why you think that particular passage, etc., is boring, you'll figure it out, and have a passage that you'll probably end up loving. Your first draft is a draft, so don't treat it as if it should be a finished piece of work or you'll get nowhere.

24 Worst writing advice anyone ever gave you?

I don't think I've ever received any. Everything in moderation. Take note that guides are talking generally, not specifically.

29 What’s your revision or editing process like?

Time-consuming. I write down whatever's burning at the back of my brain, even if it doesn't make much sense. It will find its place eventually. I try to get the whole fic out (if it's a one shot) as much as I can, and then go back and edit. Because time is a thing, this means that I can be editing the fic before it's a whole draft, though, thereby contradicting my advice above.

If it's a multi-chapter and there's an idea and notion that you love but it's out of sequence, write it. I feel that you'll lose your passion for that scene if you don't, although not everyone will agree with me. There comes a point in your editing process with a multi-chap where you need an outline. Even if it's very vague, it lets you know where you're going and what you have and haven't done.

Write placeholders where there are obvious weaknesses or you don't have the time to write the piece out yet. For example:

"Blah, blah, blah," he said. [insert action] <<-- being the placeholder.

I do regret fics that I put out before they're ready cos I spend all my time getting them up to speed on AO3 instead of in my documents. But even if I'm happy, there's still stuff to edit!

40 If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see? (I know it says differently above, but 74 & 40 are the same on this Ask, but not in the original).

A friend said they were really trying to get a scene from screen/shiki-e where Law, Marco and Chopper are by the river, and Chopper is fishing cherry blossom petals out of the water with Law's hat. I think that was the scene they were mentioning. They said it was difficult to draw, but it'd be great to see that come to life. Possibly from Bioluminescence where Hakugan is floating in the deep, and Ikkaku's photograph floats by him, and a very colourful jellyfish.

Any art is a blessing, really! Whatever tickles the artist's fancy.

74 You’ve posted a fic anonymously. How would someone be able to guess that you’d written it?

I don't really hide my writing style or the darker themes that I write, so it's pretty easy to guess my anon fics. They're anon maybe cos' I think a lot of subscribers subscribe to me for the G-T rated work now, perhaps. Or perhaps the themes are a bit too rough for me at times too.

70 When asked, are you embarrassed or enthusiastic to tell people that you write? Fanfiction? No-one really knows other than tumblrites and other fandom folk. I'm happy to tell them, cos we're all doing the same kind of thing.

#one piece #get to know your fic writer meme #ninhaomaya #chromasks #chromanswers #shoot some your way once i go for a walk #writing meta #writing questions #fanfiction #chromafic #chromafics #ask meme

1 note · View note

nekojitachan · 3 years

Text

The Rise (MDZS fic)

Okay, so I kept mentioning the Immortal Wei Wuxian MDZS fic I was working on, and now I'm ready to post the first part of it. This hasn't been beta'd and I'm sure it'll be changed somewhat if I formally post it, but for now, here it is.

Don't think there's any trigger warnings here, other than minor character deaths which happen off-screen, and someone attempting to hit a child which is prevented.

*******

There it was again, a nagging sensation similar to a gnat buzzing in one’s ear. Baoshan Sanren frowned as she gave up on meditating, thoroughly annoyed by the mental ‘buzzing’. At least, until she realized the source behind the annoyance.

It was the talisman she’d given Cangse Qi in case she was ever in danger.

Baoshan Sanren surged to her feet and left the simple hut she’d spent the last several months ensconced in for meditation, Zhen Lu already unsheathed and ready to be mounted as soon as she stepped outside.

While her disciples were forbidden from returning once they left, she gave each of them a talisman upon their departure in case they ever faced true danger. So far, only one other than Cangse Qi had ever used it. Knowing how stubborn and independent her disciples were, especially Cangse Qi, Baoshan Sanren realized that something must be truly wrong for the young woman to deploy the talisman and so wasted no time in finding her.

It took little of her vast power to hide her presence as she flew with incredible speed to where the talisman called out from, which turned out to be a small city in the shadows of the Burial Mounds. Yiling had grown from barely more than the farming village it had been the last time she’d visited it, but the presence of the Burial Mounds and the resentful energy it emanated would always repress its surroundings.

Gazing at the ominous sight of the darkness-enshrouded mountain, she hoped that her headstrong disciple hadn’t done anything impulsive, such as take on the Burial Mounds without adequate support. Yet the call of the talisman tugged her toward the heart of Yiling and not the mountain, so if Cangse Qi had been injured fighting the malevolent place or its undead creatures, she had at least retreated back to the city.

Baoshan Sanren landed without a sound on top of a fabric shop then hopped down to ground in a quiet alley beside it; she’d arrived in the late afternoon, when people were busy finishing their work or tasks for the day and wanted to return home. A simple illusion spell and Baoshan Sanren walked among the mortals without any attention paid to her, intent on her goal.

She heard the commotion as she approached an inn, one that appeared affordable and mostly well-maintained; a child was crying while a woman’s sharp voice rang out in anger.

“Go away! There’s nothing here for you, you stupid brat!”

“But Mama told me—“

“She’s gone, I’ve told you that several times! Now go away, too!”

Baoshan Sanren slipped unnoticed through the crowd like a minnow through the roots of lotus plants, until she stood at the front of the people gathered to watch a middle-aged woman dressed in dark brown garments made from cheap fabric swat a broom at a young, crying child who couldn’t be older than three or four years old.

