#tales from the gorge

[bellrose]

A Kindness

Summary: Your brother has been lost to the flames at Rook’s Rest and the anxious whispers of the Court do not give any consolation. However, the words of a knight in green do. How you wish you could give him a kindness in return.

Gwayne Hightower x female reader

Warnings: Angst. Loss of a family member. Descriptions of injuries by dragon fire

Word count: 2.615

The host had returned to Kings Landing with a fanfare akin to a funeral march. 

The flies buzzing like bees amongst the rotten flesh of Meleys a song for the dead. Vhagar had been there on the battlefield, the King himself fallen from the sky, and the hope you held close to your heart and in prayer had been a child’s dream.

Your brother isn’t among the men climbing stiffly from their horses. Nor the men carrying the banners with their ragged edges, specks of rusty brown marring the King’s crest. He won’t drink with his fellow brothers in arms, revelling together in their victory until the cups double in their quantity. He will never smile again. A crooked smile, for he had lost a tooth during a tourney right before attaining knighthood.

No, he will never return.

You’d known when Father received the raven and his hands shook to hold the message. The sight of Meleys’ severed head being paraded through the streets a finality. It is an omen, the folks whispered to themselves. For who dares to slay such a formidable creature? Your brother laid rotting like the mighty beast and the hapless mass of fallen soldiers. Overlooked by Sisters guiding them through their final hour, if they were lucky that is. 

The dead don’t speak. They wait to be reunited with their families. Or to be lost in a field. 

Nameless. Forgotten.

Turned black like coal at the bottom of the hearth they’d whisper. Faces molten into an eternal scream they'd hush behind fans flapping away the noon sun. I heard they fed the remains of those poor boys to one of those beasts, for the sheep had fled. How awful!

There are others who share your grief, who barely leave the Sept or gorge themselves on any rumour that might bring reprieve. The Ladies of the Court give you their pity, their condolences, though it is half-hearted and they refuse to look upon you truly. You do not blame them. 

Rumours cannot explain the seven hells that had opened up on those grounds, and with the King’s condition a barely kept secret, they grow less sensical by the day.

Father would know, for he wakes up with a tome in his hand and an age old tale on his tongue. Surely he must know the truth? You wish he would speak to you, but he has thrown himself into his duties and refuses to receive you in his small chambers. 

Ladies smile demurely and sip politely on sweet reds. They don’t scream. There are no more tears to cry. You’ve exhausted your grief to the point your eyes feel dry and brittle. Like parchment, and you wonder how long it will take until you, too, shall crumble underneath the dragon’s might.

“Lady Waye says the Queen has shadows underneath her eyes as deep as the night,” Edeva murmurs to your right, low enough that only your ears catch it. “That her whispering has returned tenfold.”

“I think her Queen’s Ladies in waiting should put their grave concerns into action instead of turning to gossiping,” you bite, a bit louder than intended, only it gets lost in the clamour of tinkling glasses and a bard playing the lute. 

Edeva has been your companion, a good friend to turn to in the halls of the Keep, and you feel ashamed for pushing her aside. She tries to distract you by pointing out the dish full of lush summer fruits being set upon the table by a servant. However, the sight of their ripe, glossy skins makes you nauseous.    

Without announcing your leave, you slide past the gowns and grapes further into the Keep. You have no destination in mind, other than it has to be anywhere but here. 

The stairs blur beneath your heavy skirt. Every breath locked high in your throat. You turn a corner, another, the colourful tapestries twirling in your periphery. The stories they tell a mockery. A servant leaps out of your way. Another step of stairs, and then - the sound you keep hidden escapes into a shocked huff when you collide against something solid.

A hand grabs your wrist to steady you, warm through the dark brocade.

It does not take long to recognize who stands before you. The tower spewing flames engraved on the leather doublet telling enough. His ruddy hair brings forth the invitation to a dance, that same hand guiding you over gleaming stone to the cacophony of a summer ball away in the past. Father telling another tale of a tourney. That dreadful day when the Stranger took Queen Aemma and her newborn son, when Prince Daemon drove him to the ground on his black steed.

You will never claim to know him well. Only a flash of red and green through the years when your paths crossed before taking residence in the Red Keep. Like so many faces he is out of your reach, a familiarity, but not an acquaintance.

