#this post took me four hours to write because I accidentally deleted it a third of the way through r i p

[hunxi-guilai]

I would *love* any additional linguistic details you can provide on the Baifeng Mountain scene where Queen Yanli absolutely eviscerates asshole-cousin-Jin (as Jin Zixun is known in our household). The subtitles are incredible enough, but I'm sure there are so many details I'm missing that would make me love Yanli even more (if that's possible). Anything you wanted to share would be welcome!

okay okay so I went back and rewatched that scene to answer this ask and god is it painful to sit through, because:

Wei Wuxian is like, on the edge of tears for this entire scene, which prefigures the entire conflict in episode 32 during the second siege of Nightless City. Both times, he’s frustrated and furious, and every single one of his arguments made in cold, cool logic gets shouted down by louder voices who want nothing more than to see him dead, punished for his aberrant genius. Both times, they cast aspersions on his ambition, his person, his audacity, his upbringing -- and most of all, they insult (without knowing) his greatest sacrifice, the likes of which no one knows, no one can even really comprehend. It makes me SO MAD. 

This is the last time Wei Wuxian has both of his emotional anchors — Lan Wangji and Jiang Yanli — present to pull him back from an emotional brink. Not that anyone, y’know, appreciates the immense emotional effort it took him to not eviscerate Jin Zixun on the spot. We don’t really talk about the immense emotional control and self-discipline Wei Wuxian has to not go berserk at literally any second — we should talk about that more. Can I get some snaps for our resident demonic cultivator?

Sect Leader Yao is in this scene, for some unknown reason, and speaks. Ugh. Can he stop doing that

Jin Zixun gets out of this scene without actually delivering the apology that Jiang Yanli demanded, the weasel.

But! In the name of shijie, we persevere!

I’m not going to translate the entire scene (because I’m not, I’m not re-translating the entire show, if I say it enough times I’ll believe it), but here are some interesting blocking/dialogue things I noticed this time around:

Jin Zixun is so?? breathtakingly??? rude????

which, I know, is not exactly a surprise or a deep insight, but this scene really hammers home how goddamn infuriating he is.

Wei Wuxian spends this entire confrontation trying to get away — he turns his back on Jin Zixun, speaks to other people, anything to rein himself in and, y’know, not smash Jin Zixun’s face into smithereens — but Jin Zixun continually chases him around the clearing, constantly getting in Wei Wuxian’s face. It’s like Jin Zixun is trying to get in a fight with Wei Wuxian, and yet, when Wei Wuxian offers him that fight, Jin Zixun backs off.

I might be overthinking this, but it really seems like Jin Zixun is trying to employ a variation on 苦肉计 kurouji (one of the 《三十六计》，The Thirty-Six Stratagems) by deliberately goading Wei Wuxian towards violence. It’s almost as if he’s trying to get Wei Wuxian to attack him, so that, during the inevitable fall-out, he can point at his own injuries and yell loudly about Wei Wuxian’s lack of culture, lack of control, lack of education, etc etc. 

It’s also a pretty high-risk gambit in this case, which makes me wonder if someone put him up to it… cough Jin Guangshan cough

Or, y’know, Jin Zixun is just that obnoxious, his arrogance cultivated through a childhood of luxury and that unquestioned belief in his inherent superiority. That’s also possible.

Anyways, Jin Zixun’s asshole-ry doesn’t stop with Wei Wuxian; right after Jiang Yanli apologizes to Jin Zixun — apologizes! — on behalf of Wei Wuxian, Jin Zixun straight-up walks away from her bow. She is literally still bowing to him, torso inclined, eyes lowered. The correct and courteous thing to do in this moment is to acknowledge the apology, whether that’s accepting it or denying it, so that Jiang Yanli can straighten up and they can talk face-to-face like two people of the same rank and generation. But no-o-o — he walks away from her, goes over to Wei Wuxian, rubs it in his face a bit more, before finally acknowledging the apology with a magnanimous and dismissive gesture, declaring that the apology is not necessary.

Seriously? You just went after Wei Wuxian for a solid four minutes, and now you’re saying that apologies aren’t necessary? What the fuck do you even want, you piece of--

UGH. Anyway. Let’s talk about Jin-furen, who’s bobbing along concernedly in the background.

Jin-furen’s shifting role

So I’ve got a lot of mixed feelings on Jin-furen, but most of my uncertainty about her is because we don’t get much of her onscreen at all. I love that she is completely and totally unafraid to call Jin Zixuan out on his disaster het bullshit, and she does try to defuse the situation here by intervening both with Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixun (let’s remember that Jin-furen is the one to yell at Jin Zixun, backing up Jiang Yanli’s demand for his apology). And I absolutely adore seeing the solidarity between Jin-furen and Jiang Yanli in the brief moments where they’re allied against the men in the scene.

At the same time… Jin-furen is complicated. She has, objectively, the worst husband in the series, yet manages to maintain an air of dignity and command that belies her petite height (everyone in this cast are goddamn giants but words cannot encompass my love for the fact that Jiang Yanli, in all her five-foot-six glory, tells local necromantic six-foot beanpole and younger brother to stand behind her). As she watches Jiang Yanli tear Jin Zixun a new one, you can see this mix of emotions on her face — the instinct to tell Jiang Yanli to back off, to keep her head down, to silence herself because that’s how women stay safe in this world, that’s how women survive, balanced equally with a respect and unspoken support for Jiang Yanli because you go girl, knock these asshole men down a few pegs, they deserve it.

Part of the reason why this scene’s so complicated is because there are so many parties, and so many different agendas at play. We have:

Jin Zixuan, disaster het, trying to communicate his affections to the love of his life and failing spectacularly

Jiang Yanli, resident queen, too good for this world, too pure. Trying not to get her heart broken and also defend her little bro

Wei Wuxian, necromantic beanpole, trying to defend his shijie from this man who keeps hurting her feelings, trying not to lay waste to everything within a square mile

Lan Wangji, just passing by, trying to make sure the love of his life doesn’t cause an inter-clan incident

Jin-furen, the only grown-up around, trying to get her disaster son to talk nicely to his former betrothed while looking out for the daughter of her best friend

Jin Zixun, local asshole, trying to get Wei Wuxian to attack him

Literally everyone has a different motive in this scene, which makes this moment delightfully complex. But at this moment:

don’t pretend I can’t see you, Jin Zixuan

Another thing I couldn’t help but track was Jin Zixuan’s presence in the background of this scene (remember when this scene started with Wei Wuxian interrupting disaster hets Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli? Ah yes, gentler times) — he’s there, watching everything unfold, watching his beloved roll up her sleeves and go toe-to-toe with Jin Zixun, watching even his mom yell at Jin Zixun — and he does… nothing?

