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muffinrecord · 3 years

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One Hundred Evils and You: Stall Teams (for the F2P Player)

Introduction:

Here is a guide on how to defeat the Hundred Evils/Hundred Calamities with easy-to-acquire units and easy-to-aquire memoria!

Please note that this is not the only approach to the Hundred Evils, and it might not even be the best approach for you personally. However, it is the most generic approach that is made with Free-to-Play Players in mind. Stall teams are easier and more accessible to make than most Charge or Magia teams. Blast teams can work in the Hundred Evils (I’ve done them before) but it’s tricky and they’re not always applicable, depending greatly on who you fight. In the end a Stall team might be your best option!

This is an extremely long guide. I wanted to be thorough, but I might have overdone it. Still, I hope this is helpful! Some of these hints might be a little obvious, but I wanted to make sure that even new players could get some practical advice.

What is the Hundred Evils?

The Hundred Evils is located on the far right tab where you have three different battles to fight that only cost a reasonable 1AP each. Inside, you’ll battle against several different waves of Magical Girls (and only Magical Girls-- no Witches, Uwasa, Kimochi, or other kinds of minions will be found inside).

What is a Stall Team?

A Stall team is a team that

Uses Magia to protect its team + deal out damage

Uses memoria to protect its team and debuff enemy

Uses specific characters for buffing, debuffing, healing, ect

This is not a team that will kill fast, but is one that can take some serious hits and stick around.

Preparing Your Team

Like many strategies, most of the difficulty is in the planning. But before we talk about the characters themselves, let’s take a quick moment to talk about the preparation needed to make them excel at their work. Unfortunately this will require investment in both their Spirit Enhancement and in their Magia (you’ll want several of them to have Doppels).

More importantly, you’ll also want these characters to have multiple slots-- the worse your memoria are, the more slots you’ll want. Essentially, you really need each character to have four of them.

For more established players, it’s very possible that you’ll have several of these girls kitted out already with their required slots, but for very new players, it might take a few events to finally get them fully slotted. Luckily you can do this easily with Magia Chips and Destiny Bottles, unlike with natural four-stars, but this still might take time to build up.

As for Spirit Enhancement, it depends-- some characters you’ll really want that Active (for example, Kako’s party-wide HP Regen heal) and some characters... eh. It’s not as important.

But it’s still a good idea to grab as much as you can. Some characters, like Kako again, have SE that gives them more MP at the start of the battle or HP Regen. This is inconsequential for high-end content, but vital for a FTP Magia Stall strategy team. You want everything that will make a character live longer, heal themselves on their own, get them to Magia faster, ect. You don’t need to get them to 60/60 SE, but it’d be good to aim for them to have all their Passives and Active.

Who to Use:

Let me introduce you to a F2P’s saviors:

Let’s go through them and analyze why these girls in particular are so good for Stall teams.

Oriko Mikuni: Oriko is the team leader of this bunch. Why is that? She’s your go-to Magia damage dealer. She’s a Magia type, she deals a decent amount of damage for an uncapped girl, her Magia is an AOE, and her typing (Light) means that she should be able to deal decent damage against anything you throw at her. Her Spirit Enhancement is full of increased Magia Damage Up, and she also has the passive 15% chance to inflict Skill Seal on her enemies-- it’s not enough to be reliable, but I find that it’s still really useful when it pops off unexpectedly. The focus on Evade can be useful in some circumstances-- she’s fragile, and it’s an easy way to protect her. Lastly, her connect gives Accele MP Gain Up, which lets her help your team gain more MP.

Kako Natsume: The GOAT for F2P, Kako Natsume is pretty mighty. Her Accele Draw personal memoria is great for getting things set up, she offers good heals through her connect, her Magia/Doppel, and even through her Active SE, and her SE is also pretty decent with giving her lots of stuff that helps her survive. Her damage isn’t the best as a Healer, but her single-target Magia/Doppel can kill troublesome Aqua-types when needed. Her Magia/Doppel/Connect also gives “Remove Status Ailments” which can be extremely helpful. Lastly, her Doppel will provide “Remove Buffs” towards the target which can help with increasing damage potential.

Emiri Kisaki: Don’t let Emiri fool you into thinking she’s all giggles-- she's fearsome! She’s excellent as a Debuffer and will protect your team through inflicting Dazzle onto the enemies. Not only does Dazzle make them more liable to miss, but it also means the enemy takes increased damage from their weak element, so she can also help increase damage done. Additionally, her Magia/Doppel gives all enemies Damage Down for three turns, making her Magia even more protective. Lastly, she has Skill Quicken as part of her Spirit Enhancement, meaning it’s an excellent idea to equip memoria on her that you want to use more often than the cooldown let’s you.

Manaka Kurumi: Manaka is fucking incredible. Like Kako she’s a heal-type, but don’t be tricked into thinking that’s all she can do. She has one of the highest Attack Up connects in the game and her Magia/Doppel offers an excellent amount of Attack Up to all allies for three turns. This gives her the role of being the buffer-- if you’re facing a tough enemy, use Manaka’s Magia/Doppel first and then use the other Magia after. She has two Accele MP Gain Up passive nodes and an active that gives her more Accele MP Gain Up, so don’t be afraid to use her Magia/Doppel often.

Other Good F2P-Friendly Units

Now, you’ll probably notice that I only included four up there, but that you can use five in total for your team. If you need to use a Magia Stall Team, then I recommend using all five spaces so that you have more room for potential Magia/Doppels. The fifth slot can be swapped for anyone in particular, but if you’re looking for a F2P-friendly character then I’d recommend one of these girls.

Umika Misaki: Personally this would be my most recommended option. Umika is another healer, which makes your team even more protective than before, and she can fill a very protective role. First, her connect won’t just heal someone but it’ll also give them Damage Cut and almost 100% Defense Up-- making her excellent at protecting someone. Her Magia/Doppel act similarly to Kako’s, restoring health to all allies and also removing Status Ailments. Her SE is similarly useful-- like Emiri, she has passive 15% Skill Quicken, so she’s a good choice to equip active memoria you want to use often on. Like Oriko, she has a chance to Skill Seal on attack-- not enough to be reliable, but enough that it should still be good. Her SE active is MP Damage for 30MP-- situational, but it can be extremely helpful if you’re not able to kill an enemy before they can Magia you. Her DEF and HP make her solid, not as much as a proper tank, but as someone who can stand in for one.

Hotaru Yura: A bit of a bold choice, but Hotaru can be good. She’s another healer, but she has some excellent supportive capabilities. First, you don’t need to worry about her dying, unless she can’t Regen HP-- her SE Active gives her 100% HP Restore (with the cost of Attack down on self, but no one is using Hotaru for damage). She has passive HP Regen, Defense Up, and Status Ailment Resistance so she can take a bit of punishment. Her connect is a generic heal, and her Magia has a generic HP Regen, but what makes her really shine is the MP Regen from her Magia-- this means you can use her to keep your party having topped off MP gauges.

Haruka Kanade: If you have Haruka, she can be a good choice as a tank. Despite being a Support, she has a ton of tanking capabilities, and she can protect your team through a variety of methods. She has passive Provoke chance, meaning she can draw aggro away, Skill Quicken (you want to probably use her active slots for taunt memoria and for defense up/damage cut memoria though), and HP Regen. Her active lets her taunt the enemies while also inflicting a 52% chance of Charm onto them-- it’s a long cooldown, but can serve as a panic button when things are going wrong. Her connect gives Charm as well, meaning you can protect the party from hits. Her Magia/Doppel is also a good defensive panic button of sorts-- the target will deal less damage, Haruka gains Provoke and Damage Cut (and hp regen), and she can protect your team for that turn.

Sana Futaba: Sana has decent DEF and HP stats, so she will do well as a tank. She has a passive Provoke and a passive Endure-- meaning that she can draw hits and also stay alive past one potentially fatal one. Her SE gives her Accele MP Gain Up and MP Gain Up nodes, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to get her to Magia/Doppel. Her Anti-Debuff SE active is situationally useful. Her connect gives 100% Damage Cut, making it a good way to protect the user, and her Magia gives Damage Cut/Defense Up to all allies, again making her a good way to defend her team. Her Doppel has a chance of being very defensive or of inflicting Status Ailments (Burn, Darkness, Bind). This does make her more tricky to use if she gets to 150 MP as opposed to 100-- you can’t guarantee if she’ll protect your team or inflict ailments on the enemy.

Good Four-Star Units to Use

There are too many good units to list here-- believe me, I tried to actually do that and after the first twenty characters I realized I’d have to tackle this in a different way. However, here are some extremely notable characters, who you should bring even if they only have one slot:

Madoka & Iroha

Madoka Kaname

Mikage Yakumo

Outside of that, if you have someone with a few slots and you’re wondering if they’re good to bring, ask yourself these questions:

Do they have good disks? Characters with two or more Accele disks are better than ones with only one.

Do they help with MP generation in any sort of form? It’s not a must-have, but it’s a plus.

What do they provide to the party-- do they have a protective role, a defensive one, an offensive one? For example, you can swap out Emiri for a slotted Mifuyu since they share similar roles, or a Sayuki for a Manaka.

Last Notes on Choosing Characters

Here are a few last things to consider when choosing some characters.

First off, you don’t always fight every element. You might not know who you’re fighting, but you can know what element they’ll be-- you can then use your characters accordingly. For example, it might not be worth it to bring an Aqua-element if you could use another Forest type here. Just make sure that you don’t miss important team roles!

You can always try to use memoria to fill in missing character gaps. For example, some fights might have you face teams that build up MP to use on deadly Magia. You could try to get your one-slot Touka to work... or you could just use Magia Damage Down or MP Gain Down memoria instead.

Tanks can be really helpful here but also sometimes not. A tank really needs 3+ slots to work properly so that they can have enough defensive passives plus an active that grabs aggro. However, you don’t need to choose a proper tank-- any character with a passive Provoke or Guardian can work if they have the right memoria for it. Just make sure you keep them alive.

Three healers on a team might seem excessive, but personally I find it to help cover bases. This way you don’t run into a situation where your healer needs help but no one can help them, and you also are able to use Magia more strategically-- Manaka can heal, sure, but you don’t need to waste her Magia on someone when you don’t need the Attack Buff right then as long as Kako has her Magia up still. This is also really helpful if you don’t have any tanks on your team.

When it comes to filling in the fifth member of the F2P team (Oriko, Manaka, Kako, Emiri), I prefer aqua types so that you can fill in all elemental slots. Again though, make sure you check what elements you’re fighting first!

The formation you use can be important too. This one for example gives increased Status Ailment Resistance and HP Regen. Additionally, make sure you place your characters with consideration. Characters closer to the front will be targeted more than characters towards the behind. If you have a tank with Provoke memoria, then make sure whoever is horizontal and vertical with them can also take some hits when the enemy uses a blast attack.

Equipping Your Team: What Memoria to Choose?

Okay, so you’ve chosen your characters. What about memoria? Do you need top of the line stuff here?

Nah. You can do this with event rewards easily!

Going through a list of everything that could potentially be helpful would be extremely long, so the above provides some examples. Let’s go over some notes:

For passive memoria, I prefer to do one Accele MP Gain Up/MP Gain Up memoria paired with one Attack Up/Damage Up/Damage Increase memoria. That way your units can get to Magia easily and still deal decent damage when they get there. If your characters are fragile, then using memoria with Defense Up/Damage Cut are good ideas too. Memoria with passive HP Regen aren’t a bad idea-- you probably have a lot of good healers on your team, but a character who can passively heal themselves means you can use those Magia for more offensive purposes.

As for Actives, your choices are expanded. I mentioned above that memoria can fill in missing gaps that you couldn’t fit characters in for. Actives are part of that. Accele Draw memoria are always a must, and memoria that help increase your MP Gain is always a plus. The biggest key though will be Attack Down / Damage Down memoria. Memoria like Mito Rain are the best thing possible for a F2P-- it has a low cooldown, effects everyone, gives a ton of its percentage, ect. You’re actually better off keeping five separate copies of Mito Rain instead of max awakening it to one, because then you can give each character one copy-- this means you can use a Mito Rain on every turn. This will protect your units and keep them safe in addition to all the healing you can do, and it also will help you deal increased damage thanks to its Defense Down.

One memoria that can inflict MP Gain Down is generally a good idea.

Characters with passive Skill Quicken should be given memoria that you want to use more often-- Mito Rain is a good idea on them of course, but so are other debuffers.

Tailor your memoria to your needs. If you find that all your characters are constantly at 150 MP but you’re never in a good place to use it, try decreasing the amount of MP Regen memoria you’ve got going on and replace them with more damaging effects.

DON’T OVERLOOK THREE STAR MEMORIA. They can be extremely helpful and even better than some four-star ones! For example, Leila Rain is an overlooked hero and definitely worth considering! Three-star memoria are easier to max awaken too, so in some cases, a max awakened three-star memoria is going to be better than a single copy of a four-star one!

If you’re a newer player, then chances are you’ll struggle with having good memoria along with having good units. Memoria can be just as much an investment as characters can be-- so make sure you’re getting 3* Over Limiters from your events and spend them wisely.

Don’t forget you can negate Evade through Status Ailments-- memoria can be extremely helpful with that.

Actually Fighting

So now you’re fighting. Cool! What now?

First you want to build up your MP for everyone. If you have an Accele combo without needing to use an Accele draw memoria, take it!

For your first wave, try to build up MP slowly across everyone. Use your Accele Draw(s) here and prioritize Accele combos-- even if it means using an Accele disc for someone who already has max MP. For example, if I got an acele disc option from Umika, Manka, and Oriko, I’d still use Umika’s to get all of that MP.

Remember that the order the Accele disc goes in determines how much MP they get! The first character gets the least amount of MP with the last one getting the most. Using the previous example, I’d use Umika’s disc, Oriko’s disc, and then Manaka’s disc. Don’t forget that the characters get a flat +20 MP boost too.

Choose your target enemy wisely. For example, you can generally count on Touka featuring some sort of anti-MP gain/MP Gain on self, and Nemu to inflict a status ailment onto your team. Here, the Rena hits harder than her Rena-chan self. You can’t always predict who is going to use what, but general familiarity with the characters helps.

Some enemies are better for generating MP against than others. You can’t always predict who you’ll get and what they’ll do, but if you come across easy enemies, take advantage of the situation to farm some MP.

There are lots of tricks to getting more MP out of situations. For example, all characters will gain more MP after they hit 100MP than before they do-- so using an Accele disc before a Magia is an easy way of regaining your losses.

Using an Accele disc before any others will increase the MP gained by each subsequent disc, even for Blast. If your disc selection is bad, try to make the most of it with squeezing out what you can.

Additionally, if you’re confident a Magia will kill a target, use the Magia last. You can put two potential accele discs in front of it to get even more MP out of the thing.

This line of thinking can go with charging up connects. You don’t actually need to use the disc (if the enemy dies) to get the + for it, so if you’re confident a Magia will kill a target, pick discs that will give you a connect on your next turn.

This is a little overkill, but personally I like to go into the last wave with as many Doppels and Memoria up as possible. Don’t stay on any character too long-- you can only use three doppel a turn after all, and using one of your five to finish someone off isn’t a bad idea-- but also don’t be afraid to sit for a bit either. Just make sure you’re under the 40 turn time limit. It’s possible that whatever you face in the final wave will need more than three doppels to die.

It’s time. It’s the final, toughest wave. You’re here! You’ve got all the Doppels ready and a bunch of memoria ready too. So what order do you do this in?

In general a safe bet is to go Manaka > Emiri > Oriko. This is so that Manaka will buff the entire team, making each Doppel hit harder, Emiri can inflict Bewitch (possibly making Oriko hit harder if she counters the element, though it doesn’t work in this scenario) and use your main damage dealer (Oriko) last.

If your characters have some lingering status ailments, or if the enemy has an annoying buff, Kako’s doppel might be a good idea to go first instead. It’s not a bad idea to save your defensive doppels/healing doppels for a potential second round though.

And that’s it! You did it! Congratulations!

Other Advice that I Don’t Have Screenshots For

You’ve got at least two healers who can heal through connects, magia/doppel, and one through her SE Active. Don’t blow a Doppel when a connect will do just as well.

If you don’t have enough debuff memoria to “blanket” the enemy every turn, then use Emiri’s connect to try and blanket them with Bewitch instead.

Connects in general are a tricky thing to use. You want to save them for times when their effects are needed, but sometimes you also want to give someone an Accele disk to get their MP up. Don’t get too greedy, but conversely don’t hoard them.

If you mess up and want to redo a wave, forcefully exit the game. When you bring it back up, you’ll have an option to go right back to the beginning of that wave (the answer “yes” is the right button).

Try not to overcap on effects. For example, don’t use two active Attack Up effects Oriko, have Manaka use her Doppel, then have Manaka connect to Oriko. Attack Up has a cap of 100%, and anything over that is completely wasted. Space stuff out over turns, or use a variety of different memoria to provide different buffs.

Conclusion

I hope this helps! I think I covered everything...? You might notice that some of these screenshots come from different events because I was lazy because this took a little while to write.

There are lots of strategies you can use for this challenge. But this one is for new players/F2P players who don’t have a lot of good units/memoria yet. Eventually you’ll outgrow this team and have better characters to use. There are all sorts of cool strategies one can employ with the right characters; lots of people will try to finish the Hundred Evil fights with as few turns as possible using Charge strategies for example.

But, if you need a tried-and-true method of defeating the Hundred Evils with easy-to-aquire characters, then the above method is for you. Good luck out there, you can do it!

#Muffin Record #Magia Record #Long Post #MR Help

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dianapocalypse · 3 years

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so I’m having a very interesting (for me) mass effect legendary edition playthru and i wanna talk about it even tho no one but me will be interested so UNDER THE CUT WE GO!

this probably isn’t interesting to anyone but me but I wanted to write it down for posterity lol

so this time around, I spent a LONG TIME staring at the character creator, not even making anything. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to make my ‘main’ Shepard, play Jane just for the new model in ME1, or make a new Shep entirely. and if I did the last one, did I want to play differently this time??

i ended up making a shepard that was PRETTY similar to my main one. they’re both vanguards (didn’t want to learn a new kit bc my ability to hold a controller is pretty limited these days), both earthborn, same haircut but different overall appearances. this time I went war hero instead of sole survivor, since I’ve played those sidequests so many times at this point. I hit start and named her Kieran, not really knowing what I was going for with this shep and expecting I’d mostly make the same choices, romance garrus, etc

so the first few hours of the game I played p much like I always do. more paragon options than usual, but I attribute that more to me changing than character choices. I also started picking the middle options I always ignore just to see what they are. grabbed Liara, did bring down the sky, nothing new or unusual until I start talking to garrus.

is it just me, or does garrus.... kinda hit different in 2021? don’t get me wrong, still one of my favorite fictonal characters of all time, but also... garrus is a loose canon police officer who thinks regulations that, presumably, are in place to protect peoples’ rights, should be ignored for what he deems is the greater good. while we as players know garrus’s morals are in the right place, uh... if I met someone like that in real life I’d expect them to be a complete jackass. im also american so that contributes to my ill feelings towards police officers, and c-sec in the games is generally portrayed as being a much less awful organization than the american police state, but I’ve definitely gone from always supporting Garrus when he thinks a fucker needs to die to being like... garrus rules are there for a reason, people have RIGHTS

and then like. kieran shepard is earthborn, she was in gangs. she... probably doesn’t like cops either? my last shep was, too, but tbh I didn’t think about it all that much. for the first time I’m playing a shepard that does not trust garrus and that’s WILD.

so then I’m doing sidequests on the citadel, and earthborns get a gang member from their past who tries to blackmail shep into busting one of their members out of prison. for the first time ever, I actually didn’t have the paragon or renegade points necessary to resolve the situation in a ‘good’ way for me. I got to the end of it, and my only options were to bribe him to leave me alone, or shoot him.

i’ll say in my defense, I thought shoot him would be more ‘shoot him in the leg to show him i meant business’, but shep straight up killed him, and I was like, woah. I’m gonna have to figure out how to make THAT work with this character arc!

and the turian cop who he wants you to talk to, he’s right there, and says “wow, I guess maybe the first human spectre will get things done!’ or something, indicating like. that was the Right Thing To Do by his standards. just kill a dude in public for threatening blackmail.

so in role playing games, i try to justify decisions my characters make, even if it’s a decision that I didn’t make on purpose--it’s more fun for me to try to gather these disparate character choices and cohere them into a character than to try to get it ‘right’ for the character i’m playing, if that makes sense. so here, even tho I was definitely not intending to kill that dude, I wanted to find a way to make it work for Kieran Shepard. and it’s kinda ended up shaping the whole way I’m playing her, and it’s cool and interesting bc this is a shepard unlike any I’ve played before! i’m always so focused on min/maxing my character, especially their paragon/renegade points to get the ‘best’ outcomes, that ive never been faced with something like that.

so I think this is where I’ve landed:

Kieran Shepard grows up on the streets, she does not trust authority. all she has is her crew, and herself, more importantly. she does some bad shit, she gets into trouble, she’s strong-headed and stubborn. later in life, she gets recruited to the alliance military. frankly, I think she keeps a lot of the same attitude and distrust of authority, but this is a paycheck, and I think since the Tenth Street Reds are getting really human supremacist and xenophobic, she gets out and needs to go Somewhere that her past won’t follow her--space. off earth.

mostly she’s a shithead at first. gets into trouble with the brass all the time. but she’s got a really good head for tactics. she knows how to think like a merc gang, she thinks of strategies in simulations that higher ups wouldn’t ever consider. think like. star trek 2009 captain kirk basically lmao.

and then anderson gets a hold of her. for the first time in her life, she has like, a Parental Figure, someone who knows she can do better and expects her to. and she FLOURISHES. suddenly she’s got motivation, she’s straightening up. she’s positioned on elysium and the skyllian blitz starts, and one thing she knows how to do, something she’s always been good at, it surviving, and rallying people around her to fight, not roll over and die. her skills from her life as a gangster marry with her skills as a soldier and she rallies the colonists to beat back the invasion. with her STREET SMARTS!

now she’s a war hero, and she’s starting to feel the impostor syndrome set in. she gets a medal, she gets accolades, promotions--she’s just a scrappy former criminal and she doesn’t deserve this. she doesn’t deserve any of it, or anderson’s regard. she starts spending her time trying to be The Perfect Soldier to make up for her past. for the first time, it’s a point of embarrassment to her, not a point of pride. it’s public record, sure, but she needs her entire existence to refute it. she needs to be Commander Shepard now, she needs to be The First Human Spectre, she needs to be PERFECT.

and then Finch shows up, and he’s threatening her, he wants to drag her back into the Life and he’ll blackmail her if she doesn’t comply. she knows if she bribes him he’ll be back in a month for more, he’ll never stop. so she panics. she shoots this guy, kills him in cold blood, in public. old habits die hard. and the cop practically CONGRATULATES her for it.

kieran, now, is in full blown panic mode about Who She Is. she is very much not a fan of the ‘law and order’ of C-Sec, but she’s also not a fan of the spectres and how they operate, but now she’s becoming the thing she as a teen would have hated the most. and she’s being congratulated for it. can she be trusted with this kind of responsibility?? can anyone???

anyway that’s the last thing I did but I think... honestly? the only character that could help her sort out these feelings? is kaidan alenko.

so. i think this is it. this is the playthru i finally romance kaidan.