She felt a protective urge toward the boy even before she noticed the talisman carved from white jade which hung from his neck, the same talisman which she’d given to Cangse Qi before her talented, independent disciple left to follow her own path, the same talisman which sent out a beacon for help.

“Mama and Papa said—“

“They’ve abandoned you, you shitty brat. No one wants you!” The woman went to hit the child with the broom, only for it to be cut in pieces by Zhen Lu as Baoshan Sanren stationed herself before whom she suspected to be Cangse Qi’s child—especially once she caught sight of the boy’s silver-grey eyes. As the crowd gasped in surprise and the woman recoiled in fear, Baoshan Sanren reached back with her left hand to gently grasp the child by the shoulder and tug him close; he clung to her skirts without hesitation.

“If you raise a hand to this child again, you’ll lose it,” she promised the woman, who quickly dropped the handle of the broom and bowed in apology. “Where are his parents?” Where was Cangse Qi? Baoshan Sanren refused to believe that her disciple would abandon her own son.

“My…my lady, they’ve disappeared,” the woman said as she clutched at her skirts with trembling hands. “They were cultivators and paid three nights for the room and have been gone for a week. We let the boy stay a couple of extra days in case they returned, but they never did and we’re not an orphanage.”

That explained the child’s dirty and bruised appearance; he must have been living on the street after being thrown out of the inn, remaining nearby in hopes that his parents would return. “What about his parents’ belongings?”

The woman’s round face paled at the question, which made Baoshan Sanren suspect that she’d planned to keep the ‘found’ items, that or sell them. “Give me a minute to retrieve them, my lady.” As she turned to go into the inn, the woman scowled at the crowd. “Go on, nothing to see here!”

People grumbled at being called out for their nosiness but slowly began to disperse. While they did, Baoshan Sanren sheathed her sword then knelt in front of the boy. “What’s your name?” she asked as she used the sleeve of her white and light grey hanfu to gently clean his dirt-streaked face.

“Wei Ying,” he said as he gazed at her with eyes the exact shade as Cangse Qi’s. For a moment, she felt as if she was trapped in an echo of time, was back in Zhouzhuang and had just found an orphaned young girl living among feral cats. Even Wei Ying’s smile was the same as his mother’s. “You’re Mama’s friend.”

“Yes, I am, but how do you know that?” It was just a spark, but he had the beginnings of a golden core, a clear sign that Cangse Qi must have begun his training already.

“Mm! Mama told me if anything happens to her or Papa, to hold this and think real hard for help.” He held up the jade talisman, carved into the shape of a pussy willow branch. His smile faded as tears welled up in his large, silvery-grey eyes. “Mama promised that they’d be back by morning.”

“I’m sure she meant it,” Baoshan Sanren soothed as she hugged the boy close, inwardly appalled that Cangse Qi had left her own child behind to night-hunt with her husband, in Yiling of all places. Had they dared to tackle the Burial Mounds, just the two of them? While they waited for the innkeeper to return, she surreptitiously cast a talisman to look for her wayward disciple.

The odious woman handed over a small bundle filled with a few toys, Wei Ying’s clothes, some odds and ends and two qiankun pouches. Baoshan Sanren suspected that the only reason that any of Cangse Qi’s or her husband’s belongings remained was that the greedy woman couldn’t open the magical bags nor easily sell them. She tucked them into her qiankun sleeve before she picked up Wei Ying and walked away without further word.

“Let’s get you something to eat,” she said, which prompted a faint cheer from the boy; he could use the food, judging from how thin he was, and it would give time for her spell to find Cangse Qi…if the woman was still alive.

Baoshan Sanren doubted there would be such an outcome, but she couldn’t leave without knowing for certain.

They found a stall selling pork-filled baozi; she bought several and had to watch over Wei Ying so he didn’t eat too fast and make himself sick. Once he realized that she wouldn’t take the food away or disappear, he slowed down, his gaze on her the entire time he nibbled on the soft buns like an anxious rabbit.

She’d raised several disciples over the decades, but there was something about this boy, about the intelligence in his eyes and the sweetness of his smile…

There was a rush of sadness when the talisman returned, a tiny ball of dark blue light which she vanished before Wei Ying noticed it. The color indicated that, as she suspected, Cangse Qi was dead and her son now orphaned. Baoshan Sanren had every intention of ensuring that the child would find a safe home, but now…now resolve formed inside of her to keep the boy.

He would be safe with her, could grow to his full potential with her, learn about his mother and follow in Cangse Qi’s footsteps. She didn’t know much about his father, but such things could be found out, she supposed, especially if he decided to leave her mountain one day.

But that was the future, and this was the present. She gathered Wei Ying, sleepy now that his belly was full, in her arms and strode toward a quiet alley where she could teleport them back home. Part of her wanted to rush to Cangse Qi ’s resting place and recover her disciple’s body, but the living was more important than the dead. She’d see to Wei Ying then come back for Cangse Qi and her husband, certain that they’d rather she focus on their son first.

*******

“A-Ying! A-Shen! What are you—aiya! Get down here now!”

Baoshan Sanren sighed as she set her cup of tea aside, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her mouth despite the exasperation and concern in Mo Luli’s voice.

After all, it was quite the common occurrence in the last ten years.

It didn’t take long for Mo Luli to march the two boys into Baoshan Sanren’s study, her assistant’s narrow face set in a scowl while the boys showed obvious signs of flight with the way that their long hair was tousled and their cheeks flushed. “What was it this time?”

