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quintessencewrites · 1 year

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Escapism Shuri x Riri

Shuri brought her hand up between their too-close bodies, tapping at Riri’s chin, then her cheeks. “Alright, alright. You’ve proven yourself. Breathe before you pass out.”

Warnings: Explicit language, angst, elicit drug use, mention of death, implied smut, fluff

Word Count: 2.7k+

Tags:

@percsane @zestgodtj @k3nn3dyxo @mlmilani @letitias-fav @doms-fav @sweetalittleselfish-honey @g4yforu @widowmakker @becauseimswagman1 @zayswriting @inmyheadimobsessed @laurensmabel1 @malltake12 @msudaku @faeriah-thv @fetchyourlife @mbakuetshurisprincess @sinsikoxo @honey-teaaaaaaaa @rxcently @pinkcorns @takeyaki @yamsthoughts @thethickerside @0hshoot1tsl4ni @shurisbathwater @shurismainbxtch @luvrzhearts @sadfreakx @shuri-my-love @justariellove @heartsforjojo @blackgirlfariy @tuesdaylovesu @chocoflagcutii @taiiunknown @zhanylai @ziayamikaelson @verachii @taiiunknown @beautybyfire @soearthquakequeen @remwritess @pinkwright @jenlouvre @letitiasleftfoot @6-noir @kya-rose @saintwrld @someshuriposts @jessiap @ilikegecos @iiluvl4n @katymae12344 @shurismainbxtch @crookedsaladlover @motheroffae @saintwrld @marsolgy @ogbells16 @verachii @shuriszn @playgurlxoxoo @ashleighshaw @te-23 @dominquesheart @shuridefenselawyer @iminlovewithdomandtish @limbozqueen @cansah2002-blog

A/N: Huge, huge shoutout and dedication to @inmyheadimobsessed for even planting this idea in my brain. I hope I did you justice, baby🫶🏾

Not as sexy as the rest of the series so far, but I have so much smut coming soon, yall are gonna be sick of it. AU, T'Chaka is dead, T'Challa isn't (Yet... Haven't decided if imma go that route or not...) Anyways, Enjoy, my loves ��

Grief is a funny thing, they said, but in reality, ain’t shit funny about it. What was funny about the way somebody could just cease to exist, to be here one day and gone the next? It was an incomprehensible thing, death. He was here, Riri knew he was. He was breathing, laughing, living. Except he wasn’t. Why wasn’t he? Why was she?

There wasn’t shit funny about the way Riri’s heart stopped, right in her chest, and felt like it wouldn’t start again. Nothing funny about the rain of bullets that cascaded around them and her mother’s painfully haunting cries. Nobody giggled at the funeral, not a single chuckle when her father’s body descended into the ground, in a hollow grave where he didn’t belong.

She couldn’t feel. She couldn’t feel the swarm of tears that pooled down her cheeks, stinging her eyes and pairing grimly with the sobs that pounded her little body. Riri couldn’t feel the icy metal locker when her back slammed against it or when her already shaky legs finally collapsed under her weight. Her miserable frame was so tiny, so helpless as she crumbled to the ground, curled over and heaving.

She didn’t feel. She didn’t feel when the body of another slid to the ground next to her, their warmth entering her space. Riri didn’t feel when they scoot just a little bit closer, brushing her arm, but not touching her.

She could hear them though. She heard their breathing, shaky and shattered. She heard the rasp in their voice, their deep African accent prevalent through their words. The softness, the understanding in the way they spoke swaddled Riri’s heart when they declared: “I’m sorry.”

Riri could barely lift her head, it was far too heavy.

“I was told grief sneaks up on you. It’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

Riri couldn’t speak, her throat was far too scratchy.

“Yours chose a hell of a time to creep up. I don’t think the school hallway is a fit place to feel a pain like the one you are.”

Riri could barely listen, everything was far too muffled.

“We can go to my car if you’d like. The windows are tinted enough to offer some solitude and I have a fat blunt we can pass.”

Riri could feel, just barely. She could feel a thousand tiny needles pierce her esophagus when the tightness in her vocal cords snapped and she spoke. “I don’t even know you.” The air surrounding them was hushed, Riri’s words floating in a whisper.

Their fingers were long and thin, covered in black ink and exquisite art. They stretched even further when she extended her hand to the still girl, awaiting her acceptance. “Shuri Udaku.”

Silence passed with the blunt in their hands, the smoke clouding the thoughts Riri didn’t dare to think. The vibe was mellow, music echoing in the smoke that wrapped around their heads. Her heart didn’t hurt as much, the tightness that she’d gotten so used to finally dissipating. Dry streaks where her tears once were lined her cheeks and chin, the ash stark and out of place on her mocha-colored face. Riri’s glossed-over eyes were scarlet-hued, vision blurred.

“Where you from, Shuri Udaku?”

Shuri’s slender fingers gestured for the blunt, pulling the wrap to her parted lips. Her deep inhale was skilled, the smoke expanding in her lungs. Riri’s gazed lazily at the foreigner, watching her exhale slowly before she answered, “Wakanda.”

“Wait, Wakanda, Wakanda? Shit, nigga, why the hell you here?”

A deep chuckle reverted through the air, lasting longer than it would have if the girls were in sober minds. Riri felt a goofy smile grow across her face at the sound, both rows of perfect white teeth shining at Shuri through the smoke.

“Y-you really don’t know who I am?”

The gaze Riri had on the Wakandan intensified, her beautiful brain trying to think so hard. Shuri shifted her weight, adjusting her seat until it reclined, pulling Riri’s eyes down with her. She tried and tried to think but the weed in her system didn’t do much to help her already distracted mind. Shuri couldn’t look away when Riri’s curls bounced around her framed face, shaking with her answer. “No, am I supposed to?”

Who knew a smile could be contagious? From Shuri’s own face spread a grin too wide with teeth too white, the gold adornments covering her canines contrasting with the rest of her. “Nah, I guess not.” Her shoulders relaxed into the back of the seat and she reached for the blunt once more.

Their silence was comfortable and lazy and they both fell back into it blissfully. Another question danced on the tip of Riri’s tongue and she sat, analyzing it. It would be unseemly for her to ask, but her clouded mind offered up no restraint. “Who died?”

“What?’

“What you said in the hall, sounded like you was speaking from experience.”

Shuri’s ribs expanded around her lungs. She needed another deep inhale to get the words out. It had been years since his death and she still had trouble saying it, thinking about it, even believing it.

“My father.”

Riri wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but it wasn’t that. How deep of a confession to spill off the lips of a stranger? To another stranger?

“Mine too… Well, my stepdad, but he was the only dad I ever knew.”

Their eye contact was understanding. They understood each other. For such a long time, Shuri hadn’t come across a single person who fucking got it. Even in her own country, her mother, her own brother didn’t fucking get it. There was no way the ancestors needed her baba more than she did.

“How?” Curiosity was at the forefront of Shuri’s mind and the bluntness of her ask was promptly followed by her body drawing back on itself. She opened her mouth to apologize, but Riri cut her off, unfazed.

She thought the tears would descend like they normally did, but they didn’t. She was stunned the words came out so easily. “They shot him up.”

“They who?”

“Nigga, I grew up in Chicago. ‘They’ could be a 13-year-old walking down the street.”

Shuri’s pretty, brown eyes widened three sizes, but her lips remained sealed. She could count a full ten seconds pass before Riri opened her mouth again. “We was in the park, just chilling, grilling, and unsuspecting. ‘They’ drove by and shots rang out. He dived in front of me and mama and next thing I knew, we were covering his casket in wet dirt.”

‘I’m sorry’ didn’t feel appropriate to repeat, so Shuri didn’t. She allowed another moment of silence to blanket them before speaking her own truth. “They blew mine up.”

“They who?”

“You heard about the building explosion at the Vienna International Center? It happened years ago; I guess you would have been in American high school at the time?”

“Y-yeah,” Riri’s voice was small, her memory muddled. “It was all over the news. Came home and ma dukes was glued to the TV, tears in her eyes. Pop was too, angry. He kept screaming it was an assassination. They killed the king of somewhere, Tuh-something.”

“T’Chaka Udaku,” Shuri said proudly. “King of Wakanda.”

It didn’t take long for cognizance to pass over Riri’s features, high or not. “Oh, shit. Wait, shit! Nigga, you’re a princess?!”

Princess Shuri winced, pained by the sudden change in pitch in the girl’s voice. “You always throw that slur around like it's nothing?”

Her words flowed in one ear and out the other, completely disregarded. “You’re a fucking princess!”

“Yeah, guess I am.”

“Wh-why the hell are you here? What the fuck MIT got to offer you that your royal title don’t?”