#mass effect #mass effect legendary edition #kaidan alenko #this post is long as fuck but i promise he's in there #kieran shepard tag

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mallowstep · 3 years

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For the love of god, please consider renaming some cats, I've seen names like

"One-Eye, Halftail, Oddfoot, FLIPCLAW (what kind of prefix is 'Flip'?) Twigbranch, Clawface etc. Don't get me started on those atrocious SkyClan names with KITTYPET PREFIXES

Harrybrook, Snookthorn, Rileypool

Like tf?

so i'm going to start with saying! as a general rule, i love these names. i will address them each in turn, but i don't have a problem with warriors having "bad names," i have a problem with names that don't make sense given their context.

it does not make sense for blackfoot to be named blackkit, when he's mostly white. (and, as a colorpoint cat, i assume, would be born entirely white.) etc.

but i have no problem with bellaleaf, because well, yeah! makes sense to me.

after all, leaf was named leafdapple, why shouldn't bella be named bellaleaf.

i'm going to discuss each name you brought up in turn, and then, under the cut, i'm going to ramble about naming philosphies.

one-eye: i'm fine with this. i don't mind cats being named after their disabilities, not when it's an established part of warriors culture. (even if it doesn't happen anymore because people would be pissed about it.) i don't know if i think it's right, or if i think cats would have a problem with it, but i think it's good. i'd like to think most cats wouldn't have a problem with it, though. that said, for one-eye in particular, her name was already white-eye, so it feels redundant. food for thought, i suppose.

halftail: i'm not okay with this, because he lost...half his tail? trust me, as someone who had a cat with half a tail, you don't notice it. doesn't make sense. he can keep sparrowpelt, altho tbh i almost always forget about him.

oddfoot: oops i forget him initially! i actually assumed he was named odd because of numbers or something, but apparently it’s a deadfoot situation. we don’t know his kit name, so i’ll assume he was named as either an apprentice or a warrior to fit. it wouldn’t make sense for him to just have the prefix odd, and i’ll give him the benefit of the doubt and assume that he didn’t. if he did, however, i would have a problem with it because that makes his name a compound name, not because his leader renamed him.

flipclaw: i don't have a problem with it. what kind of name is flipkit? the kind of name a mother would give who looks a lot like the cat who traumatized her, i think. more importantly, i think it's cute! doesn't bother me. would i name an oc flipkit? probably not, but that's just me.

twigbranch: oh no i love her name. i love it! it's so cute. it means something, too! it has meaning. nope. no one is taking twigbranch away from me. i love it.

clawface: mixed. i don't really have a problem with a cat being named clawkit, but it feels...violent. shrug. i don't like it, but like, i also don't like sandynose.

and i won't directly address skyclan because uh i already stated my thoughts on them.

skyclan in particular, tho, it actually makes a lot of sense for their names to be like that. there is no reason to apply any clan norms to skyclan names.

i really hope they keep their names, too. tradition and legacy of names is important to them (pebbleshine and violetshine for the most direct example, but it's everywhere), and i want that to stay. i love that leafstar named her kit harrykit. never change skyclan.

as always, i want to say that i do not have a problem with anyone's methodology of naming cats. i do not care. i support every single name in existence (barring certain combinations of color and "-face," and anything in that vein), and i do not want to come across as telling you what you should do.

that includes you, anon! i do not think you should listen to me when i say i like these names. i think you should rename them whatever you want. (i strongly suggest reconsidering skyclan renames, tho. there's established reasons in canon for them to have those names, and i think it's a cool cultural thing worth exploring. i keep meaning to write a funny lil one-shot about it.)

but you know! if you want to rename them, go for it! i support you!

that said, here is what i think (and i am not an authority on this in any way, shape, or form) about names:

i've written extensively about naming traditions in the clans. if you want to read that, "names. leaders. meaning" and "names part two" are where i recommend you look. (note: first link is to my main, before i migrated warriors content here.)

i'm not going to go over any of that in detail, because well, i'd rather talk about something new?

anyway, i don't think there's a reason to rename the vast majority of cats. i have very, very, few rules. heck, in ashes, i even had squilf come out and say that there's not even a problem with cats sharing a prefix.

the two cats i have renamed are yellowstorm and runningcloud, both for very specific reasons: -fang is a suffix that only makes sense if you're a warrior, and yellowfang names runningpaw runningnose, but in this au, sagewhisker names him, and she doesn't seem like the type to give that kind of name.

in yellowfang's secret, which i do generally treat as canon, yellowfang explains runningnose's name. i don't have a problem with her giving that name to him in the slightest. i just don't think sagewhisker would, and that overrode my general conservative approach to cat names.

but i do think, to an extent, cats are named for the world around them. i explored this in "without warning," where cats can be named after all sorts of strange things (elevator is my favourite), because well, they don't know what strange names are and are not.

so, for example, if there was a kit named, say, chaffinchkit, i would probably rename them, because i've set my warriors in the pnw, and there are no chaffinches in america.

i would just name the kit finchkit, because really, a chaffinch just a specific type of finch anyway.

i also refuse to name a kit maggotkit. there are probably other canonical prefixes in this nature that i refuse, but maggot is the big one that comes to mind.

but i don't care that ferns are green and cats aren't green. maybe it's a name passed down through the generations, one they don't even remember the origin of, but now, it is a thunderclan name.

or maybe, it is given to a riverclan cat simply because their mother thinks ferns are nice and soft.

none of that matters to me, because i personally find limiting name to appearance is incredibly boring, and gives up a really nice chance to worldbuild.

in "fair is the night," ivypool and tigerheart have a brief conversation exploring this.

"ThunderClan is different," he says. "You don't use names in the same way. You don't know the Ivy before you. But ShadowClan isn't like that. Dawnpelt knows Dawncloud and Flametail knows Flamefur, but...I have Tigerstar." "That seems ineffective," Ivypool says. "You can get more mileage out of your names. Here, Ivy is for grey kits, right? But wiry ones. We need strong roots. And Dove is for grey kits, or white ones, but its for the ones who are born soft."

they go on, but i would never pass up an opportunity to explore that type of thing. (and yes i see the typo)

similarly, i like the renaming system. i am like, this close to saying i love it.

the only reason i don't make brightheart lostface in everything i write is because it'd be too much of a headache to remind people, and i also don't want to needlessly invite arguments about it.

she keeps her name in "saccharine tithes of love and glory" because it's the kind of au where i can throw small things like that, without worrying, because it fits, tonally.

i wish it didn't set a fic in a very specific tone, but it does, and so, i usually use brightheart.

(also, it's clear that she prefers brightheart in the books, and i respect that. i don't think, in my culture, that makes sense for her, but i've talked about my works as being on a spectrum between canon and me, and most stuff is far enough away from me that i call her brightheart.)

anyway.

part of it is, renaming cats is imposing my rules over canon. i feel that saying "flipclaw should be named something else" asserts that my world is correct, and canon is wrong.

like, tallstar as a name does not make sense in my windclan. a kit can't be tall, and i've established that windclan names are very literal. but i've let it go, because i chose to make that a rule, and now i live with it.

i hope i didn't come off as prescriptivist, here, because i honestly believe if you want to rename cats, you should. i'd even be happy to discuss alternatives.

for clawface, might i suggest scorchface? (the suffix is malleable, frankly, but i don't feel like thinking much about it.) scorch deliberately has negative connotations in shadowclan, so you keep the same effect as clawface. especially since it just kind of sounds ominous.

but as for what i will do, it is not rename cats. i like their names (especially skyclan's), in all their idiosyncratic glory.

#ask #anon #long #essay #names #warriors names #traditional naming #name discourse #kind of?#mine #txt #warriors #warriors culture #warriors worldbuilding #4th #June #2021 #June 4th 2021

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worlds-forgotten · 3 years

Text

Gut Feeling

summary: Nikki and Wrench’s story, as told by them. They form an unlikely duo, leading to an adventure involving plotting to avenge their near deaths, plus perhaps beginning to enjoy each other’s company. If only it could go on like that forever.

pairing: Nikki Swango x Wes Wrench

warnings: Swearing, canon typical violence/gore

word count: 3.0k

rating: Mature

posted: 19/03/12

Nikki was eight when she first realized she had a superpower. Well, at least, that’s what she used to enjoy referring to it as. The school day would drag on forever, the long hours ticking away on a clock that sat above the doorway to her classroom. With nothing better to do, she observed. The fellow students’ habits and mannerisms, how quickly she was able to catch on the the math equations that were written in the chalkboard. It became quickly evident to Nikki that she had keen eyes for figuring things out. Noticing. Somehow, she was always the first to solve the day’s lessons. She noticed when her fifth grade teacher stopped wearing his wedding ring and began to drink more coffee, she noticed when Tilly Jackson began wearing turtle necks and scarves in grade eight after getting her first boyfriend, and most importantly, she learned how to play bridge watching the men on the TV. The way they moved their cards and watched each other’s faces was so fascinating, and Nikki knew this was the perfect thing to place her superpower in.

It quickly became less and less of a superpower and more of a need, just like food or water. Without her quick learning skills and observational watching, she wouldn’t have been able to plan her way out of any of the situations that led to the one she was in now. Hobbling towards the car in the parking lot of an alleyway with her arm wrapped around the shoulder of a deaf stranger. She pushed herself forward with each step, willing her legs to carry her just a bit further. The keys in her hand felt cold and slick, and it still seemed unreal that they were just handed to her freely. The warmth of the kitten was nothing but a phantom feeling now, but she was sure she hadn’t imagined it. The man at the counter. Surely she wasn’t hallucinating from blood loss. With a glance back at the bowling alley, Nikki prayed silently that she hadn’t actually stolen the car in some crazed attempt to help herself and her stranger. Reaching for the driver’s side, the man grabbed her arm to stop her. She gave him a puzzled look and he signed something slowly, either out of exhaustion or in hopes she would somehow understand what he was saying. “I don’t get what you’re trying to say. It’s fine, I’ll drive,” she attempted to open the door again, and this time the stranger pulled her away from the door. He pointed at her leg and mimicked her crashing the car. “I’m fine, it’s-“ Sighing, Nikki realized there was so point in arguing. If anything, she could manage a bit of rest if she let him drive. “Fine, you drive.” She slapped the keys into his hand and propped herself against the hood as she limped to the passengers seat. While climbing in Nikki released a cry of pain, her stomach and ribs throbbed and her leg numb with lack of circulation. She quickly covered her mouth, embarrassed, then glanced at the man beside her, who was unaware as he buckled in that she had made any noise at all. That made her feel a little better while the engine came to life as the keys were placed in the ignition. “Wait,” she called out, grabbing the stranger’s coat. He looked at her with a furrowed brow. She dug into her pocket and produced a small notepad she had taken from the alley, then checked the glove box for a pen. She found a pencil and scrawled a message, then handed it to him.

Name’s Nikki. I figured we need a way to talk.

He looked back up at her, staring as if to decide if the name suited her. She wondered for a moment if he even knew what her name sounded like, but felt it was rude to ask. He grabbed the pencil from her and wrote a reply.

Wrench. Can read lips.

She thought for a moment maybe she had misread it. That had to be a last name. “You can really see what I’m saying?” She asked, and he raised a brow. “What’s your real name? I gave you mine.” He scribbled out another message and placed it between them before putting the car into drive and beginning their road trip to who knows where. Nikki picked up the pad with slight offence at his abrupt end to their conversation.

You talk too fast.

•••

Nikki was woken with a sudden jerk of the car stopping. She quickly sat up, completely unaware she had fallen asleep. Black, crusted blood stained the car floor and her pant leg. She turned her head to see Wrench rubbing his hands through his curls. His eyes were on top of dark circles from what was presumably hours of driving, based on the rising sun that now lit the sky with pinks and oranges. She looked and saw they were at a motel, with a broken light up sign and no cars in the parking lot. The kind of motel people get murdered at. “Where are we?” She asked with a yawn. When she got no answer, she nudged Wrench’s arm so he would look at her. “Where are we? What kind of motel is this?” He began to sign, then stopped, and scooped up the pencil and notepad.

The kind that doesn’t ask questions.

He opened the car door, and she mirrored his actions, slowly rising with a wince. She noticed he was now carrying a briefcase and a duffel bag, which he hadn’t had before. Was it from the car? Maybe the man at the bowling alley left some supplies and money for them in the trunk? She shook the ridiculous thought from her head. As it was, she wasn’t even sure she had actually spoken to anyone. Wrench offered his hand to her for support, and she grasped it, hopping along on her good leg into the reception room. Nikki grabbed the counter as a crutch, and rang the bell that sat there. The ring echoed through the empty motel, and silence followed. Looking around, she saw a dusty couch and an old bookshelf that had clearly gone untouched for awhile. It smelled like cigarettes and Fabreeze inside, and really needed an open window. “‘Morning,” a voice said, and Nikki glanced back and saw a elderly man in a robe. “My apologies, not much requirement to be up before six these days.” “That’s fine, Mister. We’ll be needing a room.” “And a bath, I’ll say. Quite a bit of blood on you, young man.” He replied with a chuckle as he pointed at Wrench, who simply frowned in return. Nikki cut in. “Not much of a talker, my friend here. Sorry. We’re alright, just a car accident.” “No need to explain, it’s okay. That’ll be thirty for one bed-“ “Two beds, please.” Nikki corrected. “Forty five then.” Wrench tapped her on the shoulder and handed her a wad of cash. She glanced down and shook her head. “No, it’s only forty five, that’s too much.” She whispered slowly. He signed something, then shoved the money at her once more. “I don’t- fine. Okay, fine.” She snatched it and placed it on the counter. “We’ll pay in advance for a few more nights, just in case.” “Sounds like a plan to me, Miss.” the man handed her a key. “It’s upstairs.” Nikki thanked him, then turned and opened the door to make her way to the stairs. Wrench walked ahead of her, and she watched his back as he ascended the steps. He moved so smoothly despite the huge tear in his jacket that was crusted with dry blood. He took the key from Nikki’s hand and stopped at the door, then opened the it slowly, as if expecting someone to be waiting for them inside. There would’ve been no way anyone could have anticipated them being there together, but there was still the feeling of raised hair, both of them ready to defend themselves again. Though frankly, after already decapitating one guy, and fighting off the other freak with the wolf’s head, she was done for now. Closing the door behind her, the first thing Nikki did was crawl into one of the beds and sigh loudly. Her body ached and cramped, and she was ready to sleep for another twelve hours. Her eyes closed for a moment before the felt a finger tapping her arm. She cracked open one eyelid and stared back at Wrench. He signed something, then gestured at her leg. She lifted it a little and groaned. “Yeah, I guess sooner or later, right?” She sat up with a helping hand from Wrench, and he lifted her arm and wrapped it around his shoulder and practically carried her to the bathroom. She placed herself on the toilet seat in the tiny powder room, suddenly having the urge to laugh at how much larger Wrench seemed now, with his head almost touching the low ceiling. He removed his jacket with a little struggle, then squatted beside Nikki and met her gaze. “You got any booze?” She half joked. He frowned, then held up a first aid kit, but not the kind that you get at a drug store. Nikki pictured he had bought it from the Special Forces. “Was that from your special duffel bag?” She asked as he pulled out a pair of scissors and cut up her pant leg. “Hey,” she flicked his head, causing him to snap his face up. “I’m talking to you. Where did you get the bags? Your suitcase?” He went back to her leg, ignoring her inquires. The bottle of liquid he opened smelled strongly of alcohol, suddenly Nikki really did crave a shot. “Fine. Don’t answer me. I don’t need to know. I don’t need to know!” She yelled at his head, which was looking down, focusing on pouring the liquid into some cloths. He placed it against her open wound and she let out a small screech and pushed his hand away. “Goddamn! Is that straight acid? Jiminy cricket, gimmie a second.” She inhaled sharply and braced herself on the sink. Wrench placed his hand on her knee to steady her and began to clean her blood stained skin, and she felt the tears that tried to fall. Sure, Nikki was strong. Weakness was a threat to everything she had worked so hard towards. She always thought her way out of any plan gone wrong, but there was no denying she was at her lowest in this moment as she watched Wrench pull out stitching string and a needle. She braced herself and bit her sleeve.

•••

“Do you need help with yours?” Nikki spoke slowly, trying to emphasis her words as she touched her new bandaging. Wrench shook his head, then pointed at the shower. “That’s probably a good idea. You go first, I’ll take one after.” She stood up with a small wobble, then turned and left the bathroom. He closed the door and locked it, leaving Nikki alone in the room. She looked down at her dirty clothing, bloody and covered in mud. There were two white robes that sat on the dresser, and confident Wrench was going to be awhile, she stripped and wrapped the robe around herself. She just tried not to imagine how many times it had been worn without wash. Sitting on one of the beds, she listened to the sounds of the shower running and the gentle humming of the ice machine outside. Otherwise it was completely silent, the morning birds virtually quiet and no cars passing in the freeway. It was peaceful, despite the slight creepiness of the empty motel, save the elderly man at reception. She wondered why they were all alone there, considering the fairly cheap rooms. Wrench had implied that it was a shady place, where many people like him went (whatever he was), so perhaps only people in real trouble arrived there, asking for a sanctuary. It reminded Nikki of the convenient bowling alley that frankly, saved their lives. The man at the bar had asked no questions and gave them free drinks, while the man who had Ray had given them his car. Why had there been an alley in the middle of the woods? So far out beside the highway? Nikki couldn’t picture gathering up a family for a day of fun and driving out an hour to a neon lit building at the edge of a quite possibly haunted forest. The all too close memory of the forest sent a shiver down her spine. Between Wrench’s howls of pain and the shear terror as arrows whizzed at them too quickly to avoid (hence her now torn apart calf), it was the most certain she had ever been that she was going to die; in that moment, chained to a stranger and being attacked by crazed mobster assholes. With a sigh, Nikki rolled her head to crack her neck, and spied the duffel bag and case sitting on the floor near the door. She stared at them for a moment, tempted to peek. No, it wasn’t hers, that wasn’t okay. But then again, did she even give a fuck what was okay anymore? She needed to feel safe with this guy, and somehow knowing what was inside would make her feel better. She listened to make sure the shower was still going, and she quickly ran over to the bag first. Unzipping the top, her hands made quick work to discover clothing, toothbrushes, bags of snacks, like the kind you buy for a road trip, and other toiletries. The feeling of nosiness dwindled and she almost felt bad for snooping. She then closed the bag and sat on the carpet. He had just been looking out for them, though had she expected anything else? She then moved to the briefcase, which was mildly heavy. Placing it on the bed, she unhooked the straps and pulled open the top. Inside were passports, credit cards, badges, IDs, and a few wads of cash in both American and Canadian money. She picked up a passport and saw Wrench’s picture but a different name- Jerome Hilton. Then another with the name Stephen Mills. She wondered if his name really was Wrench, or if that’s just another fake persona. She then picked up an ID and saw a different man on it, one that wasn’t Wrench. He had dark hair and a beard. “Grady Numbers,” she said aloud, curious to who he was. There are more forms of the man’s identification with other names. “Who are you?” She asked to no one in particular, but then there was silence, and the shower wasn’t running any longer. Quickly shoving the case back where it was, Nikki rushed back to her spot on the bed. Suddenly the bathroom door opened and her bus seat partner stepped out, wearing sweatpants and a pullover. His hair was still damp, but he was clean, though wore heavy bags under his eyes. He strode past her and picked the duffel off the floor. When he opened it, he waved her over, then pointed at the clothes inside. “Oh, thanks,” She mustered up a small smile as she grabbed a pair of pants and a tee shirt. She tried to grab a pair of socks and accidentally pulled up a long, blue scarf. She inspected it for a moment before Wrench pulled it out of her hand and signed something. She didn’t understand, but based on his serious expression, she guessed the scarf was off limits. “‘Kay,” she turned around and walked towards to bathroom. “Weirdo.”