Ser Gwayne Hightower's face does not bear any scars of Daemon’s lance. These are the nicks and scratches of a different battle.

He had been there. He had stood on the field where your brother met his grisly demise.

“Apologies Ser,” you whisper, voice cracking around the syllables. You retract your hand and slowly bow your head and knees in curtsy.

“The apologies are all mine, my Lady. The halls of the Keep are mighty. I fear my feet get lost in their splendour,” he says, the hint of a smile on his face a tad tight-lipped.

The steps of the seat of the Hightowers can be more daunting, and the structure itself grander than the Red Keep could ever be. You feel there is more to the white lie, a contempt.

There is a horror hidden in the ashes stubbornly clinging to the grooves and fibres of his clothing. His face has been scrubbed clean on the road, but the dirt of travel still sticks in his hairline, a little smudge behind his ear. You imagine you can smell it, even if leather and the natural musk of men try to hide it so. The stench of dragon fire; of burnt flesh and desperation, of loss - and if you cannot smell it you can see it in his eyes.

Gwayne does not possess the doe brown of the Dowager Queen. His eyes shine brighter. Like the precious gems Lady Nelda likes to wear around her neck whenever the occasion arises. On another day they would have been inquisitive. A bit haughty. Now they are exhausted. Duller. Something unsettling swirling in those depths. You are hit with a different kind of familiarity, one of understanding.

“My Lady,” he bows.

The moment is gone. Gwayne averts his gaze to a point further down the hallway and you wish he would look upon you again.

The knight in green has taken but a few steps before you find your voice.

“My brother... Ser, I-”

He halts. The expression on his face is a mystery, though his shoulders stiffen.

“Was he in the company at Rook’s Rest?" he asks lowly.

Your nails bite in the palm of your hands. “Yes. He was.”

Gwayne turns back around. A scrutiny in those dimmed gems when they rove from your balled fists to your face, and you cannot start to guess what he finds there. The despair bottling inside overflows into a torrent.

“The men- They say dragon fire melts the flesh like wax. Turns the bones to dust, to scatter in the storm. That there is nothing left of their prey but soil to grow our gardens.” Something changes in his stance, the dullness receding and it encourages you even more. “Is that what is left of my brother? Dust? We cannot bury what is lost on the wind.”

“I do not know, my Lady.” Gwayne takes another step forward. “I do not know of the fate of your brother. I wish I could give you that amenity, to ease your mind.”

“Does it ease your mind, Ser?” you ask, aware how your tone is rising in pitch. Shrill. “To have witnessed the dragons dance and live to tell the tale?”

And how dare you pose such a question? When it is loud and clear he has witnessed the unspeakable that the fiery beasts left in their wake? But he is here, standing, breathing, and he sees.

“I wish it were that easy,” he answers, wavering before he rightens his shoulders, clenching his jaw. “We need to be brave, my Lady. Be brave for your brother. Be brave and find it on your own, as I cannot give you the solace you seek.”

“It is not solace that I seek. I-”

He cuts you off. “You want answers. You want an elaborate summation of his gruesome faith, is that it?”

Gwayne takes another step forward, closer now, and you have to lift up your chin to follow. At first you believe it is rage that meets you, anger at your accusation. It is helplessness instead.

“Many good men died at the foredoor of Rook’s Rest. The dragons tear off each other’s limbs in the clouds, trampling them all underneath their feet and breath. What folly…”

He drifts off, his attention now on one of the many tapestries adorning the walls. A wry chuckle bursts from his lips. “It seems the many days on the road have disrupted my manners.”

“I fear there is no propriety in grief Ser,” you confess quietly.

Gwayne tilts his head sideways, considering your words, before he smiles once more. A real one this time, still edged in a shared sorrow, but it’s warmer.

“I guess not.”

“I do not know what I seek.”

“Then stop seeking.” His eyes find yours again, and his next words are spoken earnestly, kindly. “Do not tarnish what is the memory of your sibling, my Lady. He would have wished to be remembered whole, for then he cannot be lost to the winds.”

Gwayne grabs your right hand, unfolding the balled fist. His thumb stroking over the indents your nails left behind and turning the palm downward. His lips are warm when they touch your skin, lingering for a moment too long.

“A good day, my Lady.”

“Good day, Ser.”