“They were doing acrobatics in the air,” Mo Luli said with the grievance of one who’d long suffered from Wei Ying’s death-defying antics. “I thought my poor heart would stop when I saw A-Shen falling through the air.”

“We were practicing a special move,” Xiao Shen explained, his expression the usual one of utmost peace and trust as he glanced at his older ‘brother’. “A-Ying always catches me.”

“I would never let him fall,” Wei Ying insisted as he rubbed the hilt of his sword, Ziyou, which used to be Cangse Qi ’s. “I had my binding spell ready just in case.”

“I’m sure you did.” Wei Ying took his job as Xiao Shen’s big brother very seriously, ever since she’d brought home the younger boy five years ago. She motioned for the boys to join her at the table while Mo Luli bowed then left the room. “However, you should give a warning to the others before you practice such things.”

Wei Ying rubbed the side of his nose while he considered her advice then nodded. “Yes, Teacher. I promise to do so from now on.” Beside him, Xiao Shen nodded in agreement.

“Good.” Baoshan Sanren smiled as she poured them tea; she supposed someone else would insist that the boys stop their antics, but she knew her disciples well enough that they’d just find an isolated part of the mountain (easy enough to do) and continue their antics, as well as they were skilled enough to practice them. In all her years, she’d never had a disciple as brilliant and talented as Wei Ying, and Xiao Shen held almost as much promise.

For a moment, she felt a pang of regret that Cangse Qi wasn’t here to watch her son grow up, to witness his potential unfurl, then pushed the emotion aside.

“Now, tell your teacher what you’ve been up to, other than scaring everyone,” she said as she placed cups of tea in front of the boys.

Wei Ying’s grey eyes lightened with delight before he paused and glanced at Xiao Shen so the younger boy could talk first, as thoughtful as always. Xiao Shen’s cheeks flushed a little from the attention as he told her about their day: sword practice, meditation, crafting new talismans and studying the texts she’d assigned them.

He’d be ready for his own sword, soon, which was probably why Wei Ying had involved him in his flying antics. She had them show her the talismans they’d created, as always amazed by Wei Ying’s ingenuity. Xiao Shen wasn’t the innovator that his shidi was, but exposure to Wei Ying’s cleverness benefited him greatly in that he could adapt existing ones to suit his needs.

Which he would need one day.

Baoshan Sanren could already tell that Xiao Shen would leave her mountain one day; she’d long grown adept at spotting the signs. It was the way he gazed longingly down the mountain, the way he soaked up whatever news Mo Luli, Tao Niu or the others brought back whenever they returned from rare supply runs, the way he always asked questions about ‘down there’.

Wei Ying was curious about the world below as well, but he’d sworn to never leave her. At first, she’d thought the words to be a child’s nonsense; the boy trying to cheer her up and thank her for saving him. Yet as each year passed, he continued to assert that he would remain at her side and not abandon her. That he would strive for immortality so she wouldn’t be alone.

As he was the first disciple who had a high probability of reaching immortality…she found herself unable to discourage him. Was it so wrong of her, after watching disciple after disciple throw away so much potential? After watching Cangse Qi, one of her most beloved, do just that, after she had so much hope for the young woman?

Now she had a second chance with Cangse Qi’s son, one she wouldn’t let slip away without a fight.

*******

Wen Ning panted for breath as he crouched behind a mountain laurel, a sleeping Wen Yuan tied tight in a sling against his chest and Wen Lai huddled next to his side. He signaled the young girl, her face pinched with exhaustion, to remain quiet then watched for signs of the remaining Wen and Jin soldiers he hadn’t managed to evade after their last skirmish.

He’d hoped that they’d give up on following him eventually, as he was merely a low-level cultivator, but it seemed his tie to Wen Ruohan was too strong—more likely, his blood-tie to Wen Ruohan was too strong, as was that of the children with him. His core might not be powerful, but the potential of leverage he, A-Yuan and A-Lai held against his sister was too much to let slip.

(That and they must have scented blood.)

Which was in part why he’d run away in the first place, why Wen Zemin had given up his life (such as had been left) in an attempt to free his children from a life of being pawns. Wen Qing hadn’t been happy about their decision, but she’d understood and hadn’t stood in their way.

Wen Ning had run all the way to some faraway mountain reputed to be haunted by the locals, desperate for somewhere to hide (to rest, to recuperate) until the remaining three soldiers finally gave up on following him-that or he could ambush them. When he’d begun his journey, he’d never imagined harming anyone, but now he had two precious lives to protect, two lives he refused to allow his uncle to ever hurt again.

He let go of A-Lai’s hand so he could shrug his unstrung bow free, then carefully slid A-Yuan to the side enough to be out of the way before he strung the bow. He’d just notched an arrow (and bit his lip at the pain which spread through his left side at the motion) and thought he saw one of the soldiers approaching when he realized that A-Lai was no longer at his side.

Forcing himself not to call out her name, he glanced aside and caught a glimpse of his young cousin right before she vanished into nothing a mere few feet away. Stunned by what had just happened, he stumbled toward where she’d disappeared, confused by what had just happened, with an arrow nocked at the ready.

A hand appeared out of thin air to yank him forward.

“What—“

“SHH!”