•••

The mirror was foggy with condensation, and Nikki used her forearm to rub it away enough to look at herself. Her dark hair dripped water onto her bare shoulders, and she watched the little droplets roll down her skin. Her eyelids sagged with sleepiness and she was pale as a ghost. She decided she could look worse, considering the night she had. The fan whirred loudly above her, blowing hot hair around the room. Using one towel, she wrapped her hair up, then dried her body before pulling on the much too large sweat pants and tee shirt. With a curious nose, she smelled the shirt, which had the faint scent of deodorant. She wondered if it belonged to Wrench. Pulling the drawstring on the pants as tight as she could, she then stepped out of the bathroom. The first thing she did was throw her old track suit in the garbage, but placed her faux fur coat on the desk chair, not being able to part with it. Nikki glanced up at the figure on the bed, finding Wrench leaning against the headboard with his hands resting clasped on his stomach, and his eyes closed. He didn’t move, unaware of her presence in the room. His breath was deep, implying his slumber. The digital clock on the nightstand between the beds blinked 7:05 AM. Quietly (still not used to Wrench’s obliviousness to noise), she flicked off the lights and climbed into the queen opposite the other. She spent a moment staring at the large man before climbing back out and pulling his covers over his thick legs. He twitched a little and she moved back, scared of a violent reaction, but his eyes remained closed and began to snore quietly. Nikki laid in her bed for what felt like a century, hyper aware of the silence of the motel once again. She focused on Wrench’s breathing from across the room, and stared at the sun through the closed, thin curtains that blocked the outside from viewing the room. As soon as Wrench woke up, they needed to plan ahead for what was going to occur in their future. The unlikely pair. They were really in it now, running from the law and from these men. That was going to have to stop. Nikki already knew how she could make it go away, but it would take precise plotting, because it was two against what felt like a whole army. Wrench seemed to be on her side, though there would only be certainty once they had discussed it together. A major scheme. She knew deep down it would be difficult, especially with the language barrier, but she was willing to do all it took to make sure they were an unbeatable team. Bar none.

#Lavinia's Fics #Lavinia's Fics: Gut Feeling #god this one isn't great but we are adding anyways #fargo fx #fargo fanart #nikki swango #wes wrench #mr. wrench #nikki swango x wes wrench #nikki swango x mr. wrench

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yarrowleef · 3 years

Text

Read Darkness Within all in one sitting last night and then passed out so here are my scattered thoughts i wrote down as i read, (afterthoughts in parenthesis)

Darkness Within Spoilers, obv

UGH GOD THE SECOND HAND EMBARRESMENT FROM SQUIRREL FAKE FLIRTING WITH ASHFUR IT HURTS

Just remembered Sandynose died and got a small boost of happiness (will Hawkwing and Plumwillow ever be allowed to talk again now? I mean probly not b/c they aren’t protags and non-protags don’t rly have friends but I can hope. Sorry, Hawkwhing and Plumwillow’s short-lived friendship in Hawkwings Journey was one of the last times I felt something)

Ghost fleas lol

Mothwing: i’m rude now. (but more importantly, Fuck Tigerheartstar for forcing his son to be around the cat that hurt him so badly, like he HAS to know how upset everyone is regarding Shadowsight and his accidentally helping the imposter, and he’s making him be the sole one to tend to him??? There is NO REASON Puddleshine couldn’t have done it. You think Puddleshine is going to try and murder someone?? )

Oh no don't make this a traveling book, and a ROOTBRISTLE traveling book this is going to be insufferable

BACON AND EGGS

Lightleap Is Good (Hey didn’t Shadowsight have another sister? lets be real we all knew Pouncekit was going to end up as the forgettable 3rd one)

Bristlefrost’s crush continues to feel unnatural to me. It’s like she’s grasping at straws romanticizing the most generic things.....wow....I love how ur just so...bare minimum competent....being polite to the loner we came all this way to ask for help like any somewhat reasonable person would....How admirable...I love the way you just *clenches fist* exhibit some basic traits of loyalty and skill that literally every warrior has (I s2g I’m this close to head canon-ing Bristle as a clueless aromantic who doesn't understand what romance is actually suppose to feel like so she just looks at feelings of low-bar admiration and assumes “oh I guess this is that “romantic attraction” everyone’s always talking about? guess I must be in love???” because both her crushes have felt out of nowhere and like. Idk fake/forced sounding like she’s just telling me that that she’s In Love Now while I continue to not actually feel it at all from her end. I know it’s just that I hate the way Erin’s write female characters in love but this head-canon makes me laugh)

Got scared because I thought they were going to villainize Spotfur for not wanting kits for a minute, but also excited at the concept of maybe exploring a female character that doesn’t want to be a mother, but it turns out she was just pulling a Sparkpelt and actually DID want the kits all along and was only hesitant because she’s sad. Shrug oh well. (the only female character in warriors that was distinctly upset about pregnancy and motherhood was Lizardstripe and as we all know she was eeeeeevil and abusive and “overly ambitious” because why else would you not come around to being happy about motherhood?? YES I’M STILL SALTY ABOUT YELLOWFANG’S SECRET, BAD BOOK) Whatever it’s fine so long as Spot doesn’t lose her rebel leader spirit forever and default to “soft mom” personality for the rest of her life, I gotta have hope because I actually like Bristle and Spot’s current relationship. Also I am actually very grateful they never made Bristle resentful at Spot for getting with her crush, as lots of middle grade/YA media has a very bad habit of demonizing female romantic “competition” and its super gross, so I rly do like that Bristlefrost is so protective and caring towards her instead. )

This series is trying to tell me that Rootspring is actually Big but I refuse to accept that. he has dumb scrawny bitch energy and we all know it

Sunrise: “Thunderclan may be better with a new leader” lol go off (i mean........they right tho...It’s unfortunate that the tension in this whole plot is a bit dampened by the fact that i DO in fact want bramble to die v badly. I don’t even have special hatred for him, I’m just bored of him.)

Yes Lionblaze beat the shit out of Ashfur

*HOLY SHIT THAT’S FUCKED!!!! (I wrote this in reference to the ghost summoning scene, this was all I could manage at the time, that scene was WILD and I am VIBING WITH THE HORROR OF IT ALL)

* Brashfur: Oh yeah? Could Ashfur fake THIS? *stands up with slightly better posture* Shadowsight: oh damn you got me there...... (asdfhhfhhgh im sorry that was really funny, how did that prove anything?? ONLY A ~REAL~ WARRIOR COULD STAND UP STRAIGHT WE ALL KNOW ASHFUR IS INCAPABLE OF GOOD POSTURE!)

End of the book: *LAUGHING NERVOUSLY* WHAT THE FUCK??? (I thought he was just gonna kill Squirrelflight right there holy shit can you imagine the RIOTS that would ensue in the wake of all this Squirrel/Bramble discourse I was so scared for a second.

But it’s fine, she just....went to super hell instead......Warriors has come so far lmao WHAT IS HAPPENING

Final Notes:

*On Mothwing, I don’t think her behavior struck me as “CHARACTER BUTCHERING” as much as it did for other people? I mean.....Warriors fans will say that literally any time a character does ANYTHING less then perfectly nice I think her actions just seemed that much harsher because we are reading from Shadowsight’s POV, and Shadowsight is taking everything 10x more personally right now (understandably so, but Mothwing isn’t inside his head) she wasn’t trying to hurt him. Also... like... Shadowsight DID get his name too early. It’s not Mothwing’s job to put his feelings above everything else, she’s not even his mentor, Puddleshine on the other hand, as his main mentor, I don’t understand what his deal is ignoring Shadowsight, that’s not how you help an apprentice but I suppose I chalk many of his mistakes up to also not being the most experienced medicine cat (he barely even had his own mentor.) Maybe he’s distant because he feels guilty and actually blames himself for not guiding Shadowsight better?? the two of them haven’t communicated about it yet so idk

any way I give Mothwing a pass to be a little short tempered right now as a cat who has had her abilities periodically questioned all her life no matter how hard she works or how much experience she has, just because she doesn’t vibe with the spiritual cult side of the clans, I can understand why she’s a bit defensive of being questioned and frustrated watching so much hurt happen Yet Again due to reliance on StarClan visions over common sense, and I for one still stan her for slandering StarClan and refusing to accept Mistystar’s bullshit banishing like everyone else. Sometimes a character is at the end of their rope and can’t manage to be 100% nice 24/7 and that’s maybe not inherently bad writing? idk just my hot take. At a certain point we all gotta reckon with the fact that our perception of most popular supporting characters in heavily colored by fanon and we can’t always get mad at the authors for not adhering to it

*The sisters magic shit is my fav worldbuilding warriors has had in AGES, I love the way it’s described and it actually feels like it adds something to this world. I love this horror imagery with the ghosts, very excited for that.

*still won’t be thrilled if Ashfur is working alone, because his motive doesn’t make sense right now. I mean the trying to get Squilf thing, sure, whatever, but the “I will make everyone pay for what they did to me”???? cause like?? Who??? they didn’t do anything to him?? Ashfur’s grievance was very specifically JUST Squilf. He has no other cause for revenge, he had no other beef or complaints about the clans to my knowledge? The cat that killed him is dead, and she’s like, the only other one that I could see as having “wronged” him?? I guess he also didn’t like Firestar much according to Graystripe’s Vow (and on account of how willing he was to kill him w/ Hawkfrost) but Firestar is ALSO dead. I don’t understand his angle. Will have to see last 2 books to judge i suppose.

*All in all I am interested to see where this is going!! but also the pacing as I feared is becoming a major issue. It’s better then ending the main conflict on book 3 like Vision of Shadows did, but omg. Hardly anything happened in all these pages. I realized I was over half way through and nothing about the situation had actually CHANGED or advanced at all in all that time. Similar to the past 2 books which I believe could have been combined, this plot felt like it should have been the first half of a book. Discussing whether or not to kill the imposter isn’t much of a standalone plot, it’s just the set up to a plot. Finding the sisters didn’t need to be a whole long thing, the debates about the Imposters fate didn’t need to be repeated 10 times, all those chapters illustrating that “Shadowsight is sad” were also drawn out, repetitive, and interchangeable, we probably only needed 2 or so chapters showing his struggles to get the necessary information across. It felt like a lot of padding, it was really slow and I did a lot of skimming. I am still very interested in the overarching plot and mystery behind the ghosts so that kept me reading but man this “will they won’t they kill him” plot did not justify it’s own whole book. Alas this is a persisting issue that will never be resolved while they continue to force 6 books into 1 series that doesn’t need 6 books. I’m sure the writers are doing the best they can with these unfortunate constraints but still, it’s a wonder this slow padding isn’t more of a detriment to their younger readers that the books are supposed to be marketed to.

#warrior cats #the broken code #darkness within #the darkness within #darkness within spoilers #wc tbc #tbc #is that enough tags #yarrow speaks #wc criticism #long post #the broken code spoilers #warrior cats spoilers

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linkfms · 3 years

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☠️ * what is up, party people ! i’m jojo ( she/her ), 23, and in the pst timezone. it’s been a while since i’ve been in a group so... pls bear with me. anyway, under the cut you’ll find more info on resident emo boy: link ! i’m so excited to write with u all, and, if u ever want to plot give this a lil’ like or send an im over @ yea right#4256 !

lincoln “link” seong was spotted in the fashion district adorning prada combat boots, with some airpod pros on. they’re most likely listening to when you were young by the killers. you may know them as @hyperlink or as that jeon jungkook lookalike. their twenty - fourth birthday just passed. while living in tribeca, they’ve gained a bit of a reputation. they’re known to be erratic but on the other hand vehement. wonder if they’ll be the next person to hit the headlines. ( cis male & he/him )

↳ THE BASICS: STATISTICS.

full name: seong hyunjae ( 성 현재 ) / lincoln seong.

nickname: link, and will probably only answer to link !

age & date of birth: 24 & november 21, 1996.

hometown: born in busan, south korea, but moved to jefferson, connecticut in 2006.

current location: tribeca, new york.

education: completed high school and attempted first semester of university, but decided to pursue music instead.

occupation: drummer for indie/alternative rock band, my time ( sound is similar to bands like the killers, the 1975, and paramore ). also is an affiliate with an esports organization ! doesn’t play competitively, but streams and creates content for them weekly.

sexual orientation: pansexual & panromantic.

gender & pronouns: cisgender male & he/him pronouns.

↳ THE BACKGROUND: BIOGRAPHY. ( tw: mentions of alcoholism & abuse )

seong hyunjae ( later given the english name lincoln seong... thanks linkin park ! ) was born in the heart of busan, south korea. his parents married at the age of 21, due to the cultural expectations of having a child born out of wedlock. while things seemed to be smooth sailing for a while, the couple realized the real struggles of adulthood. financial issues came into play. stress from working multiple jobs every single day took a toll on their mental health, as well as their relationship with each other. link’s mother began to develop an alcohol addiction, and her abusive behavior came following after. their home was falling apart, with four-year-old link falling asleep to muffled screaming and glass being thrown on the next room over. his father was able to withstand it for a while, but he drew the line after coming home from work to see large cuts on the side of his son’s thigh, and a bruise forming across his cheek. that was when he knew his wife was dangerous. so, one night when lincoln’s mother as at work, he packed his belongings, grabbed link, and left without looking back.

for a while, it was just the two of them. they found ways to make it work, and despite the fact that it was a constant struggle, his father never wanted link to lose his childhood. in fact, his father gave him everything he could give — but most importantly, as cheesy as it sounds, his unconditional love and support. as someone who lost his own parents young, he made sure that link would never feel like he’s being deprived of that, ever. they created this tight-knight bond because of that, which can’t ever be broken. and now, link’s fondest memories always involved spending time with his father. one favorite memory of his involved morning jam sessions after breakfast. link’s father was previously a lead guitarist in a garage band with a few of his high school friends, so while he was playing riffs on his electric guitar, eight-year-old link would be banging the coffee table with plastic straws.

when link was about ten, he and his father sold all of their belongings and moved all the way to jefferson, connecticut for a job offer that he couldn’t refuse. fast forward a few years, and he’s a teenager in high school. growing up link was more of an introvert, and would spend his time in the computer lab playing video games or browsing in online forums. he was a regular in this my chemical romance forum ( under the username @hyperlink ), and made a lot of his lifelong friends over there. one of his online friends jokingly suggested one afternoon that they should start a band over their nightly skype call, and while it was initially shrugged off as dream more than an arm’s reach away, my time was born. link had to endlessly plead his father to buy him a secondhand drum kit off of craigslist for christmas. but once he found it under their tree that year, it sparked this drive in him to learn and practice nonstop.

their first official band practice happened a day after link’s high school graduation ( which was also the first time everyone saw each other in person ! ), and they spent that entire summer making music. at first, link only thought of it as a hobby... since, he was attending his first year of university that fall. but after playing their first few shows and making all these memories, he couldn’t keep the band in the backburner. he dropped out not too long after to pursue his music career full-time. moved out, spent the next few months working long shifts at the local amusement park, and shared one two-bedroom apartment with his bandmates. one of their songs went viral one crazy night, and the next thing they knew, they were being signed into a record label. now ? they’re one of the biggest alternative/indie rock bands out there with multiple platinum records, sold out world tours, and millions of streams each year. their time finally came.

↳ THE INSIDE LOOK: PERSONALITY.

link definitely... gets babied a lot ( by his bandmates and his fans ), and he uses that to his advantage :] because of that he gets away with a lot of things, but it’s usually with things that are small like eating the last slice of pizza and it would be justified with “ no he is a growing BOY he NEEDS it ! ”

that being said, he eats nonstop. the guy carries a sandwich bag full of cheerios wherever he goes. his friends know that if they can’t finish eating something, they can always donate it to link for a good cause.

when my chemical romance announced their reunion tour in 2019, he threw his phone across the room and cried. my chemical romance ( with green day and linkin park as a close second ! ) are his all-time favorite bands, and a lot of my time’s sound is heavily inspired by them.

when i tell u that this man is so chill, i mean it. like things could LITERALLY be on fire and he’d be like “ just throw some water on it it’ll be fine 😎 ” ... he’s not the type to worry about things, and is more of a go with the flow type of person. he doesn’t even need to be zooted to be like this. KJFGDG

being in the band and a part of the entertainment industry caused a small shift in his personality. maybe he just blossomed ? who knows ! but because he’s been exposed to the rockstar life, he was able to open up more. he’s always seeking thrills, big or small, and won’t have the time to think about the consequences for his actions.

because the my chemical romance forum that was once his second home shut down, he’s since moved on to reddit. social media isn’t really his thing ( and his fans always get mad at him for posting a selfie once a month then dipping ), but catch him on subreddits making comments or starting fights for the sheer entertainment of proving someone wrong.

this might sound bad but... he still can’t wrap his head around the fact that he isn’t ? financially struggling anymore ? even if he’s already bought a house and two luxury cars for his dad, he still gets ticked off if he sees something small like an APPLE that is marked a dollar and a few cents over the usual. he catches himself using things until they’re ABSOLUTELY worn out, and still leeches off of his bandmates/friends when he can. <3 also, if something is broken, he’ll be the type to figure it out and fix it himself.

people... don’t exactly remember the last time he’s slept. it could be the insomnia ( it’s definitely insomnia, thx childhood trauma ! ) but it’s almost gotten to the point where he’s afraid to fall asleep on his own. he’ll always try to find ways to sleep in someone’s company, even if it’s just him crashing on a couch while someone is watching tv right there. if he’s alone though, he’ll always try to find ways to distract himself like stream for 10 hours straight.

speaking of trauma... he’s also scared of relationships. after witnessing the way his mother treated his father, he’s cautious of history repeating itself... but with him. so whenever he catches himself even falling for just a little, he dips.

his life revolves around the 4 m’s: marvel movies, minecraft, music, and my chemical romance. that’s it.

a link 😏 to his pinterest ! also, i don’t have any wcs, but if we plot, i promise i’ll use my big brain to brainstorm something with u. <3

#wealthyhq:intro #the way i spent too much time writing this.................

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fencesandfrogs · 3 years

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cloudtail’s daughter: cinderheart

alright well third character: cinderheart.

i'm going to be honest, i don't care enough about cinderheart to have a lot to say about this. i'm finishing it in the morning, and i'm starting it in night, so watch this be longer than dovewing's (fat chance i wrote like 4k words about dovewing because, and i can't say this enough, i lovewing dovewing), but i'm not feeling particularly inspired at the moment.

ohhh wait i changed my mind this is the one where i get to talk about cinderpelt again, isn't it? yeessss i take it all back i've been waiting to write this since i first wrote cinder back in dovewing's character

anyway as per usual, this is part of an au where dovekit and ivykit are born to brightheart and cloudtail. go ahead and click the cloudtail's daughter tag if you want to see more about this. this is probably pretty dependent on knowing what happens to dovewing in the au, but i'd say compared to lionblaze, its still more self standing because it's significantly more verbose, so it's not reliant on filling in the gaps as much, because this is filling in the gaps.

[3k words, 10 minute read. section headers. a little bit jumpy.]

section one: cinderpelt and cinderkit --- an exposé on reincarnation

you don't need me to tell you warriors reincarnation is weird. to make my life easy, here is how it works:

true reincarnations -- jay's wing/jayfeather, dove's wing/dovewing, lion's roar/lionblaze. only one soul exists. half moon will reunite with jayfeather. or ig he can decide to go by jay's wing. dovewing and lionblaze may or may not regain their memories on death; it's not important to this story so i'm not decided

starclan induced reincarnations -- cinderpelt's soul gets shoved into cinderkit. they now share. this was, ah, very dangerous, because cinderkit and/or cinderkit's soul could have died. but she didn't. as cinderkit grows into her own person, she and cinderpelt will grow either increasingly intertwined (i.e., cinderpelt weaves into cinderheart, and is never fully awakened.) when they die, idk what happens. it's not very nice.

luckily, that didn't happen. instead, cinderheart grows apart and cinderpelt basically is a voice in her head. eventually, at some point, idk, cinderpelt frees herself. i'm sure i'll figure that out in this post, but i don't know yet.

so that's their deal.

section two: cinderheart and lionblaze

alright, cinderheart and lionblaze are not going to be a conflict thing, because of destiny. i'm just, that's. well it's a step up from the standard romance drama, but i still hated it. so anyway, cinderheart knows lionblaze is in L-O-V-E with her, but she's kind of holding out until he's more mature/responsible.

she's also not ready for kits, and that's the only way a warriors romance can be officially codified.

jk, but in seriousness, they're already close, similar to sandstorm and fireheart in books 2-4 or so of TPB. she's just not ready to take him as a mate yet, and he's kind of funny as a bumbling fool. that said, she does care a lot about him and if he pushed her, or circumstances pushed her, she'd be willing to be upfront about it.

cinderpelt is happy cinderheart is finding love, but she does kind of wish it wasn't with lionblaze. not because he's an idiot, after all, cinderpelt had a crush on fireheart before he finished growing a brain, but because she is worried about the prophecy. and lionblaze dying and leaving cinderheart alone. so cinderheart has some internal conflict about this, but she has internal conflict over whether she wants thrush or mouse some days. side effect of having two souls in one body. she keeps it wrapped up because she's pretty sure she's into lionblaze and cinderpelt is unsure, and she doesn't need to confuse the situation anymore.

yeah, by the time this series begins, cinderheart and cinderpelt are really two separate entities, and cinderpelt is getting ready to leave. she's just sort of waiting. it's until cinderheart and lionblaze confirm they're mates. why? because that's when it happens in the original and i can't think of a better time. also, it kind of completes cinderpelt's small crush on fireheart.

