@queenofmoons67
we are all immortal (if only in the stories)

Fanfiction. That's it. Fanfiction 24/7. You can also find me at authorwannabe101 on fanfiction.net and at Queen_of_Moons67 on AO3. For my "We Are the Challengers (Plus Ultra!)" Master List, click here. Icon is mine! She/Her. 20+ years old

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Last update
2020-07-13 05:00:08
    anonymous

    18. Do any of your stories have alternative versions? (plotlines that you abandoned, AUs of your own work, different characterisations?) Tell us about them.

    ooooh. usually i do write those out a bit and share them, especially if they were inspired by comments.

    but ones i havent shared... hmm...

    • i’ve come up with two different endings to “The Yiling Matriarch.” i’m leaning heavily towards one of them, but on the off-chance i decide to go with the other, i’ll hold off sharing the second ending till i’ve finished the fic
    • “anchor” is my only posted fic for NHS time travel, but i have two other ideas i want to eventually write
    • one is a “post canon NHS and teen NHS switch places” fic, and the other is a “time travelled NHS has a nightmare and wakes up in his da-ge’s arms, cue all of the dramatic irony in NMJ’s comforting words” fic (this one might actually fit into the other one, idk)
    • OH ok “Side By Side” originally had a different ending! When NHS thinks that he still has his er-ge, because he wasn’t forced to use his back-up plan, that was going to be true. LXC wasn’t going to go into seclusion. and then i paused and thought about it, and... well.
    • one, that’s OOC for LXC. canonically, he has a lot of self-guilt about everything, and i feel like that would apply in “Side by Side,” too.
    • also, i wanted to be mean to NHS just a bit. did he use his back-up plan? no. did he still have that plan, and was willing to use it if necessary? yes. so, just a bit of karma sneaking in there
    • there’s a future to my Daiya no Ace series “We Are the Challengers (Plus Ultra!)” that i haven’t written yet / i’m not sure i ever will. it takes place in the far future, and all i’ve come up with so far is a title (”Thorns”) and a summary:
    • In which Kominato Haruichi and Kuramochi Youichi end up as keystone partners in the NPB, but there are those who remember Kominato Ryousuke. There are those who won’t let Haruichi forget him, and they’re determined to replace the younger brother with him—whether it takes social media harassment or death threats. Featuring (rightfully) protective KuraRyou, social media warfare, and a situation that never should have escalated as much as it did.
    • my Teen Wolf fic “Hemicorporectomy” was originally not an “it was all a dream, hurt/comfort” fic. it was not a dream. it was all hurt. and needless to say, i decided that was too dark, even for me

    other than that, none that i can think of? most of my alternate versions are ones that i discard fairly early in the writing process, so there’s not much to share

    <>ask me more writer questions!

    Fun meta asks for writers

    • Tell us about your current project(s)  – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?
    • Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project
    • What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)
    • Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)
    • What character that you’re writing do you most identify with?
    • What character do you have the most fun writing?
    • What do you think are the characteristics of your personal writing style? Would others agree?
    • Is what you like to write the same as what you like to read?
    • Are you more of a drabble or a longfic kind of writer? Pantser or plotter? Do you wish you were the other?
    • How would you describe your writing process?
    • What do you envy in other writers?
    • Do you want your writing to be famous?
    • Do you share your writing online? (Drop a link!) Do you have projects you’ve kept just for yourself?
    • At what point in writing do you come up with a title?
    • Which is harder: titles or summaries (or tags)?
    • Tried anything new with your writing lately? (style, POV, genre, fandom?)
    • Do you think readers perceive your work - or you - differently to you? What do you think would surprise your readers about your writing or your motivations?
    • Do any of your stories have alternative versions? (plotlines that you abandoned, AUs of your own work, different characterisations?) Tell us about them.
    • Is there something you always find yourself repeating in your writing? (favourite verb, something you describe ‘too often’, trope you can’t get enough of?)
    • Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)
    • What other medium do you think your story would work well as? (film, webcomic, animated series?)
    • Do you reread your old works? How do you feel about them?
    • What’s the story idea you’ve had in your head for the longest?
    • Would you say your writing has changed over time?
    • What part of writing is the most fun?

    a continuation to “anchor: a NHS time travel fic”

    <>“anchor” is here, and the second chapter is here

    <>Inspired by watercolour_carnations’ comment on AO3: “idk if you're considering expanding this verse but the idea of NHS suddenly doing smth that shows he was sect leader and shocking people is a very delicious idea”

    <>Quick note before this fic: To not have to deal with calling the Huaisangs “older” and “younger,” and because I don’t think NMJ would want to do it like that either—older Huaisang is Da-Huaisang, and younger Huaisang is Er-Huaisang. I think it works based on my research into other titles, but I can’t really google this, so please let me know if it doesn’t actually work!

    Nie Mingjue flew as fast as he could, already feeling drained from how much energy he had pushed into Baxia, but encouraged by the sight of the Unclean Realm’s towers already visible in the distance and growing larger with every passing moment.

    He had only left the Unclean Realm for a week-long night hunt—that had been all the time needed for disaster to strike.

    From the report the messenger had given him, a bunch of bandits had decided to murder travelers for their gold in a pass—and that same pass was where a bunch of fierce corpses had all come from, surprising the Unclean Realm and besieging them all at once.

    Usually, this wouldn’t have been an issue; Nie Mingjue would have just led his disciples in taking care of them.

    Usually, Nie Mingjue wasn’t away on a night hunt with a significant number of his disciples, and the majority of the other disciples out on night hunts of their own, and several large groups all murdered one after another converging on the same spot.

    Nie Mingjue had left his two brothers in charge, not doubting that they could take care of themselves. Even now, a small part of him was trying to insist that they would be fine.

    A larger part was leaning more towards hysterics, as neither Huaisang had ever had to deal with something like this before.

    And yet—

    Nie Mingjue pulled up sharply in the Unclean Realm’s courtyard. There was blood and body parts everywhere, and a hedge in the corner looked like someone had given it a bad trim, but none of those body parts wore green and yellow. There was a pile of fierce corpses beside that same hedge, ready to be taken for a proper burial. Nie disciples were scattered everywhere, but walked with purpose—most of the chaos seemed to actually be caused by Nie Mingjue’s own arrival, as the disciples he had travelled with landed behind him.

    And in the middle of the courtyard, traffic parting around them, were his brothers. They were back to back, each directing what was in front of them. Er-Huaisang seemed a little frazzled, but even as Nie Mingjue watched, he turned slightly to ask Da-Huaisang a question, nodded at the answer, and turned to give the nearest disciple a new order. Da-Huaisang was perfectly calm through it all, to the point that if Nie Mingjue didn’t know better, he would say he had done it—

    Before, Nie Mingjue realized. He had known Da-Huaisang came from a future where Nie Mingjue himself was dead, and he had known that that meant Da-Huaisang had been sect leader after him, but he hadn’t realized how much that might have changed him, or what skills he might have picked up.

    Nie Mingjue approached his brothers slowly, and they both turned to look at him. Er-Huaisang cried out and ran to him, hugging him and babbling in his ear about how scared he had been, but everything had turned out fine, but Da-ge mustn’t leave him like that again—and Nie Mingjue hugged him back, resting his chin on Er-Huaisang’s head and making eye contact with Da-Huaisang.

    For a moment, Da-Huaisang just smiled at him, and Nie Mingjue ached for what his didi had gone through. And then Nie Mingjue held out his hand, and Da-Huaisang’s smile wobbled even as he stepped forward to join the embrace, and Nie Mingjue’s heart beat steadier at the knowledge that his brother hadn’t changed that much. He was still there, under the stern but carefree facade.

    And as Da-Huaisang’s arms came around both Nie Mingjue and Er-Huaisang, Nie Mingjue knew that no how matter how well either of his brothers could handle themselves, they would always be his brothers.

    Upon the Qinghe Mountains

    <>With Nie Mingjue’s anger worsening, Nie Huaisang can’t bring himself to believe his da-ge loves him anymore–and so he throws up a flower. And then some more.