Wen Ning’s eyes went wide as a hand belonging to a young man around his age covered his mouth to prevent him from speaking; he appeared to be behind a ward of some sort. Two things made him lower his bow: A-Lai was off to the side playing with what looked to be a glowing red swallow, a bright smile on her face, and a sense of immense power roiled off the young man.

“You’re safe behind the wards, they won’t sense them or be able to cross them if someone doesn’t help,” the young man said as he slowly released Wen Ning. His silver-grey eyes widened as he noticed A-Yuan. “Baby! Oh, how cute,” he cooed, his voice pitched low.

“Ah, who are-“

Wen Ning was cut off once again.

“Oh, let me deal with those guys,” the young man-a powerful cultivator, surely, considering the strength of his golden core. “You want them gone, right? They can’t be good if they’re harassing you and these two.”

Wen Ning blinked at the offer and fought to remain on his feet. “Uhm, yes? Yes, pl-please.”

The young man, dressed in dark grey and red, smiled a blindingly bright smile and nodded once, which made his long hair, pulled into a high ponytail, swing back and forth. “Got it!” His voice was pitched low yet still conveyed much emotion.

He stepped toward the ward then waved his right hand in the air; glowing characters appeared in the wake of his fingers, a talisman created in the air instead of paper, a spell propelled forward with a flick of his elegant fingers which slammed into the three cultivators as they searched through the mountain’s brush. Once the magic faded into their bodies, they straightened up and strode down the mountain as if chasing something.

Wondering if the last few minutes were part of a fever dream, Wen Ning gaped at the young man. “Wha-what did yo-you do?”

The youth beamed at him. “Nothing much. The spell will make them head off for a few hundred li, and once it wears off, they won’t remember where they’ve been. That’ll get them far away from here and off your trail.” He frowned at Wen Ning as he rubbed the tip of his nose. “You are running away from them, yes? Teacher and A-Chen tell me I’m too impulsive, but I can’t imagine anyone protecting two kids is a bad person.”

“No! No, I…I th-thank you.” All of a sudden, the last few days caught up with Wen Ning; the world spun around him and he barely had time to free A-Yuan and thrust him toward the young man who’d just saved him before everything went grey.

*******

Everything felt warm and soft around Wen Ning, which was enough to make him to force his eyes open; the last few months had been anything but warm and soft as he sacrificed every comfort for the sake of his cousins. Yet as he took in his surroundings, he realized that he was indeed laid out on a comfortable, clean bed, that the room he’d been placed in was warm, filled with sunlight and airy, that the wound he’d received days ago was mostly healed and no longer infected.

He also was bursting with energy, his golden core fully restored and more powerful than it had ever been.

“How do you feel?”

Oh, there was someone with him, too.

He blinked a few more times before he managed to turn his head to the side (soft pillows, when was the last time his head had rested on such soft pillows?) to find a woman of undetermined age seated next to his bed.

A woman who emanated even more power than the young man from earlier.

“Ah… wu-well, th-thank you.” He blushed over the way he stuttered, uncertain if it was his normal habit or from being in her presence.

The woman hummed for a moment then reached out to brush her cool fingers along his forehead. “That’s good, though what one would expect with the way that A-Ying healed you.” A very slight frown marred her unlined face for a moment. “You were very close to death, you know.”

Yes, which was why he’d been so desperate to find somewhere safe to rest and to lose the soldiers following him. Which led him to question where were the children, who were the young man who’d saved him and this woman, and what was this place? “Uhm…I’m very grateful for everything.” He attempted to sit up so he could bow, but was prevented by the woman’s firm grip on his left shoulder. “Th-this one is Wen Qionglin. Ah, where are th-the children?”

“They’re safe,” she assured him as she sat back in the chair; she tucked aside the full sleeves of her white and grey robes before she reached toward a small table and a pot of tea on top of it. “They’re with A-Ying.” She didn’t speak again until she picked up the full teacup and turned to face him. “This one is Baoshan Sanren, and you’re on my mountain.”

For a moment, Wen Ning wondered if he was still unconscious and this was a fever dream; everyone had heard tales of Baoshan Sanren, a legendary cultivator who’d achieved immortality centuries ago then sequestered herself away on a remote mountain, only to leave it to find the occasional disciple. Those disciples remained on her mountain to learn from her, only leaving it with the understanding that they were never to return. The last known one had been Cangse Sanren, renowned for her powerful cultivation and free spirit, who’d long-since vanished along with her husband.

Yet here he lay, healed from a festering wound while a woman whose spiritual energy made it difficult to breathe held a cup of tea for him to take. “I…I…”

“Drink,” she commanded, her tone quiet yet determined, her dark brown gaze unwavering.

Wen Ning could do nothing but nod and accept the drink; it soothed his parched throat and tasted of mint and some herb he couldn’t place, and caused a tingling sensation throughout his body. Any lingering mental fugue vanished in the tingling’s wake, replaced by a sense of calmness.

“Thank you,” he said once the cup was empty; she plucked it from his hands to refill it.

“You’re welcome. Now, I’m sure you have many questions.” A slight smile lightened her lovely features when he nodded twice. “I must be honest with you, those who live on my mountain are expected not to interfere with the outside world, especially my disciples. A-Ying knows this well.” She sighed when she handed him the refilled cup. “Yet he wouldn’t be who he is if he allowed harm to come to the children, and he took action to preserve our isolation. The only question now is, what to do with you.”

“Me?” The word came out as a squeak as Wen Ning gazed in surprise (and a hint of fear) at the immortal. “What about me?” He frowned when he realized that he’d said that without a stutter.

