#medic apprentice

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippets: Free Day Friday

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Trespasser, In Which Jak Gets Another Bad Idea

When he'd hastily redressed and stumbled out of the garrison locker room before anything else could happen, Jak quickly found himself confronted by that Strom guy again.

"An hour? Really?" Strom pursed his lips disapprovingly. "You think we have some magic supply of water to spare?"

"Lay off, we weren't washing for an hour -- much as I'd love to," Daxter argued, "The big guy fell asleep!"

"In the shower? Isn't that dangerous?"

Jak shrugged. "How would I know?"

Strom decided after a moment that this fell under the category of "none of my business". He sighed and waved for Jak to follow him.

"The king says we're to put you up in the barracks for now." He eyed Jak's face, somewhat startled by how much younger he looked under the dirt. "How old are you?"

Jak shrugged. "Midway through seventeen-ish. I think. My "guardian" wasn't exactly a reliable source."

More things to file under "none of my business"

"Oh...kay..." Strom did his best to move past one or two odd questions surfacing in his mind. "Well that narrows down which dorm you're in, at least."

"How so?"

They stepped back out into the late afternoon heat, onto the main road through the Gate District. The burning sun barely touched Jak, deflected by his wet clothes as if he were wearing his own air conditioning. He decided to pretend it had been intentional. Just in case someone asked why his clothes were all wet.

They were led towards the end of a row of houses built into the city wall, leading to an impressibly high flight of stairs into some kind of coliseum. Strom did his best to explain as he led them up the stairs, but he wasn't usually the guy they called for rookie orientation for a reason.

"It's um. So- okay look. The Arena sublevels are divided into three floors: the hospital, the armory, and the barracks. Barracks are split between militia, citizen candidates, and teenage Squads."

He didn't explain Squads.

"You're going to end up in that last one -- probably Dorm 4, that's where they put orphans or unregistered foundlings."

"Orphans?!" Daxter chirped indignantly. Then he paused. "I mean. I guess it's accurate, but you didn't have to say it!"

They didn't end up in Dorm 4.

The Resident Advisor took one look at the slightly dusty, slightly soggy, boy and ottsel and assigned them to an empty bunk in the second hall, Dorm 2. Jak was handed a canteen and a folded set of sheets before being unceremoniously ushered down the hall and into a sparse dorm room holding two bunk beds. For the moment, it was empty.

"Lights are out at 9 bells, no exceptions unless you got a case of the screaming meemies," the RA said gruffly. He pointed at a bottom bunk without sheets -- Jak's, apparently.

"You're responsible for keeping that bunk at least clean enough to pass weekly room checks. Check the schedule on the wall if you want to know when mess hall is open. If you miss that, you can hit the markets, but you're on your own for paying for it."

Jak eyed the bunk uncomfortably. He was responsible for maintaining this bed? He probably wasn't even going to be here that long! He cringed when the RA pushed a twelve by six metal box across the floor with a terrible scratching sound.

"That's your footlocker. If you want a lock, get it yourself. You kids keep losin' em and now we're out." The RA snorted. "But most of the squad in your room is on home rotation this week, so you only have to worry about maybe Sam stealing your stuff. He won't, by the way. Too busy training."

He turned to go, then turned back quickly. "Oh. Gotta confiscate your gun mods, so don't lose your marbles when you get your gun back plain."

"The rot you do!" Jak protested, "I earned those!"

"Don't care." The RA shrugged. "None of your dormmates have and I don't want 'em getting ideas about "borrowing" em."

With a stern warning not to start any fights, and to not miss allotted mealtimes if he didn't want to go hungry, the RA keft Jak alone with Daxter. They stood in the center of the room, blinking incredulously.

"Well..." Jak said after several seconds, "It's not a cell."

"Or an alley," Daxter agreed.

He hopped down and examined the mattress. Nothing fancy, but it was miles better than they were used to.

"Here, gimme the fitted sheet."

"What's a fitted sheet?"

"The one with the stretchy corners." Daxter pointed. "That's the one that goes on the bottom. Wraps around so it don't get pulled off if you roll around a lot."

"...oh. Weird."

Jak handed the thing to Daxter and watched in fascination as his friend set about attaching one corner at a time. It looked difficult.