“A normal fucking experience for the first time in my life?” Shuri’s voice stayed as level as her high, while Riri’s kept climbing octaves. “Not dwelling in a place where my father doesn’t come home.”

Riri let the plush seats swallow her, sitting back and sinking in. She understood all too well. “Yeah. that’s why I left Chicago.”

Shuri shifted in her seat, her right arm leaning against the armrest that separated the two. Her eyes fixated on the little Chicago native, studying her features and burning Riri underneath her stare. “Then you get it.”

Riri squirmed under the princess’s gaze, intimidation creeping on her slowly. She followed Shuri’s lead, leaning over until their warmth mixed. “I get it, but why college? I’m sure they would have just handed you a degree, why go through with the classes and the homework?”

“What part of ‘normal experience’ don’t you understand?”

Any of it, really. Riri was enduring a normal college experience and it sucked. The coursework, the teachers, the piles and piles of homework that she could never seem to come out on top of. Throw in her dad’s death, and it was too much. It was all really too fucking much.

Shuri could read the poor girl like a book. The beset reaction climbed Riri’s features, starting in her toes and working its way up, entangling her like a vine. The intoxication in her veins wasn’t doing enough to mask those emotions anymore and Shuri deemed it her job to help the ill-fated girl escape those feelings the same way she wished someone had for her.

The blunt was burned thin at this point, no longer the fat thing Shuri had promised, but still too good to be wasted. She relit the dimly burning bud, dragging a long hit before pointing the wrapped piece in Riri’s direction.

Riri’s nod was small, barely noticeable, and her small hand dragged upward to pull the blunt from between Shuri’s fingers, but she was stopped short. Shuri’s hand fell atop Ri’s, covering and cradling it, so small compared to her own. The blunt stayed laced in the princess’s thin fingers when she brought it up to Riri’s lips and tapped them with the unlit end. “Open.”

The surprise on Riri’s stoned face was laughable and Shuri’s stifled giggles prompted the small girl to obey. Her plump lips parted and Shuri slipped the blunt in, watching Riri’s lips close around it. Her chest rose, her lungs expanding, the drag deep, bravura, almost seductive.

She inhaled until her lungs couldn’t hold anymore. Shuri pulled the blunt away and Riri’s lips stayed pursed. “Gonna hold it?” Shuri’s thin brow was poised in a sexy arch, dancing atop her playful eyes.

Riri nodded, head feeling airy when she took on Shuri’s challenge. Her chest burned and her lungs begged, but they went ignored. Shuri leaned closer, slipping into Ri’s personal space with ease. Her eyes frolicked about Riri’s face, excited, pleased. “For how long?” She pushed even further, testing Riri’s limits.

However long Shuri wanted. Riri had never been bested by anybody and she hadn’t planned on starting now. Daddy hadn’t raised no bitch.

The seconds ticked on, Shuri’s eyes bouncing back and forth between her watch and Riri’s gaze. Her cheeks puffed, the air, the smoke in her lungs crying to escape. The princess’s tongue rolled over the inside of her cheek, enticement burning in her own chest.

Seconds turned into a minute and Riri’s breath was still caught in her throat. A minute and thirty seconds rounded out and Shuri brought her hand up between their too-close bodies, tapping at Riri’s chin, then her cheeks. “Alright, alright. You’ve proven yourself. Breathe before you pass out.”

Riri’s exhale was wheezing, her eventual inhale panting. She watched Shuri sit back in her seat, reluctant to do the same, reluctant to escape Shuri’s space. Something about this girl, this princess, this foreigner was fucking alluring.

Her high regained control, of her thoughts, of her actions. She wouldn’t, she decided. She wouldn’t sit back, she wouldn’t escape. Instead, she leaned over the armrest even further, grabbing Shuri’s chin and pulling their gazes together.

Shuri couldn’t control the breath escaping her that stuttered a little bit. Riri’s face was so close, her hands so soft, lips pouted nice and soft. Bast did Shuri try to restart her heart, to regain control, but the weed in her system, the fog in her mind made an already hard task Herculean.

“You into girls, princess?” Riri’s congested mind didn’t conceal a single thought running through her pretty little head. Shuri’s smirk was sly and sultry, daring to tease the girl before her.

“Take a good damn look at me and tell me I look straight.” Riri’s eyes wandered down, fully taking in the young royal. Shuri felt heat everywhere Ri laid her eyes and found herself wanting more. Those little glances, the oh-so-slow glances, were painstaking.

“Not a damn thing straight about that fucking flannel. And the shaved sides? You making studs everywhere look bad, being a walking stereotype like that.” The words rolled off Riri’s tongue, uncensored and true. Shuri knew it was true, the laughter that escaped her lips knew it was true.

“You one to talk, gold chain.”

Riri didn’t back down, she didn’t back away. Her words were smooth when she responded, “It was my dad’s.” And she didn’t cry. Instead, she smiled, the memory of her father placing the gold piece over her head and dangling it ‘round her neck playing in her mind like a movie.

“It looks good on you,” Shuri’s already soft voice dropped lower, her eyes stuck on Riri’s, hypnotized by the coffee-bean-hued orbs that flickered between her lips and her gaze.

“Nigga, can I kiss you?” Riri’s question was gentle, falling into Shuri’s lap with ease.

“Not til you stop calling me that,” Shuri’s words were playful, her eyes just as jubilant. Yes, she wanted to say. Yes, please, you can kiss me.

“Princess,” Riri corrected while Shuri’s eyes rolled. “Can I kiss you?”

Shuri was already leaning in to close the gap between their needy bodies before she answered. “That’s not any better.”

Riri didn’t get a chance to respond. Shuri’s lips pressed into hers, igniting a spark (really a moan) as she leaned in closer, sinking into the delicate feel.

Their lips molded together like a perfect fit. Shuri couldn’t explain away the feeling that overtook her. Science wouldn’t have a solution and Bast forbid she turned to the ancestors for clarity. Instead, she gave in, mind cloudy, no clearness in sight.

Riri thought Shuri’s tongue was just as soft as her hellish mouth. They danced and twirled, tasting and shivering under the nip of Shuri’s grill. Neither of them wanted to be the first to pull away, and Riri had already proven that she wouldn’t need to for at least a minute and a half.

Ninety seconds. A section of Shuri’s brain was counting, the rest of her mind too consumed, too mesmerized by the unfamiliar girl with whom she didn’t want to part.

The air in Riri’s lungs suddenly wasn’t enough, and with Shuri’s tongue, she swallowed her pride and cut off the kiss with abruptness. They panted, eyes glued to the thin string of saliva still connecting their love-swollen lips. “Demethi (Damn),” Shuri’s breathy whispers drifted to Riri’s ears, the Wakandan’s native tongue causing a shiver to run down her spine.

“Run that by me in English?” Riri could barely get the words out, titillated stutters littering her sentence.

Shuri’s smirk made a comeback, the golden grills gleaming at the smaller girl. “You go with me, you gotta learn my language, usana. I’ll teach you, yeah?”

“Who said I go with you?” The way Riri’s brows arched on her face and those dimples appeared on her cheeks made the butterflies in Shuri’s stomach swarm.

“You might not go with me yet, but you will.” Shuri stuck her thumb and index finger in Riri’s dimples. With a gentleness that almost caused Ri to swoon, their faces were brought together again, Shuri’s lips brushing over Riri’s.

“Demethi,” Shuri’s voice was but a whisper, her lips on Ri’s, their mouths together. “Demethi,” she repeated. “It means damn.” Riri fell into Shuri’s touch, into the feel of her. “D-demethi,” she absorbed the words and threw them right back at the princess.

“Good, usana. Usana,” Shuri’s lips dragged across Riri’s, every syllable playing out right on her mouth. “Usana means baby.”

“Usana,” Riri’s voice dropped to a whisper of her own, the intimacy of the moment engulfing her.

“Usana,” Shuri let the word fall from her a third and final time. “You might not go with me yet, but you will,” she parroted.

Riri’s bottom lip was tucked between her teeth, the smile on her face as brilliant as her mind. “We’ll see.”

#quintessencewrites #quintessence writes #shuri x riri #riri x shuri #shuri udaku #riri williams #princess shuri #black panther #18+#shuri angst #riri angst #shuri smut #riri smut

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fivewholeminutes · 6 months

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Sleep Token songs to show your friends and family who are concerned about you joining a cult:

Thread the Needle

Calcutta

Hey Ya

Drag Me Under

When the Party’s Over

I Wanna Dance With Somebody

Is It Really You?