(it really wasn't that big. sandstorm just made a big deal out of it because she was jealous.)

section three: dovepaw

right, so cinderheart is hype for dovepaw. the dovepaw is real sweet and quiet and cinderheart feels good about that. so they're excited.

cinderheart and dovepaw go out for territory and cinderheart is like "she's on top of shit this dovepaw" and dovepaw catches a mouse or two and cinderheart is super proud and supportive and everyone is happy.

and then cinderheart starts to feel like she's failing dovepaw, because dovepaw just can't get anything else down. lionblaze and ivypaw, on the other hand, are having basically no issues. so she feels like she's failing dovepaw, and she's a little insecure about that, so cinderheart and dovepaw tag along with lionblaze and ivypaw a lot.

as you can guess, this makes everything worse.

cinderheart realizes dovepaw is sneaking out at night and is like "well this is a problem i'm not equipped to deal with" and frets over it for a while, unsure of who to talk to without geting dovepaw in trouble. (lionblaze also snuck out as an apprentice, he's an unreliable source.)

so she doesn't tell anyone at first, just makes sure dovepaw is still getting sufficient rest for a young cat. (she isn't.) eventually, she lets it slip to hollyleaf who talks about it with lionblaze who ivypaw overhears, but ivypaw is the last character i'm covering in this set of essays.

dovepaw gets trapped in the tunnels for three days, and cinderheart feels like she's failed her charge. also, brightheart is kind of mad at cinderheart because she feels that cinderheart didn't really do anything to stop dovepaw from feeling like she needed to prove herself and like, brightheart's not wrong, but it's also unfair to cinderheart. so cinderheart blames herself a whole lot because dovepaw is dead now and it's her fault.

when dovepaw gets back cinderheart only barely punishes her, and dovepaw has had enough exploration, so being confined to camp is only barely a punishment anyway. cinderheart vows that she's going to do better, do right, by dovepaw (although she's really been doing pretty okay no one is really blaming cinderheart, even brightheart has gotten over it now that dovepaw is back and safe and alive.)

section four: can you hear what i hear?

so when dovepaw gets back, cinderheart takes her out once she's recovered, and dovepaw is like "so where are the creatures with the clicky-clackies?" and cinderheart has no idea what's going on.

but cinderheart, despite being lumped in the "two braincells" category that the first three pov characters have (seriously if you haven't read my breakdown of this au as a whole you may want to because i've written so much for it that i'm definitely skipping details. now that my pace has slowed from "about 10k words in one weekend" to "2k words a day" it's better but still), is not an idiot. she's seen the lake get smaller. times are getting hard. there was a gathering while dovepaw was in the tunnels that cinderheart went to and it was real rough. so she's like. hm. maybe. dovepaw is starclan chosen or something? it would explain why she's spacy all the time.

cinderheart gets all the info she can from dovepaw and then has to figure out whether she's taking this to firestar or jayfeather.

i'm not 100% how this resolves, but eventually, cinderheart and dovepaw go to firestar to discuss the beavers. cinderheart does most of the talking, dovepaw is just kind of there nodding along.

so the standard canon thing happens and they all get ready for the trip. i feel like i've done a pretty in-depth breakdown of this for dovewing, and hollyleaf will get one too, so i'm just going to say, other than hollyleaf also coming, it's pretty much canon.

section five: the tribe

oh man it's the cinderheart book and whoo boy am i excited for this one.

alright alright alright so dovepaw is doing the Late Nights again, but its to see tigerheart. so cinderheart is uh, not very aware of it this time?

dovepaw is older and smarter (barely) and more importantly knows she can’t get caught again.

so dovepaw real tired, real close to tigerheart at gatherings, and cinderheart is like “hm maybe something is up” and cinderpelt is like “yeah keep an eye on that”

(an aside: so cinderpelt’s presence is kind of a nagging one in cinderheart’s life. it’s not that she’s not the same cinderpelt we know and love, but she’s a kind of omnipresent authority figure, so she reads a bit differently. but she’s still our wonderful cinderpelt. no fear.)

and ivypaw tells lionblaze that dovepaw is sneaking out (see here for lionblaze, literally 0 awareness) and he tells cinderheart and cinderheart is like “well that checks” and cinderpelt is like “hm remember fernpaw and dustpelt”

“ferncloud is like a second mother to me no i don’t know the details of her romance”

“yea well...”

you know, cinderheart's almost worried dovepaw is going to have kits real soon after becoming a warrior and there are approximately 0 thunderclan toms she's close enough with for that to be applicable.

(for the record, they are not that close. cinderpelt is concerned not just because forbidden romance, but also because of how young leafpool was. not impossibly young by any means, but still fairly young.)

so then through uhhh who knows memory? convenient stormfur is convenient? haven't decided yet, but anyway, cinderheart decides the tribe can help them. (the real reason is because i want the tribe to solve a clan problem for once. the stated reason is probably something like "dovepaw feels too much pressure after the beavers" or "long journeys are good for apprentices" i mean look brambestar dgaf about where warriors are going so why should i?)

lionblaze and ivypaw come along and cinderheart is like "great i just told this guy that i don't want to change anything between us until i'm done mentoring dovepaw and now he's tagging along with this? where's a hollyleaf when you need her?"

(hollyleaf is living with her ghost boyfriend, cinderheart, she is no longer a reliable source of buffering between you and lionblaze. also, cinderheart, this isn't coming up in this au because again ending in step with canon but please consider: lesbians.)

anyway, the four of them set out and dovepaw and ivypaw still aren't talking which is getting really old, really fast.

eventually, after a day or two of travelling in basically silence, ivypaw and dovepaw do start to talk again. one goal down. (my conviction that travelling books are good, actually, remains untested, but i'm determined to prove it.)

okay, so i've been reading all my notes in detail as i start actually drafting this, which means my essay content is morphing further into writing notes. you can tell because i'm skipping bigger sections, or adding notes about purpose in story, etc. this is just a warning that since i last worked on this, i've actually begun writing the book this stuff takes place in (the first book only matters if you're dovekit or ivykit, so the fact that i'm writing it doesn't really have an effect. i just wanted to start with something low-stakes.) so like, on one hand, i should have more figured out, but on the other hand, my comments are going to be a lot looser and i wouldn't be surprised if i just straight up contradict something i already said (i do edit my posts but not heavily and only if i think they're something i'm going to point people back towards. i'd rather point people to my archive once i start posting, so.) anyway, this is just a warning for this and anything else in the CTD essay series (hollyleaf, jayfeather, ivypool, as well as the books, growing shadows, fading echoes, distant whispers, and whatever the canon names are but switch book 4 and 5), that it's going to be less "here's a summary of what i'm going to do" and more "here are my thoughts about what i'm doing"

right that note aside, the travelling party makes it to the mountains. there's drama, probably? none of them have been to the mountains IIRC? i know jayfeather has but i don't think the others went with him (bramble did? hm i'll have to research) but okay so the point is, they make it to the tribe as the mountain is getting colder and this is where i have to deviate from my trend of realism the most because they're going to stay on the tribe for much longer than they should. my timeline has ivy/dove born in leafbare at the beginning of the season (easier math), so this is early-mid leaf fall, and the mountain would be unpassable really soon. but i don't want that, so we're going to pretend they have 2-3 moons before it's truly impassable, or the story flows a lot worse because i really want the drought to be in green leaf because it just sets up a hard hitting winter which is a good tension/drama fodder machine.

unfortunately, i'm limited in who i can kill off, but what can you do?

right so anyway, they're in the tribe and cinderheart present dovepaw and stoneteller is like "huh ig this could work sure why not" and dovepaw is enlisted to be a tribe to-be. she's not given an offiical whatever the tribe word for mentor is, (does the tribe have individual mentors? i can't remember off the top of my head), but she's more or less the same as any othet tribe to-be. the fact that she's so fluffy is a bonus. keeps her warm.

cinderheart is less at-home in the tribe, but she works with the prey hunters and generally gets along. i'm not sure. maybe she makes friends? (this is literally her book she definitely does interesting things i just don't know who lives in the tribe off the top of my head. her life does not revolve around dovepaw like 100%. she has to sort out some cinderpelt stuff in this book it's just very internal and i'm not entirely sure how it goes yet.)

so cinderheart and dovepaw are doing their thing for a bit. they get a good chance to explore tribe culture. it's good. everything is good. cinderheart is still definitely mentoring dovepaw, but what that means right now is a lot of modeling how to be a good learner, rather than explicitly teaching. cinderheart herself is preparing and thinking about how to transfer these skills to thunderclan.

uh yeah so anyway it's getting close to winter so they gotta head out, and the tribe is like "off u go food is tight in leafbare/whatever-they-call-winter" and the four of them set out.

okay so i'm going to skip to cinderheart's second book, because honestly, arc one narrators all get thrown in BGCH until they're needed in arc 2. (i mean, tbf, jayfeather has done literally nothing in all of arc one. nothing. he's just there, occasionally being like "no firestar, don't make dovepaw my apprentice!" and that's pretty much it.)

and basically so while jayfeather and hollyleaf are off having ghost romances (that's the entire plot of their book it's ghost romance), cinderheart and lionblaze are just having a relationship. dovewing and ivypool are warriors now, so cinderheart does have background drama of being worried because dovewing is still seeing tigerheart ("we took her on a whole mountain vacation and she's still obsessed with him?"), but like, it's very chill for a while.

and then sol comes back.

oh man, sol comes back and it's gonna be a big deal. yeah. it's a big deal for cinderheart, and hopefully this will be an interesting section, because cinderheart is a very different character from the OG oots crew, and she's going to handle problems in a different way, and this is the first chance we get to see that. the beavers don't count she was j chilling with whatever dovepaw said and the tribe is certainly a good example of her character (caring, resourceful, outside the box), but that's the set up. sol is the pay off.

so cinderheart is pleased by sol, but also generally wary. you gotta remember, cinderheart has been on a lot of extra curricular field trips. she's met a lot of cats. (note to self: include more loners.) she's a quick judge of character. and sol, you know, he's a lot.

so she keeps an eye on him, and she expresses her concern to hollyleaf, and hollyleaf is like, yeah, sure, i'll help.

so hollyleaf is like "so by the way, sol is in the tunnels." and cinderheart is like "this is going to be a problem" and cinderpelt who is now in starclan is like "oh she's finally learning."

so i'm not entirely sure on the details here because i haven't plotted out the ending three books in nearly as much detail (i mean on the blog i have but in my head where i keep all the plot lines i haven't) but cinderheart is going to solve the problem and she'll do it in a different way.

thunderclan definitely still learns to fight in the tunnels because they need to for battle purposes. (oh, to be a windclan tunnler, looking down in sadness from starclan about what my clan has lost.)

and yeah leaving cinderheart here because she retreats to BGCH after completing her duty of being a meanful character.

cinderheart? done.

#lionblaze #dovewing #ivypool #hollyleaf #cinderheart #cloudtail's daughter #mine #q #txt #27th #February #2021 #February 27th 2021 #essay #long #lovewing dovewing #not really but also yes #28th #February 28th 2021

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theramseyloft · 5 years

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hey there, found your blog through a friend. ive been scanning your blog and patreon, and i felt like reaching out because, well... you're basically living my dream life, haha. i would love to do work like you do, rehabbing birds and training them, especially as companions/aids for disabled folks. pretty amazing! do you mind if i ask how you got started? is it an expensive venture? do you own farmland or live in a suburban area? im gonna send this before i take up too much of your time, haha. :)

I have raised ALL kinds of animals, but it was rats that lead me to pigeons.

I’ve had fish, herps, and inverts most of my life, so the way rats, mice, and Gerbils were able to bond with me felt really special.

Rats being the most intelligent and cooperatively social

When I had to stop raising small mammals, I wanted a pet that would similarly enjoy handling. Like, be happy/excited to see me when I got home, more than just wanting out.

Warm blooded, but non mammalian left birds.

Psitticines are wild animals that have needs WAY beyond our capability to meet, so they are all firmly on the no list.

I enjoyed Zebra finches, but my husband and I are sound sensitive, and he finds their song physically painful.

We can’t have chickens where we live...

Ringneck Doves ticked all the boxes for what I needed in a companion bird:

Docile/tractable Small/easy to house Easy to feed Physically incapable of biting or making painfully high pitched noises.

Turns out I was wrong about that last one! That’s pigeons. XD

We learned this with our first ringneck: An ANCIENT rescue and his wife named Nigel.

What a story those birds had!

My dear hubby was dubious about letting me raise another species, but after some shared research, was ok with me fostering some unwanted ones and finding them a new home.

I found them on Craig’s list, with cage and all.

When we went to pick them up, their owners explained that they had been unwanted, but traditional wedding gifts they felt they couldn’t refuse.

Ten years later, their owners had long ago gotten tired of caring for them, and just wanted them gone.

Their parents had purchased the pair when they retired from a magic show, and had had them as long as the couple could remember.

Having since sold white ringneck doves to magicians, I’ve learned that a trained dove retires between five and ten years of age, depending on temperament.

The parents were reported to have owned them for 15-20 years.

And the owners we picked them up from had had them for ten.

Making this pair of white Ringneck doves at LEAST 30 years old.

After this history, the wife brought them for us to take.

They were in a filthy black finch cage that had been left on their owner’s back porch long enough for a colony of fire ants to bring their own dirt and build a camp-nest in the bottom.

The birds were actively being swarmed and stung.

It took me a full thirty minutes to pull all of them off the two ancient doves...

It was touch and go for a bit, but they pulled through, and we found a home for the hen.

The cock, Nigel, had a twisted beak and the WORST coo!

High pitched and severely nasal, it could bore into your brain through ear plugs. >v<

He LOVED us, though, and liked to sing us the song of his people! At random. On Mike’s shoulder, directly into his ear. All hours of the night. During the day, up where we couldn’t reach him. Even through trying to shoo him off his favorite perch...

He had SO much personality, and even though his song caused both of us severe physical pain and prevented us from sleeping, we could not help growing to dearly love him back.

Mere weeks after my Dear Hubby decided he wanted Nigel to spend the rest of his life with us, his time ran out.

He passed very suddenly, in our arms.

We mourned him. Lamented having so little time.

And we considered where to go from there.

We decided to find a breeder, so we could get little peeps and have the maximum amount of time with what felt like the perfect pet for us.

I had no idea they could be parent raised and still be tame, so I raised that first pair like I had my Zebra finches in College.

We took them home just feathered enough to keep warm and fed them formula.

Gordon and Sasami were those babies.

And they were such a delight, we wanted nothing more than to share with the world how wonderful hand raised dove could be.

So I got the Dear hubby’s permission to seek out more breeding pair.

Between what I could buy and what I could raise, we ended up with 8, and then eventually 16 pair.

There was not much knowledge about keeping them as house pets, or their behavior, beyond what it took to get them to reproduce.

It was common at the time, and still is, to treat Ringneck Doves like small pigeons: Keeping them in large decorative flocks in an out door pen.

It was only through raising the young of my 16 pairs and letting them grow out free flying in the middle room of my home that I learned that these long since domesticated birds could be tamed through socialization from a young age, like a puppy.

But more importantly; just how vehemently anti-social they are!

One or two Ringneck Doves can be perfectly happy in an enclosure, but there should NEVER be more than two in any space where they can make physical contact!!!

They are VICIOUSLY territorial!

Every pair NEEDS to be an an individual enclosure, with ABSOLUTELY no way to make physical contact with any other bird, including and especially their own weanlings!

The second even their own peeps are fully self feeding, the parents start to mercilessly attack them, hell bent of driving out what they now see as an intruder invading their space and stealing their food and food from their future babies at any cost, up to and including killing them!

The actual Bird of Peace is the Rock Dove: the wild ancestor of the domestic Pigeon.

Two years after I started breeding doves, I started showing them. You can really only show doves in their own section of pigeon shows, and after seeing all the beautiful variation in pigeons, I was smitten.

I brought home my first pigeon egg from my second show: a Portuguese tumbler hen laid it in her show cage, and I was shocked to find that breeders usually just threw those away.

Pugsly was hatched by a pair of doves, and he was amazing.

Friendly, outgoing to the point of being obnoxious, adorably, delightfully funny.

SO much more personable than the doves!

At another show, I picked up some Classic Old Frills.

Them some Old German Owls a year later.

Then some Old dutch Capuchine.

The more breeds I worked with, the more fascinated I became with the differences in the temperaments of different breeds, and the more I found I enjoyed working with the pigeons.

I knew we had used pigeons for lots of interesting studies.

Like this one about the development of heart disease!

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2006/07/060729133950.htm

This one, using training tosses of urban homing pigeons wearing special back packs to monitor lead pollution

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2016/07/160719144733.htm

But these using their natural pattern recognition as a diagnostic tool for human diseases:

https://www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/pigeons-can-spot-breast-cancer-medical-images-180957323/?utm_source=facebook.com&no-ist

https://www.audubon.org/news/how-common-street-bird-could-coach-doctors-against-bad-diagnosis

Led me to finding this article.

https://www.audubon.org/news/the-origins-our-misguided-hatred-pigeons

And it hit me like a ton of bricks:

Pigeons are not native to North America.

European settlers and immigrants brought them.

They had already been domesticated for thousands of years by then.

There is no such thing as a Wild pigeon in North America.

They are the avian equivalent of the street dog problem in Mexico:

Generations of domesticated animals entirely dependent on human hand outs or left overs for survival, with no shelters to take them in or sterilization programs to prevent more unwanted individuals from being born into a hostile environment that can’t support their numbers.

As long as I have bred any species of animal, I have been active in rescue, rehabilitation, fostering, and finding homes for unwanted individuals of that species.

For me, the two just go hand in hand.

I started volunteering for the local wildlife rehab as soon as I started breeding, initially using my domestic doves (that will raise absolutely anything) to foster orphaned Mourning and Eursadian Collared Doves: hoping to prevent them from bonding to me so that they could be soft released.

When it became known that I raised pigeons, I started getting calls for them too.

Ankhou was the first that needed really hands on care.

He arrived with a baby Mourning dove.

He and it were both recent orphans.

The wild native dove baby is well muscled, and the appropriate size for its age.

Ankhou, at 4 weeks old, should have looked like Pippin:

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You can pretty accurately compare the difference between rehabbing a Mourning Dove and a Pigeon with the difference between rehabbing a grey fox kit and a stray puppy.

Like a grey fox, the Mourning dove is a native wild animal. It is absolutely vital to keep direct human interaction to the absolute minimum because developing a dependence on and friendliness towards humans will get them killed.

Either immediately and out right by hunters, or more slowly through malnutrition.

Puppies are not expected to survive in the wild, and absolutely NO rescuer would raise a puppy they found behind a garbage can or in a dumpster to weaning and nurse it to health only to dump it right back in the ally.

So I absolutely REFUSE to abandon a rescued pigeon by dumping it right back on the street it barely escaped from with its life and it honestly sickens me how many pigeon rescues advocate doing exactly that to any pigeon that doesn’t look purebred or fancy enough.

Feral Pigeons not being wild animals, and being an INTENSELY social and touch oriented species, it would not only not have been beneficial, but out right cruel not to interact with tiny, emaciated Ankhou.

Ankhou was going to take a VERY long time to catch up on enough of his development to safely find a home, so we ended up adopting instead of fostering him.

I spent a lot of time holding and talking to him, and he bonded so closely to me that the became sensitive to my anxiety attacks and started alerting for them.

He also started responding appropriately to requests, as if he actually understood them.

He had pretty severe separation anxiety, and if I stepped into the quarantine room to deal with a bird that might be ill, he would panic the moment his line of sight was interrupted.

If, however, I took the time to tell him “Ankhou, I need to go into quarantine. I will be back. Wait here.”, he would sit down in front of the door and wait quietly until I came back out with sterile hands.

This got me curious, and I started researching pigeon social and cognitive development.

As it turns out, they have a shockingly human society.

A pigeon flock is a large, extended family of birds.

Young birds don’t split off when they wean. They join the flock, forming a close knit friend group among the other weanlings from whom they will select mates as adults and with whom they will learn to find food, water, and nest materials and what to do with those.

Very like human children moving out of their parents’ house and forming bonds among their peers.

Pigeon society is an efficient democratic meritocracy.