“你这个臭小子” -- Jin-furen, actually

I keep thinking about how Jin Zixuan grew up — lonely, proud, adrift — and why he doesn’t try to intervene in this scene, to talk Jin Zixun down the way he does in episode 31 (RIP. For Jin Zixuan. Not Jin Zixun). I wonder how many people he can call close friends — he’s the sole legitimate heir of the Lanling Jin Sect, elevated and isolated in his status and skill in a way not-unlike coldly aloof Lan Wangji (and boy do I have thoughts about how bitterly lonely Lan Wangji is throughout his life thanks to his reputation), except Jin Zixuan doesn’t have an elder brother who understands him, doesn’t have someone who can tease him and listen to him and watch out for him. No, he’s just got this one asshole cousin around his age that he tolerates because Jin Zixun’s foul mouth and foul temper is never directed at him. I can’t imagine that Jin Guangshan was a particularly good father to Jin Zixuan, even if he does do, y’know, the bare minimum of refraining from kicking Jin Zixuan down the steps of Jinlintai; and considering that Jin-furen was the one to bring up suspicions about the ‘‘‘‘‘‘propriety’’’’’ of Wei Wuxian and Jiang Yanli walking together (seriously Jin-furen, the thought had never crossed my mind before you brought it up), I can’t imagine that she would let Jin Zixuan get too close to, say, Mianmian/Luo Qingyang.

Nothing particularly coherent here, but this scene got me thinking about how profoundly lonely Jin Zixuan must have been while growing up, although I doubt he admitted would ever admit such a weakness to himself. Which might explain why he doesn’t try to rein in Jin Zixun, here — he doesn’t want to alienate, the only other person his age that his parents let him talk to.

He’s still a disaster of a man, though. Someone get him some proper socialization, stat.

Hands, Feet, and Siblings

All right let’s get some dialogue and translations up in this post. I did (deep sigh) do the thing where I muted the episode on YouTube and turned on the English subs, and shockingly… it’s not terrible? I mean it’s not great (seriously, what’s going on with ‘preys,’ just use the verb ‘hunt’ like a normal person please) but the meaning of the lines are pretty well-communicated. I do want to look a bit at these two lines, because I’m in the business of appreciating language AND Jiang Yanli:

Jin Zixun, right after Jiang Yanli apologizes to him, before she utterly roasts him: 但是，看在江姑娘还有江宗主的面子上，道歉就不用了。毕竟云梦江氏和兰陵金氏本来就情同手足嘛。/ But, considering the feelings of Jiang-guniang as well as Jiang-zongzhu, this apology is not needed. After all, the Jiang Clan of Yunmeng and the Jin Clan of Lanling are as dear to each other as hands are to feet.

Jiang Yanli, in the process of absolutely destroying Jin Zixun: 阿羡是我云梦江氏子弟，自小同我姐弟二人一起长大，情逾手足。你脱口而出家仆之子，恕我不能接受，因此还希望金子勋公子向我云梦江氏魏无羡道歉。/ A-Xian is one of our disciples, of the Jiang Clan of Yunmeng. Ever since he was small, he grew up with the two of us, dearer than hands or feet. You threw out the words ‘son of a servant.’  I beg your pardon*, but I cannot tolerate this. And so, I hope that Jin Zixun-gongzi will apologize to Wei Wuxian of our Yunmeng Jiang Clan.

*Jiang Yanli, here, uses the words 恕我 shuwo, which literally means “forgive me” but often appears in phrases like 恕我直言 shuwo zhiyan / ‘forgive me for my blunt speech,’ and thereby has this vague aura of ‘sorry-not-sorry’

Okay! So I’ve bolded the relevant chengyu in both lines of dialogue: Jin Zixun says that the Jiang and Jin Clans are 情同手足, which gets translated in the YouTube subs (and on Pleco, for the record) into “as close as brothers.” Totally correct! Absolutely conveys the appropriate sentiment! Pretty much means this in Chinese! But on a character/semantic level, has no thing to do with brothers or siblings:

情 qing - (n.) feelings, sentiment

同 tong - (adj.) just as, like

手 shou - (n.) hand

足 zu - (n.) foot

Literally, the idiom expresses ‘as dear as hands and feet, such that you are never apart from them, even for a day.’ Since it’s often used to express the closeness of two people on a sibling-esque level, it’s not surprising that it gets translated the way it does. But if we want to get down to the meaning of it, it’s like saying that someone is as close to you that they’re practically the same body — inseparable as hands and feet.

So Jin Zixun says that about the two sects, but Jiang Yanli takes that one step further and modifies the chengyu into:

情 qing - (n.) feelings, sentiment

逾 yu - (v.) to exceed

手 shou - (n.) hand

足 zu - (n.) foot

which is pretty much the same sentiment as another established chengyu, 情逾骨肉 qingyugurou / ‘dearer than one’s own bone and flesh.’ The point here is that Jiang Yanli, by changing the second character, emphasizes that Wei Wuxian is dearer to her than any political alliance with the Jin Sect. Sure, fine, our two sects are close as hands and feet, she says, but Wei Wuxian is more important to me than hands or feet.

Shijie is the literal best.

Throughout this whole confrontation, Jin Zixun tries his level best to isolate Wei Wuxian, attacking him for his alternative cultivation, for his parentage, questioning his morality, his righteousness, deploying all sorts of verbal abuse isolating and demeaning Wei Wuxian and his achievements. And since Wei Wuxian is trying not to cause trouble for Yunmeng Jiang (Yu-furen’s last words to him still echo in his mind), he doesn’t try to call on any sort of relationship with Yunmeng Jiang to defend himself, taking all of the insult onto himself alone.