    <>Or, in which I caved and wrote a platonic NHS & NMJ Hanahaki AU.

    Like all cultivators, Nie Huaisang had heard the warnings: Your golden core can do weird things when you love someone. Especially if you think they don’t love you back. The unrequited love can sink into your body and try to rot there, and your core will respond by forcing your own love to the surface. It’s a defensive mechanism, but if you let it reach the point of blooming, your core will be the death of you.

    Being from the Nie Sect, Nie Huaisang wasn’t exactly new to the concept of one’s core being a death sentence. The difference this time was that there was a solution: Have a doctor remove the core. Hanahaki only appeared in cultivators, because only a golden core could let the flowers grow. Remove the core, and there were no flowers.

    Staring at the bloody green and yellow petals cupped in his hands, though, Nie Huaisang knew that there would be no cure for himself. Removing the flowers also removed any memories of the loved one. If it had been anyone else… but he knew it was his da-ge.

    Once, Nie Huaisang would have laughed in the face of anyone who tried to tell him his da-ge didn’t love him. But that was then. This was now, when Nie Huaisang frequently found himself hiding from Da-ge’s temper—and once, when Da-ge found him anyway, cradling both a bruised cheek and a broken fan. In the years since the Sunshot Campaign, something had changed in his da-ge.

    Nie Huaisang would always love him, no matter what his da-ge did.

    Nie Huaisang couldn’t say the same for Da-ge.

    That love was the problem, he thought—his love, which made him hold on to every good memory of his da-ge that he had left with more desperation than he had ever turned towards the saber, and the fact the hard truth was that most of his memories involved Da-ge. Remove Da-ge, and Nie Huaisang’s mind would be riddled with holes to the point that he couldn’t say how much of Nie Huaisang would remain.

    Smiling bitterly, he dropped the petals into a waste bin, rinsed his hands of blood, and then dumped the dirty water out the window to the ground below. Nie Huaisang would be even more useless than he’d ever been, with no memories of saber practice—always conducted by Da-ge—or lessons on politics—sometimes sat in on by Da-ge—or council meetings—held by Da-ge.

    Perhaps that Nie Huaisang would be happier, with his ability to actually carry out his responsibilities taken away and the perfect excuse in his hands.

    But this Nie Huaisang knew that some of the only times left that Da-ge actually smiled at him were when he did something like go to a council meeting without being dragged there, and this Nie Huaisang would hang on to those moments with all the life he had left in him.

    Even if it killed him.

    Keep reading

    Upon the Qinghe Mountains

    <>With Nie Mingjue's anger worsening, Nie Huaisang can't bring himself to believe his da-ge loves him anymore--and so he throws up a flower. And then some more.

    <>Or, in which I caved and wrote a platonic NHS & NMJ Hanahaki AU.

    Like all cultivators, Nie Huaisang had heard the warnings: Your golden core can do weird things when you love someone. Especially if you think they don’t love you back. The unrequited love can sink into your body and try to rot there, and your core will respond by forcing your own love to the surface. It’s a defensive mechanism, but if you let it reach the point of blooming, your core will be the death of you.

    Being from the Nie Sect, Nie Huaisang wasn’t exactly new to the concept of one’s core being a death sentence. The difference this time was that there was a solution: Have a doctor remove the core. Hanahaki only appeared in cultivators, because only a golden core could let the flowers grow. Remove the core, and there were no flowers.

    Staring at the bloody green and yellow petals cupped in his hands, though, Nie Huaisang knew that there would be no cure for himself. Removing the flowers also removed any memories of the loved one. If it had been anyone else… but he knew it was his da-ge.

    Once, Nie Huaisang would have laughed in the face of anyone who tried to tell him his da-ge didn’t love him. But that was then. This was now, when Nie Huaisang frequently found himself hiding from Da-ge’s temper—and once, when Da-ge found him anyway, cradling both a bruised cheek and a broken fan. In the years since the Sunshot Campaign, something had changed in his da-ge.

    Nie Huaisang would always love him, no matter what his da-ge did.

    Nie Huaisang couldn’t say the same for Da-ge.

    That love was the problem, he thought—his love, which made him hold on to every good memory of his da-ge that he had left with more desperation than he had ever turned towards the saber, and the fact the hard truth was that most of his memories involved Da-ge. Remove Da-ge, and Nie Huaisang’s mind would be riddled with holes to the point that he couldn’t say how much of Nie Huaisang would remain.

    Smiling bitterly, he dropped the petals into a waste bin, rinsed his hands of blood, and then dumped the dirty water out the window to the ground below. Nie Huaisang would be even more useless than he’d ever been, with no memories of saber practice—always conducted by Da-ge—or lessons on politics—sometimes sat in on by Da-ge—or council meetings—held by Da-ge.

    Perhaps that Nie Huaisang would be happier, with his ability to actually carry out his responsibilities taken away and the perfect excuse in his hands.

    But this Nie Huaisang knew that some of the only times left that Da-ge actually smiled at him were when he did something like go to a council meeting without being dragged there, and this Nie Huaisang would hang on to those moments with all the life he had left in him.

    Even if it killed him.

    <>

    The next few weeks passed slowly, but the disease progressed quickly. It wasn’t long before Nie Huaisang was having to hide at the mere sight of Da-ge, pressing fully-bloomed flowers into his qiankun pouch and wiping bloody hands on his inner robes. Any time they were forced to be together, Nie Huaisang found himself choking down flowers and hiding bloody teeth behind his fan.

    And, as time kept moving on, Nie Huaisang felt the flowers growing. They began to come out with thorns, repeatedly tearing the inside of his throat. An average cultivator might have hoped to heal between each round.

    Nie Huaisang was not an average cultivator. With a large portion of his core already unwillingly devoted to blooming flowers, what little he had left could only barely close the wounds.

    And then, of course, the roots began to grow and thicken. They entered his lungs, and Nie Huaisang wished he’d never found out how hard it is to throw up when you’re already fighting for every breath.

    <>

    Between the flowers, the breathing, and the bloody robes he left for the servants every night, Nie Huaisang wasn’t surprised that some of the disciples began catching on. Their foreheads would furrow, staring at the pieces of evidence, before shock and horror made their faces relax just before worry made them tighten again. They would try to approach him, and he would shake his head no.

    No, they could not come over. No, they could not tell anyone. No, he would not tell anyone himself. And no, his da-ge would not find out.

    Nie Huaisang didn’t know what Da-ge would do if he did.

    He didn’t particularly want to find out, either.

    Would it be the sign of love he longed for, for Da-ge to demand he get the surgery? Or just another sign of hate and indifference?

    Right now, Nie Huaisang could fight on, extending his life as much as possible, because a small part of him still believed that Da-ge loved him. Anything but the Hanahaki outright disappearing would just be confirmation that wasn’t true.

    <>

    In the end, it was Lan Xichen’s fault. The man came over to play Cleansing, which Nie Huaisang had known about, and Nie Mingjue insisted on Nie Huaisang listening, too, which Nie Huaisang hadn’t expected.

    “You do look a little pale, A-Sang,” Lan Xichen noted. “Cleansing might help your body get rid of what is making you ill.”

    Nie Huaisang smiled, blood, flowers, and thorns trapped behind his lips and further hidden behind his fan since Da-ge had entered the room. He nodded, and sat as far away from his da-ge as could be feasibly believable.

    Even so, Lan Xichen’s brow wrinkled, his eyes flicking once between the two Nie brothers—and then he sat, and Nie Huaisang relaxed as he began to play.

    And play.

    And play.

    Nie Huaisang tensed with each minute that passed. Jin Guangyao tended to play Cleansing once, sometimes twice, and then leave—perhaps because he played it so often? Lan Xichen had surely played it three times already, did he need to play it a fourth? Was he trying to make up for how much time it had been since the last time he visited?

    By the time Lan Xichen began a fifth round, Nie Huaisang was swallowing as many flowers as he could, but the force of them colliding with the ones coming up was making him shake, and he couldn’t—he couldn’t breathe.