The Love You Want

Telomeres

Aqua Regia

Sleep Token songs you could add to the previous list if your friends and family don't speak English or never pay attention to lyrics:

Fields of Elation

When the Bough Breaks

Jericho

Jaws

The Way That You Were

The Night Does Not Belong To God

Levitate

Dark Signs

Higher

Take Aim

Give

Sugar

Say That You Will

Blood Sport

Shelter

Mine

Fall for me

Alkaline

Descending

High Water

Missing Limbs

Granite

The Apparition

DYWTYLM

Rain

Euclid

Sleep Token songs to absolutely never ever show any friend or family member if they're concerned about you. In general, not only about the cult thing:

Nazareth

The Offering

Gods

Atlantic

Hypnosis

Like That

Chokehold

The Summoning

Vore

Ascensionism

Are You Really Okay?

TMBTE

#sleep token #worshitposting #i don't remember the system i based it on cause it was sitting in my drafts forever but i don't take criticism anyway

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everybody-loves-purdy · 5 months

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My warrior cats cultural headcanons:

THUNDERCLAN:

• If a storm happens during the last few moons of a cat’s apprenticeship, they must do a storm hunt. Inspired by their Clan’s name, the cat must be able to catch at least three pieces of prey during severe thunder, wind, rain, and lightning. Completing this successfully shows they’re of Thunderstar’s blood, and allows them to potentially be made warriors early. The only ThunderClan-born cat who has completed this trial was Tigerstar.

• Warrior name prefixes such as Rain, Cloud, Storm, Lightning, etc, and suffixes such as -storm and -cloud were popular during ThunderClan’s early years. After the deaths of Thunderstar and Lightning Tail, his descendants wanted to be as close as they could to their Clan’s founding leader. The tradition began with Thunderstar’s grandchildren through Lightning Stripe.

• Cats with ginger pelts were seen as a good omen, and considered the kin of Thunderstar and Violet Dawn themselves. Part of Bluestar’s reasoning for believing the fire that’d save ThunderClan was Rusty was because of his vibrant ginger pelt. Brown pelts were also an attractive phenotype.

• Green eyes is a common phenotype seen in ThunderClan cats. It’s rumored that the green eyes came from Thunderstar’s mother, Storm, and that the green symbolized ThunderClan’s relationship with the forest around them. The more vibrant shade of green a cat’s eyes were, the more “connected” they were to the environment around them.

• Tree-hopping is a sport derived from SkyClan customs that seeped into ThunderClan via Cloudstar’s family. ThunderClan cats were expected to be proficient tree climbers from an early age, but the ability to move nimbly from tree to tree was something that only came with experience and expert balance. Thus, a cat who suffered an injury to their tail often were met with shame due to their inability to balance properly. (i.e. Halftail/Sparrowpelt)

• Kits born during thunderstorms were expected to be brilliant future leaders or cursed traitors; a double-edged sword of sorts. The Clan’s medicine cat would often be the ones to determine which of the two storm-born kits would become.

SHADOWCLAN:

• Stealth and cunning are such key values of the ShadowClan warrior that cats would be chosen for patrols strictly based on their pelt color. Naturally, dark colors such as brown, dark gray, and black were favored heavily, with extra points if those pelts were patterned. It would be warriors with those colored pelts who were most chosen for battle patrols and hunting parties. It was really only in leaf-bare that cats with light gray or white pelts would be selected for hunting and battle patrols, due to them blending in with the snow.

• Because pine trees never lose their leaves as oak trees do, it is customary for a ShadowClan cat’s nest to be woven with pine needles. The scent of pine is intense, yet attractive, and in spite of ShadowClan’s sour reputation, they take pride in their environment.

• Name prefixes such as Raven, Shade, Black, Night, Dusk, and Dark are wildly popular, while -shade, -claw, -tooth, and -fang are also popular.

• Kits begin undergoing training by their parents before the age of 6 moons. It isn’t an official apprenticeship, so they aren’t violating the warrior code. Parents take their kits into the forest in the dead of night, training them to navigate the dark with minimal assistance. Hardening them to the starling rustle of prey of the hoo of a nearby owl. They’d need to learn to become one with the shadows if they were to be successful warriors.

• When Brokenstar became leader, these traditions temporarily died out when elders were exiled, though Ashfur and Nightpelt re-introduced them into ShadowClan before their deaths. Tigerstar found these traditions strange, but allowed his Clanmates to practice them nonetheless.

• There’s a game kits and young apprentices play called the shadow game. Basically, the cat must stay in a shadow of their choice for hours at a time as the sun moves across the sky. When the sun goes on, the cat wins if they’ve loyally followed their chosen shadow throughout the day.

WINDCLAN:

• Tunneling was such a large part of an exclusively-WindClan custom that the Clan lost a large part of it’s identity. Heatherstar was resented among the former tunnelers, while she was held in high regard by the former moor-runners. Tallstar introduced moor racing, which was something that was short-lived. As indicated, cats would race each other across WindClan’s territory. Whoever won these races were given the fattest rabbit for their meal that day.

• Since WindClan’s territories both in the forest and beside the lake lacked many trees, WindClan cats would use dense grasses to build their nests, along with the occasional flower. When WindClan cats moved to the lake territories, they were greeted with a large flower field on the edge of their territory. Cats looking to decorate their nests or flatter a potential mate would often pick flowers from this field. The quality of the flowers were very important.

• If a WindClan cat accepted a flower from a potential mate, it would be considered as confirmation of their relationship, and sometimes, one of their kits would be named after a flower. However, it was obvious when flower-picking wasn’t done with the purest intentions. When Crowfeather returned to WindClan after his attempted escape with Leafpool, he hastily picked flowers to impress Nightcloud. By the time he returned to camp, the flowers were beginning to darken in color, their leaves curling and the petals wilting.

• Kits were given names that would show off their speed. Breezekit, Rabbitkit, Harekit, and Windkit were popular names, though cats tended to shy away from Windkit out of respect for Windstar’s memory. Suffixes such as -flight and -flower remain popular for WindClan warriors.

• Although ThunderClan and ShadowClan are typically hailed as the strongest Clans, WindClan cats take pride in how they’ve overcome so much as a Clan. How they returned after Brokenstar’s Clan drove them out. How they became one once more after Mudclaw and Onewhisker’s struggle for leadership led to a fracture.

• An old queen’s tale said that a pregnant queen should spend a large portion of her day outside during a particularly windy day, since the wind was rumored to make her kits stronger and faster. When Palesky became pregnant with Woollytail’s kits, she wanted to ensure her litter was strong and healthy, wanting to avoid what happened to Finchkit.

RIVERCLAN:

• RiverClan cats are said to be among the most beautiful. Silver and gray tabby fur is held in high regard, as the colors mimicked many aspects of RiverClan’s territory. Even though RiverClan and ThunderClan were natural enemies due to their repeated clashes over Sunningrocks, it’s rumored that Whitestorm fell in love with one as a young cat, though nothing came of this.

• Mistkit, Streamkit, Splashkit, Cloudkit, etc are popular names, with -splash and -stream being among the most popular suffixes for RiverClan cats. One thing that RiverClan share in common with ThunderClan is the belief that kits born during a storm have the ability to become the Clan’s next leaders. The only difference in RiverClan is that there’s no suspicion storm-born kits hold any innate evilness in their souls. Kits like Stormkit and Oakkit were held in high regard for being born during a storm, and for being the sons of the Clan’s deputy. Even after Stormkit’s injury left him disabled and with Crookedkit as a new name, many cats refused to lose faith in him (though they were far more confident with Oakheart)

• “Drypaws” weren’t just teased, but they were often forced to swim against their will. This practice ended when Leopardstar assumed leadership, having been a former drypaw herself. She wanted RiverClan-born drypaws to be able to explore the river in their own way without being forced to acclimate to it.

• Part of the reason why RiverClan cats were seen as beautiful was because they often adorned their pelts with shells. Shell adornment was easier for cats with thicker or longer fur. RiverClan cats rarely hunted land prey, and were thus expected to never adorn their shoulders, legs, and paws with shells so that the sound of shells clacking together wouldn’t frighten their prey.

• A RiverClan cat’s nest reflected their status. Senior warriors, deputies, and leader’s nests would be laid with the softest moss on it’s inferior, while shells of various sizes, shapes, and colors were woven into the nest’s exterior. Young warriors had some shells, but not too many. Where there wasn’t enough moss, they settled for swan or heron feathers. The nests of queens and elders were more focused on warmth, so while their nests lacked the opalescence of many of their Clanmates’, their nests were lined with a mixture of dense moss and feathers.

• Swimming in raging waters was never one of RiverClan’s customs, as cats from other Clans believed. Instead, cats hunt pikes and magpies as an (optional) rite of passage. Many cats avoid it due to the pike’s power and the magpie’s reputation for their ruthless assaults.

SKYCLAN:

• In ancient SkyClan times, cats believed themselves to be superior to ThunderClan cats, since SkyClan’s founder was the father of ThunderClan’s founder. This sentiment ran deep with Skystar’s SkyClan descendants.