You watch him go. Steady steps carrying him down the hallway. His words mulling over in your mind and for the first time in the past moon, ever since your brother left the Keep, you feel a peace.

The stone steps underneath the soles of your shoes are still a bit damp, the ground forth uneven where hoofs have trampled and disturbed the earth.

There’s a flurry of activity in the yard. Green with golden dragons on shields and banners, knights gleaming like silver coins rolling on a hardwood table. For a fleeting moment, you expect to see another face, one with a crooked smile who belongs only in your dreams now. 

And then you see him.

Dressed in his armour bounding towards his horse, as if he cannot wait long enough to leave. As if Kings Landing is worse than what awaits outside its seven gates. Perhaps it was, or he would rather not delay the inevitable. And what is that? A quick death? No.

Ser Gwayne offered you a kindness with his understanding, and you wish to understand him in return. To offer something steady in a world that is tilting on its axis the longer the war continues.

Deep in the pocket between the fabrics of your skirt, your hand grasps the hidden piece of cloth. The stitches tickle your skin. It steadies you, dousing the nervous thoughts that have been following you all morning. 

It’s not a handkerchief. Not in the traditional sense. You found it among the garments in the chest of your quarters. Dark green, almost blue, and the moment you touched it, an idea would not leave you alone.

The needle still feels clumsy at times between your finger tips, as you were never the patient pupil your mother had wished you to be and rather spent your time learning the harp, but the flowers they bore are delicate. Pretty. Refined. White petals with a core of deep orange; the colour of the sun peeking over the horizon. Your Septa would have been proud. Though, she would admonish the purpose behind it.

A kindness. Be brave.

It is that sentiment that moves you forward, past the guards standing sentry near the stairs and interweaving through the crowd filling the yard. His destrier, standing out with its magnificent armour, shining on the morrow, is in the hands of a squire. Gwayne does not see you coming, too busy speaking to the boy. Voice short and clipped.

“Ser Gwayne?”

The squire bows and runs off. Gwayne watches him go for a quick second before his gaze lands on your form. There’s surprise in the way his brows raise, the corner of his mouth turning up just so.

“My Lady,” he says, loosely gripping the reins of his horse. The destrier noses the pauldron at his shoulder. “How may I help you?”

Promise me to return all these men to their families, to come back, but that would be too much to ask and too forward, as if bestowing him with your needlework isn’t daunting enough.

“I sincerely regret not thanking you properly for what you said to me that day,” you state politely.

His head tilts down in understanding. The sun catches the red in his hair like honey. “Your regrets are misplaced. You do not need to thank me.”

“You misunderstand me Ser, I do.” Bolder now, you fish out the embroidered cloth from the hidden place of your dress. “You will be in my prayers, but please take this as a token of good fortune.”

He accepts the cloth mutely, brows rising further and gloved fingers studying the wreath of flowers you stitched along the edges. For a moment you fear the gift is too unbefitting after all, that the warmth that you had felt besides the kiss upon your hand a figment of your imagination. That he will reject it. 

He’s quick to crush those doubts, but not quick enough to halt the blush of regret that is slowly blooming on your nape. 

“I will cherish this gesture my Lady,” he says, eyes glittering. “But do not trouble yourself with concerns on my behalf, there are much more important matters to ponder.”

“This I cannot promise you Ser,” you answer honestly. “I’ll be awaiting your return.”

“That sight alone might make me forget the pungency these streets carry,” Gwayne parries, a hint of smugness that is purely in jest, and studies the cloth again. “White Lelas... They grow near Goldengrove, do they not?”

“Yes. My late mother used to put them in my crib when I was a mere babe, as my father tells me.” You think of the washed white stone of your grandfathers’ Keep and tall grasses holding a vast array of flowers. Too many to count. “I barely remember what they smell like, but I always thought they were quite charming.”

“Quite indeed,” Gwayne hums, though he is not looking at the cloth anymore. He turns towards his horse, looping it around a buckle on the saddle in a strong knot. The fabric will sway against his leg with every step the steed took. It will be with him when he confronts the enemies of the Crown.

A memory, a constant. 

“I hope the day will be upon us soon my Lady,” he says and the kiss on the back of your hand is a farewell.

For now.

Did I purposefully mirror the phrasing of “turned to dust” from Cole's we're-all-going-to die-anyway spiel for possible parallels and continuation purposes? Why, yes. Maybe. It was never my intention to write this anyway but the brainrot is real. Damn you, Freddie!