    Fisting his hands in his robes to try and steady himself, Nie Huaisang made eye contact with the disciple standing guard at the door. It was one of the ones who knew about his Hanahaki. Maybe—?

    No, the disciple shook his head and purposefully diverted his eyes.

    Nie Huaisang had no hope of a distraction; he was stuck; he—he couldnt breathe, the thorns had dug into his throat and the flowers had knotted themselves around them, he couldn’t swallow anymore, he was bent over and seeing spots, he had to get out, Liebing had fallen silent with one last sharp note, he had to stand, he had to—

    Nie Huaisang vomited flowers and thorns and blood, and that was the last thing he knew.

    <>

    Nie Huaisang opened his eyes to white and blue robes.

    “Er-ge?” he slurred. “What—?”

    “A-Sang!” Lan Xichen cried, leaning forward and putting a hand on Nie Huaisang’s arm, as though to hold him down on the bed.

    Nie Huaisang didn’t know how to tell him he couldn’t have moved if he tried; his entire body ached, though his throat was numb enough he thought someone might have applied an agent to it.

    “What were you thinking?” Lan Xichen asked. “From how many flowers you threw up, you’ve had Hanahaki for a while, and to—to just sit there while I played, I—A-Sang, why didn’t you tell someone? Mingjue is furious.”

    Nie Huaisang couldn’t help it: He laughed. “Da-ge? Er-ge, he—” for a moment, he hesitated, but no; there was no point in keeping his secret any longer. It wasn’t like Da-ge would be blind anymore to Nie Huaisang avoiding him, or throwing up flowers in his presence “—Er-ge, Da-ge’s the reason I have Hanahaki. I know he’s acting this way because of his qi, but that doesn’t change the fact he doesn’t love me anymore.”

    Lan Xichen looked shocked. “A-Sang—”

    “If he loved me, he’d be here!” Nie Huaisang added, glancing pointedly around the room. It was empty but for the two of them.

    Lan Xichen didn’t look away from him. “A-Sang,” he said gently. “I promise you, your da-ge loves you very much. Right now, he’s out interrogating disciples, trying to figure out if anyone else knows who hurt you. He never believed it possible it could be himself.”

    Nie Huaisang frowned and opened his mouth, but for the first time he’d ever seen, Lan Xichen bowled someone else’s words right over.

    “I’m going to have a servant fetch him, and you two are going to have a long talk,” he said firmly. “I won’t let either of you out until you do.”

    “That won’t be necessary, Xichen,” Da-ge said, and Nie Huaisang and Lan Xichen both jumped and turned to him. He looked—he looked like he should be the one in the hospital bed, Nie Huaisang admitted to himself, even as he swallowed more flowers down. Da-ge’s braids had become frayed, and sweat beaded on his face. Probably from running all over the place. From trying to help Nie Huaisang. From caring for Nie Huaisang.

    “Da-ge—” Nie Huaisang started, but then fell silent and looked away. He didn’t know what to say. What even could he say?

    “Xichen, please leave us.”

    There was the sound of footsteps, and when Nie Huaisang looked up again, Lan Xichen’s robes were disappearing out the door and Da-ge was settling into the bedside chair, hands folded awkwardly in his lap.

    “Huaisang,” Da-ge said quietly, and then sighed. “Didi.”

    Nie Huaisang’s heart pounded. He swallowed flowers. Da-ge watched the movement of his throat, and smiled sadly, and leaned forward and took his hand. He cupped it as though it was something precious. Something worth caring for. Something worth loving.

    Nie Huaisang swallowed more flowers, and Da-ge said, “Didi, I’ll never forgive myself for this—no, let me speak. I’ve been silent long enough—I made you think I no longer loved you. I made you think you had to hide it, that you couldn’t come to me—and I didn’t see the signs that were there anyway. I’ll never forgive myself for that. But, Didi—” he squeezed Nie Huaisang’s hand “—if you’ll let me, I’ll show you how much I love you. How much I’ll always love you.”

    Nie Huaisang could only stare. He was so overwhelmed, his core didn’t even try to grow more flowers. And in his silence, his da-ge kept stumbling on.

    “It might be selfish of me, but I don’t want you to get the surgery, either. I don’t want you to lose the memories you have of us. I want you to still know that no matter what, I’ll always be there to hold up the world for you. And I know that if we work together, we can make those flowers disappear.”

    Nie Huaisang couldn’t hold the tears back any longer, and Da-ge surged forward to clutch at his arms. The alarm was clear on his face, and Nie Huaisang couldn’t help but cry harder, which made Da-ge reach out to hold him, which made him cry even harder—and as Nie Huaisang cried his way to hiccups in his da-ge’s arms, there wasn’t a petal to be seen.

    Announcement

    Hey guys! I still have a decent number of hurt/comfort prompts in my inbox, and I am going to fill those, but I’m getting to the point where I kind of want to write something different. So! Here’s what I’m doing:

    • Hurt/comfort prompts are closed.
    • The angst prompts (here) are open.
    • My general prompts (here) are open.

    I might reopen the hurt/comfort prompts again someday, because I’ve really enjoyed them, but for now, this is what I’m going with.

    Thank you for your understanding!

    anonymous

    For a prompt, how about Nie bros and “Fainting”?

    For a prompt, how about Nie bros and “Fainting”?

    Nie Huaisang stumbled on a saber thrust, barely managing to gain his balance again and prevent himself from falling to the dirt. The sweat dripping steadily down his skin didn’t help.

    “Zonghui,” he panted, and glanced at the man beside him.

    Zonghui completed his slash and turned to look at him. “Thirty more minutes, Er-gongzi,” he reminded, voice low.

    “Yes, but—” Nie Huaisang stopped. The first disciple had returned to his own practice, saber slashing down on an imaginary foe. Beyond him, the other Nie disciples hadn’t even paused, and feeling the nape of his neck prickle, Nie Huaisang knew why.

    Da-ge had been a heavy presence through the entire practice. He’d had a meeting with several elders early that afternoon and stormed out in a terrible mood, ordering every disciple he caught to the training ground for drills—and he hadn’t let up since. In the last few months, this wasn’t even anything new, and the disciples could usually bear it well until Da-ge let them go for dinner.

    Setting his feet into a new stance and practicing a slash, Nie Huaisang felt more sweat drip down his body as his heart beat double-time and his head pounded to match.

    The problem this time, he reflected with another slash, was the heat. Up in the mountains, the Unclean Realm didn’t typically have to deal with much of it, but summer had started a week ago and already the heat was so strong they could see it in the air.

    Also, Nie Huaisang himself had been one of those snagged by Da-ge this time. He usually managed to anticipate his brother’s moods well enough that he could escape into town and leave Da-ge in Zonghui’s capable hands, but this mood had come on so suddenly he hadn’t been able to. He was lucky Da-ge had even let him change into training clothes.

    Nie Huaisang’s saber slipped a bit in his sweat-slicked hands, and he stumbled, overreaching in his attempt to keep hold of it. He barely managed to grab it again.

    Righting himself, Nie Huaisang grinned at Zonghui, who laughed. “Nice catch.”

    “I don’t need more punishment for not holding my saber right,” Nie Huaisang said, grin stretching wider. He hadn’t had to deal with that in a while, and he didn’t intend to again.

    “Huaisang! Zonghui!” Da-ge bellowed, and Nie Huaisang grimaced as much at the rebuke as he did at how his head gave a painful protest.

    “Back to work it is,” he muttered.

    Zonghui smiled at him sympathetically. “It’ll be over soon.”

    Nie Huaisang nodded, making another slash with his saber. The heat swam before his eyes, and for a moment, he traced it—but then the heat brightened like the sun, and his skin prickled uncomfortably, and he could no longer ignore the way his head felt like a dozen birds had taken up residence within it.

    “Zonghui?” Nie Huaisang asked, voice distant and barely heard beyond the birds. “I think I’m going to faint.”

    <>

    One second, Nie Mingjue was studying his disciples, his satisfaction that both Zonghui and Huaisang had gone back to work calming the anger that had overtaken him for so long.