• Unlike in the other Clans, there was no preference to pelt color. Regardless, SkyClan cats were expected to be at home in the trees in their territory. However, SkyClan names were commonly named after weather elements, birds, and trees. At a point, Oakkit and Cloudkit were the most popular kit names. The suffix -leap was the most popular in terms of warrior names.

• SkyClan cats were identified by their muscular haunches and narrow tails. A SkyClan cat’s tail served as their pride and joy; if the tail was maimed or amputated, they could no longer safely climb trees and hunt above ground.

• Feathers were a large part of SkyClan’s relationship with decoration. Every cat had some sort of feather to adorn their pelts or their nests. Because of this, SkyClan relied more heavily on birds than other land or tree prey.

• SkyClan cats believed themselves to share the same spirits as birds, and killing one for any purpose unrelated to food was strictly forbidden and seen as an act of disrespect towards StarClan itself.

• SkyClan medicine cats often skipped visits to the Moonstone, choosing to convene with their ancestors by climbing to the top of a high tree, finding a reliable branch that could support their weight, and meditated. The idea of going beneath ground both terrified and disgusted SkyClan cats. Because of this, half-moon meetings only contained ThunderClan, WindClan, RiverClan, and ShadowClan medicine cats. Any new SkyClan medicine cat apprentice would have to wait until the next Gathering. This practice died out when SkyClan was rebuilt & they reunited with the other four Clans by the lake.

• SkyClan warriors were taught mimicry, a skill kept secret from the other four Clans. From a young age, part of a SkyClan cat’s training was to sit and listen to a specific species of bird, learning how to mimic its calls. Before they were exiled from the forest territories, SkyClan warriors would make bird sounds from the trees to mask their presence before dropping onto unexpected trespassers and enemies. Although this practice was discontinued during SkyClan’s exile, it was brought back thanks to a joint effort from Sparrowpelt and Cherrytail.

These are all excellent, I love them so much!

#acornflower #headcanon

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waybacks-swag-awards · 1 year

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ROUND 2!

For this one, we got Needled Rains Descending from @nrd-answers VS Star That Guides from @star-that-guides!

#iteratorocswag #r2 polls

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nerdywriter36 · 5 months

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first lines game!

"Share the first line of ten of your most recent fanfics and then tag ten people. Don't have ten? Not to worry, just share what you have."

thank you for the tag @shinyfire-0! I’m majorly late to this, but do enjoy these snippets of (and links to) my work on AO3 :)

1. Drinks and Kisses - oneshot, collab with @brendadaaedestler. Erik/Christine.

Erik slid his arms into his housecoat, the satin sliding smoothly along the sleeves of his nightshirt, and padded into his kitchen, where the kettle was squealing away on the stove. Lifting it off, he filled a waiting teacup, the smell of a jasmine blend filling the air as the hot water poured through the herbal mixture.

2. All in the Name of Love - oneshot for POTO Fluff Week 2023. Erik/Christine.

Erik stumbled out of his music room, rubbing his face as he went in an attempt to wake himself up even a little bit. He had accidentally spent an entire night composing...for the third night in a row, and he was beginning to feel the effects. Even with that fact, though, he knew that he would likely end up doing the same thing that night; when there was a song in his head, it needed to be put to paper immediately and he simply wouldn't be able to rest until it was done.

3. True Friends Are Great Riches - oneshot for POTO Fluff Week 2023. Erik/Christine with a little one, Nadir makes an appearance.

"Are you sure this is enough food, Erik?" Christine asked as she looked down at the bowl of salad on her lap, then double-checked the insulated bag at her feet to make sure the ice cream treats she had packed were, in fact, there, despite having checked multiple times before. "There are going to be four adults eating tonight."

4. The Symphony of Our Hearts - oneshot for POTO Fluff Week 2023. Erik/Christine.

Erik leaned back on his hands and sighed to himself as he watched the performers on the stage in front of them. They were...adequate at best, and that was being kind. He had purchased tickets to this outdoor symphony, wanting to just enjoy the outdoors and listen to music, but it seemed that his hopes that the music would be good had been asking too much of the local artists. They were already an hour into what was a two-hour program and he wasn't completely sure how much more he could take. The singers lacked technique in what should have been obvious areas, there were a few too many sour notes and incidents of scrambling to play the right chords for his taste; he was used to far more professional performances at real opera houses and music halls, or even his own skills! This was amateur hour, it seemed.

5. Rain and Redamancy - oneshot for POTO Fluff Week 2023, collab with @brendadaaedestler. 1990 inspired!Erik/Christine.

“Well, I think it is safe to say that was the worst production I’ve been to,” Erik said with a quiet sigh as he descended the grand staircase of the opera house, his wife on his arm. His eyes flicked upward when they heard a loud crash of thunder from outside. “Oh, good, the rain hasn’t stopped. And to think, I was worried we had missed it.”

6. A Child’s Fascination - oneshot for POTO Fluff Week 2023. 1990!Erik/Christine with a little one.

Christine pulled her needle through the fabric of her latest sewing project - a waistcoat of Erik's that he had managed to put a hole in. How, she didn't know, nor did he, or so he claimed. Then again, she didn't claim to understand most of her husband's antics and the results of them.

7. Frigid - oneshot for POTO Fluff Week 2023. Post-LND!Erik/Christine.

"Christine, must we do this?" Erik asked with a sigh, looking skeptically at the murky water lapping against the supports of the pier. "This water is freezing."

8. An Evening of Interruptions - oneshot for POTO Fluff Week 2023. Erik/Christine with a little one.

Erik settled into his high-backed armchair with a sigh, resting a book on his knee and reaching for the small china cup on the nearby side table. The day had been long, consisting of many meetings with clients awaiting architectural designs. That was an aspect of his new life that he was still adjusting to - people.

9. my heart is home when my hand is in yours - multi-chapter oneshot collection of handholding prompts. primarily Erik/Christine.

The sound of a violin being played quickly caught Christine's attention as she stepped out of the small gondola outside the home that she had grown so fond of. The notes that flowed together into such a beautiful song that both warmed her heart and gave her chills echoed in the underground grotto, the sound bouncing off of the stone walls and completely engulfing her in the melody, drawing her in for more.

10. Say You’ll Share With Me - multi-chapter oneshot collection. primarily Erik/Christine.

The sound of the gunshot still rang in Erik’s ears, even as he sat by Christine’s bedside in Phantasma’s infirmary, watching her closely to make sure she stayed stable. It had been almost an hour since the...incident; he couldn’t even bear to think about it more than he had to.

This was really fun to do! I’m late to this, so I won’t tag anyone but @brendadaaedestler because I can’t remember if you’ve done this already or not :D

#my writing #poto #phic #tag game #first lines tag #e/c

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aloneinthehellfire · 2 years

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Chapter 10: Babysitting Was Never Meant To Be Easy

Raining Hellfire: Season One | Season Two

Raining Hellfire: Season Two

Word Count: 2204 words

Warnings: swearing, flirting, billy cause it's billy, mentions of hooking up, fight, mentions of blood, needles, quite a bit of chaos

[A/N: props to reader for lasting that long in this scenario]

Babysitting Was Never Meant To Be Easy

Billy’s car door opened and you take a breath, mentally preparing yourself. You knew how to do this. You’d distracted him a million times before.

“Y/n?” Billy called out and you turned around, faking surprise.

“Billy.” You say, walking away from the house and toward him, forcing each step. He dropped his cigarette to the ground, putting it out with a twist of his heel. “What the hell are you doing at the Byers’?”

“Exploring the neighbourhood.” He replied, a smirk appearing on his face when he saw how you looked. The plan was already working.

“What?” You act innocent, looking down at yourself as if you hadn’t even noticed.

“Had a date with Jonathan Byers or something?” He leans against his car, eyebrow raised.

“Or something.” You cross your arms.

“Thought you were with the freak?” He motions to nothing, like Eddie would suddenly appear out of thin air.

You roll your eyes. “Don’t you have married mothers to harass?”

“Aw, come on.” He pouted mockingly, laughing. “What happened… you guys break up?”

“Why do you care?”

“Just seeing what’s on the market.” He purses his lips slightly and you groan with disgust.

“You sure know how to make a girl feel special.”

He just stares at you a little longer. But this time, his gaze never left your eyes.

“What?” You laugh in surprise.

He stepped closer to you, still staring while a soft smile danced on his lips. You’d never admit that Billy Hargrove still had an effect on you.

“Why are you dressed like that?” He questions, studying your reaction.

“Maybe I just felt like it.” You shrug, forcing yourself to lean toward him.

He clicks his tongue, smiling. “The freak wouldn’t like this.”