Jiang Yanli will not stand for this. Wei Wuxian is hers, is Yunmeng Jiang’s, is not alone. It would be so, so easy to leave Wei Wuxian out in the cold — they’re surrounded by an overwhelming majority of Jin Sect and randos (including — ugh — Sect Leader Yao); they’re on their own. She doesn’t usually pull rank or assert authority loudly in public debate, but in this moment she does. When Jiang Yanli goes off on Jin Zixun, she claims Wei Wuxian, makes it known that there will be no dividing of the two of them (which, I think, is part of what prompts Jin-furen to switch sides and demand that Jin Zixun apologize as well), that an attack on Wei Wuxian is as good as an attack on Yunmeng Jiang.

Someone is attacking her little brother, so she’ll go to fucking war for him. 

pour one out for Jin Guangyao

Jin Zixun narrowly avoids having to apologize to Jiang Yanli (still seething about that, by the way) thanks to the arrival of Jin Guangyao and Lan Xichen. Jin-furen immediately storms over to Jin Guangyao and lays into him, since he’s a convenient scapegoat whom she already holds a grudge against (is it logical? no. is it good of her? no. but does she have the literal worst husband who needs to be set on fire? yes. and does Jin Guangyao remind her of that fact? unfortunately, through no fault of his own, yes). What upsets me the most about this, though, is that Jin-furen calls Jin Guangyao 废物 feiwu / ‘good-for-nothing, useless thing.’ Underneath it all is the the implicit judgment of class and status — Jin Guangyao’s eternal raw nerve, son of a prostitute.

Jin-furen smacks the pleasant smile right off of Jin Guangyao’s face, and it’s decidedly… unpleasant. There’s colloquialism in modern Mandarin, 躺枪 tangqiang, which literally means ‘to get shot even while lying down.’ The idea here is that there’s a conflict going on (usually somewhere on the internet) and someone, who’s trying to lie low, definitely not engaging, still gets dragged into the whole mess. They’re keeping their head down and they still get shot.

Yep, that’s Jin Guangyao in this scene; just tryin’ his best to be helpful, to smooth things over, to resolve conflicts, and Jin-furen slaps him in the face. Even Lan Xichen looks actively uncomfortable, and steps up to defend him.

Man, this whole scene is such a mess (from an in-universe perspective, not a production standpoint. The production is impeccable and needs no notes), and part of it is because there are so many personalities and agendas clashing in a high-stress environment.

But one last dig of the knife:

Jiang Cheng shows up late to the no-good-very-bad party, and he’s all concern for Wei Wuxian. Where are you going? he asks. Come with me to the Hundred Flowers Feast.

And Wei Wuxian removes Jiang Cheng’s hand from his arm--

I can’t get over the fact that Jiang Cheng stares down at his hands, totally disbelieving that Wei Wuxian just shrugged him off

says, I’m going into the city to roam for a bit. Go on your own, and Jiang Cheng watches him walk away, disbelieving, confused, left in the dark and the dust.

(and the next time Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng see each other, it will be in the grand hall of Jinlintai, when Wei Wuxian stands before the assembled clans and snatches away a cup of wine, sets fire to his bridges and counts down from three, because that single, fateful trip into the city will be when he meets Wen Qing again for the first time since she reached inside him and cut away his childhood at his own request, the beginning of an end long in coming)

[aidanchaser]

Waterloo Station

Several folks said, “I would love to see more of Regulus and Sirius shenanigans!” after Chapter 18. Well, lo and behold, I actually have a deleted bit of Chapter 18 showcasing just that. The second draft was from Sirius’ perspective, but since Sirius lent his voice to In Memoriam, and we’re about to hit a short run of non-Harry chapters, I brought the chapter back to Harry in the third draft. (the first draft was an entirely different Harry chapter about breaking James out of prison, but that got pushed back in favor of some character development; we’ll get back to it, I promise.)

So here’s a short bit, taken out of my scraps. It’s headed with “MY DARLING” because it is one of several darlings I have killed while writing Deathly Hallows, but it’s the only one to earn the all-caps title. Thanks to the magic of fanfic, I can still share this darling with you. (the alternate title for this chapter should be: Sirius Accidentally Outs Himself as a Furry)

Padfoot hated the city. It was loud and there were so many people, each with their own scents and emotions. He supposed he should count himself lucky Harry had bled so much, or the trail would have been harder to follow.

He recognized the wizards on the platform easily. Their attire of slacks combined with hoodies or rain slickers paired with thick rubber work boots marked them easily as incompetently dressed Ministry employees. Sirius supposed they were keeping an eye open for someone stupid enough to come to the platform in search of Harry, someone just like him.

The platform had been scrubbed clean, but Padfoot could still detect Harry’s scent through the bleach. He didn’t board the train that pulled into the station, not yet. He waited, sniffing the entrance of the car carefully. He didn’t smell Harry or bleach. So he sat back and waited. A few Muggles scratched his ears as they passed or before boarding the train. Sirius let them without protest. 

He had learned that Muggles, by and large, enjoyed dogs as long as those dogs were gentle, still, and quiet. And if he was anything else — too loud, too quick, or too threatening — they were eager to chase him out or worse, catch him. It was a lesson he had learned early in his life, long before he had become Padfoot; it was just an easier lesson to follow when he was Padfoot. Something about a thick coat of fur, the eyes and ears of a predator, and four paws to run with made him far more comfortable and settled in his own skin than being a young boy in the middle of a war ever had. 

Another train pulled in, and this one, too, didn’t smell of Harry, but the third one did. He followed the Muggles into the carriage, and noticed a small black shadow slip in after him. It hid under the seat, and Sirius pointedly ignored it. He took a post at the door and waited, ready to check each stop this train made until he found Harry.

Regulus had tried desperately to talk him out of this, but Sirius had ignored him. Between him, Lily, and Remus, Sirius was the only one who could track down Harry, and if he didn’t, Lily and Remus would. Lily was far more likely to be recognized on the platform than Padfoot was, making Sirius not only the safest choice, but the most efficient choice, given Padfoot’s hunting instincts.

The first stop didn’t have even a whiff of Harry, but the second one did, though it was no longer paired with bleach. Sirius could only surmise that Harry had healed any open wounds before exiting the train and he felt both relieved and proud. 