“We may be isolated here, but we’re not entirely without news of the world below,” Baoshan Sanren said as she slipped her hands into the opposite sleeves of her robe. “From A-Ying’s description, the men following you wore the colors of the Qishan Wen and Lanling Jin sects. You admitted to being a Wen as well. We’ve heard about the war among the cultivation sects with the Qishan Wen emerging victorious, and how the Lanling Jin have willingly bent their knees before Wen Ruohan. That just leaves what you’ve done to earn your own clan’s ire.”

That was…a bit more up to date than he’d have expected from a supposed hermit living on top of a mountain, but she was an immortal, after all. Wen Ning ducked his head (and noticed that his hair had been cleaned, along with the rest of him) and sipped the tea as he tried to put his jumbled thoughts together.

“Ah…perhaps…perhaps you’ve heard that things aren’t very good now that Sect Leader Wen Ruohan won the war?” He peeked at Baoshan Sanren and let out a slow breath when she nodded, her face impassive. “He found two pieces of the Yin Iron and is cultivating resentful energy, it’s what enabled him to win the war. Everyone lives in fear of his undead army, and of joining it. Not even his own people are spared.”

Baoshan Sanren gazed at him for several seconds before she set the empty cup on the tray. “Using Yin Iron is dangerous and adverse to the body.”

“Yes!” Wen Ning nodded as he sat up straighter on the bed. “That’s why Sect Leader…well, A-jie, my sister, we’re from the Dafan Wens. We’re healers.”

“Yes, I’ve heard of your clan.” There was that faint smile again.

“Oh?” Wen Ning felt a spark of pride that a great immortal knew about the Dafan Wens. “Ah, uhm, well, A-jie-Wen Qing, she’s amazing! She’s the best doctor I know, maybe the best alive, and Sect Leader…” His shoulders drooped as he thought about what Wen Ruohan forced his sister to do. “He knows she’ll do anything to protect me and the rest of our family, so he threatens her with our lives to make her keep him healthy. I thought…I thought if I ran away, along with the children, that would be three less lives held against her.” Everyone else thought it was worth the chance, especially if A-Yuan and A-Lai could grow up free from Wen Ruohan’s influence.

“I see.” A slight frown marred Baoshan Sanren’s smooth forehead as her gaze seemed to turn inward for several seconds, until she gave a slight shake of her head. “I understand the logic of your decision, but we remain above the world’s battles here.”

Wen Ning’s shoulders slumped again; he hadn’t realized it, but there had been a faint hope as he’d told his story that the immortal would decide to descend her mountain and fight his uncle. “I understand.” He joined his hands and began to bow. “Thank you for-“

Once again, she prevented him from completing the act. “We will not involve ourselves, but that doesn’t mean we’ll be less than gracious hosts. There’s also the fact that you’re a cultivator; if you wish to become my disciple, then you are welcome to stay.”

At the mention of becoming the legendary Baoshan Sanren’s disciple, Wen Ning’s thoughts were filled with possibilities; of him learning from the immortal, of his weak core growing stronger, of him becoming strong and powerful, possibly enough to defeat his uncle on his own. Then he realized that they were fantasies, mere wishful thinking; while he was certain he would learn a great many of things from the woman and possibly increase the strength of his core (and maybe overcome the soul illness which had long plagued him), he didn’t have the time when his uncle held his sister captive and was determined to drown the world with the undead.

No, not that he believed himself to be much in the grand scheme of things, but he couldn’t hide on an immortal’s mountain when his family were in danger.

“I’m sorry, but no,” he said with great regret. “But…perhaps you can help me find somewhere safe for the children?”

The smile strengthened as Baoshan Sanren rose from the chair and went over to the open door and motioned to someone. “I believe we can assist with that.” She returned, sat down and held out her right hand; it took a moment for Wen Ning to realize she expected him to hold out his arm for her to check his meridians.

He did as she wanted, and shivered in awe when he felt a tendril of electrifying spiritual energy lightly probe at his qi. After a moment, she hummed and released his wrist.

“Have you noticed anything strange?”

“Uhm, yes?” He cradled his wrist against his chest as he once again considered his golden core. “My core…it’s stronger than before,” he admitted. “Did you…ah, I’m sorry, but…” How did he go about asking if an immortal had somehow helped with his cultivation?

Baoshan Sanren shook her head as she fussed with her full sleeves. “That wasn’t me, but A-Ying.” For a moment, an expression of fond exasperation flickered across her pale face. “I’m still trying to figure it out, but whatever he did to bring you back from the brink of death has tied the two of you together and given you additional strength.” As Wen Ning gasped in shock at the news, she shook her head again. “I’d berate him for his impulsiveness, but it’s nudged him closer to immortality.” She sounded pleased with that fact.

“Oh.” Wen Ning placed his right hand against his lower dantian, against the energy thrumming inside of him, and thought about the smiling youth who’d saved his life.

As if summoned by his thoughts, the young cultivator in question burst through the door with a tray held in his hands, a burbling A-Yuan strapped to his chest and a giggling A-Lai clinging to his back. “Teacher! A-Xui’s being mean to me again! She won’t let me try any of the mapo tofu she’s making for dinner!” He came to a sudden halt right before the bed; somehow, nothing on the tray was disturbed. “You’re awake! How are you feeling?”