Thank you for reading

[stormbornwitch]

"Go to warren, my childe, and no harm will befall you"

The thing with coming from a family that practised 'little' or 'low' magic is that there are sayings and stories that none of my friends ever knew. This is one of them, and it's a tale of a family that was too open with their workings and was shunned by their local community.

~

A mother and her young daughter were standing in the kitchen of their cottage, cooking porridge, when the mother turned to her daughter.

"If they come, you must run into the woods and take your younger brother with you."

"But what of you and father?"

"You must leave us and go to warren, my childe, and do not emerge no matter what you hear. You will be spared if you leave us."

"No mumma! You must come with us!"

"I can't, my dear. My place is beside your father. If they come for us, I will suffer the same fate."

You must promise me, my dear-heart, that if they come for us, you will stay hidden for three days, and only on the third night will you emerge. Then you can come home, grab some belongings. Don't forget to grab the book from the bottom of the chest!"

The tale continues, and the villagers come for the parents, and so the daughter grabs her younger brother, and despite his cries, drags him into the nearby wood. They hide in an old fox's den tucked inside the roots of a hollowed out tree for three days.

Her brother cries and repeatedly says he wants to go home; "I don't want you! I want mumma! I'm hungry!"

But the daughter was also hungry and thirsty too. So she made her younger brother promise to stay inside the den, and she would go get them something to eat and drink. "You must promise me, you will stay. You may die if you leave. So you must stay. I will be back for you, I promise."

After a few hours of searching, the daughter was able to find a small stream and a handful of dandelions and acorns. Taking off her skirt, she flung it in the stream until it was sopping wet. Then, wearing only her shift, the daughter returned to her brother.

When both siblings had drunk their fill, the daughter hung up her skirt over a branch and sat down next to her brother to gorge on dandelion greens and acorn meat.

Twas to be a cold night, but curled up together, the siblings were warm enough to wait until the moon was high up above the treetops. Twas only then that they emerged from the den.

Pulling on her still-damp skirt, the little girl hauled her brother half-alseep onto her back as she began picking her way back in the direction they had first come. The journey was long, as the little girl lost her way many times, and it was not till the moon was beginning to sink back towards the horizon that she spotted their home through the trees.

The door was wide open, and the yard was a mess. The barn doors were also wide open, but there was no sign of any of the animals. Scurrying inside, the girl took in the sight of their destroyed home. Chairs were toppled and strewn, and the table broken in two. Her mother's favourite pot, the cast iron one they used to cook porridge in every morning, was cracked down the side, laying strewn on the floor.

Placing her brother on the ground, the little girl scrambled up the ladder to her parents' room. It was in a worse state than downstairs. The bedframe shattered, and the mattress ripped, its wool and straw stuffing scattered about.

The little girl scampered quickly over to her mother's chest. It had been the only thing she brought with her when she had married the little girl's father. Now, the lid looked like it had nearly been torn from its hinges, her parents' clothes and belongings torn and left in ruins. The only thing that looked like it survived was the quilt the little girl's grandmother made for her mother as a wedding present.

Grabbing it, the little girl wrapped it around her shoulders like a shawl. Then she reached into the bottom of the chest and pressed firmly on the left side, the bottom of the chest pushed down and with a click, unlatched. With some difficulty, the little girl lifted the heavy false bottom from the chest. There, safe and sound, was her family's book, some of her mother's jewellery, and the leather case that held her father's dowsing rod. Grabbing the lot and bundling it up in the quilt, the little girl descended the ladder once more.

Adding some food from the larder, the little girl snatched her sleepy brother's hand and once more hauled him onto her back. Then, back into the cold night air, they went; they were never seen or heard from again by anyone in the village.

-

My Nanna used to tell me this story when she would watch me as a child, and I never understood why the whole family from the story couldn’t just run away together.

Now, as an adult who practises witchcraft, I see the lessons in the story. The mother in the tale is trying to save her children because she knows that if the whole family runs, they will be hunted and made outlaws. And likely both her children would perish as well.

The mother is also trying to preserve as much of the magic of the next generation as possible. The scraps of paper, with small writing scratched across the page detailing the little bits of magic the family has been able to cobble together over the years.