That relief vanished almost as soon as he stepped off of the train. This station was enormous. It wasn’t just another Underground station; it was the biggest train station in London. Crowds hurried past, chasing after trains. Others clustered around kiosks and maps. Sirius’ heart sank. Harry could have boarded a train to practically anywhere from here, even Paris. 

The small black shadow slunk out of the carriage behind him and slipped into a tiny space beneath a nearby bin. Padfoot put his wet nose to the ground and followed Harry’s faint scent to a ticket station. From there it was difficult to determine where to go next. He thought he had a faint trail of Harry’s blood but it was unusual, mixed with something else.

“Pardon me, sir,” a nearby Muggle said, “but you need to have your dog on a lead at all times —”

“Oh,” a man looked down at Padfoot. “He’s not my dog.”

Sirius decided to follow the scent of Harry’s blood. It led him out of the station and away from the Underground service workers. The last thing he needed was for a well-meaning Muggle to try to help him find his owner. The few times it had happened in the past, he had always had James to bail it out.

Sirius shook off the stab of grief that came with the thought. It was always easier to shake off grief as Padfoot, as if the same abilities that heightened his physical senses dulled the sharper edges of his hurt. Besides, he reminded himself, there was nothing he could do for James right now, not until they were able to find whatever Death Eater prison he was being held in — and they had to believe he was being held. What Sirius could do was find Harry.

Though it had been less than twenty-four hours since Harry had passed through here, London had a way of making people invisible, of burying passersby in the scent of automobile smog and endless eateries. Sirius had to work hard to discern the scent of Harry’s blood through it all, but he managed to follow the trail south for less than a mile until it disappeared into a tall, brown-brick residential building.

Padfoot sat down on the pavement and evaluated his options. It would not be hard to sniff out Harry, if he truly was in this building, but a large dog was likely to be chased out of a private building. As Sirius, it wouldn’t be hard to charm his way into the building, but it might be harder to find Harry.

Padfoot barked softly at the bushes. The black cat that had been tailing him crawled out. He knew Regulus had no interest in helping him, and had only come along as emergency backup in case of a duel, but Padfoot gestured his head towards the building anyway.

The small, black cat stared at Padfoot, then back up at the building. Reluctantly, he slipped up the stairs and into the building on the heels of an unsuspecting resident.

Padfoot sniffed the stone retaining wall. Plenty of people had passed through here, but he didn’t smell Harry, not exactly. He definitely smelled the blood trail he had been following, but that wasn’t the same thing as Harry’s scent. He wondered if it was Greyback who had come through here, but Sirius was fairly certain that he would recognize Greyback’s scent if he came across it.

He wondered, briefly, if Regulus had been right when he had said that Sirius was better off staying with Remus and Lily, rather than hunting down Harry. The full moon was just two days away, and he knew Remus was nervous. Brewing the Wolfsbane Potion had been impossible this week. They had been moving too frequently to get together the ingredients, and they still hadn’t figured out where Remus was going to transform. Lily would need to be somewhere safe but on hand in case of emergency, and they couldn’t be anywhere too open that might put others at risk. Tonks had, kindly, suggested hers and her mother’s home, but that had only sent Remus into another downward spiral. Remus was wary enough of transforming around people he loved when he had the Wolfsbane Potion to keep his mind. He was never going to allow himself to lose control with Tonks so close at hand.

Sirius tried to shake his worries off. Remus was tomorrow’s problem. Harry was today’s.

Regulus returned from his investigation surprisingly quickly. He hurried across the street and over a low wall, into some plants. When he stepped out as himself, Sirius reluctantly followed and also used the wall as cover to return to his human form.

“What did you find?” Sirius asked.

Regulus smoothed the front of his cloak. “Harry isn’t there.”

“I know.”

“Then why did we come here?”

Sirius swung his legs over the wall. “Because someone here has information about Harry. Did you follow the blood trail?”

“It’s going to be a dead end.”

“I’d prefer you didn’t use that word.”

“The trail is cold, Sirius. We have no way to know where Harry has gone.”

“Give me a flat number and I’ll go myself.”

Regulus hesitated, but Sirius knew he would give in. They were stubborn, the both of them, but Regulus had never built up the tolerance for conflict that Sirius had. Sirius could thrive in the center of chaos; he’d had to in order to survive. Regulus, however, invested too much effort in fighting chaos. It was always going to be a losing battle.

Regulus crossed the street, back to the building. He pointed his wand at the lock, but it didn’t budge.

Sirius looked over Regulus’ shoulder. “Oh, it’s one of those keypads? <i>Alohomora</i> is no good.” He dug his own wand out and aimed a hot white spark. It fizzed and sputtered and then the lock clicked.

Regulus pulled the door open. “Did you break it?”

Sirius shrugged. “They malfunction all the time. Keeps the Muggle maintenance men employed.”

Regulus led Sirius upstairs to the top floor and gestured at a door near the stairwell. “The trail leads here. But I didn’t see, hear, or smell anything to indicate that Harry might be here. I can’t imagine Harry would have stayed in London.”

“No, but if whoever lives here had Harry’s blood on them, they might be able to tell us something.”

“And if that person is a Death Eater?”

“Then I guess we’ll duel them.” Sirius knocked on the door.

“We aren’t even going to try to disguise ourselves?” Regulus hissed at him, but Sirius couldn’t answer, because the door opened.

The gentleman in the doorway wore a fine Muggle suit. His skin was dark and he had a neatly trimmed beard and shaved head. He looked about Sirius’ age, and was about as tall, though definitely rounder in both face and build.

He looked over the two of them and raised a thick eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

Sirius held out his hand. “I hope so. My name’s Sirius.”

“Nigel Brooks,” he said, and shook Sirius’ hand warily. His eyes drifted over Sirius’ shoulder to Regulus, but Sirius had a feeling Regulus would not be keen on an introduction.

Sirius reached into his pocket and pulled out a photograph. “We’re trying to find someone, and we think you might have run into him.” The picture of Harry was from Remus’ wedding. He had folded it over so that Ron and Hermione were hidden, along with most of the movement in the picture. Harry still blinked and his smile moved slightly, but Sirius hoped the Muggle would just think it a trick of the light.

Brooks took the photo to examine it more closely, then shrugged. “Might’ve seen him around.” He looked Sirius and Regulus over again. “You don’t look like police.”