Wen Ning blinked in surprise since the words were spoken in a rush while Baoshan Sanren chuckled and took the tray from her disciple’s hands; meanwhile, A-Lai cried out and clamored to be let down. The young man—A-Ying, according to Baoshan Sanren-hurried to comply and set her on the bed, where she launched herself at Wen Ning.

“Uncle Ning! Are you better now?”

He returned her hug and kissed the top of her head. “Yes, all better now. How are you and A-Yuan?” She also sported clean clothes, her hair neatly braided and appearance indicating that she’d been cared for while he’d been unconscious.

She smiled as she curled up next to him. “Ying-ge let me pet the baby goats and chicks, and we ate all this good food!” She bounced on the bed in her excitement, which made him smile. “And I got to play with A-Qiang while her mama fed A-Yuan!”

“Speaking of which.” A-Ying sat down on the bed and freed A-Yuan from the sling. “You probably want to see this little fellow.” He held A-Yuan toward Wen Ning, but the infant began to fuss so Wen Ning shook his head. “Aiya, all right, all right, I’ll hold you a little longer.” Despite his chiding tone, A-Ying didn’t seem to mind tending to the baby.

“A-Ying.”

The young man glanced at his teacher, who was holding a bowl of what looked to be some sort of broth out to Wen Ning. “Oh, right!” He stood up and managed a mostly proper bow while holding A-Yuan, who giggled at the motion. “This one is Wei Wuxian, but you can call me Wei Ying.” He smiled as he straightened up then sat down again. “Everyone tells me that I’m not serious enough for a courtesy name.”

Baoshan Sanren gave the youth a heavy look while Wen Ning accepted the bowl. “Were you trying to add more chili oil to our dinner before you came here?”

“Uhmmm….”

“Then I wonder why we believe such a thing.” Yet she seemed amused by her disciple, judging from the fond look she gave him.

“Uhm, thank you for saving me and the children.” Wen Ning bowed as much as he could while holding the bowl of soup. “I owe you our lives.”

“Ah, there’s no need of such things.” Wei Wuxian waved aside his words with a negligent motion of his right hand while he bounced a smiling A-Yuan on his knees. “Who wouldn’t help out someone in need, especially when they have two cuties with them?” He winked at A-Lai before he bent down to nuzzle A-Yuan’s head.

A lot of people, Wen Ning had learned as he’d fled from Qishan. However, before he could say anything, a stern look from Baoshan Sanren made him bow his head again and eat his soup. The broth had a medicinal taste to it as well, but nothing too strong.

“We should leave you to rest,” Baoshan Sanren said as she stood, the motion graceful. “You still need to heal.” She waved her right hand at the tray of food set on the small table by his bed, her white sleeve billowing in the air. “Make sure to eat everything.”

“She’s right, you need to get better,” A-Lai said as she patted Wen Ning’s chest before she wriggled off the bed. “Can I come back later?”

“That’s ‘may I come back later’, and the answer is yes.” Baoshan Sanren held out her hand for A-Lai to take, which the young girl latched onto eagerly, seemingly unaware of the immortal’s power or reputation. Meanwhile, Wei Ying smiled at Wen Ning as he stood as well, a babbling A-Yuan cradled against his chest.

“Don’t worry, I’ll continue to look after your little ones while you focus on healing. Nothing will harm them here.”

Despite everything that had happened in the last few weeks, Wen Ning believed him. “Thank you,” he said with as low as a bow he could manage while sitting in bed.

“Now, now, there’s no need of that between friends! I’ll bring them back after dinner.” Wei Ying gently grasped A-Yuan’s right arm and made the infant ‘wave’ goodbye to him. “We’ll see you then.”

Wen Ning waved back, feeling at peace for the first time that he could remember.

*******

“Look at that shot!” Wei Wuxian crowed while he thumped his brother on the back; Xiao Xingchen smiled at a blushing Wen Ning who ducked his head then hurried to reclaim the arrows from the target. “Ah, A-Ning, you make us look like amateurs, you do!”

Wen Ning blushed an even brighter shade of red as he shook his head. “A-Ying and A-Chen are very talented.”

What a shame; it had taken forever to get the shy young man to call them something other than ‘young Masters’, and now he was leaving. As Wei Wuxian pouted, his brother nudged him in the side. “Don’t be such a bully, A-Ying.”

Wei Wuxian gasped and clutched his hands to his chest in a dramatic manner. “When I am ever a bully?” When Xiao Xingchen and Wen Ning both gave him looks of long suffering, he laughed and flapped his right hand in the air. “All right, all right, stop ganging up on me. However, I speak nothing but the truth in that our dear A-Ning is very talented with the bow.”

“A-Ying…”

“Hm, that is true.” Xiao Xingchen gave a flustered Wen Ning one of his sweetest smiles as he walked over to the youth then patted him on the shoulder. “As Teacher insists, never be ashamed of your talent, merely avoid excessive pride and arrogance.”

“Mm, yes, A-Chen.” Wen Ning nodded twice, his embarrassment fading at the reminder; he may have declined Teacher’s invite to remain and become her disciple, but he’d spent the past few months eagerly soaking up everything she’d deigned to teach him.

Until now.

Xiao Xingchen patted him once more then walked away, leaving the two of them alone. Wei Wuxian sauntered forward with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Do you really have to go?”

Wen Ning paused in unstringing his bow (the bow that Wei Wuxian had made for him, that was a spiritual weapon and imbued with some of the strongest protective spells he knew) to gaze at him, his expression a mix of misery and resolve. “Yes. You know why.”