Before he could offer help, his talk-box activated. That was a bit of a surprise. They'd been traveling for two days already and nobody had made a peep. Daxter had thought they'd have noticed the first time he turned off the location tracker!

"Jak! Jak, where are you?!"

Samos. Jak's stomach churned.

"Don't know," he answered flippantly. "I think we just got put in an orphanage."

"Don't be ridiculous! Get out of whatever nonsense you two knuckleheads have walked into and get back to Main Town! Something is going on, and I need time to investigate without those blasted Deathbots shooting at me!"

"Life's hard."

"What did you just say?"

Jak scoffed, feeling a little of the bubbling anger of dark eco in his core.

"You can't handle a little gunfire? You didn't have an issue making a couple kids walk into it daily. You'll figure it out."

"How can you say something so horrible to me?! I raised you to be a hero, Jak! You sound like that mercenary!"

Jak snorted."Well good. Sig's the only adult in that city I still trust."

Samos sputtered for several seconds in helpless, bewildered anger. Then he gathered himself.

"Get over yourself, Jak! Lives are at stake! I don't care what you're playing at, you turn around and get back here before something worse happens!"

Jak rolled his eyes. The sage sounded like Ashelin. He tossed Daxter the top sheet and studied the foot locker, wondering if he should use it.

"Nah, can't."

"What do you mean "can't?"

Jak shrugged as if Samos could see him. As if Daxter hadn't placed a piece of tape over the lens when he got tired of the spying.

"Oracle says I'm not done out here. Wherever "here" is. Lay off, wouldja? The Precursors sent me out here!"

He listened to Samos's stunned silence a moment before dryly asking, "Did you think they only spoke to Onin, or-?"

"But-" the old sage stammered, "But why would the Precursors send you from us when our need was greatest?"

"Probably because yours isn't the only city in the world? There are other people out there, Haven can get over itself," Jak flung the sage's words right back at him.

"What makes you think there's anything beyond the walls other than ruined wastes?"

"Those eco shipments for Praxis were coming from somewhere," Jak reasoned. Then his voice darkened to match his mood.

"There's no law that says I can't investigate. Sandover may have turned into Haven, but that doesn't mean I'm chained to it. You people already tried that, remember?"

"Jak!"

"I think the Precursors want me to find out who else survived," Jak said, though he wasn't sure that was it at all.

"I'll let you know if I find any sages."

"But Jak-!"

"Have to go, Samos. That hall monitor guy didn't say comm calls weren't allowed in the dorms but I need this thing, so I'm not taking chances."

He ended the call before Samos could make more than an outraged cough. When he looked down, Daxter was watching him with a funny expression.

"What?" he asked, a bit defensively.

"Nothin," Daxter said, unconvincingly. Then he gave a bittersweet grin. "Just never heard you stand up to Loghead like that before."

Jak looked away. "Should've been fighting him from day one. Like you. You knew he was bad news from the start, didn't you?"

Daxter rubbed his arm ruefully. "I um. I don't got a lot of memories of my folks. I was pretty little when the shark got em. But I remember my old man saying "Never trust a man who won't apologize to a kid", and then Samos came through dragging you. An'...an' you cried that whole first day, kept pointing to the sky and making a circle with your arms. And Samos ignored you."

Jak swallowed hard. "I don't remember that," he said softly. "Or much of Sandover at all now."

He sat down on the floor next to Daxter. The thanks he'd given Samos just weeks ago sat sour in his stomach. The real person he should've thanked had been right there beside him and he'd overlooked him just like Samos always did.

"Daxter?" he said gravely, "Thank you. For everything. All of it. I wouldn't be here without you."

Daxter leaned against his shoulder. "Well duh," he joked, trying to lighten a somber moment, "Heroes don't leave their sidekicks with weirdos! It goes against the bro code!"

Then he sobered.

"For the record, I don't blame ya for not knowing he had his hooks in ya. He um. I mean, you were real little, y'know? I think you maybe stuck with him at first because he was the only familiar face, and he used that against ya."

Jak laughed bitterly. "I wonder if I'd have had the guts to say all that if he was actually here?"

Daxter recognized the beginning of a spiral and elbowed him hard in the ribs.

"Well he ain't! And we're not gonna will that into existence with what-ifs!"

He scurried up onto the bunk and spread out in the middle of the mattress.