Sirius glanced down at his worn jeans and leather jacket. “Hardly,” he said. “I’m his godfather. His mother’s awfully worried. We’re just trying to get some information.”

Brooks returned the photograph. “I’m afraid I can’t help you. Best of luck, though.”

He started to close the door, but Sirius wedged his foot in the door. “We know you saw him, and at the very least, got his blood on you. We’re just trying to find out where he might have gone. There are dangerous people after him.”

Nigel straightened, and Sirius recognized a familiar determination in his dark eyes. “If what you say is true, and if I really did run into a young man, injured and running for his life, then what makes you think I would tell the first strangers who knocked on my door anything about him?”

“We’re his family.”

“Family can’t be dangerous?” Brook’s voice was cold, and Sirius, while he appreciated the man’s desire to protect Harry, felt outmatched. He didn’t feel outmatched very often.

“His name is Harry,” Regulus said, “and all we want is to know that he’s alive. You don’t have to tell us where he went, just tell us that he’s safe.”

Brooks stared at Regulus for a moment, then opened the door so it was no longer pressing on Sirius’ foot. “He’s alive, as far as I know. There was a lot of blood, but his injuries weren’t as bad as they looked. I thought whoever was chasing him had torn his wrist open, but when he showed it to me, there wasn’t even a scratch. He refused to go to hospital, just said he wanted out of the city, so I put him on a train. That’s the last I saw of him.”

“Has anyone else come asking for him?”

“No. You’re the first.”

“Thank you for your help.” Regulus inclined his head. “Sirius, we’re done here.”

Sirius did not think they were done. He wanted to know exactly which train Harry had gotten on. But Regulus was already leaving.

“Reg — wait —” But Regulus did not wait. Sirius eyed Brooks, but he supposed Regulus was right. They weren’t going to get anything more out of this man.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

“Sirius —” Brooks hesitated, and Sirius waited, hopeful.

But Brooks gave them neither a train nor destination. Instead, he handed Sirius a small business card. “If you find him, I’d like to know he’s alright.”

Sirius looked down at the plain white card. It had the man’s name printed on it and the contact information for an art gallery. 

“I’d find him faster if you’d tell me more.”

“He told me he was going to find his aunt and uncle,” Brooks said. “If you’re really his family, it shouldn’t be hard for you to track them down.” And he closed the door.

Sirius walked away, more confused than when they had arrived. He met Regulus at the bottom of the stairs.

“Did he tell you anything?” Regulus asked.

Sirius handed Regulus the business card. “He said Harry went to stay with an aunt and uncle. Do you think he meant Tonks and Remus?”

“I suppose that would be a simple way to explain their relationship to a stranger. Why would Harry go to Remus?”

“Maybe a fight with Greyback scared some sense in him.” Sirius found himself hoping it was true rather than believing it was true. Harry had been pushing them away all summer, and Sirius thought one duel unlikely to have changed Harry’s mind. Harry had his mother’s stubbornness, after all. 

Regulus handed the card back to Sirius. “I suppose there’s nothing else to do. We’ll just have to trust this man Brooks’ word that Harry is safe.”

“We’re hardly done.” Sirius was already walking back to the station at a brisk pace. “Now we show Harry’s photograph on the platforms. We start with the line headed for Tonks, and pray he didn't actually board a train to Paris.”

An unusual anger sparked in Regulus’ cold gaze as he hurried after Sirius. Not that Regulus never got angry, but he usually tempered it so well. “Harry is wanted by some of the most dangerous people in the world and you think it's a good idea to flash his picture around to every blasted Muggle in London — you’re also wanted by those same people! You can't just spend a day on a platform where they're surely to be looking for Harry — it’s absurd!”

Regulus' general frown of displeasure twitched with his outburst. His nose scrunched the tiniest bit and his already thin lips seemed to disappear. He looked so much like Narcissa. Sirius looked away, wishing his brother could wear someone else’s face. He wished, more often than not, that he could wear someone else’s face, too. Perhaps that was just another reason it was so much easier to be Padfoot.

“We’ll wear disguises.” Sirius surprised himself with the “we.” He had never wanted Regulus to come along on this hunt in the first place, but suddenly he was not keen on Regulus leaving him to it alone. “Hell we could even pretend to be Hit Wizards, deputised with hunting Harry down, if any wizards question us.”

“But the Muggles, Sirius! You’ll have to Obliviate every single one of them that you talk to, or else the Death Eaters or Hit Wizards or Muggle-born Registration Commision or Snatchers or any other group of wizards that want you and I dead could interrogate them and track it back to us — or worse back to Harry.”

“That will take us forever —”

“Why can't you just let Harry go? You know he got away from Greyback. Brooks put him on a train, helped him, made sure he wasn’t injured, so he must be safe somewhere. Isn’t that enough?”

“No. Not for me, and not for Lily nor Remus.” It wouldn’t be enough for James, either.

“You can't protect him from everything, Sirius. He’s seventeen now, and whatever Dumbledore’s asked of him —”

Anger flared hot and bright in Sirius' chest as he whirled on Regulus, and there was no Padfoot to soften the edges as he snarled Regulus words back at him. “‘Whatever Dumbledore’s asked of him’? Harry’s told us you're in on it so don't give me that hippogriff shit acting like you don't know. Like you're not keeping all the same secrets from us as Harry is. Like this is somehow less your fault, just because you slink away from arguments whenever you damn well please.”

Regulus’ temper faded from his face, replaced with an unusual, stricken expression that Sirius was not sure he had ever seen on his brother. Blacks felt many things, and usually felt them strongly, but fear? That wasn't something Sirius had seen in any of his cousins before, nor his brother.

But to Regulus’ credit, he did not transform into a cat and run away. He carefully schooled his expression back into its traditional calm and proud with a dash of disdainful form.

“I’ll help you find Harry,” he finally said in a quiet, almost apologetic voice. “But we Transfigure our disguises, no Polyjuice. It's too unreliable. And we Obliviate every Muggle we meet — don’t argue with me on this, Sirius! Yes, it will take longer, but it will keep Harry safer, and I trust that wherever he has run off to, he is indeed safe. We would have heard otherwise if he wasn't.”