Lessons like these stick, and while it is safer to practise witchcraft nowadays than it was in the past, it is still dangerous in many parts of the world. This is part of the reason why I use the url @stormbornwitch and go by my middle name (Marcielle / Marci) when I discuss witchcraft online.

Anyway, enough rambling. Does anyone else have witchy stories /lessons they remember from when they were little they would like to share?

[desire-mona]

me when i read homestuck

Mona do you want to see a poem I just wrote!!!!!!

OF COURSE I WANNA SEE!!!!!!!!!!!

[ghost-bxrd]

ANOTHER DAY another cool au by the ghstbird community <33 Eldritch Jason Todd u are gorg <3, random question for brainstorming since I'm too invested now

How did the adoption scene take place? The same crime alley thing? Catherine todd? Willis? AAAAA or just local eldritch being that steals car parts (he's emulating human behaviour in crime alley, maybe he just tosses them later to kids???) maybe he just has immense compassion towards humans (although he doesn't fully understand them) (all Jasons need to be made out of bleeding compassion FOR ME BUT!! depends on what characteristics we're pulling for) (AND. IF HE'S DYING FOR SHELIA? gotta be compassionate. HE'S ROBIN, he is full of love towards these fleshbags. Though... uh... nonhuman... and having messed up emotional responses)

Nonono, because Robin Jason with his bleeding compassion is so important to me as well!!!

So basically (because I’ve put too much thought into this little au as per usual) the bullet points for eldritch Jason and the things you mentioned are as follows:

Jason spontaneously came into being. Eldritch things aren’t usually born in the way humans are, and Jason used to be a concept that suddenly gained consciousness.

(There was a short period of time where the brainstorming went into the direction of “eldritch jason found a dead street kid and assumed his appearance/inhabited the body”, but this seemed a bit dark so I had to come up with an alternative)

Jason watched humans for a quite a while and—alone from the very beginning— became enamored with the concept of family and love and happiness and belonging

One way or another (no specifics as of yet) Jason ends up with Catherine and Willis. Willis isn’t too shoddy in this au, he’s just… pretty neglectful. And a criminal. He does his damndest to stay well clear of wherever Jason is because that kid— he’s not normal. Maybe he’s a meta, Willis doesn’t care, all he knows that the sense of doom he feels around him is unnatural and he’d rather make his home in prison than around Jason

Catherine loves Jason. She can’t see beyond the surface layer of humanity Jason wears, partly due to her substance abuse, and Jason… knows that humans can’t last long like this. He can see her organs failing, her brain activity dimming, but he doesn’t know how to fix it. And he’s too busy basking in the love he’s finally feeling for the first time

Jason loves being human. If he could lock everything that isn’t human about himself away, he would. He thrives on witnessing strangers showing compassion to one another, to see them struggle and overcome hardships. They’re just a blip in the cosmos, in time, but they’ve got so much to offer. But likewise, he loathes witnessing injustice

When Jason ends up on the streets he’s just a big ball of sad. No home, no love, nothing. Nothing left. At least he needs neither food nor shelter to survive, but it still sucks. He loses some of his blind eyed wonder for humanity during this time, but not enough to give up on it. He adapts, he overcomes, and like you said, he starts emulating other street kids. Collecting scraps and handing them out to the young ones. And when he sees the Batmobile just standing there… well, that’s a week’s worth of food for ten of the kids he knows

Hitting Batman with the tire iron is a knee jerk reaction borne from cautionary tales about adults. He’s not actually scared of Batman

(Batman may be a little scared of Jason. Especially when he ends up buying him a burger and, out of the corner of his eye, thinks he sees Jason unhinge his jaw only to reveal five more jaws and and an abyssal void and—)

Just… eldritch things. And the tribulations that come with pretending to be human. Wanting to be human.

[xtra7s]

hello!! i adore your writing style and wanted to ask if you maybe would like to write a reneé rapp fic where instead of lola tung she takes fem!r to the stage and sings one less lonely girl?? and they could already be in a relationship or not either way i think that could be cute!! thank you<33

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥 ─── 𝘙𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘦 𝘙𝘢𝘱𝘱 𝘹 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Synopsis: Renee sings to her girlfriend on stage during her Halloween show.