    Then he looked away to study the sun, decided everyone had worked hard enough for one day, turned back—and Huaisang was falling, Zonghui lunging to catch him and both their sabers hitting the dirt with a clatter.

    Huaisang had fallen. Huaisang had—his didi had—because Nie Mingjue had—

    “Huaisang!” Nie Mingjue called, hand palming his didi’s cheek. He didn’t remember running over. He didn’t think that mattered. “Huaisang!”

    “Zongzhu, I think he just—”

    “Da-ge?” Huaisang slurred, eyes blinking open. “Da-ge, I don’t think I should practice my saber anymore.”

    Nie Mingjue laughed. “You get a free pass for the next week,” he promised, then held out his arms. “Can I carry you to your room? We—”

    He hesitated for a moment, remembering all of his duties, all of the worried disciples pretending not to hover around them. The way Huaisang’s body had just collapsed, boneless.

    “I’ll have the kitchen send dinner for us there,” he finished lamely. It seemed so little after how he’d driven his own didi so mercilessly that he’d passed out, but he hoped spending time together, alone and hidden from their responsibilities behind solid walls, would be a nice gift. And sure enough, Huaisang was smiling.

    “I’d like that, Da-ge.” His voice was little more than a whisper, but he wasn’t slurring his words anymore, so Nie Mingjue would take the improvement—and hopefully, getting some food and drink in him would help more.

    Easing his arms next to Zonghui’s, Nie Mingjue gently lifted Huaisang and pressed him to his chest.

    “I’ll take care of the kitchens, Zongzhu,” Zonghui murmured. “And send for a doctor.”

    Nie Mingjue nodded in thanks and turned slowly to walk towards the right corridor.

    “I’m not going to break, Da-ge,” Huaisang said, the exasperation clear even through his exhaustion.

    Nie Mingjue just grunted. He had promised, once, to hold up the world for his didi—if that meant protecting him from Nie Mingjue himself, then that’s what he would do.

    <>Go here for more hurt/comfort prompts to send me! All I need is at least one prompt selection and two characters! And you can also go here for my general prompt guidelines.

    your current interests and personality depends singlehandedly on whether u were a neopets kid or a club penguin kid

    the alignments:

    lawful good: club penguin neutral good: fantage chaotic good: poptropica

    lawful neutral: toontown true neutral: marapets chaotic neutral: wizard 101

    lawful evil: webkinz neutral evil: gaia online chaotic evil: neopets

    I literally don’t know what any of these are

    anonymous

    hello! do you know of a handy chart or reference for keeping track of which word for uncle/aunt a person would be depending on side of family they're from and relation to you?

    Master Chart for Familial Relationships

    I HAVE OPTED TO DO THIS INSTEAD OF SLEEP. 

    I’m too tired to proofread so if you see a mistake please point them out. Click on them to see the clear pics. 

    image

    <>[Notes:]

    * these are typically northern Chinese terminologies. 

    ** They use of “a-” in front of  something like “a-die” like “A-Cheng” is regional. From what I understand this is typically a southern Chinese practice.

    <>Bolded = modern & historical times

    Highlighted = ONLY used in modern times aka 20th century and afterwards.

    Use name = in conversation with someone one younger than you, don’t typically use the relationship term, just call them by their name. The addresses are really used for those older than you as a sign of respect. This is particularly true for modern times.

    All uncles and aunts and cousins and brothers and sisters are typically paired with the # they are in the fam [da, er, san, si, wu] (1-5). 

    <>Edit: y’all when i say “paternal” cousins I mean cousins that share your last name, if your cousin doesn’t share your last name, that’s a maternal cousin. 

    <>ADDENDUM:

    OKAY FOR THE COUSINS

    The chart was going to get too long, so I tried to short cut and ended up making it more confusing for people.

    When I say “paternal” cousins, yes this means cousins on your dad side of the family. But your father’s sisters’ kids, who are technically your paternal cousins, do not share your last name, so don’t use “tang”, use “biao”.

    anonymous

    hey, could you do “Desperate Hand-Holding” with platonic d’artagnan and athos? thanks!

    Athos had lived a rough life. He could admit that to himself, though he could also admit that he tended to brush over the fact with other people.

    But even he couldn’t help but wince at his creaking bones and say, “Aramis, if you don’t hurry up, I’m going to have a broken hand.”

    Aramis didn’t look up from his work, bent over d’Artagnan’s leg as he was, but he didn’t have to for Athos to hear the sarcasm when he said, “Oh, is this taking too long? I’m sorry, I’ll just speed up the surgery.”

    “I’m just worried for d’Artagnan,” Athos huffed. “If he’s squeezing my hand this hard—“

    “Yes, I’m in a lot of pain!” d’Artagnan snapped, head thrashing where it rested on Athos’s lap so he could glare up at them both. I was shot, and Aramis is currently repeatedly pushing a needle and thread through my skin. I would be surprised if I wasn’t in pain!”

    Athos coughed and looked away, not sure if he was hiding his uncomfortableness at d’Artagnan’s genuine anger, or his laughter at the boy chewing them out even while Aramis, as he’d said, stitched him up.

    “You’re sure we can’t just knock him out?” Porthos asked, setting down the water he’d been fetching and sitting down across from Aramis.

    Their medic grimaced, shook his head, opened his mouth—

    And got interrupted by a still angry d’Artagnan. “No, you can’t. Because I have a ‘serious concussion, and any wine for the pain would also do more harm than good’!”

    His hand clenched even tighter around Athos’s, and Athos bit back a groan. “Aramis!”

    “Oh, for the love of—both of you hush and let me focus!”

    “Aramis!” d’Artagnan growled.

    “Finished!” Aramis tossed his tools back into their kit and stood, waving bloody hands at them. “I’m going to go wash these; you two, watch him.”

    For a second, they all watched him go—and then Porthos stood and followed, saying over his shoulder, “I’m just gonna go make sure he’s ok. It’s been a tough day.”

    Athos nodded. It had been; they’d been running all over France for the last week, trying to track down a serial killer, only to find out he’d been in Paris the whole time. Not only that, he’d killed again while they were away. Confronting him had resulted in more emotional wounds than physical, besides the shot to d’Artagnan’s leg and the concussion from when the boy hit his head while falling—but that had been the last straw for most of them.

    Sighing, Athos looked back down at d’Artagnan, and then groaned as his hand was crushed again.

    “Sorry,” d’Artagnan winced. His hand tensed, but released Athos.

    Athos shook his head. “It’s ok.”

    d’Artagnan stared at him.

    “Fine,” Athos caved, and held out his other hand. “We can switch.”

    For a moment, d’Artagnan grinned—and then he groaned again, grabbed Athos’s hand, and squeezed.

    Athos held back his own groan and swept d’Artagnan’s sweaty bangs away from his face.

    “Sleep if you can,” he commanded. “I’ll wake you if Aramis needs to check on you.”

    d’Artagnan grinned weakly, but there was a light in his eyes again that hadn’t been there for days. “Thank you, Athos,” he murmured.

    And if he slept, Athos couldn’t tell—but the tight hand squeezes came at longer intervals, though Athos kept holding d’Artagnan’s hand long past Aramis and Porthos’s return.

    <>Go here for more hurt/comfort prompts to send me! All I need is at least one prompt selection and two characters! And you can also go here for my general prompt guidelines.

    anonymous

    Hi! Can you please write Wei Wuxian being carried for the hurt/comfort prompts? With platonic Jin zixuan. And I know it says any type of carry but if you could make it piggy back that’d be great, thank you!

    Hi! Can you please write Wei Wuxian being carried for the hurt/comfort prompts? With platonic Jin zixuan. And I know it says any type of carry but if you could make it piggy back that’d be great, thank you!

    “No,” Wei Wuxian said, folding his arms and glaring. “Absolutely not.”

    “Wei Wuxian—“

    “No! After what you said about my shijie—“

    “We don’t have a choice!”

    “There’s always a choice!”

    “You have another way? Then please, enlighten me.” Jin Zixuan folded his own arms and glared back just as hard. “Because as far as I can tell, you have a broken leg, and as you pointed out to Lan Wangji just a few months ago, you can’t exactly walk on one of those. Also, we’re all alone and far from camp.”