“I do,” Wei Wuxian sighed as he toed the ground with his left foot. “I just think that it would be better if you stayed a few more months, maybe learned a bit more from Teacher and…well, stayed a bit longer.”

The smile Wen Ning gave him was bittersweet. “I want to, I really do, but she’s already taught me so much, and there’s the copies of the medical texts she’s allowing me to take. If I stay any longer…I’ll never want to leave.”

Wei Wuxian wanted to ask if that was a terrible thing, staying on the mountain with him, Teacher, Xiao Xingchen, and the children, but he knew that Wen Ning had obligations down ‘there’, had family to save and a war to fight. He also knew that not everyone was like him and Teacher, content to remain in the clouds for the rest of their lives, that Xiao Xingchen was already making plans to leave once he felt that he’d learned enough.

To be honest, a part of Wei Wuxian wanted to go with Wen Ning, to be at his side while he fought against his uncle’s tyranny, to wander the world like his mother had set out to do. But there was so much to learn from Teacher; he’d only scratched the surface of what she knew and he wanted it all.

That and she was so lonely; she tried to hide it, but he caught the emotion shimmering in her eyes when she gazed at Xiao Xingchen while he faced toward the bottom of the mountain, whenever she talked about her past disciples, when the passage of time became noticeable on one of her assistants or the people who lived in the small village which saw to most of their needs.

He swore he wouldn’t let her be lonely anymore.

“A-Lai and A-Yuan will miss you.” Wei Wuxian blanched when he realized what that had sounded like and waved his hands about. “Aiya, I didn’t mean…well, they will miss you, but you know I’ll look after them, and I gave you the talismans so you can keep in touch with them and me!” He hadn’t meant for it to seem like he was trying to guilt his friend over leaving the two children behind.

“I know.” Done with his bow, Wen Ning slung it over his back, along with the quiver of arrows, then gingerly knocked their shoulders together. “To be honest, I wouldn’t be able to leave if I wasn’t certain that they have a home here.” He stepped aside so he could bow low. “Thank you for making my family your own.”

“Ah, don’t do that.” Wei Wuxian groaned as he pushed his friend upright. “Teacher may have claimed that I’m responsible for those two darlings since I saved them, but you know that she, A-Chen and A-Song will make sure that they’re raised properly.” At least, A-Chen would as long as he remained here, but Teacher wouldn’t let him fail too badly as a ‘father’, and A-Song was happy to help a fellow ‘parent’ out.

“Still, it’s clear that they adore you.” Wen Ning’s expression grew wistful as they headed back home. “I doubt A-Yuan will even remember me in a few months.”

“I won’t let him forget you.”

“Mm.”

It was quiet after that; Wei Wuxian wracked his brain to think of anything else he could give his friend before he left the next morning, never to return to the mountain. He wasn’t happy with Teacher’s decree, especially since it meant that Wen Ning had to leave behind his young cousins, but all Wen Ning cared about was that they were safe and well-cared for.

At least the young man had the talismans which would allow him to remain in contact with Wei Wuxian and the children, along with the nebulous bound between them. He still didn’t understand what he’d done when he’d attempted to heal Wen Ning, but somehow there was a connection between their cores which granted Wen Ning increased strength and vitality, as well as a ‘sense’ of Wei Wuxian’s presence.

Hopefully, it would keep him safe once he left the mountain.

They parted ways once they neared the cluster of buildings which made up the village of Teacher’s sanctuary; Wen Ning went to collect the children, who were with A-Song and A-Qiang, while Wei Wuxian intended to return to his own house (which he now shared with A-Lai and A-Yuan).

Halfway there, he came across Teacher as if she was waiting for him, her hands tucked into the sleeves of her pale grey robes. She gave him a gentle look as she fell in step beside him.

“You’re very close to immortality, A-Ying.”

He rubbed his nose with the knuckle of his right forefinger. “So you’ve said.” His core was so warm inside of him, like a miniature sun, filling him with near-boundless energy.

“If it’s still a path you intend to walk, then you must be aware that it’s a narrow one,” she continued, her gaze fixed ahead but her presence comforting beside him. “You must grow used to letting people go. There is much you can do once you achieve immortality, but not everything.” Her jaw tightened as if she were in pain for a moment. “And people aren’t like your talismans and arrays, something for you to tweak until you make them do whatever you want.”

It was quiet for a minute while he thought about what had been said, and then he nudged her arm. “I know, Teacher. But you’re on the path with me, no? So it’s not that narrow.”

Teacher didn’t say anything for a couple of seconds, until a slight huff of amusement slipped past her lips. “Incorrigible brat.”

“Your incorrigible brat.” He smiled at her, the expression brightening when she slowly returned it.

“Mine indeed.” She slipped her left arm through his elbow as they walked together on the same path.

*******

OK, so WWX isn't immortal YET. Give him a little longer (like the next part?). It's happening soon. Also happening soon, more characters appearing.

So, I know Baoshan Sanren is a title, as is Cangse Sanren. Right now I'm going with WWX's mom keeping the same 'family' name, but that's not set in stone. Thoughts? I really don't know what to do about Baoshan Sanren...

Also, this is a mix of MDZS/CQL.

I'm posting it here since IDK when I'll be able to focus on it so I'm hoping to throw bits up here and there. I've got another couple of stories I need to work on.

