#mebb2023

I had the wonderful opportunity to work with @theoriginalladya for this year's MEBB!! Thank you for loving my first attempt at art that wasn't all moodboards lol. Shout out to @nightmarestudio606 and @charomiami for the art help ♥

I'll update this post with the link of her amazing mshenko fic which will be on AO3 with Caleb Shepard and Kaidan Alenko. It's truly wonderful, so go check it out!

AO3

From the Beginning

Artist

Mobei Jun saw red as he surged into the room, he fisted his hand into the back of his uncle’s doublet and ripped the man away from Qinghua. He didn’t even bother to see where the man landed, instead diving to catch the birdman before he hit the floor. 

“Qinghua!” He cushioned the fragile weight, cradling him as the both dropped. “Please, I’m right here. Look at me, Qinghua please.” Mobei Jun’s chest felt too small for his breath, eyes stinging as he pleaded. 

He’d just found Shang again, but the fragile hope that he had for breaking the man’s curse crumbled, slipping through his fingers. 

He gripped the knife sticking out of Qinghua’s chest and pulled it from the birdman’s flesh. He ended up taking a small handful of feathers with it. 

Qinghua let out a pitiful cry, one that made his heart twist, but it needed to be done. He had to take it out before it killed the man he loved. The same man who went limp in his arms as teh blade clattered to the floor. 

His panic rose, deep red blood surged from the wound. He couldn’t tell how deep it went or how close it made it to Qinghua’s heart. Something further obfuscated by Qinghua’s half bird state. Was his heart still in the same place? It didn’t matter, the rush of sticky red through his fingers was far from encouraging. 

Anger surged through him, he wanted to yell for a physician, he wanted to scream at whatever god might listen, anyone, anything that could help. Deciding that he alone would not be enough he scooped Qinghua from the floor standing, trying to think of where he could go or what he could do. 

He turned toward the door only to finally remember that he’d not come alone. Binghe had managed to wrestle his uncle to the ground while the Cang Qiong ambassador was striding toward him with purpose. 

“Put him in the bed.” The man gestured with his fan, his tone firm and guiding. Mobie Jun followed the instruction on autopilot, doing his best not to jostle Qinghua’s still bleeding wound. He laid the birdman out in the bed, the very same one he’d shared with the King barely a day before. 

He was so much smaller, dark feathers blending into Mobei Jun’s dark sheets. So different from the pale man he’d been wrapped in them not long ago. Mobei Jun desperately hoped he would be able to see that man again, but first Qinghua would have to survive. 

Ao3

From the Beginning

The council meetings had lost their whimsy without Qinghua’s abrasive commentary. The most recent one had felt like a battlefield. Viscount Yun had brought up the idea of finally choosing a coronation date and it had not gone well. 

Traditionally the coronation was voted on by the council as a mere formality, but traditionally the matter of succession was less contentious. As it was Mobei Jun stood on shaky ground, despite being his father’s only child and chosen heir, his uncle held the loyalty of enough council members to hold off crowning him indefinitely, or at least long enough for an assassin to succeed. 

Linguang Jun held the council, Mobei Jun had known that for a long time, he’d been working to change things, but the urgency of the matter didn’t quite hit him until the vote had been brought up and his tenuous grip on power felt like it was slipping through his fingers. 

All he’d been able to do was stall. His father had been dead for barely two months, and he reasoned it would be improper to pick a coronation date until after the official mourning period ended. So, rather than pick a date to ascend, they’d picked a day where they would vote to pick a date. It was like he had a ticking clock, counting down the seconds while he scrabbled to maintain control. 

His uncle had complimented him on his piety and adherence to tradition, but the words held a mocking edge that stung his ego. At best Mobei Jun had the support of maybe a third of the council, nowhere the majority he needed. 

Leaving the meeting he felt drained, it wasn’t hard to feign exhaustion while excusing himself. Entering the sanctuary of his chambers should have given him some relief, but with the state of affairs, and foiled assassin’s fresh in his mind the room had lost its quality of comfort. 

Made all the worse by Qinghua’s departure. He’d held out hope for too long, waiting for the birds return for the first week. By the second he’d commissioned the birdhouse outside his window hoping maybe the new nest would entice his former companion to return. 

But two weeks and there had been nothing.