“He doesn’t get a say anymore.” As bitter as the words tasted, you knew it was true. You and Eddie were over.

It was all you had to say for Billy to gently snake his hand around your hip and bring his lips to your ear.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” He whispered and you tried to remain calm. One wrong move and it would have all been for nothing.

“Pretty sure I had a bad influence.” You bat your eyes and Billy almost stopped breathing. He would never admit that Y/n Mayfield still had an effect on him too.

You can feel Billy’s hand moving to fit around your back, pulling you closer. You swallow your pride and lean in closer. Raising your lips to his and-

The door slams shut behind you. You hold your breath when you see Billy glance behind you, a scowl on his face.

“Am I dreaming or is that you, Harrington?”

You mentally curse, clearing your throat and turning to face Steve, Billy’s hand still gripping your waist.

“Yeah, it’s me. Don’t cream your pants.” Steve’s arms are crossed against his chest. And he’s staring daggers at Billy’s arm.

“What are you doing here, amigo.” Billy glances between you both, trying to assess the situation.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Steve descends the porch steps, “Amigo.”

“Steve and I…” You quickly interrupt, pushing yourself away from Billy in attempt to defer the conversation once you saw Billy glancing at the house. “Well…”

“Well, what?” Billy tilts his head, pulling out another cigarette.

You look to Steve who just frowns at you. You hoped he could hear your thoughts because you were about to make him very uncomfortable.

“Fine.” You sigh, “You caught us.”

Billy raises his eyebrow as you slide your hand into Steve’s. Steve, on the other hand, tries his best to keep his cool.

“We knew the Byers wouldn’t be home and since they gave me a key for emergencies…” You shrug, acting sheepish.

“Thought you were with the town princess.” Billy shifted his stare to Steve, putting him under the spotlight.

“She, uh… she doesn’t know.” He cleared his throat, looking to you to find confidence. “And I’d like to keep it that way, if you get me.”

Steve smirked and for a second, you almost saw the Steve Harrington that had left you all alone for his new-found popularity. And you hated it.

“Hm.” Billy nods and you let go of Steve’s hand, crossing your arms.

“Okay, so… you gonna stop staring at us like that or are you gonna leave?” You straighten your back, eyes not leaving his.

“I’m looking for my step-sister.” He says, making sure to hit a wound you didn’t even know you had inside of you. “A little birdie told me she was here.”

“Huh, that’s weird.” Steve looks at you in confusion. “I don’t know her.”

“Small? Redhead?” Billy looks you up and down, turning back to your friend. “Bit of a bitch.”

Steve tightens his jaw at the comment. “Doesn’t ring a bell. Sorry, buddy.”

“You really think I’d bring my sister to a hookup with Steve Harrington?” You spat, glaring at the boy you once thought hung the stars.

“Wait.” Steve pretended to look shocked, “Your sister?”

“You know, I don’t know, this…” Billy clicks his tongue, moving towards Steve, “this whole situation, Harrington, I don’t know. It’s giving me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Oh yeah, why’s that?” Steve ponders, not faltering at Billy’s attempts of intimidation.

You hold your breath. He definitely knew.

“My 13 year old sister goes missing all day.”

Your heart drops. Not because he called Max his sister, no. Because you know exactly what he’s thinking. After all, he was there when it almost happened to you. California was a big place, a scary place at times. Billy saved your life.

“And then…” He continues, glancing at how upset you looked, “I find her with you in a stranger’s house. Y/n’s acting weird. And you lie to me about it.”

“Billy-” You try but he practically growls at you.

“Shut it! Or have you forgotten?”

“Forgotten what?” Steve raises his brow, keeping his cool.

Steve read between the lines, choosing not to pester your childhood further.

“Man, were you dropped too much as a child, or what?” Steve scoffs, “I don’t know what you don’t understand about what I just said. But it’s only me and Y/n.”

“She’s not here.” You repeat. Billy keeps his eyes on yours, unimpressed.

“Then who is that?”

You all turn to see four heads quickly disappear from the window. Your blood ran cold.

Steve sighs. “Oh, shit. Listen-”

Billy throws a hard punch and hits Steve, making you shout in protest.

“Go!” Steve yells at you and you run to the house. The kids have to come first.

“Did he see us?” One of them say as you slam the door shut behind you.

“See you?! Fuck sake! I thought I said stay out of view!” You scramble around for a weapon, seeing the nailed bat on the floor. You didn’t want to severely hurt Billy, but you’d do what you had to.

The door swings open with a bang, rattling the shelves and revealing a very angry Billy. Your heart drops when you see he’s alone.

“Well, well, well.” Billy sets his sights on something behind you. “Lucas Sinclair. What a surprise.”

Billy stalks towards the kids and you move in front of them, bat held at the ready.

“Move, Y/n.”

“Touch a hair on any of these kids and I will fucking kill you.” You say, venom spitting from your mouth.

“You are a killer. That I have to agree with.” He shifts to Max, “I thought I told you to stay away from him, Max.”

“Billy, go away.” She says without much confidence.

“You disobeyed me. You know what happens when you disobey me.”

The echo of his father’s voice sets in your mind. What did Neil do to him?

“Billy…” Max tries, but he was on a war path.

“I break things.”

Billy lunges towards Lucas and you jab the bat’s handle into his side, causing him to stumble slightly.

“You bitch.” He grabs the bat, flinging it across the room to crash into some ornaments.

“Really, Billy?” You stand your ground, even without a weapon. “Beating up little kids now?”

“She shouldn’t be anywhere near him.” The fire in his eyes was something you hadn’t seen before.

“I don’t think that’s your choice.”

“Move, Y/n. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

You let out a sharp laugh. “You’re about four years too late for that promise.”

In one swift motion, you punch him. You had caught him off guard, surely bruising skin; he didn’t expect you to actually fight him. He never did.

“Fine.” He spat out blood, smiling. “Have it your way.”

You dodge as many attacks as you can but his fingers latch onto your hair with a firm grip, dragging you over to the wall and smashing your head against it. You hear the kids cry out at the sight.

“He treats you like shit, Y/n.”

Lillian’s words were the last you expected to hear. She was right. She was always right.

Billy takes the opportunity to walk over to Lucas again, cornering him.

You couldn’t let him win. Not again.

Fighting through the pain, you jump on him and jab your elbow into the crook of his neck as hard as you can. Billy yells out, reaching behind him to claw you off. His attack caught your shoulder.

Pain surges through your arm, loosening your grip and he uses it to his advantage, throwing you to the ground with a yell.

Blood trickles down the side of your face, blocking your vision in one eye. You stare up at him, breath heavy as you wait for another blow. But his eyes widen as he looks down at you. It was as if he didn’t want any of it.

A gasp sounds from the corner and his attention snaps back to Lucas. Before the boy could run, Billy’s hand grasps his jacket, pushing him against the wall.

You can’t move quickly enough. You try to get up but you just fall back down, head pounding. Max looks terrified, wanting to rush over but her eyes are set on Billy, the rushing guilt etched across her face.

Steve suddenly creeps through the door, wiping his lip and clutching his stomach. His eyes scan the room as he shakes the hair out of his eyes. He straightens as soon as he sees you laying on the floor, barely able to move. His hands curl into fists, eyes glinting with anger and he runs in the direction of your crawling effort.

Steve pulls Billy away from Lucas, landing a punch. But Billy never goes down without a fight.

As the chaos continues, Mike and Dustin run to you, carefully pulling you up. Max grabs Lucas and pulls him away. Her worried eyes scan the blood on your face but you give a shaky thumbs up, tapping the boys’ shoulders to stand on your own. You shift your eyes to the scene behind you all.

Billy has Steve on the floor, beating him bloody.

“No!” You scream, trying to pull him away but he elbows your stomach and you double in pain.

The kids start to yell, unable to overpower the boy. You notice a vial on the shelf near you. The sedative. You reach for it but your body gives up, crashing you to the floor.

Max notices your actions, running over and grabbing the needle before plunging it into Billy’s neck.

He stumbles back, dazed as the serum takes affect. He slowly falls to the floor, eyes on Max. She grabs your forgotten bat, holding it above him.

“From here on out, you leave me and my friends alone. You leave my sister alone. Do you understand?” She leans over him.

“Screw you.” Billy slurs, smirking.

Max brings the bat down quickly, striking just between his legs. It was a warning.

“Say you understand!” She screams. “Say it! Say it!”

“I understand.” Billy whispers, a tear falling.

“What?”

“I understand!” He yells out before finally passing out. Max lets out a shaky sigh, looking to you.

As Max threatened Billy, you had crawled over to Steve who lay unconscious. You cradle his head, bringing yours closer and sigh relief when you hear him breathing.