#nekojitachanfics #mdzs #cql #mdzs au #cql au #mao dao zu shi #wangxian #wei wuxian #baoshan sanren #wen ning #xiao xingchen #we'll get the whole band together eventually #WIP #the rise fic #immortal wei wuxian

83 notes · View notes

dormarunt · 2 years

Note

VERY VERY VERY VERY EYE EMOJI ABT THIS FIC!! what all is on your wip list right now, if you dont mind my asking? 👀👀

I posted the fic! Earlier when I wrote this (I answer asks on my lunch break #adult) I had only disparaging things to say about this fic but now I kinda like it? Maybe? It's just smut. Okay so my endless WIP list:

- a two-parter fic based on a poem ("""poem""", more like nursery rhyme?). The first part is Andres' POV and it's finished, 7 short vignette chapters at 7-8k words in total. Beta'd, but not edited by me yet. AND!! i have a title for it, which - wow. - the second part of that fic, from Martin's POV, is... a mess, I have nothing but the structure and an idea that i can't seem to get on the page. - this wild, wild fic that I don't know whether I should even finish because it started off as the dumbest, crackiest idea that - and I'm not even kidding - the initial premise was based on a rude slang expression in Romanian. Does that sound vague? Well, would it make it easier if I said that the fic was completely heretical in its first incarnation, so I decided to handwave/create a magical, non-denominational being instead? No, not any clearer? Well, I have ~3k words of this and I abandoned it because I started writing this cracky idea too seriously and I don't even know what I want with it anymore. (But feel free to inquire more about it since I'm maybe embarrassed to even explain the expression that started it all) - this fic that's ready, I think? And has been ready for half a year but it's so depressing that I worked hard to un-depress it. I'm pretty sure it's even beta'd. Doesn't have a title (ofc) but it involves Martin and Andres in the Mint, and it's the both of them that are left behind, so they have to hide when the police is inside, and to wait to be rescued somehow. - a prompt (may or may not be yours?) that's pure smut, involving sextoys and a long day of edging, that lives 75% in my head. So far titled "GLASS". Because glass is a great material for toys <3 - this... thing? that sprung to me as a scene so it has no plot, temporarily called "Cockblocking beats" in which Martin gets jealous and denies any and all intimacy except they're both idiots and want it and hilarity would ensue if i got off my ass and wrote it. I got about 1.5k words of this, and a couple of ideas that are in my head alone. - this drabble I started eons ago of Martin enjoying some recreational choking with a Grindr hookup, in which he wakes Andres up in the middle of the night when he thinks he's killed the guy. barely 500 words and OMG. You know what I found in this document? The reply to a comment on my Secret Santa fic, that I began writing (in that doc) and apparently never finished. I am an ass, I'm sorry. And a disorganized ass at that, I only opened this doc to get a wordcount, otherwise I'd have completely forgotten it - in my mind, I died at that gorgeous comment, *and* replied too. On AO3, not in a document I haven't opened in *months*. - part 2 of "Love Instead". I have a good 5k of that written but I don't know if I should even finish it? I love the ending of part 1. It's heartbreaking and I might leave it at that. - the epilogue to "Libreria del Pecado" which is almost done but I can't finish. It's Martin (and Mirko) saying goodbye to the bookstore and I can't go through that again. I visited one of the bookstores I worked in, when @the--sound--of--rain came over to visit, and I CRIED. Just by being there. But I also cried when I saw that my first bookstore closed. I can't say goodbye to another bookstore, you know? the one in Libreria is based on both those beautiful places I worked in, and it's so close to my heart. - a mythology-inspired fic in which Martin is a "zburător" (and man would I love to hear how people pronounce that), which is a sort of succubus in Romanian folklore. They escape to a remote village in Romania and (spoilers since I may never finish this) Martin is that creature that unknowingly feeds off Andres, just by loving him the way he does, and he's the cause of his illness. Romanian folklore and all our specific mythical creatures are fascinating, though. And it holds up to have an old biddy speaking Spanish, what with the huge wave of Romanians migrating to Spain since 2007; it's facts.

Aaaand that's it! Thank you for giving me the chance to go through my WIP folder and to see what I have! You don't know how much this helped me! <3

#asks #berlermo #I'm a writer me #HOW CAN I HAVE THIS MANY WIPS

6 notes · View notes

dcjbigbang · 7 years

Note

I'm back with another odd question! So, the schedule says final drafts are due on March 1st. My question is: does that mean 100% done, beta'd, and ready to be posted, or does that mean the entire fic is complete but it's okay to still be in the editing/betaing stage? (Only asking so I know how to pace myself). Thank you!

Excellent question!

We are going to go out on a limb and guess you meant April 1st? Had to go take a look at the schedule because you freaked this mod out for a minute.

For the April 1st Final check in your fic should be finished or close to finished. It does not have to be completely beta’d by that point either, posting does not begin until May 1st. So you have all of the month of April.Please keep in mind that you need to be sure to give your beta enough time to go through and do their beta work before your scheduled posting date.

We hope that this answers your question. If not don’t hesitate to contact us again. Remember, communication is key!

#FAQ #Author Final Check In #dcjbb #dcjbigbang #dean/cas/jimmy #dean/cas/jimmy big bang #intotheruins

2 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

kristaterson

leave the bourbon on the shelf

omg-bama

Dịch vụ SEO Hot

mewpangxin

Boba

findmy-love

nadeen.

dxrlinggxd

sam