Sirius took in several deep breaths to make sure his anger was cooled, at least enough that it would not attract the attention of those passing by them on the pavement, before speaking again. “Fine. Let’s do what we can today. And I want to put a word in the paper to Tonks, just in case he really did mean that he was on his way to her and Remus.”

“The paper? Sirius —”

“Not the <i>Prophet</i>. I’m not an idiot. Tonks, Remus, and I have a code we use for personals in the <i>Times</i>. Her idea. Said her dad used to use it in the first war to communicate with some of his Muggle-born friends, at first just after he and Andromeda eloped and had gone to ground to avoid her family, then as part of the war effort.”

Regulus shook his head. “It’s still risky —”

“It’s a war. There’s risk. Accept it and move on. The longer you whine about it, the longer nothing gets done.”

Regulus studied Sirius, and Sirius did not care for the intent look on Regulus’ face, almost like Regulus was trying to peer directly into his thoughts. It reminded him too much of their mother, trying to parse just how much trouble Sirius was in, just how much damage he had done.

But Regulus did not scold Sirius, nor criticise him. “I’m sorry,” he said instead. “You're right.”

Had Sirius been in a slightly better mood, he might have had a joke ready, made Regulus repeat his apology. As it stood, Sirius had trouble accepting it at all. Perhaps it was no real wonder he and Regulus had grown so far apart. Even when one reached out, the other couldn't bother to reach back.

He zipped up his jacket, suddenly cold, though it was only the middle of the afternoon, and kicked his boots against a nearby wall. It didn't lessen his frustration. 

And after a full day walking up and down train platforms, talking to and Obliviating every Muggle they met, Sirius was no less frustrated. The task ahead of them was enormous, and with each passing day that left them with no leads, it seemed more and more futile.

But there was nothing else to do. Lily and Remus did their part connecting with the Order, hunting down rumors of sightings of Harry, while Regulus and Sirius plodded on through Muggle after Muggle and Memory Charm after Memory Charm.

It was two full moons more before, finally, a Muggle woman frowned as she looked at the photo.

“I think… Goodness it’s been a while, but I think I did see him. Or I saw a boy who looked like him. Had red hair. I thought it odd with his complexion, but it was a dark sort of red, I suppose. The glasses… I can’t remember if he was wearing them or not. He was a twitchy lad, though, rather unhappy face. Is he in some sort of trouble?”

“No,” Sirius said, though it was not exactly true. He spoke quickly, anxious to get every detail out of this woman. “I’m his godfather, just trying to track him down. Can you tell me where he went?”

She pursed her lips. “I think… it must have been the rail line that goes out to Portsmouth — yes, I was visiting my sister that day, and I remember he had a large pack. I thought he must be on his way home from a walking tour.”

Sirius could not fathom what might have attracted Harry to Portsmouth. He wondered if it had something to do with Dumbledore. Maybe Regulus would know, but Regulus said nothing, mere stood at Sirius’ side, waiting to Obliviate this poor woman as soon as she was done talking.

“Do you know where he got off the train?” Sirius asked.

She frowned and handed the photograph back to Sirius. “I don’t know… he tripped over my bag on his way out. I felt awful. It… oh! It was Guildford. Yes, I remember, because —”

“Thank you so much for your time,” Regulus interrupted. Then, her eyes glassed over. She blinked at Sirius and Regulus, slowly, uncertain.

“Er — can I help you?” she asked.

“No, thanks,” Sirius grunted, and as soon as she was gone, he whirled on Regulus. “She might have had more information!”

“We needed to know where Harry had gone. Now we know. What else could she have told us? It’s not as if she followed him off the train. Besides, Sirius, she saw Harry over a month ago. There’s no way Harry’s still in Guildford, no reason he would stay in one place for so long.”

“Are you sure?” Sirius lowered his voice and tried to keep the threatening tone out of it, but he found it difficult. “You don’t know of anything in Guildford that might keep him there? Nothing to do with Dumbledore or You-Know-Who?”

Regulus’ stare was even, but that didn’t tell Sirius much. “Nothing. And if you can’t think of anything that would keep him there, then all we can do is go down there and see if some other Muggle happens to remember him passing through months ago — there’s just no sense in it. We know he got away safely. Let that be enough.”

Sirius was no longer listening to Regulus. He had plucked a map from a kiosk and was staring at Guildford on the network of spider web lines spiraling out from Waterloo Station, trying to make sense of why it had appealed to Harry.

“I’m an idiot,” he finally said.

“That’s nothing new,” Regulus said.

“Brooks told us where he was going from the beginning and I was too stupid to understand.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He was going to see his aunt and uncle, is what Brooks said. Not Tonks and Remus — his mum’s sister. Her Muggle family.”

“Does Harry even know them?”

“He knows they’re in hiding, and he knows their house will be empty — bloody hell I can’t believe I’m that thick.” Sirius balled the map up in his fist.

“Should we tell Lily and Remus —”

“Let’s make sure he’s there before we get their hopes up.” Sirius fought down another grunt of frustration. He had not felt this stupid in a long time, but how was he supposed to connect Harry to Petunia and Vernon, whom Harry had met perhaps twice in his life? He did not even wait to slip away to a hidden corner of the platform to Disapparate. He turned on the spot, in the midst of a crowd of Muggles, ignoring all of Regulus’ protests, and disappeared with a crack.

[m1smatched-starsigns]

How many fics have you started/completed and which new fic will you post next? Love your work.

Hello! Strap in because I’m the queen of unfinished fics! :D

My very first fic was titled C-H-O-I-C-E-S, and it was a Bluestar/Oakheart AU (I’d just finished Bluestar’s Prophecy for the first time and was deep in my feels). It revolved around Oakheart joining Bluefur in ThunderClan and helping raise the kits so that Bluefur could still become deputy.

My second fic was called Hollyleaf’s Second Chance, and it was an AU in which Hollyleaf lived through the Great Battle. After my Hollystar AU got so much positive attention, I’ve started thinking about reviving this one! It wouldn’t be anything like my original fic because that idea needed a lot of work lol.