“He’s okay.” Your voice is hoarse but it comforts Dustin none-the-less.

You try and move the hair out of Steve’s wounds. Your face twists with guilt. You should have stayed with him.

“Mike.” You look to the boy who stares back in surprise. You don’t talk as much as you used to. “Are you 100% sure that this ‘hub’ will kill it?”

“It’s worth a try.” He says and you nod, still holding Steve.

“Lucas, grab me the first aid kit.”

“On it.” He obeys, running to the kitchen.

“Dustin, I want you collecting as much protective gear as you can.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” Dustin pulls Mike with him to rummage through the bedrooms.

“Max-”

“Already got it.” Max holds out the keys from Billy’s pocket, smiling.

You slowly stand, hooking your arms under Steve’s shoulders while Max takes his legs, helping you carry him to the car.

If there was a chance you could save Will and rid Hawkins of this threat once and for all… you were sure as hell going to make it happen.

Chapter 11: Into The Hive Mind ->

taglist: @gnnnne / @beepisbeep / @paintballkid711/ @eddiesbirdie/ @livasaurasrex/ @darktimelegends / @jackierose902109 / @mvrylee

#stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things reader insert #eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #fanfic #nancy wheeler #dustin henderson #eddie munson x reader #lucas sinclair #mike wheeler #will byers #max mayfield #billy hargrove #steve harrington #st2 #steve x y/n #steve harrington x reader

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k-ii-ko · 1 year

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Needled Rains Descending.

Yeah idk what happened here either

Uhhh google what sunflowers symbolize ( @splynter )

#guys I can draw something that isn’t random brush strokes!11!!!1!1!#i swear 1!!!1!1!#nrd #rw #rw iterator

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chaotic-orphan · 11 months

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June of Doom, day six:

“You’re doing great:” injection // nightmare // duct tape

CW: needles (mentioned), gunshot wound (explicit), graphic depiction of pain, sadistic whumper, forced caretaking, forced medical Whump, Whumpee forced unwilling participant, blood (explicit), medical Whump, captivity Whump, dungeon, basement, exhaustion, gagged whumpee

I suck at tagging, I barely know how to do it, I’m sorry…

*~*~*~*~*

The door to the basement opened and Whumpee saw Whumper’s silhouette at the top of the stairs. Caretaker lifted their head too, flinching when the door to the stairs locked and Whumpee saw all of it.

Whumper whistled as he descended the steps. He had a case in one hand, and he smiled at Whumpee, who was chained directly across from the stairs when he cleared the last step.

“I have something fun in store for my two favourite roommates today,” Whumper said cheerfully. He walked to the table that jutted out from his wall of horror tools and sadistic equipment and placed the case down. Whumpee stretched their neck, trying to see what was in the case but Whumper hummed a happy tune and blocked Whumpee’s view with their body. “No peeking and ruining the surprise now, Whumpee.”

Whumper stepped away from the table and towards the wall of Horror, eyes roaming over every possible pain they could inflict on Whumpee and Caretaker today. Whumpee did the same, gauging any sort of reaction Whumper had from his view, trying to anticipate what unpleasantness they had in store for them today.

Whumper’s hand went to the whips and Whumpee glanced back quickly at Caretaker. Caretaker was leaning against the wall, head tilted back, hair falling over their eyes, too exhausted to even move the hairs. Caretaker couldn’t take a whipping today. They couldn’t. They would die, they were barely holding it together after last time Whumper…

Whumpee didn’t try to suppress the shudder that racked their body at the memory of that godless, waking nightmare. A hand was in Whumpee’s hair then pulling their attention back to Whumper. Whumpee grit their teeth behind thin lips as Whumper smiled down at them.

“How are you today, Whumpee? A little distracted?”

Whumpee swallowed. “No, Whumper.”

“Are you sure? You’re not more worried about Caretaker than yourself are you?” Whumper chastised and Whumpee shook their head. Then winced as Whumper yanked their head up further by the hair.

“No. No! I’m not,” Whumpee said quickly.

“Leave them alone,” Caretaker muttered from the corner. Whumper let out a small laugh but let go of Whumpee’s hair.

They crouched down to Whumpee and unlocked the cuffs chaining Whumpee’s hands to the floor. Whumpee’s heart jumped into their throat. When Whumper moved Whumpee that only meant Whumpee was in for a world of pain, but it was okay. At least it wasn’t Caretaker.

Whumper dropped something into Whumpee’s freed hands. When they looked down they saw it was a roll of duct tape. Whumpee looked up in question. Whumper was grinning down at them, sadistic delights dancing in his eyes.

“Today Whumpee you are going to be my little helper, since Caretaker so rudely tried to rain on our parade.”

Whumpee stared up at him, mouth opening in silent horror. Then they shook their head. “No, no. I won’t. I— I won’t.”

Whumper shushed them, bending down again and grabbing Whumpee under the arm pulling them up. “Yes you will. It’s okay, Whumpee. I’ll talk you through it.”

“No. No. I won’t! I will not listen to you. I’m not hurting Caretaker.”

Whumper’s grip tightened on Whumpee’s arm as they dragged them over to Caretaker. “Yes you will, Whumpee. Here look. I’ll show you.”

Whumper let go of Whumpee and gave them a key. Whumpee looked at it. Whumper put a hand on Whumpee’s shoulder, pushing them to their knees.

“Now see?” Whumper said. “You’re doing so good already. Now unlock the latch. Yes. Just like that. Good, now, we get Caretaker to their feet hmm?”

“No,” Caretaker said weakly, but Whumper ignored their request and crouched down grabbing Caretaker under the arm.

“Whumpee. Grab their other arm.”

“No, no, no,” Caretaker mumbled, more urgent now. “No please. Don’t.”

“Whumpee. Grab them. Now. Or I swear I’ll make their punishment worse,” said Whumper, eyes locked on Whumpee’s in a threat. Whumpee had to suck it up. For Caretaker. Whumpee knew first hand how far Whumper would go.

So Whumpee grabbed the protesting Caretaker and together they pulled Caretaker to their feet. Caretaker cried out as Whumpee put pressure on their shoulder, struggling weakly against Whumpee’s hold.

“I’m sorry, Caretaker. I’m sorry.”

“The more you apologise, the worse their punishment will be,” Whumper sing-songed. Caretaker just let out a few pained grunts and whines until they got them onto the repurposed dentist’s chair that Whumper so loved to torture Whumpee on. To carve into, poke, prod, cut, burn— the nightmares were endless.

So for Whumpee to see Caretaker there, to have put them there… Whumpee wanted to get sick. What was Whumper planning?

“Whumpee…” Caretaker said, their voice a small thing that pulled at Whumpee’s heart strings. They were here because of them. Trying to rescue them and now they were shot and weak from blood loss and it was all Whumpee’s fault. “It’s okay… I’m okay… I’m going—“

“Whumpee,” Whumper interjected, getting Whumpee’s full and undivided attention with his horrible smile. “Be a dear and grab the duct tape for me, will you?”

It wasn’t a suggestion. Whumpee knew that. So they obeyed. What else could they do? With Whumper so close to Caretaker in their state. Whumpee picked the Duct tape up from the floor and offered it back to Whumper across Caretaker on the chair.

Whumper held their hands up. “No, no. I don’t want it. I want you to do it.”

Whumpee’s heart went to their throat. “W-what?”

Whumper smiled. The edges turning sharper than the flash of malicious excitement colouring his features. “Well we can’t let Caretaker bleed out, can we? Where would be the fun in that?”

Whumpee glanced down at Caretaker who was glaring at Whumper with all their energy. Whumper placed a sharp hand down on Caretaker’s shoulder and Caretaker cried out, their body arching away from Whumper’s hand but he just kept patting Caretaker’s shoulder in a disturbed reassuring gesture.

“As much as Caretaker deserves to bleed out for defying me and trying to get you back, I want them alive. So that means we are cleaning the wound. Keeping them alive and ready for their punishment once their healed.”

Whumpee said nothing. They just stood there, the duct tape in their trembling hands, too stunned to even speak.

Whumper’s finger dug into the bullet wound and Caretaker screamed. Their back arched off the chair, curving around Whumper’s brutal attack while struggling to get away.

“There is the problem,” said Whumper to Whumpee, not even looking at Caretaker. “They’re a screamer. Usually I enjoy screams, but they don’t do it as well as you do, Whumpee.”

“You fucking bastard—AGH!” Caretaker growled, seething underneath Whumper.

“So I need you to duct tape their mouth shut Whumpee. We can’t have them screaming every time we’re trying to help, hmm?”

“No,” Caretaker mumbled weakly. Whumpee looked down at Caretaker, finally tearing their eyes away from Whumper. Caretaker looked bad. So bad. Their hair was sticking to their forehead with sweat and they looked so pale they nearly looked grey. Their lips were pale, the colour of old scars and trembling. “No, don’t,” Caretaker tried again.