Communication on the wing is INCREDIBLY efficient

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2015/06/150609213053.htm

They vote on nearly EVERYHTING

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2010/04/100416214045.htm

And if a leader proves to be ineffective, or a navigator inaccurate, the flock can and will vote to demote them.

https://www.audubon.org/news/in-homing-pigeon-flocks-bad-bosses-quickly-get-demoted

Pigeons are absolutely CRAZY-Smart!

Pigeons are capable of high level cognition. https://www.sciencedaily.com/releas…/2009/…/090212141143.htm

To the extent that they understand the concepts of space and time! https://www.sciencedaily.com/releas…/2017/…/171204144805.htm

They are self-aware enough to distinguish themselves from other pigeons, able to recognize themselves in photos, video, and mirrors AND differentiate between the three. https://www.sciencedaily.com/releas…/2008/…/080613145535.htm

Their brains are wired SHOCKINGLY similarly to ours: https://www.sciencedaily.com/releas…/2013/…/130717095336.htm

They categorize things and learn the equivalent of words the same way human toddlers do!

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releas…/2014/…/140402095107.htm https://www.sciencedaily.com/releas…/2015/…/150204184447.htm

They can even learn to read written language well enough to differentiate between a real word and an acronym with the same number of letters.

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releas…/2016/…/160919111535.htm

They are pattern mapping social learners. Exactly like we are!

Building on this list of scientific studies, I started to experiment with teaching each successive generation of the resident pigeons to understand the basics of verbal communication by the same mechanic as one would a toddler.

And in just the last two years with Ankhou, I have learned that they can literally learn to understand both spoken AND written human language, and literally all it takes is talking to a pigeon as if it is a nonverbal human toddler who does not know that word yet to be able to teach them to understand object words, action words, emotion words, names, and locations.

Pigeons are pets you can literally communicate to in your native language.

It is absolutely amazing!

Ankhou was not trained to alert for my anxiety attacks.

He literally did that AND started alerting me for blood sugar spikes entirely on his own.

Not even a pigeon hatched in a human house hold. A feral.

No special genetics. No training what so ever.

Just a pigeon being a pigeon: bonding with what he considered a flock mate, and getting worried when he noticed something was wrong.

Which made me wonder: What would happen if specific traits conducive to bonding with humans and being sensitive to their emotional state were selected for in a population?

What if those birds were given at least basic communication training? On top of the matching we already do by temperament.

I’m actually working on documenting our finances and plan to discuss them in more detail at the end of the month.

Just taking in rescues to foster is an expensive process.

You need to have quarantine space that keeps new birds as completely separated from your residents as possible.

You need a vet who is either experienced with or willing to learn to treat pigeons. Each new bird will need, at absolute least, a fecal test for parasites.

You need to have dip on hand for external parasites, and the funds to buy what ever wormer, anti fungal, antibiotic, or anintimicrobial is required to treat what ever the fecal exam turns up.

Which could legitimately be all of the above, as I have had one individual come in with two species of lice, two species of intestinal worms, coccidiosis, AND salmonella, all at the same time. I have had several others come in with Trich or thrush in place of or in addition to the coccidia or salmonella.

Most will come in malnourished or injured on top of being sick and/or parasitized.

You REALLY have to plan for the worst with rescues.

Because taking in animals you cannot house or feed or for whom you are unable to provide the necessary medical care is NOT rescuing them.

It is subjecting them to the exact neglect that rescuers intend to save them from.

It is REALLY easy for big hearted people to find themselves overwhelmed and exhausted trying to save every one, and that is something every one who wants to rescue needs to keep in mind for the sake of their health as much as the quality of their care.

I live in a trailer park in Ga, on a little plot of land just big enough to say I have a front and back yard.

The modest inheritance my parents left me and my sister when they passed funded the loft being built, and my husband’s job pays for what ever daily maintenance and veterinary care that bird and harness sales and my Patreon can’t cover.

It was designed around comfort and disease prevention for them and pain management for me. It really makes my day to know that people have enough interest in my work to ask detailed questions!

It’s a bit of a bear for an autistic woman with ADHD to get to a bunch of them all at once, but I still REALLY want to hear them and am THRILLED to get to answer!

It’s easier for me to answer in detail if I can focus on one question at a time, though.

There is absolutely no limit to the number I am willing to answer, so don’t be afraid to flood my inbox with a ton of individual questions. ^v^

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sigynpenniman · 5 years

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The Protective Energy of Dr. Julian Bashir: An Analysis of Exactly Why I Love This Space Doctor So Much

Note: I said I was gonna fuck around and write an essay and then I kinda did. I tend to end up writing essays when I get into stuff. I actually have a longform writing blog but all the Bashir fans are following me here so this seemed like the better place to post this. This was completely inevitable. 3,500 words. Enjoy, y’all.

I have very severe fear of doctors. It’s what the medical field calls White Coat Hypertension, on a slightly higher scale. It’s not debilitating – I’m able to receive medical care when necessary. But it is quite intense, and it’s been a bear to live with. Every interaction with medicine – every physical, every dental cleaning, every trip to the ER (and yes, there has been one in there) has been accompanied by overwhelming, nauseating anxiety. It’s severe enough to affect me even when I am not the patient – even walking into doctor’s offices in support of other people lights a certain fire of anxiety in my stomach. While I have never been walked across the gallows to face my own execution, I can’t help but imagine the way I feel walking into a doctor’s office has to be a similar emotion. I explain this because while this is a semi-analytical piece, it’s also a personal one; I’m writing this to not only talk about the technical features of this character that make me love him so much but to also talk about exactly what he means to me, and in order to really understand the weight of that, you need to understand the context. I do not like Doctors. Never in my life have Doctors been a source of comfort, of safety, of any positive feeling other than vague gratitude when they prescribe me the antibiotics I so often badly need. I understand that there’s a big difference between fiction and reality, but trust me when I say, the distance of fiction is not enough to take the edge off this particular phobia – as much as I want to get into watching House (it’s exactly the kind of show I tend to get into), the medical scenes always make me feel a little woozy. So just know – when I stand up and say that I really, really love this Doctor – that is something of note.

Out of the 6 (so far) series of Star Trek, the most unique, and almost definitely the least well known, is Deep Space Nine. The Original Series and The Next Generation are legendary, most devoted Trekkies have a soft spot in their hearts for Voyager, people are aware of Enterprise (even if it is just to hate it), and Discovery is a current pop culture phenomenon. But while Deep Space Nine shares the genre and aesthetic of other Trek shows in its time period, it’s a creature all its own. DS9 can sometimes be “the forgotten trek” – it never aired alone (TNG started before DS9 and Voyager ended after it – there was never a time when DS9 was the only Trek show on) and it’s more known to devoted and establish Trek and sci-fi fans than to casual viewers. Among Trekkies, however, DS9 is one of the most beloved series: many would call it their favorite. Certain elements of the show – the multi episode arcs, discussions of grey morality, overall heavier subject matter, and the way the crew treat each other like a family (to a greater extent even than other Trek crews) endear the show to Trek fans and other sci-fi fans alike. Another unique feature of DS9 is the broad diversity of its cast – while most Star Trek series’ casts tend to consist of mostly humans with one or two aliens, the DS9 cast is mostly aliens with only a few humans. There is not one character in DS9 who makes you groan when they appear, and to be completely honest, I could write essays about just about every single one of these characters. But we are here for one of these characters in particular: Doctor Julian Bashir.

Julian Bashir is Deep Space Nine’s Chief Medical Officer, fresh out of Starfleet academy when the show begins. He’s book smart but young and naïve, and could probably stand to work on his social skills – he’s got that endearing (or wildly annoying, depending on who you ask) tendency to talk far too much for far too long, he thinks he knows absolutely everything, and he’s all smiles and idealism. Many people find him annoying in these early seasons. Personally, I have to disagree – I find him absolutely adorable. He’s got a bit of the character of a puppy in human form, but whether season 1 Bashir is annoying or adorable is certainly a matter of opinion. As the show progresses, he matures quite a bit; he learns when to shut up and certainly some other hard lessons about the nature of life. But these are characteristics which anyone who has watched the entire series would comment on, these are the general character high points anyone analyzing DS9 would hit. I’m less concerned about those. I’m much more concerned with the other features of the character, the things he does that are easily missed because the show generally doesn’t linger on them. And more primarily, I’m concerned with understanding exactly why I love him so much. I’m here to take a dive into my own mind.

The first thing to know about Bashir is that he’s portrayed with an incredible softness. He’s reassuring and gentle, and tends to spend as much time comforting his patients as actually working on them. He exits so many scenes by reassuring people that “If they need him, he’ll be right outside” that an entire supercut could be made of just him saying that line. Towards the beginning of the series, his caring nature is about the only thing we know about him. He’s clearly a doctor who became a doctor because he really, truly cares about saving people, and has devoted his life to that cause. This is common among Star Trek doctors – every Trek series has a doctor, and being genuinely caring and good is a definitive character element for the role. But Dr. Bashir has got the best bedside manner of any them, not just in his words but his whole bearing. He’s just got a kind of comforting aura about him. This is a major part of what makes the character so loveable – now let’s talk about the rest.

Let’s start with episode 1x13, “Battle Lines”.

“Battle Lines” is one of the first major dangerous situations the main cast gets themselves into. Plenty has gone wrong in the series so far, yes, but this is the first time we’ve seen the main cast up a creek without a paddle on a distant planet (or moon, as the case may be). Sisko, Kira and Bashir are shipwrecked on an unexplored moon in the gamma quadrant without any easy way to get home or contact the station. Unbeknownst to them, they’re stumbled into a many-hundred-year war between the “Ennis” and the “Nol-Ennis”. It’s pretty much the Sneeches on the Beaches here, but a little more deadly. Kira is shot in the shoulder almost as soon as they arrive, and deals with the injury for most of the episode. This exchange is what follows (scripts from TrekCore):

KIRA I'm all right

BASHIR The hell you are.

Bashir approaches Shel-la. Nima's gun is instantly on him. Despite Nima's threat, Bashir points to the medical kit next to Shel-la's throne. He is well aware of the danger he's courting.

BASHIR She needs treatment. I’d like my medical case (beat )If you don’t mind.

After a beat... Shel-la nods to Nima who picks up the kit, looks through it briefly, then tosses it to Bashir. Bashir hurries over to Kira. He scans her with his tricorder and administers a hypospray.

Here’s a relevant note: the scripts differ slightly from what actually occurs in the show. Nima doesn’t toss the kit to Bashir – he grabs it from her, losing patience with the way the Ennis are treating them. The thing that sticks out in this exchange is the extent to which Bashir prioritizes the safety of his patients and colleagues above his own. This is the first time we really get to see him in action or in real danger – and he’s got a gun to his throat, and he doesn’t care. His single minded concern is taking care of Kira. The fact that there’s a person holding a gun on him is completely irrelevant.

Let’s talk about another phenomenal Bashir episode (and one which stars our favorite Lizard, Garak): 2x22, “The Wire”. Everyone jokes about this episode being a fanfiction come to life but to be honest that’s exactly what it is. More importantly for my purposes, it contains another fantastic “Bashir doesn’t care about anything except his patients” moment:

ODO Doctor, I was hoping to ask Garak some questions.

Bashir intercepts Odo by the door.

BASHIR (glances at Garak) He's asleep. He has been ever since I turned off his implant. (a beat) Come on. We can talk outside.

ODO Doctor, I need to talk to him as soon as possible. I have four homicide cases left in my files that I'm almost certain were committed by the Obsidian Order. If Garak was a member... he may be able to shed some light on them.

BASHIR I'm afraid your questions will have to wait.

ODO (not happy) How long?

BASHIR I don't know yet.

Bashir sees that Odo is about to object and beats him to the punch.

BASHIR Constable, Garak's body has undergone a severe shock. I don't know when he'll recover. I'm not even sure if he'll recover.

ODO In that case, I want to talk to him now. Wake him up.

BASHIR I'll do no such thing.

ODO Doctor, these are murder cases. And he could be a suspect.

BASHIR Maybe so, but he's also my patient. And I won't have him disturbed. So until further notice, his quarters are off limits to everyone but emergency medical personnel. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a patient to attend to.

Odo nods, not really happy, but right now Bashir could care less. He returns to Garak's room, leaving Odo outside in the corridor.

Odo’s interested in solving his murder cases. Bashir is…unbothered. His sole and only concern is the health and safety of his patient. And this carries on...

BASHIR What happened?

WEBB He got beaten up by some ghosts.

Bashir kneels down next to the boy. Danny's shirt is cut up and bloody.

WEBB (continuing) My wife went to get help, but there's only one doctor on duty at the Processing Center.

BASHIR Why don't you let me take a look? I know a bit about medicine.

SISKO Julian...

Bashir takes Sisko aside so they can talk in private.

BASHIR It can't hurt just to look.

A beat, then Sisko nods his consent.

Bashir returns to Danny's side. He carefully unbuttons and pulls aside the boy's blood-soaked shirt, then examines the wounds.

BASHIR Looks like you were lucky. No broken ribs and these cuts are mostly superficial. You're going to be okay. (to Webb) You're going to need some clean rags and something to disinfect the wounds. Alcohol should do.

What’s at stake here? The timeline. This episode takes place a couple hundred years in the past (transporter accident, of course), and everything Sisko and Bashir do risks messing up the future. That’s what Sisko’s concerned about here, but Bashir is, still, unbothered by anything other than worry for this injured person.

And on…

(6x02, Rocks and Shoals)

KEEVAN Captain Sisko, my name is Keevan. We have a lot to talk about.

BASHIR Not for a while, you don't. (to Sisko) He needs immediate surgery.

SISKO Now?

BASHIR I don't think I have any choice.

The Jem'Hadar suddenly start gathering around Keevan. Bashir looks up in concern.

BASHIR I'm a doctor. I won't harm him.

KEEVAN (cynical smile) They're not here to protect me. They've just never seen what the inside of a Vorta looks like.

The Jem'Hadar crowd around for a better look as Bashir takes out his surgical instruments. Sisko decides he doesn't want a better look and grabs a seat on the floor as Bashir prepares to operate in front of an audience.

(later in the same episode)

KEEVAN (groggy) I... am... alive.

BASHIR No self-diagnoses, please. I'm the doctor here.

Bashir checks him out with the tricorder and his own observations as Sisko and Remata'Klan come over.

BASHIR (off tricorder) Internal hemorrhaging has stopped...your free collagen levels are dropping... tissue growth factors have stabilized... and there's a fifty percent rise in cell oxygenation. (beat) You're alive.

Keevan shifts a little, tries to get more comfortable, but an unwary move sends a jolt of pain throughout his body.

BASHIR Careful. Most of your insides are being held together with cellular micro-sutures and a lot of hope.

Another note the script doesn’t show: The banter between the Vorta Keevan and Bashir in these scenes is kind, comedic, almost affectionate. Bashir’s choice to operate on the injured Vorta was something he pretty much had to do, to save everyone’s lives – but he certainly doesn’t have to be nice to him on the way. But he is – just because.

And on, and on, at length. These are the first type of “Bashir Moral” episodes – the repeated scenes where Bashir prioritizes his patients over criminal investigations, over war alliances, over his own safety, over everything. There’s a second type of “Bashir Moral” episode– the ones where he gets very, very angry. He doesn’t get angry much. He’s not an angry character or a character with a temper. But every now and then, we see him truly furious. The most notable examples being

(4x04, “Hippocratic Oath)

O'BRIEN You can bring me up on charges, you know.

BASHIR That's not really my style.

O'Brien nods.

O'BRIEN I... wish things could've been different, Julian.

BASHIR So do I.

O'BRIEN And I'm sorry I had to destroy your work

BASHIR (quiet) You didn't have to, Chief. You had a choice. And you chose to disobey orders, override my judgment, and condemn those men to death.

O'BRIEN Yes, I did. (beat) Because I thought it was the only way to save your life. Whatever else you make think of me and what I did -- at least understand why I did it.

Bashir has been attempted to synthesize a cure for the Jem’Hadar’s Ketracel White addiction, but O’Brien is forced to destroy this almost-cure in what O’Brien believed was the only right choice. This episode is morally fascinating – the episode ends making a clear point that there’s two sides to be on here, either siding with Bashir or O’Brien, and most people who watch WILL fall on one side or the other of the episode’s moral conflict. While it’s hard to represent with script alone, another fantastic episode in the series of “Bashir being angry about injustice” is 4x24 “The Quickening”, in which he does everything he can to rescue a planet affected by an apparently incurable, artificially created illness. He does everything he can, but is unable to find a true cure. But what he is is angry – quietly, yes, but angry just the same. And then there is, of course, possibly my favorite episode: 7x23, “Extreme Measures”. Bashir and O’Brien capture Luther Sloan, leader of arguably evil Starfleet Underground division Section 31, in hopes of securing a cure for a disease that’s killing Odo and which they have reason to believe Section 31 was involved in. They get their cure – and they kill Luther Sloan in the process (technically Sloan commits suicide, but it would be hard to argue Bashir and O’Brien’s innocence in a court of law). I adore this episode. It’s the clearest we ever get to see Bashir’s character and moral choices – risking his life and safety in search of a cure for Odo, furious about Section 31’s very existence. And…somewhat unbothered about Sloan’s death. Certainly not remorseful.

And that’s the thing. That’s what differentiates Dr. Julian Bashir as a character; what makes him so incredibly special. His softness is not endless. His kindness bears an edge. Julian Bashir is man with puppy-saving kindness and spy-murdering ruthlessness in the same body. Combined with his genetically engineered superintelligence, he’s almost got a superhero bent about him, a sort of “with great power comes great responsibility”. He’s kind, he’s soft, he’s capable, he’s ruthless, and he’s ready to fight for his patients and his friends if the situation calls for it. And the situation does – several times. The whole energy of the character is best summed up in a single word: protective.

It’s that protective energy that makes him so completely endearing, at least to me. But it’s not just in the lines – it’s in the way he’s played. It’s impossible to discuss Bashir with giving due credit to Alexander Siddig. Bashir could have been really any kind of character off the back of the scripts alone. It’s the subtler choices the actor makes, the way he speaks, the tones and emphasis he chooses, his body language and the way he carries himself that turn Julian Bashir into something truly great. As played by Siddig, Bashir is a doctor you almost can’t help but trust. If you watch DS9 for any length of time, it’s almost impossible not to think at some point that you’d probably be perfectly happy leaving your life in Dr. Julian Bashir’s capable hands. He’d go to ends of human knowledge to save your life, and be more than happy to defend you against untold alien hoards on the way.

I cannot express how much I love this character. I find him endearing and adorable and protective and comforting and loveable. I started watching DS9 to begin with because I was introduced the character of Bashir and had to know more about him. I loved him from episode 1, and continued to love him for every minute of the following 175 episodes. This is certainly a matter of personal opinion – lots of people don’t feel this way at all, and it’s down to my personality that this particular character happens to fit in exactly with what I love in a character. But that’s how it always is with fictional characters we adore. Sometimes, we get lucky, and stumble upon characters that feel as if they were created just for us. This is just the kind of lucky I happened to get, and I’m so grateful for it.

I’ve established at the opening of this essay that I have a few issues with doctors, as a concept. I find them inherently terrifying. I have the exact opposite response to Dr. Bashir. Fictional, yes, but this is a doctor I want to run towards, not away from. I always joke that if I was in this universe, on DS9, you’d find me in the infirmary pretending to be injured or ill. I can’t express how significant this is. I have an ambient audio track from the wonderful Ambient Mixer that I assembled for myself (and also shared on tumblr) which consists of the background noises of Dr. Bashir’s infirmary – the low rumble of space station power, the distant beeping so ever present in Star Trek scenes, a few footsteps in the background. This audio mix is something I get a lot of use and listening out of. It’s a tool of calming and I often fall asleep to it. If you had walked up to me six months ago and told me that I would find comforting escapism in pretending to be in what’s effectively a hospital, I would have laughed in your face. Julian Bashir is the first positive association for doctors I’ve ever had. It’s kind of a weird thing to say as an adult, but so be it. I love this character so much, and it’s had real, positive effects on my real life. I’ve been sick for the last several days, which eventually involved me having to drag myself to the doctor. And I’ll be damned if I wasn’t…okay with that? Sure, it’s not somewhere I was thrilled about being, but I didn’t feel like throwing up, and I was able to get my heart rate down low enough that the doctor didn’t feel the need to comment on it. And the credit for this, funny as it may be, as much as some people would laugh at this, lies with one Dr. Julian Bashir. This character means so incredibly much to me, not just because he’s a fictional character I adore, but because he’s helped me to take a step towards overcoming something that affects my real life.

What more incredible can fictional characters do for us than that?

#Julian Bashir #star trek #ds9 #deep space nine #deep space 9 #i wrote an essay whoops #this tends to be what I do #sigyn's longform writing #please enjoy

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torestoreamends · 5 years

Text

Mine to Make: Chapter 14

Albus is late – twice. Delphi is in a bad mood, Scorpius manages to remember something, and Harry’s Yorkshire Puddings are as good as Albus had hoped.

Beta’d by @abradystrix.

N.B. This fic is complete on AO3, so binge read away there if you want! Here I’ll be posting a chapter every day until it’s all done.