The third fic was Thistles in the Snow, an AU in which Snowfur saves Thistleclaw from being killed in the Great Battle, but accidentally reincarnates them both as ThunderClan kits. Snowfur remembered the past but Thistleclaw didn’t, so she makes it her mission to keep him on the straight and narrow this time around. I’ve always had a soft spot for this fic and I’ve considered reviving it before, but I don’t see it happening anytime soon. 

The fourth fic was Dark Shadows, a Blackstar/Russetfur AU. I think I made it to chapter 15 before I quit writing for about a year, and when I picked up the pen again I couldn’t stand to look back at old chapters, so it was deleted as well. A lot of longtime readers actually discovered my account through this fic and sometimes they reference it in reviews, and it always warms my heart. Also, the first time I ever got fanart was because of this fic!

The fifth fic was F-R-A-M-E-D, a Mousewhisker/Minnowtail murder mystery AU! It took place shortly after the Great Battle, when Mousewhisker’s apprentice is murdered and he’s the prime suspect. He is banished from ThunderClan so Minnowtail convinces Mistystar to take him in while they work to prove his innocence and solve the case!

(this is where everything becomes foggy in my head)

My sixth fic is The Impossible Life of a SkyClan Warrior, which is still alive! I’m in the process of revising it for the third time but I’m determined to complete this one! Although I didn’t publish the first chapter until 2017, it was one of the very first ideas I ever had. It’s very sentimental to me which is probably why I’ve made so many changes to it, but I think this is going to be the last time I make any major changes.

Oh look, fanart!

Rebel was my seventh fic and a real roller-coaster ride for a lot of readers! It was an Icecloud/Smokefoot AU and basically followed Icecloud going through her teenage rebellion phase lol. I deleted/revived it at least twice and it became very popular, but I would fall in and out of love with it too often to ever complete it. However, it did serve as inspiration for my next fic…

My baby, Dawn Frost! Oddly enough I went into this fic with the mindset that I would probably delete it after a few chapters, and it didn’t receive any reviews at first so that was discouraging, but right around chapter four I found my stride and couldn’t stop writing. It slowly gained popularity until completion, and to this day I still get reviews/messages about it. I learned a lot from DF and I’m still so proud of it.

Dawn Frost also has some lovely fanart that you can check out here and here! The coverphoto is also fanart but I can’t seem to find the link rn!

The ninth fic was How to Come Home, a Breezepelt/Heathertail redemption AU! I published the first chapter just a few days after completed Dawn Frost and I went into it thinking I would complete it, but five chapters deep I felt like I wasn’t doing Breezepelt justice. I had his character in my head but I couldn’t seem to translate it to paper, so I deleted it. I fully intend to revive it one day, and I still have all of the old chapters saved in a doc, but I don’t want to tackle a complicated character like Breezepelt until I’m confident that I can handle him :)

I believe Written in the Stars came next. Of all of my ideas, I’ve daydreamed the most about this monster. It’s very close to my heart and for five years I thought I would never publish it, but I took the plunge in 2018 and it’s still alive! I actually took a break from revising it to write this post, but I’m halfway done with revisions now. Once those are complete I’m going to do a second, more thorough round of edits and then I’m going to redraw the outline again. Hopefully everything I’m doing now will prevent me from revising the entire fic/outline three different times!

Fic number eleven is actually a one-shot collection titled Five Truths! I started this collection as a way to shine a light on the characters who didn’t necessarily get one in the main series. Honestly, it’s just a way for me to share my headcanons lol.

Fic number twelve is a two-shot called If Wishes Were Falling Stars. It’s nothing special, just a fluffy two-shot about two cats falling in love. It focuses on young Hailstar/Echomist from Crookedstar’s Promise and features Best Boy Shellheart, Not Evil Rainflower, and Oblivious Timberfur.

Alone on the Water is a one-shot that started writing on a whim in History class, and I published it two hours later. It’s a Mousewhisker-centric fic following the Great Battle and the PTSD that nobody talks about. I’ve never struggled with PTSD but I talked with somebody who has, because I wanted to get it right. I never thought I would be confident enough in my skills to portray something like PTSD, so I’m proud of it.

Lucky number fourteen is The Trouble with Soulmates and I deleted it after two chapters. It was originally meant to be a lighthearted Blackstar/Russetfur AU, but as I was outlining it I realized I wanted to make it a darker, behind-the-scenes sort of AU. So this one will definitely be revived in the future, I’m just not sure when!

I started my fifteenth fic, SHATTERED, on a whim and deleted it two days later lol. It’s been my brain baby for a few years but it’s not quite done cooking, so this one will likely be revived sometime in the future!

My most recent work is another one-shot collection titled S H A D O W S, and it’s entirely Blackstar/Russetfur centric! The name is a reference to Dark Shadows, and it’s to hold me over and stop me from starting another fic about them.

As for any future works, I’m not sure what I’ll publish next. I really want to focus on Written in the Stars and The Impossible Life of a SkyClan Warrior, and ideally, I would like to complete one of those before I publish anything new. But I think my track record proves that I have no restraint lolol

There is one fic that I’m actively working on, and that’s Only in Dreams, a Windflight/Poppydawn fic. I’ve got the first five chapters sitting pretty in a doc, waiting to be published, but I’m controlling my impulsive urges for as long as possible! Of all of my fics this one is the most personal, so I’m hoping to do it right the first time and not have any revisions down the road! 

If you actually read all of this then you’re probably judging me already, so drop by and tell me what your favorite title is! I think my personal favorites are How to Come Home, The Trouble With Soulmates, and Only in Dreams

[daysofnikki-blog]

The next Wednesday night.

And I thought four days was a while to wait. Now it’s been ten. Geez. I started writing this last night but I dropped a Bugle on the floor and deleted the post as I picked it up. I started writing it just now, again, and deleted it again cause I’m a dumbass. I’m really hoping it doesn’t happen a third time.

So, last Saturday I stayed in my Little Mermaid jammies as planned and it was fucking awesome. No regrets.

Sunday I went back on OKCupid and actually answered a message on there for some damn reason. Guy named Matt. A British engineer. In his spare time he climbs mountains, mainly ice, usually alone. His favorite thing about me is my big heart.

We met for brunch at the Black Walnut in Norcross. Had such an enjoyable time that we went for a hike in Roswell after. When I finally went home he was texting me to invite me on a trip to Canada next month to climb frozen waterfalls with him. That night we met for drinks at an Irish Pub. At the end of the night the kiss was so good he picked me up in the parking lot and wrapped my legs around him. The only thing stopping me from fucking him right then and there was the possibility of ending up on a sex offenders list. Damn he is great.