    “Peacock—“

    “Just let me carry you, Wei Wuxian!”

    The other teen panted after his explosion, then tensed and looked around them. On the one hand, Wei Wuxian understood: They’d been scouting separately when the peacock had been ambushed by Wen disciples, and he’d been fighting on his own until Wei Wuxian heard the commotion and intervened. On the other hand—

    “If we’re attacked again, there’s nothing we can do.”

    Jin Zixuan huffed, but he glanced once at Wei Wuxian’s broken leg, and Wei Wuxian knew he understood.

    “That just proves my point,” the peacock said, proving he didn’t entirely understand.

    “Just hold me upright on Suihua!”

    “Broken! Leg!”

    “What, are you scared you’ll drop me?”

    “I’m asking to carry you, that doesn’t even make sense!” Jin Zixuan threw his hands up.

    “Does it have to?”

    Jin Zixuan took a deep, pointed breath.

    “Besides, I’m standing now. What’s the big deal?”

    “Listing,” Jin Zixuan hissed. “You’re listing right now, because you aren’t putting any weight on your broken leg, and if I take you up on Suihua, you’ll be off-balance because of the winds and the flying sword, and you will fall, and then I will have to be the one to explain to your siblings why their idiot brother decided to fly on a sword with a broken leg. So get. On. My back.”

    Wei Wuxian’s mouth had fallen open at some point, and he slowly closed it before opening it again.

    “Fine. But don’t think that this—this puts me in your debt, or—“

    “I owe you a life debt for saving me just now,” Jin Zixuan said stiffly, crouching in front of him. “And I respect Jiang-guniang too much to hold you accountable for something as small as this. So no, you are not in my debt.”

    Wei Wuxian paused, broken leg—splinted calf, really, which was the only reason this would work—hanging over Jin Zixuan’s outstretched arm, good leg holding all of his weight. “You respect Shijie?”

    The peacock reached back, grabbed his good leg, and stood, making Wei Wuxian shriek and grab for his neck to keep from falling backwards.

    <>

    Later, when they had sorted themselves out from the near choking and were on Suihua and well on their way back to camp, Jin Zixuan said, “I have always respected your sister, Wei Wuxian. I just never wanted to marry her. Do you want to marry every girl you’ve ever met?”

    And, well—no. But—“You still shouldn’t have disrespected her at the Cloud Recesses.”

    For a moment, Jin Zixuan didn’t speak, but then—“You may not believe me, but in this case, I know you’re right. I will apologize to her soon.”

    Wei Wuxian blinked. He what?

    <>

    Jin Zixuan shifted and leaned forward, and Wei Wuxian leaned back so they wouldn’t overbalance. “We’re nearly to camp,” the peacock who may not be as much of a peacock as Wei Wuxian had thought said.

    Wei Wuxian hummed.

    “I’ll carry you to the doctors’ tent.”

    “You’ll do no such thing!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed, accidentally almost choking Jin Zixuan again.

    <>

    The peacock who was absolutely as much a peacock as Wei Wuxian had thought set Wei Wuxian down on a cot in the doctors’ tent, far too gently considering Shijie was fluttering around them worriedly and Jiang Cheng was holding himself back from joining her, all while glaring at them.

    “You might get stuck like that,” Wei Wuxian said, and laughed when Jiang Cheng finally stormed forward and Jin Zixuan finally left.

    <>

    “You healed nicely,” Jin Zixuan said when they ran into each other again a few weeks later.

    “Just like new!” Wei Wuxian grinned, pretending his mostly still broken leg was as fine as one healed by a golden core, and gave the other teen a friendly punch in the shoulder.

    Jin Zixuan gave his hand a look like it was a snake breed he’d never seen before: Strange, fascinating, and potentially poisonous.

    Wei Wuxian pulled it back slowly and found himself saying, “I never did thank you for carrying me back to camp.”

    Jin Zixuan shrugged. “What was I going to do? Leave you there?”

    “I could think of a few who would.”

    “Well, I disagree with them then.”

    Wei Wuxian nodded. Apparently so. “I’ll see you around,” he offered, and turned to go.

    “Wei Wuxian!”

    He stopped.

    There was silence for a moment, and then—“Good luck. With everything.”

    Wei Wuxian grinned, and turned back to look Jin Zixuan in the eye. “Same to you, peacock!”

    <>Go here for more hurt/comfort prompts to send me! All I need is at least one prompt selection and two characters! And you can also go here for my general prompt guidelines.

    anonymous

    Hi! Could I request Jin Guangyao and Nie Huaisang, either “I miss our talks” or “I thought I could save you” or both, from the new prompts? These two just make me so sad 😭

    Hi! Could I request Jin Guangyao and Nie Huaisang, either “I miss our talks” or “I thought I could save you” or both, from the new prompts? These two just make me so sad 😭

    When Jin Guangyao pushed his er-ge away from him, Shuoyue slipping from his chest, he never expected to breathe again.

    He certainly never expected to wake up to A-Sa—to Nie Huaisang staring down at him, eyes wide and mischievous and door gaping open behind him from where he’d barged in.

    Jin Guangyao leapt back with a strangled shout, but didn’t get far; his legs were tangled up in blankets, and only a quick fumble let him keep his balance.

    Physically, anyway. With his heart threatening to beat out of his chest, he could do nothing but stare back at the man who had once been his little brother.

    Nie Huaisang could do a lot more. Laughing, he leaned back and hid what Jin Guangyao knew was a large smile behind his fan. “Sleeping in on the first day, Meng Yao?” he teased. “If you don’t hurry, we’ll be late!” And then, voice falling to a performative whisper—“If we’re late, Da-ge will kill us! Let’s not, shall we?”

    Jin Guangyao watched Nie Huaisang flounce out the door, his words still echoing in his ears. This—this couldn’t be what he thought it was. That was impossible. But behind the fan, Nie Huaisang lacked the wrinkles that had grown with each passing year he was Nie-zongzhu, and he was laughing, and Da-ge was alive, and—

    He had called Jin Guangyao Meng Yao.

    Closing his eyes, Jin Guangyao relaxed in his bed, a heavy weight he hadn’t even known he’d been carrying falling from his shoulders.

    He hadn’t known how much he’d missed being Meng Yao. When Nie Mingjue had called him that, even after Jin Guangshan had legitimatized him, it had stung—a reminder that a man he once looked up to, who had once cherished him, didn’t think he had been worthy of the name change. But now, here, coming from Nie Huaisang, the name was affectionate—a reminder that he had a home to return to.

    Sitting up, Jin Guangyao looked around the room. It was small and simple; just a room at an inn. And a first day that affected not just himself, but also Nie Huaisang: GusuLan’s cultivation classes.

    Meng Yao hadn’t killed yet, then. He was still in Nie Mingjue’s good graces. He could—he could remain Meng Yao, if he so wished.

    Jin Guangyao wasn’t sure if he would go that far, but…

    “I miss our talks,” he whispered to the room at large. To Nie Huaisang. To Xichen, though they’d only been torn apart recently. Even, maybe, to Nie Mingjue. “And I think I can save you.”

    The door slammed open and Nie Huaisang poked his head in. “Meng Yaoooo,” he complained. “Get dressed, get dressed! Xichen-ge won’t hesitate to report to Da-ge!”

    “I’ll hurry, Er-gongzi,” Meng Yao promised, and climbed out of bed. He would have to, if A-Sang would have time to trap that bird again before classes began.

    <>Go here for more angst prompts to send me! All I need is at least one prompt selection and two characters! And you can also go here for my general prompt guidelines.

    Hey guys! I just wanted to make a quick announcement / request:

    I’ve received eleven different Nie Bros prompts (including the ones I’ve already filled). And that’s great! Please keep sending them in if you want to; I love filling them.

    My request has to do with the fact that only a few of them have specified who they want on the receiving end of the hurt/comfort. Because my first prompt fills had NHS in that role, unless you’ve asked me otherwise, I’m assuming that’s what you want for yours as well.