"Ahhhh! Hey, are you gonna know which morph gun is ours when we get the key to that gun locker?"

Jak pushed him to one side and, after a moment's debate, unlaced his boots.

"The stock on mine looks striped because of all the tally marks on it. The others are completely blank."

"Oh! Didn't see that!"

Reluctantly, Jak took off his goggles and gauntlets and dropped them into the foot locker. At least if it didn't have a lock, he could get them back out at a moment's notice. His knife and amulet he kept on him.

The Call hadn't subsided. He still felt it, and he still didn't know what it meant. So for now, that seemed to mean staying in this hostel/barrack/orphanage combination with more Wastelanders than he'd ever known existed. At least they were Wastelanders and not soldiers. He would've slept on the streets before letting them put him in a dorm with soldiers.

The wall schedule said that the cafeteria didn't open until 6 bells after noon. That left roughly an hour before they could find out if they were allowed to take anything from it.

For a time, Jak occupied himself by polishing his channeling ring with his damp scarf. Daxter tried and failed to braid Jak's hair, but the condition it was in was just too poor.

"Pal," Daxter said reluctantly, "I don't think these mats are comin' out."

Jak sighed in resignation. He'd wanted to avoid this -- the only haircut he could remember had been a traumatic buzzcut because a KG accidentally spread bugs through the cell block -- and got himself a spot in the cell two doors down from Jak when the bugs spread to Errol. (Who was absolutely hideous with a buzz cut, and was in utter anguish about his "beautiful hair". Couldn't have happened to a nicer person. It had been the absolute highlight of Jak's entire year.)

Jak took his knife, sheath and all, from the back of his belt and held it out to Daxter.

"Do what you gotta do," he groaned, "Just don't cut it all off."

The roommate who wasn't on "home rotation", whatever that was, came back midway through the haircut. In his state of exhaustion, he didn't actually see Daxter.

"Your...hair is falling off," he mumbled in confusion.

"It's on purpose," Jak said.

"Oh."

Sam leaned against the door to pry off his boots, then blinked.

"Wait, what?"

"He's getting a haircut, doofus!" Daxter sniped.

"Ohhhhkay, the kangarat is talking." Sam dropped his boot and stared with very wide eyes. "Cooooolll coolcoolcool everything's cool."

"Ottsel, not rat," Jak corrected. "Daxter is sensitive about that."

"...uh-huh..."

Sam swung a gear bag up over the top of the top bunk bed post. With little effort, he swung himself up the ladder after it. Apparently he shared the bunk Jak had been assigned.

"Are you new? I don't remember you," he yawned.

"First day here," Jak admitted, "still dunno what's going on."

Silence for a few seconds. Then, "So...does that mean you came from Outside?"

"I guess? Don't know how I got here from Haven, but I'm not complaining."

"Oh."

Sudden Sam was leaning over the rail of the bunk, spiky blonde hair falling in his face.

"No kidding? Me too! I mean, I ran away from Kras, but. Stowed away on a cargo ship and got caught at the docks."

Kras. The name was familiar. Something to do with racing, but Jak hadn't been paying attention.

"So you planning on the Arena too?" asked Sam.

"I still don't know what the Arena is," Jak said pointedly. "Is it for races?"

"See, that's what I thought at first!" Sam exclaimed, "But apparently the only races they do in there are Leapers. It's kinda a community place? Big meetings, festivals, executions, games, theater, combat trials-"

"Festivals?" Jak was mildly intrigued.

"Executions?!" Daxter was not.

"Yeah man. Though to be fair, there's so many ways to die normally outside the walls that it takes a lot to get the death sentence around here. You have to do something really bad for Lord Damas to kill you himself. Like "engaged in the slave trade" or "abused a kid" or "betrayed the city to enemies" kind of bad. Stuff that dishonors a warrior's name for life. Otherwise he gives you a chance for pardon in combat trials."

Jak squinted up at their temporary roommate. "How...does that work, exactly?"

Sam rolled back onto his mattress with a noncommittal sound.

"Depends on whatcha did I think. Smaller offenses you gotta fight a metalhead. Bigger offenses get you more than one metalhead. If it's bad but not death sentence bad, you fight other Wastelanders who already know how you fight."

"Remind me not to get on these guys' bad sides," Daxter stage-whispered.