“Whumpee. The quicker you do this the quicker we can sew Caretaker back up.”

Whumpee’s eyes went to Whumper. “You’re trying to fix them?”

“Like I said, Whumpee. They’re not as fun if they’re broken. Now come on, we don’t have all day.”

Whumpee looked back at Caretaker, and Caretaker blanched. If they could have gotten paler. “No. Whumpee. Don’t please—“ Caretaker tried, their voice cracking at the please.

“It’s okay, Caretaker,” said Whumpee, their breath shaky as they started pulling at the edge of the tape. “Whumper will make you better. I’m sorry.”

“No. No. Ple—mmh.”

Whumpee’s hands shook as they pulled them back after… after gagging the person who tried to come and save them. They were no better than Whumper. Whumper who had gagged them countless times before, taken their voice, their last defence, their last sense of control over their body… Whumpee’s eyes went to Whumper who was smiling so proud down at Whumpee.

“Again,” said Whumper.

Whumpee froze. “Whumper they’re — they’re already—“

“Again, Whumpee.”

“Mmf!” Caretaker said and it sounded so like a No. Whumper kept their eyes on Whumpee’s with that look that brokered no disobedience. Whumpee nearly cried as they pulled at the tape again.

“I’m sorry,” they told Caretaker again and this time Caretaker didn’t move their head. They just held Whumpee’s eyes: a defeated gaze and a small nod, that told Whumpee it was okay. That they forgave them.

Jesus that just made this so much worse.

Whumpee put it on again, and Whumper smiled. “Good, Whumpee. Very good. You’re doing great as my little assistant,” Whumper praised and it felt as if all the moisture in Whumpee’s mouth turned to ash.

“You can put that away now.,” Whumper said, nodding at the duct tape in Whumpee’s hand. Whumpee moved on autopilot to the wall of Horror and stopped in front of it, swallowing hard.

They could just grab something. Grab anything. They could hurt Whumper. They could do it. They could. Their hand shook as they reached up to hang the duct tape back in it’s place just beside the whips. Then they hesitated.

“You know, if you were braver I think you would manage it, Whumpee. You could grab something, maybe outwit me with the adrenaline coursing through your veins,” Whumper whispered, and Whumpee felt a breath on their neck that sent ice through their veins. They didn’t even hear Whumper move. “Of course, it would have worked better if Caretaker was never here, hmm? You wouldn’t have to risk them getting hurt if they never came and you could’ve fought me and escaped.”

Whumpee turned to face a grinning Whumper, but Whumpee knew the threat behind his smile. The danger that lay under his expression. Daring Whumpee to talk back, to agree with Whumper’s hypothetical mutiny.

“Maybe,” is all Whumpee said in reply.

Whumper looked Whumpee in the eyes. Searching for that usual sign of submission, but it wasn’t there. Whumper’s grin just got wider as they grabbed Whumpee by the arm and dragged them over to the chair Caretaker was laying on, eyes focused on the exchange in silence.

Whumper left Whumpee on the right side while walking to the far left. A flash of metal passed from Whumper’s hand through the air and Whumpee caught them reflexively. Then they realised what they were as Whumper opened their pair with a clack, clack, clack and set about grabbing Caretaker’s arm which was now flailing in panic. Handcuffs. They were handcuffs, and Whumper wanted Whumpee to put them on Caretaker’s wrist and lock them down so they couldn’t fight back.

“Mmf! Mmmph! MMF!” Caretaker cried, and then a soft gasp of a breath was pushed out their nose as Whumper punched Caretaker in the gut. In Caretaker’s brief moment of pain, Whumper slapped the cuffs onto Caretaker’s wrist and then to handrail.

“Must you have a moral quandary over every little thing today Whumpee?” Whumper asked, impatient. “When I give you a task I expect it to be done. No if’s, and’s or b-b-buts. The next time you hesitate today, Caretaker gets the punishment. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Whumper…” Whumpee said, and opened the handcuffs with a clack, clack, clack. They reached their hand out to Caretaker’s and Caretaker flinched at first, then willingly put their hand into Whumpee’s. Whumpee snapped the cuffs on and did the same as Whumper. When they finished Caretaker pulled at the cuffs, testing how much room they had to work with.

To struggle with.

Finally. Finally, Whumper opened the small briefcase they brought in and Whumpee could see what was inside. A case full of needles and bottles of what exactly Whumpee didn’t know but they wanted to get sick. They wanted to run. They wanted to get Caretaker free and hurt Whumper and flee… their heart was beating a mile a minute in their chest.

Just as Whumper opened the box, they shut it again and grinned at Whumpee over their shoulder. “Actually. I think we’ve taken all the precautions necessary. I don’t think Caretaker will need general anaesthetic, do you Whumpee?”

Whumpee went pale. “Wh— what? Whumper… no…”

“Mmf!” Caretaker protested, their cuffs clanging against the metal of the chair’s frame.

“Whumper they… they need it if you’re going to—“

“Psssh,” Whumper said waving their hand, dismissing Whumpee’s incoherent babbling. “Relax. Their screams are muted and their hands are tied down. Let’s see how long they go before they pass out, hmm?”

“Whumper—“

“Whumpee! Whumpee, Whumpee, Whumpee…” Whumper tsked, teeth grit against each other. “I can sew up one hole, or I can make two more. The choice is yours.”

Whumpee looked between Whumper and Caretaker, once, twice, thrice. Then their resolve settled in their face. “Okay, Whumper. We sew up one.”

The duct tape barely suppressed Caretaker’s screams. Whumpee had so much blood on their hands. Caretaker didn’t last ten minutes before they passed out.

When they did Whumper grinned over the chair at Whumpee and said: “perfect. You did perfect today, Whumpee. I’m so happy your friend decided to join us.”

*~*~*~*~*

Thank you for reading also sorry for the delay, my brain went blackpink shutdown yesterday so it’s been a time— I feel like I have been writing this piece for years anyways… hope you enjoyed

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nrd-answers · 10 months

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i wonder what would happen if seer just... left

like, they obviously wouldn't

but can you imagine if seer just left one day?

< Previous || First || Next >

#ending ask #rain world #iterator oc #nrd #needled rains descending #seer #slugcat oc #can arc #OFF TO SEE WHAT SEER IS UP TO

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splynter · 1 year

Text

FINALLY DONE

NRD animatic because I’m too ambitious for my own good

Tw for flashing lights and potentially disturbing imagery

#splynter art #rain world #Iterator oc #animatic #needled rains descending #NRD #tw flashing #Tw flashing lights #AAUGDJDJALDKF #MY CHEST IS DYING #some of the timing is slightly off but animaticing is hard on procreate #THERE IS NO AUDIO OPTION IN PROCREATE SO I HAD TO GUESS THE TIMING

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captainkurosolaire · 8 months

Text

X1 ~ Assassinate Love? Mission Failure!

Reference ~ Chapter One ~ ♪ "Violet" ♪ Heavy downpour of rain cascaded down below weeping skies, trembling with aches roaring amongst Othard city-scape. This story is gray, from time; before… When they first met. Softly a footstep rippled against a puddle left in aftermath. Until arriving indoors to an inner-sanctum, where native magpies chirped happily. Eastern-garbed Seeker blindfolded, but not senseless as one of the swarming envoy magpie flew above dropped a contract that would forever change the course of history, his hands-skillfully swiped. This particular individual served within an elite-group of assassins known as Black Miracles, underground where secrets are bred in a shadow organization. Specially-lethally designed to exterminate or hunt; mankind. Often they solved-plights that Doma citizens sought fortune with mere whispers, a jar was created in the space-and-void thought barren of nothing; and sometimes remedy and salvation was granted as alternative fortune. Duzan-tai-gachi, a foretelling katana, rumors said it could cut-through-anything; was stolen by treacherous pirates stowing near a coast in Ruby Seas, a crucial weapon for arms, The Far East would need to further utilize in their efforts against the Imperial-noose in this period. Fingers-done tracing the braille, understood. Vanishing like fellow-air, his excelling reflexes, heard and moved gracefully not even droplets of rain stood a chance to drench him or deter his pace. Overlooking a cliff where the treacherous sea-vessel took station under canopies of tree-shade; leafs blown taken from creaking branches.