    So! If you’ve sent me a prompt for the Nie Bros and would lik<>e N<>MJ to be the one hurt and being comforted, please send me another ask and tell me so! All you need to do is specify which ask was yours and that you want hurt!NMJ.

    If you don’t do that, I’m going to assume you want NMJ to be the one doing the comforting, and I’m going to write six more hurt!NHS fics (and however many other prompts may come in).

    ...

    (And however many other hurt!NHS fics I write just because, because folks, I have a whole doc on my laptop called “Nie Bros fic ideas.”)

    (Also, there’s no wrong answer here! I will gladly write all those prompts with hurt NHS if that’s what you all want; I was just wondering if anyone wanted me to mix things up a bit.)

    The Yiling Matriarch: Chapter 6

    <>Summary: When A-Cheng tells her that A-Xian has likely been killed by the Wens, Jiang Yanli cannot sit still. Instead, she sets out to find him--and when she does, she remembers her brother's theories.

    <>Inspiration Post / Chapter One / Two / Three / Four / Five

    After what Jiang Yanli did the last time she used resentful energy, she wasn’t eager to use it again—but she also knew she might not get a choice. And if she was cornered again, the worst thing for her would be to risk losing control once more because she had refused to even try and gain it.

    The Jiang Clan always swore to attempt the impossible. No matter how weak her core had always been, Jiang Yanli was no exception.

    Though she might have left out her intention to fight when she convinced A-Cheng and A-Xian to keep helping her. If she was going to learn how anyway, then it made sense for her to use it. A-Cheng and Jin Zixuan were already risking their lives, and she had no doubt that A-Xian would join them as soon as he figured out a new way to fight.

    A few weeks ago, Jiang Yanli had been satisfied with just helping the doctors.

    That Jiang Yanli, she realized, had never been faced with hopelessness and the death of her brothers.

    <>

    Over the course of the next month, Jiang Yanli and A-Xian split their attention between healing, helping A-Cheng, and figuring out ways for Jiang Yanli to stay in control of herself.

    Their theories ultimately culminated in the idea that as long as Jiang Yanli didn’t become too negatively emotional and focused her golden core on containing the resentful energy, she would be able to keep the energy under control—and if not, she would at least be able to keep herself in the right frame of mind enough to find someone like A-Cheng or Lan Wangji, who could then use their own cores to assist hers.

    There was only one way to test that, though.

    Unluckily for their camp, but luckily for Jiang Yanli, the Wens staged another attack just a few days after she’d been released from bed rest and given her own tent.

    It was all too easy for Jiang Yanli to sneak onto the battlefield.

    <>

    When later interrogated by Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian, Jin Zixuan would protest that exactly none of the day’s proceedings were his fault. He had simply been minding his own business, leading his men on the battlefield, when a voice screamed his name. He had whirled around to find a group of Wen disciples blowing away from him, carried on the wind by resentful energy and the notes of a pipa, while Maiden Jiang hurried to his side.

    “Are you ok, Young Master Jin?” she asked, peering up at him. Her eyes were wide and worried, and her fingers clenched and unclenched around her pipa. Her hair was secure in its style, but it looked a little frazzled now. Windblown. Not the perfectness he was used to, because—

    “You saved my life,” Jin Zixuan said, unable to hold back his surprise.

    “I couldn’t just let you die,” she replied, smiling. “You’re too important—” Jin Zixuan’s heart skipped a beat “—to the Campaign.”

    Jin Zixuan cleared his throat, ignored his settling heart, and brought Suihua up to parry an oncoming blow. Maiden Jiang gracefully folded herself down into a sitting position, bracing her pipa on her thighs and beginning to play again.

    “The same goes to you, Maiden Jiang. Your brothers would never forgive me if I let you die for my sake.”

    Dispatching the Wen disciple, he noted it was one of the ones Maiden Jiang had rescued him from, and turned back to her in surprise.

    “You left them alive?”

    She had been trained by society too well to outright beam at him, but her small smile couldn’t hide the way her eyes shone—not even behind a whirlwind of resentful energy and pipa music.

    Jin Zixuan steadfastly ignored the way his heart skipped another beat and focused on splitting his attention between fighting Wen disciples and listening to Maiden Jiang say, “I need to stay positive to remain in control, and killing… You saw the end of that last time, Young Master Jin. So I will focus on incapacitating them and rescuing others.”

    Jin Zixuan nodded. “You hold your own quite well as is,” he noted. “But in case something goes wrong, for your sake, will you allow me to accompany you for the rest of the battle?” That way, if she accidentally killed someone and lost control again, he would be there to help. And no matter how powerful she was, having to sit to play the pipa limited her own movement and left her at a disadvantage that could easily be covered by someone fighting by her side.

    The worry that had been knotting itself together in his chest loosened as she blushed but nodded.

    “Thank you, Young Master Jin.”

    “Anytime, Maiden Jiang,” he replied, and looked away so she wouldn’t see the heat rising in his cheeks.

    There was no mention, he would later tell Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian, of them not knowing Maiden Jiang was on the battlefield! And she held her own quite well besides, both during and after, so he really didn’t see what the issue was.

    <>

    When the battle had gotten to the point that the Wens were retreating and the battle itself was coming to an end, Maiden Jiang had brushed a loose strand of bloody hair behind her ear, smiled at him, and asked if he would accompany her to the field hospital.

    Remembering how he himself had reacted after his first battle, and remembering how she had reacted after her first fight, Jin Zixuan agreed. Even if they were no longer engaged, he would not leave her to herself.

    Buried up to his elbows in the blood and trying to follow the orders of both the doctors and Maiden Jiang, Jin Zixuan did his best to ignore how gentle but firm Maiden Jiang was with the wounded.

    But later, after Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian had let him be and he had retired to his tent, Jin Zixuan would finally acknowledge that his heart was well and truly gone.

    anonymous

    Being Carried; Bridal, Fireman’s, Two-Person, Doesn’t Matter- Being Carried with jiang cheng and jin ling ??

    “Jiujiu, put me down! I’m not two anymore!” Jin Ling complained. His elbow collided painfully with Jiang Cheng’s chest, more than a bit of qi in his struggles, but Jiang Cheng just grunted and tightened his grip.

    “I know you’re not two anymore, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you stand on an injured leg.”

    Jin Ling was oddly silent at that, and Jiang Cheng glanced down at his nephew. His back rested against one of Jiang Cheng’s arms, while his knees were held up by the other—leaving the stabbed thigh unbothered. Jin Ling had crossed his arms, though, and his brow had furrowed in a way that made Jiang Cheng brace himself even as he sped up his flying speed.

    As a baby, that furrow had always preceded a tantrum.

    In the sixteen years since then, Jiang Cheng hadn’t known that to change.

    “Jin Ling—“

    “Thank you,” his nephew bit out.

    Sandu wobbled under Jiang Cheng’s feet. What?

    Jin Ling faced forward, turning his eyes away from Jiang Cheng, but continued, “I don’t say it enough. But... you’ve always cared for me. Even though I’m a Jin. And I know I didn’t make your job easy, and—“

    “Are you Wei Wuxian now?” Jiang Cheng demanded. If Jin Ling hadn’t been injured, he would have shaken his nephew. “You’re family! No matter what those Jin snakes always said, you were never alone; you have me. And I don’t need thanks for that, and you don’t need to apologize, either! And don’t make me regret letting you spend time with Wei Wuxian, if all he’s gonna do is pass on his own insecurities—“

    “Jiujiu, no!” Jin Ling burst out. His elbow whacked Jiang Cheng’s chest again as he twisted to look up at him, eyes wide. “He didn’t—I just—“

    Jin Ling fumbled for the right words, and Jiang Cheng huffed.

    “I won’t keep you apart,” he said. “But I will have a talk with him. Your Dajiu has to learn to take better care of himself.”

    Jin Ling nodded, though he did look a little thrown.

    “And you!” Jiang Cheng squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t make me have a conversation with you, too. What are you?”

    “Family,” Jin Ling mumbled.

    “What?”

    “Family, Jiujiu!”