"So then why would I enter the Arena if I didn't do anything wrong?" Jak pushed.

"Oh yeah, that's the other thing. Civvy candidates who want to be permanent residents gotta prove they can survive the three main dangers of the Wasteland: enemy shooters, treacherous terrain, and lava. So the king makes us do combat trials simulating those conditions until he's satisfied that we won't like. Immediately die if he lets us outside."

Jak considered this for a moment.

"Fair enough," he decided.

"No??? It's not??" Daxter finished slicing off the last mat and gave Jak an appalled look. "Precisely none of that is normal!"

Jak swept the clumps of hair onto the floor and leaned back to let Daxter continue braiding what was left.

"So...you prove you can handle yourself, and they let you stay?"

Sam reappeared over the rail. "Well, you also gotta prove you're willing to work. They don't like lazy people out here, everybody does at least one thing that keeps Spargus operational, even if it's just sweeping the sand out of the stables -- which is about all they let me do on account of last time-"

"What happened last time?" Daxter asked as he finished tying off three fishbone-braids.

They could almost hear the wince.

"I...kind of...failed so hard at wall patching that I dropped an entire bucket of wet clay on a district representative. He got a concussion. It was bad."

There was a chagrined silence, but then Sam rallied. "So yeah, I'm not allowed near construction equipment anymore and I can't switch chores yet. All kids get maximum one job a day, but you get to pick what you do once you either turn nineteen, or get through the third trial."

Wheels were beginning to turn in Jak’s mind. He'd never given much thought to the future, but what if he just. Didn't go back to Haven? What if the crisis ended and he didn't go back? Might be nice to have a place like this on standby.

"So that what the grouch-in-chief said you're training for?" Daxter asked.

"Yep! Already got my first amulet and gun mod!" Sam said cheerfully. "First full trial hurts like a son-of-a-cob, but at least Scatter rounds are non-lethal."

"No they're not?" Jak sputtered.

"Yes they are?" Sam wrinkled his nose. "Scatterguns are what they give kids and civvy candidates because it's not live ammo?"

"No," Jak argued, "You can definitely kill with Scatter rounds. It just takes like six shots."

Sam stared at him with wide eyes.

"What the rot, dude," he whispered.

"What?!"

"You're telling me you've killed people with a practice gun?!"

"Well- well Haven doesn't know they're practice guns!" Jak defended.

"Okay..." Sam grimaced. "Well. Don't do that in your first trial. Only way anyone is supposed to be able to die is if they try to prioritize hunting an opponent over avoiding lava."

"None of this is making me want to try this Arena thing!" Daxter complained.

"What's the second trial?" Jak ignored Daxter's complaints.

Sam looked a little unsure suddenly. "Yellow eco trial. That's um. That's going to be my first combat to the death. And not many candidates signed up for this month's trial so it's just me and three others against a Marauder crew they captured."

"Marauders?"

"Colonists from the mainland," Sam explained. "They're wannabe Wastelanders and I'm pretty sure they're all insane because they run around out there with no shirts, ever. They also run most of the slave trade between Haven and their colony."

Jak's eyes darkened.

"They're slavers?"

"Yep." Sam shuddered. "I've seen some of the survivors brought back when the Wastelanders raid their camps or when Marauder defectors start a riot. They've been through it. And like half the Arena Guard are survivors of the Marauders, so the ring isn't where you wanna end up if you're a blood merchant."

"It's not the guards they should worry about," Jak muttered darkly. Before Sam could ask what he meant, he looked up. "So if you get through three trials, then what?"

"Full rights as a citizen, same as if you were born here."

There was a glint in Jak’s eyes that only Daxter could see, and it Concerned him.

"Ja-aak, nooo-" Daxter groaned, but he knew it was useless.

"I'll go in with you, when they do the trial," Jak offered. "World could always use one less slaver."

"For real?" Sam raised his brows. "You've only been here a day, dude. You need to do some training before you're ready for that."

"Haven's an active warzone," Jak retorted, "and I got forced onto the frontlines for a year. I'll be fine."

"I mean. If you're sure," Sam relented, "I wouldn't mind the company."

"I would," Daxter grumbled under his breath. "I have some objections!"

So, it turned out, did Damas.