Content: Renee Rapp x Fem!Reader, fluff, Renee is Justin Bieber(confirmed)

Word Count: 700

a/n: AHH THIS IS SO CUTE, im sorry if its too short, tried to add more to make it longer. hope u enjoy gorg!

masterlist

The atmosphere was alive with anticipation as the grand concert hall brimmed with eager spectators, all awaiting the entrance of the night's headlining act — Renee Rapp. The air was thick with excitement, whispers of admiration echoing through the venue. Little did the audience know that tonight's performance would be unlike any other, a tale of music and love waiting to unfold.

As the lights dimmed and the first chords of the music reverberated through the hall, Renee made a spectacular entrance, clad in the unmistakable style of Justin Bieber. The crowd erupted into cheers, their excitement reaching a crescendo as Renee took command of the stage with a magnetic presence.

Renee's performance was nothing short of mesmerizing. Her voice soared, effortlessly hitting every note, as she flawlessly navigated through a setlist that spanned genres and emotions. The audience was caught in the spell of her musical prowess, every song a testament to her versatility as an artist.

Throughout the performance, Renee danced and interacted with the crowd, creating an electric energy that charged the room. From high-energy pop anthems to soulful ballads, she showcased the depth of her talent, leaving the audience in awe of her captivating stage presence.

As the setlist reached its zenith, a hush fell over the crowd, and the opening notes of "One Less Lonely Girl" began to play. The audience erupted into cheers, recognizing the iconic Bieber tune. It was then that Renee's mischievous smile hinted at the surprise that awaited.

Midway through the song, Renee's gaze shifted to the front row, where Y/N, her girlfriend, stood among the enchanted spectators. With a twinkle in her eye, Renee descended from the stage, capturing the attention of everyone in the room.

Taking Y/N's hand, Renee led her onto the stage, seamlessly blending the line between performer and audience. The crowd erupted into cheers, their excitement now intertwined with the unfolding love story. Renee guided Y/N to a chair that had mysteriously appeared at the center of the stage, setting the stage for a moment that would be etched in the hearts of those present.

As Y/N settled into the chair, Renee took a step back, gazing at her with a mixture of adoration and playfulness. A girl rushed on stage and handed Y/N flowers, making Y/N's mouth open in shock as the spotlight focused on Y/N and Renee as she began to sing the heartfelt lyrics of "One Less Lonely Girl," pouring her emotions into each word.

The audience fell into a loud cheer as Renee's voice filled the space, creating an intimate atmosphere that transcended the boundaries of the stage.

With every verse, Renee moved around Y/N, her movements choreographed to express the depth of the song's sentiment. She would occasionally reach out, gently cupping Y/N's face or intertwining their fingers, creating a palpable connection that resonated through the venue. The crowd, initially swept up in the spectacle, now watched in awe as this private, intimate moment unfolded on the public stage.

As the song reached its pinnacle, Renee knelt before Y/N, holding her hand and serenading her with a tenderness that resonated through the venue. The crowd, initially swept up in the spectacle, now watched in awe as this private moment unfolded on the public stage.

In the final moments, Renee rose to her feet, her eyes never leaving Y/N's, the concert hall erupted into thunderous applause, appreciating not just the performance but the genuine connection that had unfolded before their eyes.

Still holding Y/N's hand, Renee delivered the closing lines with heartfelt sincerity. The crowd erupted into thunderous applause, appreciating not just the performance, but the genuine connection between the two women who had shared a musical love story on stage.

As the final notes faded away, Renee and Y/N shared a knowing smile, their hearts entwined in the melody of love that echoed through the concert hall, leaving an indelible mark on everyone fortunate enough to witness the enchanting performance.

[urlocalrambler]

DN fanfic: an exploration into Kai Mori's mind while he's in prison. Introspective piece. So get ready for self-loathing, the woes of the disgraced son and the Banks reminiscence and yearning that we deserved.

My first Devils Night fanfiction ever. Actually, it's my first writing piece in a long time in general, but fuck it, we balling. I've always struggled a little with understanding Kai, but I think this piece helped me get more of a grip on my characterisation of him <3.