    Jiang Cheng huffed. “And don’t forget it, or I’ll break your legs!”

    Jin Ling nodded, a small smile on his face. Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes and focused on the horizon.

    Family. They just had to cause trouble.

    <>Go here for more hurt/comfort prompts to send me! All I need is at least one prompt selection and two characters! And you can also go here for my general prompt guidelines.

    * angsty starters

  • <><> i don’t feel g<>o<>od.’
  • <><> get away from m<>e<>.’
  • <><> hang on, i’ve got <>y<>ou.’
  • <><> let’s try and bring that fever d<>o<>wn.’
  • <><> we need to get you war<>m<>.’
  • <><> i’m mad at mys<>e<>lf.’
  • <><> you have to wake u<>p<>.’
  • <><> we don’t stop fight<>i<>ng.’
  • <><> shh, everything’s okay. you’re<> <>safe.’
  • <><> i can’t keep my eyes o<>p<>en.’
  • <><> you lied to m<>e<>.’
  • <><> i thought i could save yo<>u<>.’
  • <><> you don’t know how to love anyth<>i<>ng.’
  • <><> i trusted you and you fucked it u<>p<>.’
  • <><> don’t say that. you’re going to be<> <>fine.’
  • <><> no, you don’t get to stand there and pretend a hug makes it all o<>k<>ay.’
  • <><> i hate you<>! <> ’
  • <><> it hurts inside and you feel alon<>e<>.’
  • <><> i can’t do anything ri<>g<>ht.’
  • <><> fuck you<>!<> ’
  • <><> hey, don’t be sad. i’m just a little<> <>sick.’
  • <><> you can’t leave<> <>me.’
  • <><> i wanted to make you prou<>d<>.’
  • <><> you have to calm down. your heart’s beating way too f<>a<>st.’
  • <><> i miss our talk<>s<>.’
  • anonymous

    So idk if you are still taking prompts but if you are “The Soft Character Holding The Injured Rough Character Protectively Close With The Spark Of Protective Rage In Their Eyes.” For the Nie brothers bc I want NHS being the protective one for once!

    So idk if you are still taking prompts but if you are “The Soft Character Holding The Injured Rough Character Protectively Close With The Spark Of Protective Rage In Their Eyes.” For the Nie brothers bc I want NHS being the protective one for once!

    <> IT’S DONE. IT’S DONE. i am. so sorry it’s taken me so long to fill this prompt; i’ll admit i struggled with it. if you’re interested, “all that matters” was my first attempt (which i deemed too angsty for a hurt/comfort fic) and “anchor” was my second (which just. completely veered away from the prompt, and ended up not filling it at all). so we both get three fics for the price of one prompt! woohoo!

    <>(but also, YES, NHS being the protective one is so good. i hope you like this!)

    Nie Zonghui had lost track of Mingjue for just a second, but with the Unclean Realm’s courtyard overrun by fighting cultivators, that was all it took for him to disappear. He had known he wouldn’t spot his cousin again until the battle ended.

    Now that it had, though, Nie Zonghui was beginning to regret not looking for Mingjue back then. Even without the red of the Wen disciples in the courtyard, the greens and golds of the Nie disciples flitted every which way. It was only too easy for Mingjue to blend in. And since he hadn’t made his presence known the moment the battle ended—or even before that—Nie Zonghui could only assume his zongzhu was laying somewhere, unconscious at best or dead at worst.

    Nie Zonghui shuddered at just the thought.  They had all heard what happened to the YunmengJiang Sect, and while the Unclean Realm itself was still standing, if they lost their zongzhu in a time of war, it likely wouldn’t stay that way. Nie Zonghui and the other seniors would do their best, but Huaisang hadn’t been trained to lead even in peace. He hadn’t even appeared in the wake of the fighting, even though Nie Zonghui knew he was in the Unclean Realm.

    Not that Nie Zonghui resented him for his lack of training. He didn’t even resent Mingjue for it; he understood why his elder cousin had decided to protect his didi from life. And Mingjue had taken up any and all slack, but now…

    Nie Zonghui easily located Er-shidi and put him in charge of the courtyard. Nie Zonghui himself grabbed a handful of disciples. It was time they conducted a full search of the Unclean Realm for their missing zongzhu.

    <>

    A few minutes later, the Unclean Realm echoed with shouts for Zongzhu and Nie Zonghui yanked open a closet door. It was in a hall adjacent to the courtyard—close enough to where the fighting had been that it was easily reachable, but far enough that an injured man might have used it for refuge. Blood smears in the hall suggested that had happened, and though Nie Zonghui doubted Mingjue had decided to retreat, the closet at least needed to be checked for an injured disciple.

    Nie Zonghui certainly wasn’t expecting for the open door to reveal a snarling Huaisang.

    Instinct instantly drove him away from the door, avoiding the sloppy but aggressive saber thrust even as his heart beat harder within his chest.

    Huaisang’s hair was a bloody, snarled mess that perfectly framed his bared teeth and narrowed eyes. There was a fierceness there that Nie Zonghui was used to seeing in Mingjue, that said one step closer would result in a saber through the heart.

    He hadn’t even known Huaisang could look like that.

    Taking in the rest of the closet, though, Nie Zonghui knew what had driven Huaisang to it. While the boy’s one hand held his saber before him in a defensive position, the other held Mingjue to his chest, unconscious and bleeding from his head and side. Huaisang must have seen him go down on the battlefield and dragged him into the closet.

    And then Nie Zonghui had thrown the door open and made him think they were about to be attacked.

    “It’s just me!” he said hastily, holding the door with one hand but raising the other to show his still sheathed saber. “It’s just Nie Zonghui, Er-gongzi.”

    Huaisang blinked and peered up at him. “Nie Zonghui?”

    Realizing Huaisang’s eyes were probably adjusting to the sudden light after the darkness of the closet, Nie Zonghui knelt before him. Hopefully the closer distance would be easier on his eyes.

    “Just Nie Zonghui,” he promised softly.

    For a moment, Huaisang just looked at him—and then his arm wobbled, and his shoulders slumped, and he let his saber clatter to the ground as he tightened both arms around Mingjue.

    “Zonghui,” Huaisang said. And, burying his face in Mingjue’s hair—“Zonghui. I was so scared!”

    Nie Zonghui wished he could just gather his youngest cousin in his arms and hold him as he cried, but the sight of Mingjue bleeding between them held him back.

    “Er-gongzi,” he said instead, voice soft but deliberate. “Can I take Zongzhu to the doctors?”

    For a moment, Huaisang’s arms clenched around Mingjue, and he narrowed his eyes at Nie Zonghui, and Nie Zonghui thought he would have to fight just to reach Mingjue—but then Huaisang nodded.

    It took Huaisang conscious effort to release his hold on Mingjue, but when he had, he didn’t hesitate to help Nie Zonghui lift him and carry him to the infirmary.

    <>Go here for more hurt/comfort prompts to send me! All I need is at least one prompt selection and two characters! And you can also go here for my general prompt guidelines.

    anonymous

    So idk if you are still taking prompts but if you are “The Soft Character Holding The Injured Rough Character Protectively Close With The Spark Of Protective Rage In Their Eyes.” For the Nie brothers bc I want NHS being the protective one for once!

    So idk if you are still taking prompts but if you are “The Soft Character Holding The Injured Rough Character Protectively Close With The Spark Of Protective Rage In Their Eyes.” For the Nie brothers bc I want NHS being the protective one for once!

    <> IT’S DONE. IT’S DONE. i am. so sorry it’s taken me so long to fill this prompt; i’ll admit i struggled with it. if you’re interested, “all that matters” was my first attempt (which i deemed too angsty for a hurt/comfort fic) and “anchor” was my second (which just. completely veered away from the prompt, and ended up not filling it at all). so we both get three fics for the price of one prompt! woohoo!

    <>(but also, YES, NHS being the protective one is so good. i hope you like this!)

    Nie Zonghui had lost track of Mingjue for just a second, but with the Unclean Realm’s courtyard overrun by fighting cultivators, that was all it took for him to disappear. He had known he wouldn’t spot his cousin again until the battle ended.