[tf2aaa-batteries]

[zer0point5ive]

hey do you think that lawrence thought about adam during michael marks’ surgery. do you think that, out of the periphery of his vision, dark hair and a sharp jaw had him seeing someone else on that table. do you think that every time his own eyes refocused, he thought he’d find adam staring back. do you think th

[graveys-art-blog]

wizards

[yuridovewing]

Was gonna make Hollycinder endgame to my hyporewrite but now that Hollyleaf is gonna be a medic all the way through po3, I kiiinda want to put her with Willowshine instead. For the drama. Oh the misery of swearing yourself to your restrictive code to an unhealthy degree being challenged when you fall for another medic from another clan, indulging in the romance when you're children but breaking it off because you refuse to put your selfish sinful desires over the goodwill of StarClan and tradition, spending a few years in yearning and guilt and ruminating going "I had to, I can't love her, I would be less than scum if I did" and throwing herself into her work. Only to learn that she herself is a product of a forbidden relationship, the same as the one she indulged in. And her mother had "no" consequences for so long. Her mentor who she looked up to more than anything, who she previously honored for her faith in StarClan and the code and saw her as a standard worth following, had faltered in her faith. Why? Why would she inflict that on her clan? Why would she inflict that on Hollyleaf? What was it for? . .. Could Hollyleaf have done the same? Would she? But why? Was she cursed with her mother's name because she was destined to be like her? Were they both destined to be sinners? No, no. No. This can be fixed. It has to be. She can repent. They can both repent. And she will make her mother repent if its the last thing she does. She has to. She has to get back in StarClan's good will. She has to. She has to.

[azivandum]

Meet Duke,, 🌚 another Arcana OC lol[their hair is black btw] I don't usually talk about these things, but now I feel like doing it — so here's some not-so fun facts about them ↓

⚜︎ Doesn't like Vlastomil's big worms. Not because they're worms, but because they're big; it makes them feel small, it threatens their perspective in position of power & strength and of course trauma .

⚜ Killed one of Vlastomil's worms when it got in their way through the maze. They didn't look particularly affected in any way, other than being put on Vlastomil's black list. 

⚜︎ They like smaller bugs, insects — especially centipedes, such as these;

⚜︎ Has been trained in knighthood since childhood, served as a priest-knight up until they were 15y.o in Zadith

⚜︎ They were found by Nazali when they were 16, and taken under their wing as an apprentice due to their veterinary interest, which showed up to be quite helpful in treating people in the post-battlefields, even though they have expressed having no interest to tend for human illness or injury.

⚜︎ While working with Julian in the palace, for the first few weeks — Valdemar has had noticed their apparent lack of empathy, and thus tried to take advantage of that to further their work, even offering an assistant's role beside them. Duke refused, and within the third week, they left the palace simply because they “weren't interested enough”, despite the death rates rising rapidly.

⚜︎ They were more interested in seeing how the plague affected the victims from a distance. In their shared clinic with Julian back at the Heart district, they often wandered the streets to inspect the damages on both people and non-human-vise. Very occasionally, they'd treat a child if they deemed it had potential in the future or out of rare pity. They'd remain unemotional and aloof through the entire process.

⚜︎ Genuinely doesn't like people (twinning with Muriel)!

For trauma bonding/twinning with Muriel & Volta they'll get special interactions soon :)

⚜︎ One of the philosophies they were practised in is stoicism, but they personally are more of a nihilist.

⚜︎ their last name is Teivel, a Yiddish word for 'devil/demon', which already says a lot about their ancestors & past lol

[bonefall]

Tribe of Rushing Water Redux

It’s probably impossible to completely "fix” the Tribe, but here’s my attempt at making it a fully realized culture from which the clans broke off from, instead of a primitive imitation.

Notably, the Tribe is actually the root of cat civilization in this geographical area. The Sisters, the Guardians, and the Clans could all trace their histories to the Tribe, many, many generations ago.

Living

First of all, there are now three different ‘colonies‘ on the mountain, all of them touching the river that flows from the cave spring. There’s the Cave Wards which is the one seen in the books, the Stone Wards down the waterfall, and the Valley Wards at the foot of the mountain facing the lake territory.

A colony is to a Ward what a camp is to a Clan, only with much higher populations. There are no boundaries and cats move freely between colonies. Only the Cave is closely guarded; reserved for Tribe members, grand celebrations, and honored guests.