_

Kai sits in jail, and he knows he's a scrouge on his family name. He’s the shameful blot in their lineage, the fuck up who keeps on giving even when all they want is for him to stop. Kai's the shadow in his family's illustrious life. A good boy gone wrong, the ungrateful child, responsible for his mother's tight smiles and fervent worry — he’s the parasite leeching away at his mother's kindness, carelessly ruining the happy life his father fought to give her. It took one blow of a hammer slamming against a gavel, and his parents have a sword of humiliation rammed into their guts. The pain is only dug in deeper with the indignity of a sentence of 28 months lost to the confines of walls crammed to the brim with prisoners, with his fitted suits for interviews traded in for a standardised orange jumpsuit, as a lifestyle befitting of an animal is thrust into the hands of their only son. 

The worst part is that they still loved him despite his neverending failures.

"–Gave him three broken ribs. So he fractured his fucking spine."

"Who?"

"The rich brat. Mori. He didn't even hesitate."

"Shit, he might belong here, after all."

Yeah, maybe he does belong here.

From the start of it all, he's been the defining reason for the lines marring his father's forehead, those were wrinkles etched in from worrying about Kai's unfortunate tendencies, but he's still forgiven again and again for every indiscretion that they catch him in and he learns to forgive himself for the thousands that they don't know about as a default. Kai's allowed to follow his own path even if it means spitting at his father's feet and disparaging the legacy that Katsu built with his roughened hands. It's wrong, grievously so, but he takes the chances and the freedom, Kai proves he's a certified fuck up. Useless boy who's worth nothing much when compared to the father who tried to give him every head start in life no matter what it cost. Katsu's a man who pulled his family out of poverty, he gives his wife her old life back tenfold, and Kai’s the worthless son who ruins it by gorging himself on endless vices, amusing himself by toeing the lines, and eventually, he gets a crew and starts obliterating the lines. Never improving even as they ardently pray for him, Kai only gets worse as the years pass.

Everyone knows it in Thunder Bay. Kai Mori's a cautionary tale in the flesh. 

The good boy who gets caught up in the wrong crowd and suffers for it. Prince amongst the heathens, gilded gold stained by their tar, a demon playing at being an angel. Kinder smiles and 'thank you's' on his tongue don’t get rid of the taste of sin, but they mask it well enough. Until it suddenly doesn't anymore, and they see that he's made of the same strokes as his friends. Demon, not an angel. Predator, not the prey. Villain, never a prince. Sins can't be hidden forever in a modern era of phones to the ear and the glimmer of cameras catching their every move. He should’ve known better than to have expected zero consequences – Kai hid his truths better than his friends ever managed to, but an unchained nature couldn't be hidden forever.

People were predisposed to making assumptions. 

In Thunder Bay, they accepted and revered the version of him that they thought they knew, and they share their aggrieved regrets as his fall from grace occurs in the brightened spotlight. Analysed just like Icarus, with a tragic fate of his own making – Kai can't meet his father's eyes for the first couple of weeks after his wrongs are aired to the public. Kai Mori had potential in spades, the gossip somberly chastens, and he squandered it away on freedom ravelled within insanity, he wasted a guaranteed future on the kind of lust that made priests look away in discomfort, and he ruined himself due to a useless loyalty towards friends that should've never amounted to much more than a footnote in his life.

Outsiders never understood how the blood of the covenant could run thicker than the water of the womb. They didn't feel the allure of darkness in its fullest form. Nor could they understand the power that control gave him when it was cradled in his palms, and he had chaos biting at his neck. She had, though, that one girl who hides in his mind just like she'd veiled herself into that confession all those years ago– she understood it all, and she even fed into it back then. 

He wonders what she felt when she saw him in cuffs. 

Mystery Girl was among his worst mistakes, mostly because she quickly became his darkest daydream and a favourite nightmare.

Kai's quiet when he does it. In the showers, when heat spindles against the mirror, he washes off the heat of shame by engaging in more depravity. He thinks about her often. And he's not gentle, not even close to it. Whenever he thinks about girls wrapped up in men's clothes, in shirts that aren't his, he's harsh and angry because they should've been his clothes, she should've been his girl. He thinks of smart quips on the curve of her lips, and he wonders how sweet it would've been to have held her and shut her up in the way he'd desperately wanted to whenever she said the name of a man who wasn't him. Kai's got a hand on his cock and he jerks it hard to the thoughts of her. 

Chocolate hair. Green eyes. Golden skin. Daydreams and nightmares. 