Read it on AO3

XIIII Forgotten

Albus is late. It’s not entirely deliberate, but he can’t deny that he doesn’t really want to have dinner with his family, even if it is the last Sunday dinner of the Christmas holidays. Even if it is the last Sunday dinner he plans to have with them ever.

The real reason he’s late is because he tried to take a shortcut across the fields on his way home. The shortcut didn’t exactly work and he got lost, wandering alone across the frostbitten pastures. Eventually he found himself when he managed to jump over a frozen stream to get to the road and discovered that he could get into the bottom of Ottery St Catchpole and walk up through the village.

Now he’s standing at the garden gate, too scared to go inside. He can see the glow of the kitchen window; he can hear his family talking inside. They sound happy enough without him. If he turns up now he’ll probably ruin their afternoon. But he’s supposed to be there. Part of him wants to be there. It would be nice to try and pretend one last time that he’s part of this family. So he draws in a breath, squares his shoulders, and marches up to the kitchen door.

The backdoor is open, letting warmth and light out into the cold, grey garden. Albus can hear Lily’s bubbly little laugh, and James talking – James never stops talking. The delicious smell of roast chicken is flooding out too, along with the sharp scent of baking crumble. Despite everything, there’s nowhere he’d rather be in the world than wherever his dad’s cooking is, so he reaches out and nudges the door open enough that he can slip inside.

Instantly everyone in the room turns to look at him. He doesn’t want to see their faces so he ducks his head, making himself as small as he can.

“Sorry,” he whispers, but no one hears because his dad chooses that moment to scrap his chair back and get to his feet.

“Where have you been?” He asks, sharp and unforgiving.

“I got lost,” Albus mutters, not bothering to try and make himself heard because his dad won’t care anyway.

“You got lost? You’ve lived here for nearly 17 years, Albus. You can’t have got lost.”

“I tried to take a shortcut,” Albus says, raising his voice a little bit but not looking up at his dad. “And then I didn’t know where I was anymore.”

“You’ve been away all morning,” Harry says. “Surely you can come up with a better excuse than that?”

“It’s not an excuse!” Albus lifts his head and looks at his dad. “It’s the truth. I did want to be here.” I like your food. I could have sat between Lily and Mum and pretended that you and James didn’t exist. It could have been okay.

“You can stop lying now,” Harry says, planting his hands on the table, dominating the space. James is playing with a left-over pea, chasing it round and round with his fork, Lily is watching Harry with an unreadable expression. Only Ginny is looking at Albus, and Albus looks back at her.

“I’m not lying,” he says. “I really did get lost.”

She nods. “I know,” she says gently. “Harry-“

“Whether him getting lost is the truth or not, that doesn’t change the fact that he doesn’t want to be here, does it, Albus?”

“I-“ Albus starts. He locks up, staring at his dad, and around at the rest of his family. Telling the truth is impossible, none of them will believe him even if he does, and he can’t make himself say it anyway. He’s already said it once, he can’t do it again. So he does what he always does when he’s faced with his dad in a situation like this; he twists the awful truth round and reflects it back.

“There’s a difference,” he says, voice as tight and tense as his body. “Between me not wanting to be here and you not wanting me here.”

“Albus,” Lily gasps, staring at him, as Harry straightens up, folding his arms.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Albus glares at him. “It means you were having a great time without me. I heard you from outside. Me being here spoils your perfect Potter party, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Harry says with a wave of his hand. “You’re right. Maybe it does.”

“Harry,” Ginny cries, getting to her feet. “That’s not true. Albus, your father is being-“

“Honest,” Albus says. “He’s being honest. I’d rather know what he really thinks.”

“No, he’s-“

“It’s fine, Mum,” Albus says, cutting across her. “I’m not hungry anyway.” His stomach rumbles at that exact moment, and he knows that she knows it’s a lie. He’s so hungry it hurts, and the delicious smells of chicken and veg and crumble are only making it worse. “I’m going upstairs,” he says. “So you don’t have to put up with me anymore.”

“Albus,” his mum calls, but he doesn’t stop until he’s round the table and out of the door.

“Don’t go,” Lily pleads, rushing out of her chair after him, but he makes it out into the hall before she can catch his arm, and the door slams behind him.

“Why do you always have to yell at him?” Lily’s voice asks beyond the kitchen door. “Who cares if he’s late? James is late for dinner almost every day when he’s playing Quidditch and you never yell at him.”

“That’s sort of true,” James mutters, but Albus doesn’t wait to hear anymore, and the rest of the conversation is drowned by his own footsteps as he sets off running upstairs, feet drumming up two flights of stairs to the top of the house where he flings his door closed behind him, hurls himself onto the bed, and bursts into tears.

His stomach hurts because he hasn’t eaten since last night, and even then he didn’t eat much before he walked out. His dad hates him. He doesn’t belong to the family. He’s a mess, everything is a mess. He might as well disappear. No one would miss him.

Albus wakes with a jolt. He sits up, rubbing his eyes, and tries to catch his breath. All week he’s been having the same nightmare, over and over again, always about being late, and being shut out and told he doesn’t belong.

He rakes his fingers through his hair and exhales, puffing out his cheeks. The closer he gets to Sunday the worse it gets and the more anxious he gets. He doesn’t want to let everyone down. Again.

He knows that it’ll be easy, all he has to do is not be late. Simple. But the thought of it is stressful, and he so desperately wants everything to be perfect. He wants to be part of the family again.

He flops back onto his pillows and stares up at the ceiling, a shaft of sunlight dazzling his vision. Still, that’s not the first thing he has to be stressed about. It’s not what kept him awake last night. Before all that, there’s something equally as important to tend to. Today he has to race. And more importantly, he has to talk to Delphi.

After he left the hospital yesterday he spent most of the day trying to work out what he was going to ask her. And when he did eventually get into bed, he lay awake for hours writing a script in his head. Words upon words, questions upon questions. Everything he’s ever wanted to ask but never dared to, and all the new things too, the things that are just arising as he tries to work out how she’s embroiled in all this.

Of course sleep has chased all those brilliant thoughts and questions out of his head. His brain is blank, he has no idea what he’s going to say, and he has to face her in- Actually, he has no idea when he has to face her. What time is it?

He rolls across his bed and grabs his wand from the bedside table. Leaning on his pillows for support, he waves it and stares in abject horror at the numbers that appear in the air in front of him. 13:17. The race starts at 14:00. He’s going to miss it.

All his nerves abandon him as he springs out of bed and sprints across to his wardrobe. His flying gear is inside and he pulls it out and hurls it at the bed as he summons his broom and kit bag from downstairs.

He sheds his pyjamas in a second, but his dragon hide clothes are so tight that it takes an agonising amount of wriggling and swearing to get them on. He doesn’t want to know what time it is when he’s done. Too late. Far too late.

He grabs his kit bag off the bed and is about to pick up his broom when he realises that it’s his second broom on the bed in front of him, not his proper racing broom. He can’t go without his racing broom.

Swearing, he tries Accio again and nothing happens. A second time and still nothing. By his third attempt he’s nearly in tears.

“Come on,” he begs. “Please work. Please.”

Apparently what he’s been doing wrong this whole time is not pleading with his magic, because on the third attempt there’s a whooshing noise and his beloved racing broom comes soaring through the door and into his hand. He snatches it out of the air and hugs it.

“Thank you. Can we go now?”

He rummages through his kit bag, checking that everything’s there, then gives up and decides that he doesn’t really need anything besides himself and his broom. He waves his wand to zip the bag shut, and the zip flies shut so fast that it almost rips away from the bag before getting caught on a towel. Albus swears, spends a minute freeing it, zips the bag shut himself, then throws it onto his back and sprints down the stairs and out of the house to the nearest Apparition point.

When he appears on the usually deserted path outside the stadium, he finds himself in the midst of a huge crowd. He’s not ready for it, so he gets swept sideways and spun around. Then someone steps on his foot and swears at him. This is not his day.

“Sorry,” he says. “Sorry. But fuck you too.”

He pulls his bag further onto his shoulder and goes plunging into the crowd, fighting past the people in his way.

“Sorry, sorry, excuse me. Sorry, thank you.”

He struggles up to the gates of the stadium and waves his broom at the person guarding the gate.

“Sev,” he says. “Sorry I’m late.”

The man eyes him up. “Sev. Delphi was looking for you. She said that if you arrived you needed to go and talk to her. She’s waiting in the changing rooms.”

Albus’s insides go cold. He’s not ready for this.

“Now?” He asks. “But the race is about to-“

“Now,” the man says. “She said if you argued that I should remind you that she’s your manager. It’s up to her if you race or not.”

“But-“

“I’d go and talk to her,” the man advises. He glances at the queue of people gathered behind Albus and leans in close. “It’ll be worse if you don’t,” he murmurs. “Good luck.”

Albus looks at the man, and realises that there’s nothing malicious or mocking in his expression. He really does mean good luck.

“Thanks,” Albus murmurs, then he draws in a slow breath and sets off in the direction of the changing rooms downstairs.

Today they’re racing at the stadium in Appleby. It’s one of the smallest stadiums, but it’s also one of the ones Albus knows least well. He follows the twists and turns of the staircase down into the bowels of the stadium, just hoping he’s going the right way.

When he gets to the bottom, he looks one way then the other along the single corridor and picks a direction at random. Thankfully, or not in this case, he picks the right direction and almost immediately stumbles on the changing rooms. He also stumbles upon Delphi.

“What time do you call this?” She asks, tone ice cold.

“I had a late night and slept in, so-“

“Not good enough.” She folds her arms and looks at him. Her gaze is as frigid as her tone. “You’ve completely disappeared. You’ve not been at the training ground, you’ve not talked to me, people have been asking if you’re okay, and now you’re so late for this race that you might as well have not bothered coming.”

Albus clenches his fists and tries not to rise to her bait. Draco’s voice echoes in his head: be careful.

“I’m sorry,” he says, fiddling with the strap on his bag and avoiding her gaze. “It’s been a difficult week.”

“You like to feel special,” she says, pushing off the wall with her foot and walking towards him. “Don’t you, Albus? You like to feel different. Poor precious Potter with his difficult life and his difficult week. You’re not alone in that, you know. But since you clearly don’t care about my week let’s talk about yours.”

Albus lifts his head and looks at her. “What happened?”

She shakes her head. “No, you don’t care so there’s no point telling you. Go on.”

Albus swallows. “I do care, Delphi. I- I do.”

She shakes her head and waves an imperious hand for him to talk. It’s quite clear from her tightly pressed lips that she won’t say a word until after he does, so he nods and gets on with it.

“Fine. Scorpius is in hospital. He’s okay, but it was... well, it was scary.”

He watches her as he says it, keeping an eye on her reaction, wanting to see whether she says or does anything. The problem with Delphi is that when she wants to be she’s impossible to read, and apparently she wants to be now, because she barely bats an eyelid at the news.

“Scorpius is in hospital?” She asks, and she sounds surprised but her tone is so carefully restrained that Albus can’t tell if she’s truly surprised or not.

He nods. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“He...” Albus twists the strap on his bag as he carefully chooses his words. “He got attacked. Some injuries. He doesn’t really remember what happened.” And it happened in your room, he adds in his head. It might even have been you.

“But he’s alive,” Delphi says, a softness in her tone that Albus could convince himself is sympathy.

He nods. “Thankfully. You still haven’t told me what happened with you.”

Delphi waves dismissively. “Some plans went awry, but that’s not really important. I missed you. I still don’t understand what Scorpius has that I don’t.”

“Delphi,” Albus murmurs, “I’ve told you, there’s nothing-“

“I’m done talking about this,” Delphi says, holding her hand up to stop him. “I expect better from you, Sev. Even if you don’t care about me, you should at least care about your racing, about the league. In case you’ve forgotten, Scorpius is trying to-“

“Albus,” Albus says, and he doesn’t know why, but something inside him is compelling him, for the first time ever, to correct her. Because there is a correction to make.

“What?” Delphi asks, breaking off mid-sentence and frowning at him.

“Albus,” he repeats. “My name is Albus. Not Sev.”

Delphi stares at him, utterly wrong-footed by this sudden development. “No,” she says slowly. “Sev is who you are. It’s your name. It’s your identity. Your future, remember? One day you told me you didn’t want to be known as Albus Potter anymore, you told me to-“

“I changed my mind,” Albus says firmly. “I want to be Albus again.”

Delphi opens her mouth, then closes it again, then does the slow inhale of someone who’s trying to give themselves patience. “Is this why your eyes are green today?”

“What?”

Delphi lifts her chin and Albus can see a sparkle of triumph in her gaze. “Your eyes are green,” she says. “And your hair is long. You’ve forgotten your disguise. You look just like your dad.”

Albus brushes a hand through his hair. She’s right, his hair has grown a lot over the last couple of weeks. He hasn’t bothered cutting it or shaving it. It doesn’t bother him anymore. When he looks in the mirror he doesn’t hate his appearance, partly because he knows that the main person who matters – Scorpius – doesn’t hate it. Sometimes it makes him confused or uncertain, but most of the time he sees something that’s tolerable; that makes sense. The person looking back is familiar. The person looking back is himself.

“I look like Albus,” he says. “I-I look like me.”

“Scrawny, small, unruly black hair, bright green eyes. You’re the spitting image of your dad,” Delphi says. “Does that not bother you?”

“It doesn’t, actually,” Albus murmurs.

Delphi pauses again, once more looking like she’s been knocked back. Everything Albus is saying is a surprise to her. He’s never managed to surprise her before, apart from the first time she saw him fly. She’s always known his mind before he did, like she could see straight into it, but now...

“I’m happy,” he says. “Happy with how I look, happy with who I am, happy with my name, and... For the first time in as long as you’ve known me, I’m happy to be me.”

Delphi recovers and folds her arms, expression turning thunderous. “You’re happy,” she says. “How can you possibly be happy with this? I thought you wanted my help with finding your future! And now you’re walking happily back into your past? What are you doing? What are you thinking?”

Albus shakes his head and spreads his hands. “I have no idea. I don’t have a plan. I’m just trying to do what we always said. Making a future. Albus’s future. My future.”

Delphi is speechless once again. Her mouth is open, her eyes are wide. She doesn’t seem capable of coming up with a thought. Perhaps she’s apoplectic with rage, Albus wouldn’t be surprised, but whatever is going on inside her isn’t coming out, so Albus steels himself and uses her silence to ask the question that he’s been so desperate to ask all week.

“Was it you?”

Delphi’s head twitches. Her eyes lock onto his. She doesn’t say anything.

Albus licks his lips and clenches his fingers tighter round his broom. “Was it you?” He repeats. “You who attacked Scorpius? He was in your room. He was investigating you. And someone’s been trying to kill him. Is it you?”

“Albus!” Delphi gasps, her voice returning to her in an instant. “How could you think something like that?”

“I don’t know!” Albus replies, voice rising, folding his arms defensively across his chest. “You’re always so...” He waves a hand. “So secretive. You never tell me anything. And sometimes I think-“ He swallows. “I don’t know. I-I don’t know...”

“I’ve been your best friend,” Delphi says in a soft, injured voice. “I helped you when you had nowhere to go. I gave you a home, a family, a livelihood. I saved your life. After all that, how can you think that I would-“ She covers her mouth with her hand and stares at him, eyes wide.

Albus bows his head. “I-I know all that,” he murmurs. “I know I shouldn’t... But Scorpius doesn’t remember, and it was your room, and everything else, and... Well, I know you don’t really like him.”

“I don’t think he respects our friendship,” Delphi says, dropping her hand to her side. “That doesn’t mean I don’t like him.”

“He doesn’t mind who I’m friends with. He knows what you’ve done for me. It’s not a lack of respect, I promise.”

“It’s something though.” Delphi folds her arms and gives him a hard look. “Who suggested that it might have been me who hurt him? Did he plant that idea in your head?”

Albus shakes his head and drops his gaze. “It... it seemed logical,” he murmurs, ashamed.

“Logical.” Delphi shakes her head. “Wow. Just... wow.” She turns and starts walking away down the corridor, ponytail bobbing from side to side as she keeps shaking her head.

“Delphi!” Albus chases after her. “Delphi wait. I didn’t mean that. I-It was stupid. I’m sorry.”

“You know,” Delphi says, spinning around so she’s walking backward, “sometimes I can understand perfectly how you made your family hate you. You don’t know when to watch your mouth, do you? Things just come into your head and you say them, and then you act surprised when people get mad at you.”

Albus drops his bag and broom on the ground so he can follow her unencumbered. “I don’t want it to be you,” he says. “I told them it couldn’t be. I tried to explain that you’re- Please don’t be angry at me. Please.”

“Asking me not to be angry isn’t enough. It’s too late for that.”

Albus slumps his shoulders and hangs his head, cheeks burning with regret and embarrassment at his own stupidity. “What do I have to do to make up for it?” He asks.

Delphi stops walking backwards and looks at him. Her head is slightly to one side, and he can feel her inspecting him, calculating his punishment. “You’re not racing this week,” she says. “You’ll be at every training session, and even if you don’t give a shit I want you to pretend to.”

”Okay,” Albus nods enthusiastically. “I can do that.”

“And you won’t see Scorpius.”

A small part of Albus, hidden deep inside, knew that was coming. It’s not a shock to hear that request come from Delphi, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t shake Albus. He reels back a step, trying to catch up, trying to work out what to say. Before he’d had Delphi in this situation, on the back foot, and now she’s returning the favour.

“He’s a distraction,” she continues. “I know you’ve been out all hours, I know you’ve been worrying about him, and honestly? He’s the enemy. He’s trying to shut us down. Don’t forget that, Sev.”

The name sends a spike of irritation running through him. He wants to make her happy, he does, but she’s still not listening to him and she still doesn’t get it.

“I... I can’t,” he says. “I’m sorry, Delphi, but I can’t. I’ll train, I’ll train hard, but I can’t not see him.” He takes a step away, back towards his bag, and picks it up, swinging it onto his shoulder and holding his broom across himself like a shield. “He’s my boyfriend and he’s in hospital. Not seeing him isn’t an option. Not at the moment.”

Delphi gives a curt nod. “Alright. Then we’re done.”

“Done?” Albus asks blankly.

“This,” Delphi gestures between the two of them, “is over. If you want your old life back, you’ve got it, and I won’t be in it.”

“But I want you to be...” Albus grips his broom handle so hard that his fingertips turn white.

“Clearly not enough,” she says. “Goodbye, Albus.” She turns her back on him and walks away.

“Delphi,” he calls desperately after her, voice breaking. “Delphi, please, I-“ She disappears along the corridor, the shaft of sunlight pouring down the tunnel from the pitch above swallowing her up, while Albus stands there in the shadows with his world collapsing around him for the second time in his life.

“Delphi,” he whispers, as the first tears dribble down his cheeks and off his chin, dripping onto the diamond-hard wood of his broom handle and running down to where his hands are still gripping it. His knees buckle, and he falls sideways against the wall, leaning there for support and staring at the point where he’d last seen her.

He should go after her, but he doesn’t have the strength to move right now. He doesn’t even know if he wants to move. Despite everything that Delphi means to him, despite everything she’s done for him, what he feels right now, alongside the despair, is an inescapable sense of relief. It’s sweeping through him, making the tears fall even harder and faster than before, the realisation that he’s free.

If she doesn’t want to see him anymore, if she doesn’t want him in her life then he doesn’t have to work for her acceptance anymore. He doesn’t have to impress her, please her, plead with her. He can just exist, with people who he knows love him, and for the first time in a long time he’s certain that he has some of those.

Somewhere overhead the crowds cheer as the race begins. His broom vibrates slightly in his grip, responding to the roar of the crowd, and he glances down at it.

Is this the end of racing? Is this when he stops forever? If he’s not doing it with Delphi’s sponsorship then what’s the point?

He looks up towards the ceiling and wipes the back of his hand across his cheeks. Maybe that’s a decision for another day. Maybe there are other things to think about first. Maybe he’s not ready to uproot everything in his life in the space of five minutes.

He rests his back against the wall and tries to decide where to go. Being here for any longer isn’t an option, that’s quite clear, but he doesn’t want to be at home on his own. He could go and find his parents, but that seems drastic and fraught with difficulty. Aside from that there’s only really one other option.

Wiping his cheeks clear of tears, he slips out of the stadium and turns on the spot on the path outside, Apparating straight to St Mungo’s.

He gets some odd looks as he makes his way through the hospital, laden with his broom and kit bag, still dressed in all his racing gear, face still tearstained too. He bows his head and tries to make himself as small and invisible as he can, and when he reaches Scorpius’s room it’s a relief.

He knocks quietly and lets himself in. The room is dark and quiet, and he pauses in the doorway, peering around while his eyes adjust. Draco is sitting in the corner, and Albus swings the door shut behind him, trying to make sure it doesn’t slam.

“Is he asleep?” He whispers.

Draco gets to his feet, shaking his head. “I thought you had a race?”

Albus sniffs and sets his kitbag and broom down. “I’d rather not talk about it.” He goes over to Scorpius’s bed and kneels on the floor beside him, gently running a hand down his arm. “Hi sweetheart. I’m here.”

“Albus,” Scorpius breathes, voice raw and hoarse. He starts struggling to roll over towards Albus, and Draco strides across to help.

“Be careful with yourself,” Draco says, adjusting Scorpius’s pillows and tucking the blankets around him.