Combined, the three Wards make up the collective known as the Tribe of Rushing Water, because of their shared connection to the waterfall.

Hunting

The Cave Guard and Prey Hunter roles have been eliminated completely. The path of a To-Be is not decided in childhood. Instead, there are many types of specialized hunter, and a To-Be spends their adolescence learning from many different cats.

The mountain has a bounty of species, so cats typically live in the camp closest to their chosen prey’s habitats. In its rivers are crayfish, char, ducks. In the caves are bats and insects. Eagles roost in the peaks, and twolegs leave their sheep out to graze. The terrain makes hunting hard and risky, but provides enough to support many skillful hunters, if they work together.

Eagle and sheep hunters take on the most difficult, dangerous, and rewarding prey the highlands have to offer, and are highly respected as a result. Such cats are usually trained after they’re already accomplished hunters of more common prey.

As a result of this extreme cultural emphasis on hunting, they do not have ‘fighters.‘ Attacking other cats is a massive taboo, akin to making prey out of them. Most insults involve telling another cat to starve or be hungry, and implying that no one will hunt for them when they’re old.

Healing and Spirituality

There is still one Stoneteller; but the Tribe is democratic. Stoneteller is technically a religious figure, not a political one.

There is a fleet of medics, and the Stoneteller has a constant stream of cats visiting them to learn or seek advice. For this purpose, the Teller of the Pointed Stones relinquishes their mortal name, and accepts a special power from the Tribe of Endless Hunting; they’re completely invulnerable to illness, heat, hunger, and cold, and their ancestors can speak through their body.

The new Stoneteller does not need to be trained for their role. As soon as the old Stoneteller passes away, the oldest medic accepts the role and is trained by the old Stoneteller’s spirit.

Death comes for this nearly invulnerable cat only after their body completely stops working. Being killed is the only way to end a Stoneteller’s tenure early; and it’s an ‘early‘ death if these cats die in their 20s; average age of death is mid-30s.

Conflict

This is the hardest part for me. Up until this point I’ve just been building the culture out, but one of the worst problems of the books was the fact the Tribe was unable to sustain itself and the Clans had to rush in and save them from nearly everything, particularly physical threats like invaders and Sharptooth. I’m not sure how to tackle that from within the Tribe without also making the Tribe a battle culture...

And, well, I don’t want to do that. I’d like for the Tribe to remain a largely peaceful entity that’s been kept safe for surviving in such a harsh environment that simply doesn’t get invaded often... They have an emphasis on cooperation and hunting, not combat. I do NOT want to ‘fix‘ them by making them into a 6th clan.

That said, I don’t want to completely remove TNP’s Sharptooth or PO3′s Tribe Invasion plotlines either. The Tribe and Clan should be equal, and that does mean that Clan cats have a skill the Tribe cats don’t, just as the Tribe has skills the Clan cats don’t.

So... below are my working ideas.

The Tribe is more connected to the Clans for a while, sending a few of their numerous medics to help teach the medicine cats about their new environment, even lending a hunter or two. For Flick’s invaders, they request combat aid on purpose, not because they’ll be destroyed without the Clans, but because they’ll be a big help. And for Sharptooth? He was a supernatural force, not a random cougar in England the Tribe inexplicably couldn’t deal with.

KEEP IN MIND these are working ideas. If these ideas still invoke discomfort in a way I can still fix without just straight up deleting the Tribe, I’m extremely open to changes here.

Sharptooth

oh fugg a gougar

Sharptooth is a curse, and the newest mortal form of the creation deity who previously appeared as One Eye at the Dawn of the Clans. The Tribe has killed him several times before (possibly in different forms- a hog, a bear, a human), but not before Sharptooth slaughters several hunters. “A Silver Warrior“ is fated to break this cycle.

What they DON’T know is that by ‘breaking the cycle‘ this just means that Sharptooth’s next target is going to become the Clans (either the Tribe didn’t know either, or Stoneteller purposefully didn’t relay that half of the prophecy to anyone). He is a god and doesn’t die like mortals do. The cat who landed the final blow on One Eye was from the mountains; so he haunted the mountains. Since Feathertail was from the clans, he will now haunt the clans.