A small-pixie companion peeked her-eyes out of his sleeve and gave a yawn! Awakening, Flicker, who acted as his ‘Sight’ for bound-style. His-motionless tone and verbiage simplistically gave volume, “How many signatures do you detect below?” Commanding an estimate. She peered-forth and squinted, her eyes-zooming inward, aether dancing-around them, creating a distinct aura. As she began counting them… Something odd-occurred, never happening prior that frightened, even the magical-being. The fluttering pixie had eyes-dart back at her of powerful brilliant-violets orbs. “T-t-there’s someone unique in there! They perceived my snooping! I counted a hundred-thirty-nine; before seen Master!” It could be worrying that his own outline was seen back. Most would derail from this mission, dangerous to advance. Emotionless discarded and donning a mask. “Very well. I’ll just have to slaughter them before they anticipate further thoughts.” There wasn’t any maliciousness in conveying, killing was nothing more than breathing. He pricked a thumb and swiped it across a scroll quickly, and a Hingashi Kite appeared. Gale-winds of the storm, tempest were felt in not only the perception of his incredible-Miqo'te genes, but analyzing when to act with timing and trajectory. Laughing drunk freebooters on the deck were festively continuing their putrid vices. Descending and atop them with a shadow-drop, they saw a kite above. Before their eyes-caught up, the lights dimmed out, he let himself go from the kite’s handles, and was on their table, kunai-knives, needles and strong-tempered wire linked to those projectiles, swept underneath his sleeves from various directions, piercing their throats, jugulars, every vital and alongside, severing them. A curvaceous courtesan who was getting rowdy sea-dog drinks walked upon poor time, she saw crimson ichor being washed away, the rain was frighteningly his accomplice, the puddle-of-red reflected his true murder-design. She couldn’t bellow aloud, a death-palm wrapped around her mouth, another callous-leather-gloved hand squeezing around her throat, tight-too-much-so. Expression's fear wrinkled her facially… Then… absence, null, but silent-peace, strangled and manhandled. He was just a loyal-bound blade of servitude, no attachments anchored him. Who molded him into such a proficient-weapon, broke, rebuilt, and then broke him again until he was forged; meant to horrifically slash, he-zoned away from his identity. Becoming Doma’s hidden blade, The Black Miracle; resident night-fright, his-assassin moniker; Shadow Father. Before disappearing from his deed, fire erupted from below the floorboards, he barely dodged unscathed, his tail-singed and soles alongside garb, strand hairs engulfed to embers. Instinct kept him solid. Quick-but-not fast enough to slaughter-everyone as intended. That presence aboard who peered back, unthinkably walked up above, her aroma drove him wildly in familiarity and attempted to evoke; tranquility, and even open to possibilities of allure. Beyond all that emotionless, senses were being drawn-back for the memory, he wore so many masks and bore many scars, to forget, manipulatively disciplined. You are nothing but steel… You will execute for peace. You are formless, stainless. You’re too sharp and have no delicate edges. You slaughter in one-blow decisively. You hold no-weights, your identity-matters not. For you are The-Blade! Remembering this poisonous teaching, he was whipped, brutalized, his body-soul-mind-spirit forged, conducted in a method, to become strictly something conditioned, for War. A thing; the technology, advancements of all of Garlemald would be fearful to know; as an enemy not even precious machinery could stay guarded.

Flicker pried out of his sleeve gaining some distance but telepathically linking to him, “Careful, Master! She’s got spirits! They’re… they’re everywhere… even the ones-you-slew.” Silencing and restoring composure from his flash-back once again being his own bane of emotion, blinding himself. Her bare-feet walked on the dock, connected with nature’s blessing, life to death, in the fullest. A totem-hanging on her waist. “I’m so sorry. This is my fault, I should’ve figured they’d bring someone to retrieve that blade! I’v-” Before she could explain; that reasoning beyond their thievery was to remove the Voidal curse placed on that blade! If anyone unsheathed it, they would’ve gone on a mad killing-spree and struck all allies. She was round-kicked in the gut-sent reeling back and upchucking saliva, her breathing labored and consciousness staggered. The assassin lunged-forth with a piercing-charge but was blocked by an earth-spirit who defended her, conditionally and lovingly. The fire-element sent another blast towards him that caused his tail-senses to react with a bolted dodge. The-pirated angry spirits that were slain became malevolent and wicked, to the point they were manifesting pure-hatred toward their executor. He took punches and blows, from-the-unseen in-between worlds as-if air-was fighting back. Visibly-soundless blows cracked ribs heard, his teeth-gritted, palms grabbing the hilt of his true-sheathed Hingashi-forged, blade, aether exuding out of him before pulling out with a spinning slash, true-compact steel like he wielded, neutralizes spirits-demons, once again he slew and their heads dissipated, as so-did their forms, but they would manifest again, in time. This occurrence wasn’t normal. Most often people vanquished will dissolve to the life-stream typically, but not always. Some spirits-souls, become lost or fragments! And as-such, become damned, malevolent-incarnates, they curse, and will-sink into where they often were slain with irritation if not given proper guidance or closure. By a-proper mender. That woman was responsible, that strange-totem on her waist, strange-aura emitted from it. Flicker shouted out at him.You’ll have to kill her or destroy that thing on her buckle! Regaining her stature a little wobble in her legs and shaking, she spat out blood, giving a look at her palm of her condition; feeling it; embracing, “I don’t like to hurt others, but I’ve no choice! You’re too dangerous!” Taking a fighting-pose, her lips pursed apart. “Soul-Integration: Earth"

He took a sword-stance, which his blade-charged lightning swirled around him, in blinding-speed he would-take once again another plunge forth, it didn’t matter if any of her element-spirits were blocking him. He’d blitz and take that damned-head! The accomplice of the assassin, the rainstorm taking place, struck lightning and fed into his aetherial charge! Blowing-through, uprooting and tearing the-deck of the ship, lightning-set-ablaze and struck the sail, burning it; rain-weather sought to quell. His powerful-strike was rooted and grabbed-shockingly, by her hand that was earthly-attuned and imbued, startling to him, the soles-of-her feet had become-gravel clad-boots to absorb electricity and nullify it, entirely and reinforce her physical-strengths ten-fold. She delivered a counter-punch uppercut that shattered his mask and broke into his face, following with her long and powerful legs, thighs credibly known of the Seeker and kicked him in the ribs if they were-cracked from earlier onslaught, it broke just now!

His air-gone and wheezing lungs took placement, sanguine-drenched down from his nose-broke, he realigned with a snap. She fused herself with the Earth spirit? What-was this woman?! “MASTER, I’VE HEARD OF THIS!” “SHE’S A SHAMAN!!!”

Coughing and hacking up internal-injury, the Black Miracle, blindfolded visage revealed mask-shattered, but some of his tribal-marks showing his distinguished face. They knew another. Gasp of realization came from her, tackled off her feet the Integration breaking, detecting her stance-wavered showing signs of weakness to exploit, falling back on the wood below crashing with him over-top her, he aligned his blade up to the skies and was going to pierce it-downward into her heart, in that instantaneous moment fire-erupted, his-blindfold, was extinguished purposely, her delicate hands grabbed his cheek; comfortably, an ilm-away from puncture, her composure didn’t waver, his unyielding and dazzling golden eyes-open and the world unraveled to truth. Time felt removed. With all that was ingrained, emotionless, nothingness. How could he forget the one-person who combated him many, years ago, strangers that passed by in their moments-in-life, and for some reason, she conveyed something out of him and extracted it to make him; change his destiny and create a dynasty to live for a greater-good. He was Shadow, mysterious and deadly, but unbiased-slaughtered he sacrificed his identity without even being born from the Nationality to make amends for the atrocities of a Nunh formerly, he became emotionless not trusting his raging ire of old; transforming to cold steel; removing former color until it was midnight-black. She was Light, warm, non-discriminating, embraced notions, exhibiting pure heat. Just her presence-alone, felt like you were able to confide-in, she sacrificially served as a heroine ahead-of-time and threw herself at the task of any troubled-spirit, soul, and brought eternal-heaven before them. Exiled and Freed from their Tribe Sept-branches they entangled on fate-paths long-ago and had but a simple conversation, but there was something that felt-so intimate between them and joy-easiness, that type of feeling; you cannot conceive, can’t put currency on it and try determining the value, or place-why, it just exists! Love meant to be. When gaze met; constellations opened, peering futures, hearts awoke, hers longingly and that blade himself, alongside wielded, surrendered clanging against the planks. “I know you.” "Yeah, and I know you.” Her smile sheathed his steel-composure. For the first-time again… his heart-beat thrummed. Reminded his identity-of-former, beyond obligated masks wore.

How problematic after a succession-rate of 100% Mission, Contract, Failed...

#FFxivWrite2023 #Envoy #The Chapter.#reader discretion advised #ffxivwrite2023 #-Captain Kuro Solaire #Creative Writing #Hoku Solaire #Rokeia Solaire #Father of Shadow #Mother of Dawn #Captain's Parents #The First Episode - The Dawn Before The Black Sun.#FFXIVWrite

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