Scorpius brushes his dad away but Albus can tell that he needs the help. His movements are slow and sluggish, and he keeps pausing with his eyes closed. His face is especially pale today, and Albus can’t help but wonder if the room is so dark for a reason.

“Are you alright?” He asks, as Scorpius settles onto his side and rests his head on the mattress next to his pillow, apparently no longer having the energy to pull it into the right place. Scorpius doesn’t answer, he just rubs his forehead and exhales in a slow, steady stream, like he’s trying to settle himself.

Albus glances back at Draco. “What’s happened? He was doing better yesterday.”

Draco picks Scorpius’s pillow up and tries to slide it under Scorpius’s head, but Scorpius grumbles at him and doesn’t move much to help. Draco sighs and leaves the pillow, looking at Albus instead.

“He managed to convince the Healers to try the spell, but it hasn’t helped much. I think he’s more confused now, and he’s been having headaches.”

“You idiot,” Albus breathes, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “You’re a genius, but sometimes you’re also-“ He shakes his head.

Scorpius opens his eyes and gazes through the darkness at Albus. He reaches up and gently brushes his fingers over Albus’s cheeks. “Why have you been crying?”

Albus turns his head away. “Not important.”

“Was it Delphi?”

“Scorpius, please don’t. It’s in the past. I don’t care anymore.”

Scorpius scrutinises him for a moment, and Albus can almost see him thinking ‘if you don’t care, why are you crying?’, but thankfully he doesn’t pursue it anymore. His eyes flutter closed and he grips Albus’s arm.

“Your head hurts?” Albus asks.

Scorpius gives a tense twitch of his head that’s definitely supposed to be a nod.

Albus glances up at Draco, unsure whether he’ll be told off for asking questions, then decides that he doesn’t care. He’s curious, and a telling off from Draco can’t be any worse than the telling off from Delphi.

“Did you remember anything else?” He asks, lowering his voice so that hopefully only Scorpius can hear.

“I...” Scorpius swallows and takes a breath. “I remember one of the spells. Sectumsempra. It’s the one that...” He pats at his midriff, where the three long scars run across his body. “And I remembered some... some questions.”

“Questions?” Albus asks, leaning in closer. He’s aware that Draco is listening too, also moving so he can better hear Scorpius. Albus isn’t sure how much of this Scorpius has already said, but at least some of it must be new.

Scorpius opens his eyes and looks past Albus, towards his dad. “I don’t know the voice. I don’t recognise it. But I know that they- they wanted to know about Albus. About me and Albus. They wanted to know what I’d done to make him... to make him love me.”

“What?” Draco asks sharply. At the same time, Albus sits back on his heels.

“They wanted to know about me?”

Scorpius looks between the two of them, then closes his eyes again. “Yes. They had a plan. They needed you, and they needed me to tell them how I made you fall in love with me. But I-I didn’t. I didn’t do anything. I don’t know why you love me. And when I told them that, they-“ He screws his face up and rubs his temples.

“So it was my fault,” Albus breathes. “It was my fault that you got hurt. My fault that they-“

“I’m not blaming you.” Scorpius opens his eyes and looks right at Albus, frustration and irritation in his voice. “You’re in danger too, if someone wants you for something. It’s not your fault. None of it is.”

“Yes but-“

“Merlin you’re annoying,” Scorpius mutters, burying his face in his hands. “I love you but really.”

“I’m not trying to be-“

Scorpius groans. “Dad will you talk sense into him? My head hurts.”

Albus twists round to look at Draco, bewildered. He doesn’t know if he’s in trouble or not. He doesn’t know if Scorpius is angry at him or not. He doesn’t get any of it. Everything is a mess. Today can’t end fast enough.

“To be clear,” Draco says, in his brusque, authoritative voice. “Someone needs Albus to like them? Love them? For some sort of plan?”

“Well it can’t be Delphi then,” Albus says, folding his arms and leaning against Scorpius’s bedside cabinet. “She hates me and told me we’re done. If she needed me she wouldn’t have-“

“So that’s why you were crying,” Scorpius says softly. “Because she-“

“Someone tortured you,” Draco continues, looking at Scorpius. “Because they wanted information on how to win Albus’s affections?”

Scorpius meets his dad’s eyes and nods. “That’s what I remember.”

“I love you because you’re you.” Albus shifts so he’s kneeling beside the bed again. “No one can replicate that. It’s impossible. You’re my best friend and my... My Scorpius.”

Scorpius nods. “I know.” He pulls his blankets up to his chin and curls up into a little ball. “When I didn’t have an answer they kept hurting me. But there wasn’t an answer to give to make them stop. And even if there had been one...”

“But why do they want information about me?” Albus asks, dragging a hand through his hair. “I’m just Albus. I’m not important. Most of the country still thinks I’m missing.”

“Harry Potter’s son would be a useful asset,” Draco says. There’s a darkness to his tone and a shadow in his eyes that reminds Albus of Draco’s past, and the circles he still sometimes moves within. He knows. Maybe he’s even heard people say those exact words before. “And even if most people think you’re missing, your father knows you’re not, and I think that’s the key here. If they can control you then they can control him. You’re blackmail.”

“They’d be better taking James or Lily,” Albus mutters.

“You’d be most likely to turn against your dad,” Draco says, and Albus doesn’t have a response to that. It’s true. Completely true. But perhaps not as true as it once was.

“They can’t know that things are okay now,” Albus says. “If they still want me. Can they?”

Draco shrugs. “Perhaps that’s why they want new information. Perhaps relying on your relationship with your father isn’t enough anymore.”

Albus buries his face in his hands. “I don’t want to help anyone. I don’t want to be associated with anyone evil, with any Death Eaters or anything. Why would they think I would? Whoever they are?”

Scorpius remains silent, and Draco does too, but there’s something in his expression, something that makes Albus’s insides twist with shame. That look says ‘but you already have’.

Albus hangs his head, thinking of Delphi and her finances, and her meetings with the Rowles and goodness knows who else. He thinks of her outrage at the insinuation that she’d attacked Scorpius. He thinks of her smoothing salve onto his burning arm and holding him when he was in too much pain to remember his own name. He thinks of her sitting outside the broom shed in his parents’ back yard with him and talking about the future.

“She doesn’t want to see me anymore,” he whispers. “She said we’re done. I-I get my old life back but I don’t get to keep her. I don’t understand why she’d say that if she needed me.”

“Maybe she wanted you to feel guilty,” Scorpius suggests.

“Well it worked,” Albus says, getting to his feet. He looks between Draco and Scorpius. “I don’t want to do the wrong thing again. I want her, but I don’t even know if I’m allowed to want her. I want you but then I can’t have her. I don’t want my old life back, I want whatever this weird new one is, but I want it simple and uncomplicated, and- I hate this.” He snatches his broom up and shrugs his bag onto his shoulder. “I think I’m going to go home.”

He walks towards the door, but before he can get there, Scorpius calls after him.

“Albus?”

Albus stops with his hand on the doorknob, the door already slightly ajar, and glances back.

“I love you.”

Albus nods. “I love you too.” That’s part of my problem.

“If someone truly cares about you,” Draco adds, leaning forward so his face is lit by the golden glow coming from the corridor outside the room. “They won’t put conditions on what you can have. They’ll let you have a life that makes you happy. I need you to know that.”

Albus looks at him for a moment, then he turns his head away and stares at his hand on the doorknob. Delphi’s words from earlier echo through his mind: “And you won’t see Scorpius”.

He knows that’s what Draco means, and he knows in his heart that Draco is right, but he can’t shake the memory of Delphi sitting beside him in a darkened room when he was too delirious with pain to even really know that she was there. That’s why this is hard. Because how can he just walk away from six years of friendship? How can he turn his back on the person who saved his life? Surely that deserves some sort of loyalty?

“Just think about it,” Draco says, like he can read exactly what’s going on inside Albus’s head.

Albus twists the doorknob and nudges the door all the way open. “I will.”

It’s a sweltering evening, and Albus can’t sleep. The air is completely still. Even though Albus’s window is wide open no breeze stirs the curtain, no matter how many times he brushes them aside and glares outside at the dark sky, trying to will a breeze into existence. As night draws in with no chance of the temperature dropping, he rips open one of the spell books he keeps tucked under his bed, and starts looking up a Fanning Charm.

It’s at times like this that he most misses Scorpius. The first problem is that it takes Albus three books to find the right spell. The second problem is that once he finds it he can’t work out how to cast it. If Scorpius were here he’d be able to teach Albus, but as it is Albus has to figure it out on his own, and it doesn’t go well.

His first two attempts are utterly ineffective. He doesn’t know if he’s saying the spell right, but his wand movement is definitely wrong. A third attempt produces a feeble sneeze of wind that barely ruffles Albus’s hair, and in his excitement at the hint of success, his fourth attempt creates a gust of hot wind so strong that it knocks him backwards onto his bed, his face stinging from the blast of heat.

“Stupid,” he mutters as he picks himself up. “Useless fucking magic.”

He throws his wand across the room. When it hits the wall it emits a sprinkle of bright red sparks, one of which leaves a scorch mark on his wall. He flops back onto his bed and covers his face with his hands.

The sticky, oppressive air makes his burns prickle. Sweat drips from his forehead, and his back is damp and soggy. Thoughts and worries chase each other around inside his head, Delphi, Scorpius, his dad, Draco, the race he missed, tomorrow’s lunch, plans and schemes and someone trying to get him on their side.

His head hurts. His brain is too busy for him to sleep. He can’t get any peace and quiet. He can’t get cool. He can’t get comfortable.

The blankets tangle themselves around his waist and legs, holding him tight, trapping them. He wants to kick them off but doesn’t have the energy, so he just lies there.

He should go and get his wand and try the charm again. He should go and get some water – his mouth is getting dry. He should take his pyjama top off before it gets anymore sweat soaked; before it starts sticking to his arms, which are already prickling enough from the heat. He should...

He rolls to the side and falls. He lands on his bedroom floor with a crash, hitting his elbow and jarring his back. Suddenly he finds himself fully awake and scrabbling to free himself from the tangle of his blankets. There’s a light breeze wafting through his room, and it’s bright outside. He can hear birds singing.

He can also hear a chirping sound coming from somewhere – his alarm. It sounds faint, distant, muffled by something. But his wand should be right next to his bed.

Rubbing his elbow, he sits up and pats his bedside table, searching for his wand. It’s not there. Where is it?

In a panic he stumbles to his feet and starts throwing all the pillows off his bed. His wand has to be somewhere. He can hear it. It can’t have gone far. When did he last-

His eyes fall on the spell books lying in a haphazard pile on the floor between his bed and the window, and it comes back to him. He threw it across his room.

The burn mark is there on his wall, and he rushes across to it. It only takes him a second to realise that his wand has fallen among a pile of clothes. His alarm has been going for who knows how long and he’s only just heard. But how long has it been going? What if he’s late for lunch?

Heart pounding he picks his wand up, silences the alarm, and casts a Tempus Charm. Silvers threads of magic curl out of the tip of his wand to form numbers: 13:12.

The bottom falls out of his world.

He’d told his dad he’d be there at 10 to help with lunch. They were meant to be eating at one. He’s late for the second day in a row, and this one might actually be worse.

In a panicked rush he starts getting dressed, tugging on his best shirt and a smart pair of trousers. He runs his fingers through his hair and decides he doesn’t have time to brush it. His shoelaces are still tied, but he forces his feet in anyway as he grabs the bottle of wine he was going to take with him. The second he looks even vaguely presentable he sprints for the door and Apparates into the yard of Holly Cottage.

The kitchen door is open but he ignores it and goes round the front. Whatever his mum says, he can’t just come and go here, it’s not his home. Especially right now, when he’s so late they probably don’t even want him here. When he knocks they’ll probably answer the door and tell him to go away, and he won’t blame them. This is the best they’ve ever been able to expect from him, and they know it.

The gold lion’s head knocker on the scarlet painted front door glares down at him. It looks like it’s judging him for his tardiness, and he feels slightly sick as he reaches up to grasp the ring hanging from its mouth. For a moment he can’t bring himself to knock, then his hand slips because his palm is so slick with sweat, both from the heat and nerves. It makes a fine, sharp rap, and Albus knocks a couple more times before skittering back from the doorstep and drying his hands on his trousers.

At first he thinks no one’s going to come to the door. He can’t hear any movement inside the house. It wouldn’t be a shock if they decided he wasn’t worth coming to the door for. Perhaps he should just leave now and save himself the embarrassment.

As he shuffles from foot to foot, trying to decide what to do, he hears the click of the door unlocking. His heart pounds in his chest, and he twists the string of the wine bag around his fingers as he stares at the door. It swings open, and he sees his mum standing there. He braces himself for the explosion but it doesn’t come, instead an enormous, relieved smile spreads across her face and she rushes forward to hug him.

“Albus!”

“Mum?” He tentatively returns the hug, not really sure what’s happening.

“You’re here! We were worried about you. Draco hadn’t seen you. We thought something might have-“ She releases him and steps back to inspect him. “Your dad was all ready to send the Aurors out looking for you. Are you okay?”

Albus bows his head and ruffles a hand through his hair. “I-I am okay. I’m sorry I’m late, I... I don’t have an excuse.”

His mum puts a hand on his arm. “Albus,” she murmurs, “it’s alright. Draco mentioned you’d had a difficult day yesterday. I know there’s been a lot going on. It’s been hard.”

Albus looks at her. “You’re not angry?”

His mum shakes her head. “Definitely not.”

“What about Dad?”

She shakes her head again. “No, just worried. Do you want to come and eat? James was starving – you know how he gets – so we started without you, but there’s plenty left.”

Bewildered and uncertain, Albus nods. “Alright. I brought-“ He holds the bag with the wine in out to his mum, and she wraps an arm round his shoulders and squeezes him tight.

“You didn’t have to bring anything.”

“I know, but I wanted to.”

She kisses him on the cheek and ruffles his hair, then takes the bag. “Thank you.”

They go through to the kitchen together, Albus hesitating on the threshold, but before he knows what’s happening he’s hit from the front by something that feels like a solidly-hit Bludger but which is actually his sister, who has leapt out of her chair and tackle-hugged him.

“Albus! You’re actually alive!”

“Lily,” he gasps, staggering back, all the wind knocked out of him. He manages to hug her back, burying his face in her shoulder and clinging to her with everything he’s got. “I missed you.”

She prises herself out of his grip and glares at him, her hands still clenched in the fabric of his top. “I’m going to kill you, you idiot. Disappearing like that, and- Look at you. I can’t believe you’re here.” She flings her arms back round him again, and a second later he realises that she’s sobbing, body shaking as she holds onto him.

“I’m here,” he murmurs, rubbing her back. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be,” she says, voice shaking. “I missed you so much.” She pulls away again, wiping her eyes on his sleeve, but she reaches out a hand to him, and he doesn’t think she looks too angry at him. “You’re going to sit next to me and tell me everything. James says you’ve got scars and tattoos and stuff now.”

“I suppose I do,” Albus mutters.

Lily shakes her head and grabs hold of his hand. “How did you end up being my cool older brother? James, you’re officially a nerd now. You never got a tattoo.”

All Albus can do is let her drag him to the table, not really sure what’s happening but just going along with it because it’s Lily and he’s missed her so much.

“I could get a tattoo,” James says. “Maybe I already have one. Maybe I just didn’t tell you.”

Lily rolls her eyes. “Sure. Just admit it, Albus is cooler than you now. Do you want parsnips, Albus?”

Albus sits down in the seat between Lily and his mum and nods, not really knowing what to say. His dad is across the table from him, and while Lily loads his plate he looks across to try and work out if he’s angry or not. It takes him a second to catch his dad’s eye, and when he does he mouths ‘I’m really sorry’. His dad shakes his head and waves a hand, and Albus melts into his seat with relief because by some miracle everything seems to be fine.

Albus can barely move he’s so full. Next to him James is having some sort of stand off with the last dregs of his third helping of crumble, stirring the custardy mulch of breadcrumbs and rhubarb while he glares at it, psyching himself up for one last mouthful.

“You don’t have to finish the entire crumble yourself, you know,” Harry tells him, leaning back in his seat and pushing his glasses up his nose. He looks about as full as Albus feels.

“If you make yourself sick, you’ll be cleaning up the mess,” Ginny adds.

“It’s an insult to your cooking not to finish it,” James says, glancing up at Harry. “And I’m not going to throw up. I have stamina.”

“That’s what you said that one time at Uncle Ron’s birthday party,” Lily says, running her finger round the bottom of her bowl to scoop up the last of the custard.

“Just before you projectile vomited all over the place.” Albus shoots a grin across at James, who glowers and pushes his bowl away.

“Fine. Let it go to waste then.”

Albus had actually been planning to take the leftovers home with him, but he’s not about to tell James that and give him the same idea.

Harry grins and eyes the state of the table. “If everyone’s done then I suppose we should start thinking about doing the washing up.”

“No, Dad.” Lily leaps to her feet and starts clearing everything away. “You did all the cooking. We’ll wash up. It’s fine.”

Albus nods and gets up to help her, trying to ignore how painfully full he feels. He doesn’t think he’s eaten so much in years. “I’ll help.”

“Do you want a game of Exploding Snap, Dad?” James asks, and Lily sighs and rolls her eyes. “What?”

“Nothing.”

Albus bows his head to hide his grin as he picks up James’s bowl of crumble mush. When he glances up he catches his mum’s eye, and she rolls her eyes too, looking just like Lily. Albus can’t hold back his snort of laughter, and receives an indignant poke in the side from James as punishment. He dodges away and starts stacking up the rest of the crumble bowls, a golden glow of happiness making him feel feather-light, despite the weight of food in his belly.

“Alright,” Harry says, heaving himself up out of his chair. “I’ll come and thrash you at Exploding Snap. Will you two be-“

“We’re fine,” Lily interrupts. “Go and entertain James. Merlin knows someone needs to.” She sticks her tongue out at her brother, who sticks his tongue out back before waltzing off in the direction of the front room, already agreeing rules with Harry.

Ginny gets her feet and draws her wand, levitating the glasses over to the sink with a single wave. “Are you sure you’ll be okay out here? I think I should go and make sure those two don’t burn the house down.”

“They need the supervision more than we do,” Lily assures her, and Albus grins.

“Did you ever sort out that burned curtain?” He asks.

Ginny sighs. “We still don’t talk about that. I really liked those curtains.”

“At least I never burned anything,” he points out, dumping his bowls into the sink.

Lily comes up beside him and sets a load of plates down. As she does she throws a pointed look at his arms that he doesn’t miss. He nudges her.

“I don’t count.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Those two,” Ginny says, setting the almost-empty crumble bowl down beside the rest of the dishes, “are just...”

“A nightmare?” Lily suggests.

“I was going for unique,” Ginny says. She puts a hand on Albus’s shoulder. “Don’t take too long on these. We can sort them out later. Come and join us when you’re done.”

“We will,” Lily chirps, and she starts filling the sink with water and soap suds.

The kitchen door clicks shut behind Ginny, and Albus finds himself alone with his little sister for the first time in years.

It’s not like they haven’t been talking during dinner. She’s already grilled him about Scorpius and life as an illegal broom racer. She knows all about his trip to Europe, and about everything that’s happened since he got back. Over parsnips and Yorkshire puddings he’s told her more than he’s told most people, but that doesn’t help now. This is different. Being alone is different. So now his mouth has gone dry and he has no idea what to say next. Instead he stops washing the bowls and leans against the side and watches her.

Her red hair is so much shorter than it used to be. Sometimes he would sit and plait her hair when she was younger; one time just before he’d left he’d managed to conjure a flower to decorate the end and her face had lit up when she’d seen it. But now she’s got it cut short, and there are colours and highlights in it, gold and scarlet and rich brown.

Beneath her hair he can see gold pendants in her ears, glittering in the sun streaming through the open kitchen window, geometric shapes that cast patterns in shadows on her cheeks when she turns her head. They frame her face, making it looks sharper, more pointed and refined in the same way as their mum’s. She really does look a lot like Ginny.

In the years since Albus has left she’s grown up. She’s not fifteen years old anymore. She’s an adult, with her own life, her own future, and a large fragment of her past that Albus can only guess at, taking hints from the deep tan colouring her previously pale skin, the nugget of gold hanging on a thin chain round her neck, and the confident, quick movements of her wand as she starts coordinating a parade of plates and dishes to wash themselves.

“Lily,” he starts softly, but she gets there first.

“I didn’t think you were going to come.” She lifts her head and looks at him. “I really didn’t. I hoped you would, but then... I still can’t work out if I would have been surprised if you hadn’t come. It didn’t feel like a surprise when I got here and there was no sign of you.”

“I’ve had a lot on my mind,” Albus says, and it sounds like such a lame excuse that he feels ashamed of saying it.

“You’ve always had a lot on your mind.” There’s something sharp in Lily’s tone, pointed, but Albus doesn’t think it’s a criticism exactly. It’s just the truth.

“Will you tell me about you?” He asks, wanting to change the subject. “Tell me about being a Curse-Breaker. Or anything, really. I want to know everything.”

She flicks her wand at a plate that isn’t quite keeping up with the rest of the crockery as it marches towards the sink. It scurries forward to fall back in line as fast as it can, apparently eager not to disappoint her. She surveys the other dishes, checking they’re all doing what they should be, then she tucks her wand away and turns to look at Albus.