But anyway, that’s a plot device for me to hold onto. I’m undecided on if this means he’ll haunt the Lake or the Forest from now on; either way it’s moot because he wouldn’t be back for several series’ worth of books and I hopefully won’t still be in this fandom in 30 real, additional human years

hopefully

Flick’s Rogues

After training the clan’s medicine cats, the medics of the Tribe and their hunters leave for home; but are followed by a group of rogues. The Tribe is open to welcoming outsiders, but the rogues set down borders, stole prey from hunters, and eventually attacked the Valley Colony directly; forcing its cats to retreat up-stream.

The Stone and Cave Wards are able to defend their positions, and given enough time they’d outlast and drive the invaders out, but why risk so many lives to do it alone? The Tribe votes to request the help of the Clans knowing their whole culture revolves around warfare and they’d be good at handling this sort of thing.

After all, what else are allies for? The Clans are taken aback by the boldness of just... asking for help (as their culture obviously has an issue with ‘admitting weakness’) but they won’t say no. In fact, they’re a bit taken aback by the way the Tribe is so relaxed about the whole thing; RiverClan and ThunderClan fought a multi-generational war over some rocks and the Stone Wards are ready to play the long game and wait for winter to freeze their enemies to death.

“Why even ask for help if you have it covered?“

“...why would we not? We could just wait, but we’d have to hunt twice as hard on the rest of our land, and we don’t want them to suffer and die over several months either if you can just help us send them on their way.“

Anyway, that’s what I’m planning thus far. It’s particularly difficult to not just completely nuke the Tribe, but here it is, gutted with its bones completely intact. STILL, if anyone has input or ideas or thinks a particular aspect is still sus, hit me up and I’ll do what I can to fix it.

[maxthesillyy]

"Hey Littlepaw, are you doing alright? I was approached by Whippaw earlier on, and it sounds like you don't want to be a warrior. I don't want to push you into talking if you don't want to, but I do want you to know that you can come to me for anything! You have my full support no matter what you choose to become, and I'm sorry that I didn't realize earlier that something was going on."

-Pebblefoot

littlepaw says she’s more sorry than you

[giliath]

Oh my god I commented on some fics by that one lotr writer I’ve been raving about and they responded 🥹 it’s been 10+ years since they were posted to ao3 AND THEY RESPONDED

[butterflyclan]

Once upon a time, there existed three Clans. They were called PetalClan, StemClan, and RootClan. They lived in somewhat harmony for many, many years. One day, a fire tore though the territories. It was devastating, leaving only a few living behind and the world destroyed. The seven who survived joined together into one Clan. Votes were cast and Parsleyfur was selected as leader. The new Clan was named ButterflyClan, out of hopes for change and new beginnings...

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

hi hi! i gave in and made another clangen blog lmao

this is a writelocke! i'll be trying to write at least one blurb for each moon :)) we'll see how it goes!

Here are the ButterflyClan allegiances! I try to keep it as updated as possible, but I'm not always 100%. Please be warned that there may be spoilers!

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

my main- @monochrome-sunsets

my warriors blog- @moths-wc-aus

my warriors rewrite blog- @healing-fire--rewrite

my other clangen blog- @thesnakerootwoods

[pinkysberg]

ive had a real urge to write a charles fic about the period between the end of ch6 and the epilogue. how he ends up in saint denis and boxing and such.

[tf2aaa-batteries]

How did the 3 of them first meet? what was their first impression of each other

(Medic brought Ingeborg to the team a WHILE before Cloak was brought in by Engineer. Cloak was not one for interacting with anyone, he hid anywhere he could. Ingeborg and Cloak eventually decided to be friends but also bully each other uuhh something something they're batshit friends for a few years before Apprentice snuck into Heavy's backpack somewhere during the comics when he decided to go back to fighting. They are friends that bully each other constantly, yes Apprentice gets tossed, yes Ingeborg whacked Cloak with someone's spine, yes Cloak finds ways to get up into the attics and what not of bases - mod 2, FIA)

[zer0point5ive]

lawrence gordon last surviving jigsaw apprentice but at what cost

[mantisgodsdomain]

Asks for the Random Character Asks

Marigold: 12, 13, 15

(for this ask game)

12. Crack headcanon

The reason she has so many flowers in her mane is because she fucked up with a transmutation early on and rooted them in there and her mentor Didn't Help At All so now they're just stuck in there as a permanent part of her body.