Monday I went to REI to look for the proper gear for Canada. I had no fucking clue what I was doing. Did you know there are metal attachments for shoes that are basically the equivalent of snow chains for tires? Now you do.

Tuesday was Halloween. He took me to REI to help me out, but I’m still unsure on what all I would need. We had dinner at Seasons 52, a nice place by Perimeter. We each had two glasses of Panachere while he told me about his wine cellar in Tokyo.

After we went to his place. Had a lot more wine. Met his adorable Corgi, Bee. Love her already. I had been adamant about using a condom, and remember pulling one out of my purse. I don’t remember much else, except the sex was rough and I felt awful. The next day the condom was still on the nightstand. Scared me.

I lasted a half hour at work before going home. As soon as I walked in the door I vomited everywhere. Told myself I would nap but wake up in time to work with Jacob. By the time I woke up, though, the work day was over.

I did feel a lot better though, and met up with Matan for pizza at Fellini’s. He was tired from working in NYC all weekend; he’d just gotten back the day before. I could tell he was exhausted as soon as I saw him. Eyes were heavy. He also didn’t remember a fucking thing about me; kept asking me questions we had already covered. I didn’t mind much, cause I can understand exhaustion, but I still gave him hell for it just to be funny. Went back to his place after. Had sex, which I initiated. I’d thought about fucking him all day Saturday in my jammies. Sex was… okay. Not bad, not great. Asked him to fuck me on the balcony, and he did. Asked him to fuck me in front of the mirror, and he did, even if I wasn’t positioned to see into the damn thing. He didn’t like to kiss on the mouth either, which always gets me off. Afterwards I left. He invited me to stay but I just didn’t want to.

Next day I got into… not an argument, but not a happy conversation about the condom with Matt. He said we got carried away. Said I was insinuating it was his fault. I guess I was. I didn’t mean to. It just scared me.

Friday I saw Matt again. Went to his place and watched Netflix. Realized I was stupid to have been scared; he used a condom, without me asking, and holy shit is he a good fuck. Just as rough as I like it, but kind of tender-sweet, too. A rare combo to find. I had nice bruises on my ass the next day and wore them proudly. The next day he went climbing. He said he was going with “the lads” but I’m 99% certain he went alone, which is fine by me. I love being alone too.

I went to Staycation with Jules. Met at her place and true to nature, she gave me a few edibles to eat before we left while we did our hair. Also gave me some amazing lipsticks because Jules is awesome.

Her husband got us a corner room at the W in Downtown. Two whole walls were windows. Beautiful, huge room. Cannot imagine how much it cost. We ordered from an expensive BBQ place for dinner… the friend mac & cheese sticks and pimento cheese/bacon marmalade wontons were phenomenal. The next morning we got an impressive array of food from Room Service. She bought us matching white silk robes with floral patterns. Thankfully the waistline is adjustable cause I left that hotel ten pounds heavier. We spent our time playing with makeup and on Snapchat. Watched the new IT before bed which was surprisingly awesome. Smoked a lot of weed in the bathroom. She had brought blow too, but I have zero interest in that. The next day before we checked out I took sexy photos of her as a Thank You to her hubby.

Sunday I was alllllmost home from her place when she called and told me that she had left a giant Mason jar of weed in my bag. So I turned around and drove back to her place a helluva lot slower than I had driven from it. By the time I got home there wasn’t time to do much but go to bed. Matt was pretty distant. Matan asked to meet up on Monday. I said yes.

We went to his place to order in sushi and watch a documentary on Israeli cuisine. The sex was a little boring, but damn it got exciting at the end when he said, “Where’s the condom?” Spoiler Alert- it was inside me, somewhere. So I freaked out slightly and ran to the bathroom to finger-bang myself in eight different positions. I had just gotten my nails done and scraped the fuck out of my insides. It was also hard for me because I never finger myself to masturbate (I’m more of a humper) so I couldn’t tell what was condom and what was pussy to be honest. Asked him to help because he was saying we may need to go to the ER, and he became SO squeamish. Like… really?? You were just spreading my butthole apart in front of a mirror but helping me with a medical issue by going into the pussy you were just inside, you won’t do? What an asshole. I asked to stay over in case anything happened, and he didn’t even offer to walk me to my car that was four blocks away, in Midtown, at midnight. Douche. Even worse, when we got in bed he told me, several times, not to touch him or he couldn’t sleep, and made me listen to a WWII podcast on his phone before bed. This guy has zero intimacy. When I kissed his head goodbye to go to work (he was still sleeping) he said, “That’s it?” like he was glad the ordeal of me staying over was finished. Not goodbye. Not "Have a good day." Just "That’s it."

Still wouldn’t mind staying friends though.

Tuesday I text Jules and Jaime my issue. Jules immediately offers to fingerbang me to retrieve it. Told me I could lay on her kitchen table and she had a speculum. Jaime just laughed and prayed for me. At 10:00, after many squats and lunges, I said fuck it, took off my nails, sat on the toilet at work, and went to town. IT CAME OUT. Thank God. I there it in the trash until Jaime asked if I had flushed it. Last time the toilets clogged they actually posted a picture of the clog at work. She said it would be hilarious to see a post about a condom clog, and I agreed, so I dug it out of the trash and flushed it for the lolz.

Matan finally checked in on me… at 2:40. Thanks a lot.

Matt is still really distant. Says he needs to train. I believe him, it’s just… so different from last week.

That night I just cooked a lot. And accidentally super glued my favorite skirt to my leg. I was holding the broken bottle of glue in my hand and accidentally tilted my hand as if reading a watch :(  It seeped through the fabric and attached to my leg. When I went to pull it off, it hurt like hell and ripped my skirt.

Tuesday was quite the bitch.

Today I asked Matt if he wanted to see me this week. He said he really needed to train. Seems to want to see me, just seems more to be worried about his climb. I wrote him a long text that he didn’t reply to (though no reply was needed). I’m just going to give him a few days to himself and be in touch again. I really like him. I love that he loves my big heart. How often do you find that?