    Now that it had, though, Nie Zonghui was beginning to regret not looking for Mingjue back then. Even without the red of the Wen disciples in the courtyard, the greens and golds of the Nie disciples flitted every which way. It was only too easy for Mingjue to blend in. And since he hadn’t made his presence known the moment the battle ended—or even before that—Nie Zonghui could only assume his zongzhu was laying somewhere, unconscious at best or dead at worst.

    Nie Zonghui shuddered at just the thought.  They had all heard what happened to the YunmengJiang Sect, and while the Unclean Realm itself was still standing, if they lost their zongzhu in a time of war, it likely wouldn’t stay that way. Nie Zonghui and the other seniors would do their best, but Huaisang hadn’t been trained to lead even in peace. He hadn’t even appeared in the wake of the fighting, even though Nie Zonghui knew he was in the Unclean Realm.

    Not that Nie Zonghui resented him for his lack of training. He didn’t even resent Mingjue for it; he understood why his elder cousin had decided to protect his didi from life. And Mingjue had taken up any and all slack, but now…

    Nie Zonghui easily located Er-shidi and put him in charge of the courtyard. Nie Zonghui himself grabbed a handful of disciples. It was time they conducted a full search of the Unclean Realm for their missing zongzhu.

    <>

    A few minutes later, the Unclean Realm echoed with shouts for Zongzhu and Nie Zonghui yanked open a closet door. It was in a hall adjacent to the courtyard—close enough to where the fighting had been that it was easily reachable, but far enough that an injured man might have used it for refuge. Blood smears in the hall suggested that had happened, and though Nie Zonghui doubted Mingjue had decided to retreat, the closet at least needed to be checked for an injured disciple.

    Nie Zonghui certainly wasn’t expecting for the open door to reveal a snarling Huaisang.

    Instinct instantly drove him away from the door, avoiding the sloppy but aggressive saber thrust even as his heart beat harder within his chest.

    Huaisang’s hair was a bloody, snarled mess that perfectly framed his bared teeth and narrowed eyes. There was a fierceness there that Nie Zonghui was used to seeing in Mingjue, that said one step closer would result in a saber through the heart.

    He hadn’t even known Huaisang could look like that.

    Taking in the rest of the closet, though, Nie Zonghui knew what had driven Huaisang to it. While the boy’s one hand held his saber before him in a defensive position, the other held Mingjue to his chest, unconscious and bleeding from his head and side. Huaisang must have seen him go down on the battlefield and dragged him into the closet.

    And then Nie Zonghui had thrown the door open and made him think they were about to be attacked.

    “It’s just me!” he said hastily, holding the door with one hand but raising the other to show his still sheathed saber. “It’s just Nie Zonghui, Er-gongzi.”

    Huaisang blinked and peered up at him. “Nie Zonghui?”

    Realizing Huaisang’s eyes were probably adjusting to the sudden light after the darkness of the closet, Nie Zonghui knelt before him. Hopefully the closer distance would be easier on his eyes.

    “Just Nie Zonghui,” he promised softly.

    For a moment, Huaisang just looked at him—and then his arm wobbled, and his shoulders slumped, and he let his saber clatter to the ground as he tightened both arms around Mingjue.

    “Zonghui,” Huaisang said. And, burying his face in Mingjue’s hair—“Zonghui. I was so scared!”

    Nie Zonghui wished he could just gather his youngest cousin in his arms and hold him as he cried, but the sight of Mingjue bleeding between them held him back.

    “Er-gongzi,” he said instead, voice soft but deliberate. “Can I take Zongzhu to the doctors?”

    For a moment, Huaisang’s arms clenched around Mingjue, and he narrowed his eyes at Nie Zonghui, and Nie Zonghui thought he would have to fight just to reach Mingjue—but then Huaisang nodded.

    It took Huaisang conscious effort to release his hold on Mingjue, but when he had, he didn’t hesitate to help Nie Zonghui lift him and carry him to the infirmary.

    <>Go here for more hurt/comfort prompts to send me! All I need is at least one prompt selection and two characters! And you can also go here for my general prompt guidelines.

    anonymous

    AAAAH, I love your 2NHS,1Dage fic continuation! I especially loved that Nie Mingjue sat with a Huaisang on each side. Like he went 'I have two didis and two arms, one for each' when seating them. XD So adorable!

    thank you so much!

    and yes, lol, that’s exactly what he did. NMJ is determined to never leave his didis alone again

    (also, i’ve now tagged all posts for this fic with “anchor")

    anonymous

    “I can protect two Huaisangs,” he said. “You don’t have to worry.” Oh my heart! XD So brilliant! Will you be continuing, because I'd love to see everyone's reactions to meeting this older Huaisang. ^_^

    “I can protect two Huaisangs,” he said. “You don’t have to worry.” Oh my heart! XD So brilliant! Will you be continuing, because I'd love to see everyone's reactions to meeting this older Huaisang. ^_^

    <>i can maybe. be persuaded to write a little more. 😅 i hope you like it!

    <>continued from anchor

    Nie Huaisang held himself carefully at his da-ge’s side, fan hiding his own face even as he studied the faces of the people before them and steadfastly ignored his younger self standing on Da-ge’s other side.

    Jin Guangshan had been talking for the past fifteen minutes, hands gesticulating every which way, and somehow seemed to think that he was still putting on a carefree display.

    Jiang-xiong had been focused at first, but his hand had started to spark after Jin Guangshan hit the ten-minute mark.

    Er-ge wasn’t even trying to pretend to listen; his eyes had been focused on the two Nie brothers and Nie Huaisang from the very beginning. And now, as Jin Guangshan veered into talking about Wei-xiong for reasons known only to him, Er-ge stepped forward.

    “Forgive me, Jin-zongzhu,” Er-ge said smoothly. “But the Nie Sect has been through quite a lot in the last few hours. Perhaps we can rest on our thoughts and finish up in the morning?”

    And just like that, everyone was reminded of the two Nie Huaisangs in the room. Nie Huaisang didn’t blame Er-ge—he’d clearly just been thinking of the Nie brothers—but he would have preferred to go unnoticed for a while longer.

    Perhaps forever. He had things to do after all, which would be so much harder to accomplish with the eyes of others on him.

    “That sounds like a wonderful idea, Lan-zongzhu,” Jiang-xiong said.

    “Yes; thank you, Xichen,” Da-ge added.

    Outvoted, Jin Guangshan forced a smile and saluted them. “In the morning, then.”

    Jiang-xiong quickly took his leave, too, but Er-ge stayed.

    “Mingjue, Huaisang, and—Huaisang, are you ok?” he asked.

    Nie Huaisang raised his fan higher, tapped it to the bridge of his nose, and peered over. “I’m fine,” he said. “Da-ge is the one who had a qi deviation, after all. And… my younger self. Well.” He shrugged and smiled. “He has to deal with me.”

    Er-ge looked pained, though Nie Huaisang wasn’t sure why. “You’re sure you’re ok? This must be strange for you.”

    Nie Huaisang couldn’t help but let his smile grow, thankful it was hidden behind his fan. “I’ve experienced stranger,” he reassured—though he didn’t mention that that strangeness was caused by his da-ge’s death. While it had come up during his accusations against Jin Guangyao, he hadn’t gone into more detail than required, and he certainly had no intention of discussing it more than necessary.

    “Strange how?”

    Though of course, Da-ge dived right into the subject. Not that he knew it, and so Nie Huaisang lowered his fan to smile at him.

    “It’s not important.” Not anymore, and not to anyone but himself.

    “Humor us?” His younger self asked. He had leaned around their da-ge to talk to him, brows furrowed, a frown on his face, and no fan in his hands, and Nie Huaisang found that he could not read the boy he once was. He was no innocent—but he hadn’t been hardened by grief and secrets like Nie Huaisang had been.

    Da-ge had already seen Nie Huaisang’s true self, but Er-ge hadn’t. This boy hadn’t.

    Nie Huaisang found he had no desire to enlighten them.

    “Perhaps in the morning,” he lied, and turned away.