15. Worst thing they've ever done

As previously mentioned, "worst thing they've ever done" is ridiculously hard to define and extremely subjective at best. For Marigold specifically, it's even harder to define than most. She... doesn't do really things directly, after all.

She's a catalyst, and though she acts to make the situation immediately worse, she generally has little interference beyond that. She's an observer, not a direct actor, she's an alchemist, not a poison-brewer - part of what makes her so difficult to pin down and immune to consequence is that unless it's to gather test subjects for raw field data, she's almost certainly just... not acting directly. There's a medium. An in-between. A client, somewhere along the line, asking for her charms.

Though the "what they would think of when asked the question" question might work under normal circumstances, Marigold is an exception to the rule - as previously mentioned, she would not personally consider any of her actions to be immoral. She's done things that weren't amazing, of course, but it's not like she'd consider herself a bad person - just someone with professional pride. You wouldn't expect her to offer a subpar product to a customer, would you?

Beyond that, there's the issue of pinning down a single individual case. Marigold isn't a... "one and done" kind of villain, she gains the sort of status she has from low-profile but consistent evils. She doesn't do anything obvious, she doesn't do anything that can be pinned on her - people disappear, and monsters turn up after, and if they're especially valuable or they survive the period it takes for the transmutation to settle in their bones, she'll trap them somewhere to harvest for more transmutation-fuelling parts later.

That, of course, could be considered a "worst" - but it's still not one single thing you can point to. It's dozens and dozens of things, spread out over years of activity, people who mysteriously vanish off the streets and never turn up again. There is no single monolith of evil that can be pointed to, because Marigold isn't the kind of evil that does big gestures like that. Just... a slow, steady flow of charms into hands that do harm with them, combined with a slow, steady flow of people who leave their homes and don't come back.

...if we had to choose it would probably be something along the lines of experimenting on prisoners provided via negotiations with criminal factions and then bargaining with the factions those prisoners were taken from to sell them back already transmuted into monstrous forms and entirely incapable of resuming their previous lives. She got paid by both sides for it, both for developing specified new strains of transmutative on the prisoners and for returning them to their original faction. The client didn't specify what to do with them after they'd served their purpose, after all.

13. Dumbest thing they’ve ever done

Well! This one's very nearly a Story.

A fun fact about charms: they're not always perfectly consistent, especially if you're making new ones. That's why you test them before applying them to paying customers. That's why you take a constant flow of people unlikely to be missed for experiments. That's why you do experiments in the first place. If something goes wrong, then you need to know what to fix it, and if an unexpected variable throws the experiment-

Well. It could go very, very wrong, or very, very right. But you never turn your back on the experiment. You never assume you know what will happen next until it's good and tested, you never assume things will work out until you're 100% sure, you never assume that nothing can possible go wrong - Marigold knows this, of course, and she acts accordingly. Lab safety is a priority, not an afterthought. When the things you're working with might kill you if it breaks containment, you never leave things up to chance. It's simple safety precautions. Nothing ever up to chance. Nothing ever allowed to fail. And if anything were to fail - well, you being on-hand gives the best possible chance of getting things back under control.

And then, of course, someone comes calling at the door. You're too early into the experiment to excuse watching it as a delay, of course, and you know they know you're home - you mentioned you'd be home just the other day, after all. Reputation is valuable, and the monitoring built into the cage will work just as well, won't it? It might need a few more trials, but you can't really afford to be rude, and you especially can't afford them coming to find you - these parts of your lab are blocked off to guests for a reason, and you can't simply disappear a guest to your house.

Surely, it won't do any harm to leave it for just a few minutes. Surely, it'll mean nothing to leave the transmutation to finish unattended. You return back downstairs not more than five minutes after you left, ready to finish what you started.

The cage is open.

[yuridovewing]

last post i promise but i want to outline a yellowfang's secret razorverse rewrite at some point. not right now cause i'm way too busy, but at some point. i wanna tear that beast to shreds. i am gonna write foefiction

[aurantia-ignis]

We have yet another "RANGER'S APPRENTICE MOVIE CONFIRMED AND COMING RIGHT UP!!" announcement I'll believe it when I see the trailers LOL