“I’m only just a proper Curse-Breaker,” she says, fiddling with the gold nugget around her neck. “I finished training just before I came back. When I go to Peru it’ll be my first proper job.”

There’s something wistful, almost sad, about the way she says it, and Albus understands why. He feels a bit sad too. All those years of training, a whole section of her life, and he’s missed it all.

“Where’s your favourite place you’ve been?” He asks.

She frowns and leans against the work top. “Good question. Egypt was definitely cool, but I loved this one job we did in Rome. We got to go in all these creepy catacombs. They were all lined with bones and skulls, and there was this enchanted mist that seeps into your brain and makes you so paranoid and delirious that you end up killing yourself.”

“Cheerful.”

“Very,” Lily says brightly, eyes glittering.

“What’s your favourite curse that you’ve had to break so far.”

“Hmm.” She brushes a golden strand of hair out of her eyes and taps her finger against the handle of her wand in her pocket. “I like the ones in Egypt that make people shrivel up or grow an extra head. The Ancient Egyptians were gross. But on my second set of training tests we had this one that was basically a glorified version of a Bat Bogey Hex. Those things were enormous and nasty. One of my friends got hit by it. He almost got smothered. It was amazing – I mean not at the time, at the time it was awful, but afterwards...” She sighs, a far off look misting her gaze as she reminisces about giant flying bogeys, and it’s such a Lily thing to do that Albus wants to go over and hug her. She may have grown up but she’s still his little sister.

“Anyway,” she says finally. “What about you? Where’s your favourite place to race?”

They start trading questions back and forth, accompanied by the splashing of the crockery as it washes itself up. It’s calm and comforting. Albus has always found it easy to talk to Lily, and nothing has changed there. She’s just as smart and funny as she ever was, perhaps even more so, and it’s fun to stand there in a pool of warm afternoon sunlight and chat.

“What broom do you race with?” Lily asks, as Albus tries to work out how to get the tea towel to dry the plates for him.

“Normally my customised Cloudburst 2. But if it’s having a temperamental day I’ve got a Nimbus 5000 that’s solid as a rock.”

Lily whistles. “A customised Cloudburst. Don’t let James hear you say that. He’ll be after it.”

“He can try and steal it,” Albus says, glancing at her, “but it won’t help him. It only flies for me.”

She smiles. “You really are a professional.”

Albus smiles back. “I suppose I am.” He finally manages to get the tea towel to obey him, and it starts vigorously drying the nearest dinner plate. “If you weren’t a Curse-Breaker, what would you be?”

“Ooo, another good question.” She twirls around and hops up onto the counter next to the sink, drumming her heels against the cupboard door below her. “I suppose it would have been fun to play Quidditch like Mum did, but I didn’t really give it much thought... When I was in fifth year I considered being an Auror for a while. I... I had this thought that maybe if I joined Dad’s department I could help him look for you. But then I...” She swallows and looks down at her knees. “It got old really quickly. The looking for you. Missing you. I guessed that if you didn’t want to be found we wouldn’t find you, and you didn’t, did you?”

“I don’t know,” Albus says, poking at one of the wine glasses, which is lagging behind the others as it hops along the draining board.

“How can you not know?”

Albus shrugs. “I don’t know that either.”

“Well that’s very conclusive.”

Albus looks hopelessly at his sister. “I didn’t want to be found,” he says. “I really didn’t. I wanted to disappear and start again. But... but that doesn’t mean that... I still missed you. And there were days when I felt- I was terrified of being found but it might have been a relief. It was really hard. Really lonely.”

“Well that’s something,” Lily mutters, a hint of bitterness in her tone. “At least you were suffering too. I hoped you would be.”

Albus stares at her. “Did you?”

She nods and folds her arms. “Of course I did. Whenever Mum cried, whenever James did his chores without a fight because he was too miserable to bother arguing, whenever Dad spent another night Merlin knows where because someone reported seeing a small skinny kid with black hair that might possibly have been you... I really really hoped that you were suffering as much as the rest of us, because how dare you run away and destroy us all like that and not suffer any consequences.”

Albus can’t do anything other than stare at her, grip tight on his wand, with no idea what to say or do. She’s not even looking at him now. Her gaze is dark and cloudy, impenetrable.

“I was really mad at you,” she continues. “I’m still mad at you. You tore the heart out of this family when you left, you know. You tore it out and took it with you. And I know you felt like you didn’t fit, or there wasn’t space for you or whatever, but there was. I promise. You didn’t need to go.”

Albus twists his wand round in his grip and the tea towel he’s been levitating falls onto the draining board, along with the bowl it’s drying, which cracks.

“Shit,” he mutters. He spins round and waves his wand at the bowl. “Reparo. No, Come on. Reparo.” At the second attempt the pieces of the bowl seal back together and he picks it up and inspects it.

Lily sits and watches him, still drumming her heels against the cupboard door, not attempting to help.

There’s no sign of any damage left on the bowl, and Albus picks the tea towel up and finishes drying it by hand. When he’s done he sets it gently down on the side and rests his hands on the metal draining board, staring down at the water and soap suds running across it. It takes him a little while to find his voice, but when he finally does it comes out very small, no more than a murmur.

“Dad told me to leave. He said I should- And I was always messing up, like those dinners that I was late to, and... I wanted to see what life would be like if I wasn’t Albus Potter. And I thought that none of you would miss me, that you’d be better off without me. I-I was convinced. And by the time I’d left it was too late to turn back. I thought it would be better for all of us.”

Lily gazes at him, her deep brown eyes – Ginny’s eyes; Sev’s eyes – glowing almost amber in the bright light from the kitchen window. “And what was it like? Not being Albus Potter?”

He meets her eyes and gives her a tiny, sheepish smile. “It had its ups and downs.”

“I imagine literally, If you were racing.”

Albus’s smile inches wider across his face. “Diving is my speciality.”

“So they were mostly downs?” Lily asks, and Albus can tell by her grin and the sparkle in her eye that it’s a joke, but it aches more than any joke should, and he can’t manage to grin back at her.

“On reflection,” he murmurs, “I think I do prefer it here. I think.”

She stops swinging her feet and her grin fades into a sharp, serious gaze. “Do you really?”

He nods. “At least I know where I stand here. I know that if Dad is mad at me he won’t hold back. Nor will you, apparently. And I know that Mum means it when she says she loves me, Scorpius too. And I know that James is James... But out there it’s not so clear.”

“Isn’t it?” Lily asks, head tilted slightly to one side, scrutinising him.

He shakes his head. “No, it’s not, it’s...” He braces his hands on the draining board and bows his head. “There’s someone I was friends with the whole time I was away. My best friend, at least I thought she was. But now I’m not so sure, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Is this my big brother asking for advice?” Lily uncrosses her arms and leans forward on her hands. “Because that’s a first. You were always so sure of the right thing to do. That’s how you ended up running away.”

He glances at her. “I know. That’s why I need advice. Because I don’t want to do anything so stupid again.”

Lily brushes a bit of hair off her face and twists the nugget of gold between her thumb and forefinger. “What happened?”

“I’m not even sure,” Albus says. “I came back and I ran into Scorpius, and at some point I realised that I was missing out on so much. I hoped that I could find a way to have both, the old life and the new one, but she – my friend – she wasn’t really pleased with that. And then yesterday we had this fight after I asked her for the truth about something important. I don’t know if I got the truth, and she walked out on me. She said we’re ‘done’.” He draws little quotes in the air with his fingers as he says the last word.

“‘Done’?” Lily echoes, repeating the gesture back at him.

He nods. “That’s what she said. And all because I said I couldn’t stop seeing Scorpius.”

Lily wrinkles her nose. “Sounds like a pretty shit friend.”

“She saved my life once,” Albus says.

“Yeah. Once. And now she’s what? Making you choose between her and the guy you’ve been in love with literally forever?”

Albus pulls a face. “I haven’t been in love with him forever. We’ve only been dating for-“

“Albus Severus Potter, you’ve been raving about that boy and his sweets ever since the day you first met him.” She gives him a hard look beneath raised eyebrows. “Maybe you didn’t know you were in love with him, but for the rest of us it was plain to see.”

Albus glowers at her, mostly because he can’t deny it. “Fine. So I might have been- but she did save my life, and she gave me somewhere to go when I left. She was the one who made me realise that-“ He cuts himself off before he says ‘that leaving was an option’, because that sounds awful, and it’s a poor way to describe what happened. She didn’t make him leave after all. It was Harry’s fault, and Albus’s, not Delphi’s.

He thinks back to the conversations where she talked about the future and showed him a way out. He thinks back to those days sitting outside the broom shed, the walks through nearby fields, the way she’d listened to him, the way she’d talked about freedom and choice and presented all the possibilities of a world without his dad, without Hogwarts, without a family or a name to weigh him down.

“Made you realise that?” Lily prompts, looking expectantly at him.

“That I had options,” Albus says.

“She suggested you should leave.”

“No, it wasn’t-“

Lily holds a hand out to stop him. “Albus? You can be friends with whoever you want. You can trust whoever you want. But all I want to say is that you’re not selling this girl to me very well. I think you can do better. I think you’ve got better. Scorpius is... He’s Scorpius. There shouldn’t even be a decision here.”

Albus looks hopelessly at her and knows she’s right. His shoulders slump and he sighs. “Do you want to go and play some Exploding Snap?”

“Will that make you look less like a Niffler that’s just had all the gold tickled out of it?”

Albus shrugs. “Maybe?”

Lily hops down from the worktop. “In that case, Exploding Snap it is.”

They don’t just play Exploding Snap. Somehow, once James has nearly set fire to the hearth rug and Albus’s eyebrows are almost singed off, they end up decamping to the orchard for a game of Quidditch in the afternoon sun. It wouldn’t have been Albus’s first choice of afternoon activity – he’d spent most of his childhood avoiding games of Quidditch with his family – but to his surprise he finds that he enjoys himself.

It’s significantly more chaotic than a normal Quidditch match. Although they don’t let the Bludgers out, they loose a Snitch so they have to pay attention to both scoring and Seeking at once. Albus and Lily play against Harry and James, while Ginny decides to referee because ‘someone has to stop you all cheating’.

Secretly, Albus thinks that he and Lily have a significant advantage over James and Harry. His sister is a ruthless Quidditch player, probably the best in the family, and then there’s him. He may not be as strong in the realms of hand-eye coordination and he may not have lived and breathed the game for years, but he’s quick. He knows he can outfly any of the rest of them, and he hopes he can be the secret weapon. Even though the others know he’s been racing for years, none of them have seen him in action. He hopes they’ll underestimate him.

It’s weird to be on a broom and not have to worry about Fiendfyre. Weird but nice. The only obstacles in the orchard are the trees and James’s elbows, which he’s putting to excessive and highly illegal use.

“Ow,” Albus groans as James digs him in the ribs and nicks the Quaffle. “You can’t do that.” He elbows James back, harder, and James makes a great show of dropping the Quaffle and reeling away, clutching his side.

“Mum, he-“

“No he didn’t,” Ginny says, flying over. “Albus, take a penalty shot.”

Albus sticks his tongue out at James as he soars up the makeshift goalposts and throws the Quaffle so it just brushes past Harry’s outstretched hand for a goal.

“Cheat,” James mutters as he flies past Albus to collect the Quaffle, bumping into him. Albus bumps him back and grins. He’s used to much worse during races, but James isn’t to know that.

James and Harry are better at scoring so they take an easy lead. Lily does her best to stop their shots, and Albus does his best to catch the Quaffle when it’s passed to him, but he’s not the best at catching or passing on the move. He has a plan though, a plan that he hopes will win them the game.

It’s obvious that his dad is keeping half an eye out for the Snitch the whole time. Harry has a knack for spotting the tiny ball that Albus will never match, but Albus has a turn of speed that Harry will never match. All he has to do is wait for his dad to spot the Snitch and then beat him to it. And in the meantime he has to hope that his dreadful Chasing won’t lose them the game anyway.

“Albus,” Lily yells, “catch!”

She hurls the Quaffle at him and he tries, he really tries, but he fumbles it and it plummets towards the ground. He dives to catch it but his cheeks burn and he feels useless. This is why he never played Quidditch with the family before. He’s by far the worst. It’s humiliating.

“Sorry,” he mutters to Lily when she next flies past.

“It’s just a game,” she says with a bright smile. “It doesn’t matter.”

But of course it matters. This is the Potter family. Here, Quidditch is everything.

“It really doesn’t matter,” she says, shooting him a knowing look. “Anyway, they’re only 100 points ahead. When we catch the Snitch we’ll still win.”

“Hopefully,” Albus sighs, casting another glance at Harry.

It’s another ten minutes before it happens, ten minutes in which James and Harry pull another 30 points ahead. Albus just happens to glance across at Harry at the exact moment his eyes narrow and his face turns steely with concentration. Albus twists round to see what he’s looking at and spots it, glittering gold in a dapple of sunlight right at the base of one of the apple trees. He can get there first.

Harry accelerates, but Albus drops flat against his broom and it shoots forwards, fast as an arrow. This isn’t his usual broom, it’s not nearly as quick and it doesn’t really know him, but it can clearly sense that he means business because it’s responding.

“Shit,” James says as Albus streaks past him. “He’s fast.”

Yes he is, Albus thinks as he bears down on the Snitch.

Harry started off closer, he’s ahead by several metres, but he keeps glancing behind, and Albus knows that his dad knows that he’s by far the faster.

Harry is urging his broom on, but Albus doesn’t need to do that. He’s deliberately taken a higher line so there’s further to dive. When he’s practically on top of the Snitch he drops like a stone from the sky.

The ground comes up far too fast, but the Snitch is right there. Albus zooms past his dad, close enough to feel the brush of his arm as he passes. He knocks his dad’s hand out of the way and makes a desperate swipe at the Snitch, hoping that for once in his life he’ll actually be able to catch something, and he does.

He scoops the Snitch out of the air and pulls out of the dive with less than an inch to spare. His toes brush the roots of the tree as he spirals away, grinning, the Snitch flapping hopelessly in his grip.

“I got it!” He crows, waving his hand at Lily. “We won!”

She pelts across to him and hugs him, ruffling his hair. “Nice work.”

“How the fuck do you fly that fast?” James asks, zooming over to them, Harry trailing behind him looking slightly stunned.

Albus shrugs and gives a modest smile. “Practice.”

James shakes his head. “Can you teach me?”

“No,” Lily says, “he can’t. Because then you’ll have a chance of beating us, and winning is fun.”

She’s right. Winning is fun. As they land and start packing up, Albus can’t keep the smile off his face; it only grows wider when his dad gives him an approving nod. He may not be the best Quidditch player in the world but for the first time, with this one tiny victory, he feels like he might just belong in this family. It feels good.

“Are you happy?” Ginny leans in the kitchen doorway and folds her arms as she watches Harry gazing out of the window at the kids, who are sitting on the wall at the edge of the patio together, watching the sunset over the orchard.

Harry glances round to look at her and nods. He rests his back against the side by the sink and pushes his rolled-up sleeves further up his arms. “Sometimes I don’t realise how much I miss them until they’re here. At the end of the day they’re all going to go back to their lives, and...” He sighs.

Ginny rounds the table, tucking James’s chair away as she goes. “At least we know they’re all going to come back again though. We will see them. We couldn’t say that before.”

“True,” Harry says softly.

She stands beside him and ruffles the messy tuft of hair at the base of his neck. “I think they’re okay,” she murmurs, watching as Lily manages to nudge James off the wall and into the Flutterby bush, whose blossoms explode upwards in a rainbow, fluttering cloud, while Albus starts laughing so hard he has to put his drink down so he doesn’t spill it.

“That bush might not be,” Harry says with a smile, putting an arm round her.

“No, perhaps not.”

She rests her head on his shoulder and watches as the Flutterby blooms settle on the three kids. James starts brushing them off straight away, while Albus stays perfectly still, arms out, watching the fluttering flowers perched on him. Lily leans across and manages to scoop one of the flowers out of Albus’s hair. It sits on her finger, ruffling its petals, and she holds it out to him and says something.

He frowns, then closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again he blows on the flower. The breath catches under the petals, lifting the flower into the air and towards James, who sneezes, sending all the flowers fluttering into the air again and back onto their bush.

Harry laughs and rests his head on top of Ginny’s.

She runs her fingers down his back and enjoys the warm vibrations of his laughter against her body. It’s been too long since he laughed like that. It’s been too long since a summer evening felt this free and easy and suffused with joy.

“It’s nice,” Harry says softly, looking down at her.

“It is,” she replies, nodding and looking up at him.

He lifts his head and skims his hand down her side. “It feels like we’re a family again.”

She nods. “It does. It really does.”

“I...” He pauses and withdraws his hand, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I sometimes doubted whether this would ever happen, did you know that? I doubted whether Albus would ever come home. But he’s here now. We’re here. We’ve made it.”

“We have,” Ginny says, taking hold of his hands and squeezing them tight. “Finally.”

Harry wraps his arms round her and leans down to give her a solid kiss. “Finally.”

The sun is almost fully set. Above the orchard and nearby fields, the sky is a deep turquoise, lightening to pale gold at the horizon. The night is sprinkled with silver stars, and among the dark branches of the trees, tiny fairy lights sparkle, extending the star field down into the orchard.

Albus sits on a garden chair, a delicate champagne flute held between his fingers. Lily sits on one side of him, her head on his shoulder, and Harry sits on the other side, embroiled in an argument about Quidditch with James. Despite all the chatter, Albus feels a warm sense of peace and contentment.

After the almost-disaster of earlier, the day has turned out rather well, in fact Albus doesn’t think he could have hoped for better. It has felt wonderful to be part of the family again. He can’t remember the last time he felt like this. Maybe he never did. But today he actually feels like he belongs here, like he was meant to be here all along.

“You’ve gone all smiley,” Lily mumbles, blinking sleepily at him. She pokes him in the side. “What are you thinking about?”

Albus looks at her and his smile widens even further. “Nothing.”

“You’re in the same vicinity as James,” Lily says, lifting her head. “No one can be that happy when he’s on one of his Quidditch rants.”

Albus glances across at James, who’s leaning towards Harry, hands flailing, eyes ablaze with passion. The argument is in such full, loud flow that no one else can get a word in, and on any other day it would be infuriating, but this isn’t any other day.

“He’s not that bad,” Albus says. “He’s just... James.”

Lily snorts. “You’ve been away too long. You’ve got all sentimental.”

Albus watches his brother give Harry a look of sheer outrage and incredulity, hands spread, mouth open. It’s so James, and where once these arguments would have sent him off to his room, rolling his eyes in irritation, today he appreciates it. This is the sort of thing he has to put up with to be a Potter and he wouldn’t change it for the world.

“Maybe I have,” he agrees.

“You definitely have,” Lily says, taking a sip of her champagne. “Only someone who’s hopelessly sentimental could say that James is ‘not that bad’.”

James breaks off mid-rant and looks at them. “What was that? You’re talking about me.”

Lily smirks and pats Albus on the knee. “Albus was just saying how much he loves you, James.”

Albus holds his hands up in protest. “I don’t think I’d quite go-“

He’s too slow. James is already up out of his seat and waltzing across the patio to smother him in an impossibly tight and overwhelming hug.

“Were you?” James ruffles his hair. “It’s always nice to hear I’m appreciated.”

Albus squirms. “I... can’t breathe...” He gives James a little shove, and James actually notices and lets go.

“Seriously though,” he says, his ridiculous grin fading as he looks down at Albus. “I do love you, little idiot.”

Normally Albus would protest at being called an idiot, but since he deserves it, and since the rest of the sentiment is so nice, he lets it go.

He looks up at his brother and gives a small, genuine smile in return. “Yeah,” He says softly. “I love you too.”

James hugs him again, a proper hug this time. It doesn’t feel like Albus is suffocating this time; it feels like a little broken bit of him is being pieced back together. This whole day has felt like that. And when Albus hugs James back, he hopes that maybe he’s managed to fix some of the damage he’s caused too.

“Wow,” Lily says, her voice interjecting into the warm, hopeful moment. “I think this needs a toast. To Albus and James’s newfound love.”

James pulls back and lunges across to grab his champagne glass. “No no, to my little brother appreciating me.”

“To Albus coming home,” Ginny says, picking up her own glass.

“To family?” Harry suggests.

Albus looks around at them all, at his little sister who’s all grown up, at his mum’s soft smile, at his ridiculous older brother, at his dad who looks so relaxed and happy. They’re his difficult, irritating, wonderful family, and right now they’re all looking expectantly at him, waiting for his suggestion, because he’s one of them. He belongs here. They want him here.

He turns his champagne flute round between his fingers, then raises it so the rising golden bubbles sparkle silver in the glow of the fairy lights.

“To us,” he says softly. “To the Potters.”

“To the Potters,” his family echoes back, and they all drink.

#Harry Potter and the Cursed Child #Cursed Child fic #Cursed Child #Scorbus fic #Scorbus #Albus Severus Potter #Scorpius Malfoy #Delphini Diggory #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter #Ginny Potter #Lily Luna Potter #James Sirius Potter #HPCC fic #Keep The Secrets #My writing #Mine to Make #Mayhem to the nth degree

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