She's the only thing he never got that he'd desperately wanted in his golden years; she's the thing he still wants so carnally even in his darkest hours. Wants her thighs wrapped around his torso, wants his name to be the only thing she's capable of saying by the time he's done with her, wants her marked and ruined by the touch of him and him only. Indulging in her, Kai knows, would've been his favourite sin. Back then, he got only a speck, got nothing more than a touch, and he'd still been hopelessly addicted, high on fumes when he had the wisp of her silhouetted in his arms, and he was in withdrawal whenever he lost her to a man he hated and loved in equal measure. Just a taste back then, just the thoughts now, and he's still maddeningly hooked on her. Pretty girl, harsh girl, but never his girl. Sweet like candy with a tangy kick to her. She's the only drug in his veins, inching in without warning, putting him in a trance and an unruly high.

In the dead of night, she visits him, and Kai welcomes her. 

He is a fuck-up, Kai knows it well. Somehow, he's still so ready to engage in the betrayal of his brother in everything but blood. Damon's down in a living nightmare in solitary, and he dreams of stealing his girl. He dreams of using her up. He yearns to take her and have her feed the desires of his concupiscent flesh for as long as he wants, and he thinks he wants to keep her for months, for years, for as long as it takes until she feels more his than anything else.

Irreverent lust, onerous fingers, amatory desires, and all for what? A girl he had known all of a couple of weeks. And he thinks he'd sell the flesh on his back to go back to that time with her. For her, he thinks he'd do anything because if she's a reverie then he's a victim to the ghost of her. Kai thinks of her and that hotel room, and he wonders why he let his dream girl go. 

She's the only person to ever make him feel alive, to make him feel desire on an impulse, the only one who could easily stoke his dangerous need for control, and she did it all without ever trying. No fight to take and no need to make his blood boil; there was no need to force himself into those conversations with her because he was already obsessed with her voice from the second he heard it. Everything came naturally when it was with her. 

He thinks she could've been his if she hadn't been Damon's to keep. 

Kai laughs when he grips the plexiglass, breathes harder, and strokes faster– she's certainly not either’s now, and she wasn't his back then, but she is all Kai’s in the darkness of his mind. Smooth skin pressed against his chest, lips to his neck, and she's begging for it, for his dirty criminal's hands to stay on her neck. Moaning, whining, crying for more. He's undone by the idea of her, air caught in the chasm of his lungs, knuckles tightened to a pale white, as he gives into his favourite nightmare. Kai's spent by the thought of her, the evidence washed away by water, as his back presses against the shower wall. 

Suddenly, he's almost glad that he doesn't see Damon here at all. Kai tries to convince himself that he should be relieved that he'll likely never see her again either (it doesn't work but he tries). If he doesn't see her, then it means the fantasies, the output of those unreachable desires, can stay intact.

There's no Damon to stop him. No dancer in a hotel to distort what they could've had. No blood to mop away and no nights to hide away. It was just him and her again.

In his dreams, Banks is everything he still desires.

In his dreams, she belongs to no one else.

In his dreams, Banks is all his.

--

[holidayinhell]

Human Whumper / Vampire Whumpee prompts.

tw: gore

experimenting on the unfamiliar creature, slicing off his fingers and pulling his intestines from his stomach to see how long it takes him to heal. 

testing the bounds of Whumpee’s so-called immortality. binding Whumpee with silver chains, forcing him to watch as Whumper goes to work mutilating his body. the human chuckles at the vampire’s shrieks as he saws his chest cavity open, stretching apart his ribcage before delicately placing a cross in the empty space between his lungs. the sinews begin regenerating and closing him up, leaving the cross buried deep inside the vampire even after he heals. the searing burn is always there, constant, inescapable, and agonizingly deep.

rewarding Whumpee for behaving well and treating him to human blood for the first time in ages. the vampire gorges himself on the meal, grateful for every mouthful. “You want seconds?” Whumper offers with a grin. Whumpee reluctantly accepts. the human exits the room only to re-emerge with Caretaker’s pale, bleeding body, which he drags across the tile floor. “What? Finish your meal.”

are the old wives’ tales true, will garlic repel the monster? holy water? sunlight makes Whumpee’s skin swell and blister, but exactly how much can he handle before he bursts into flames?

forcing Whumpee to swallow a rosary, fucking Whumpee with a crucifix, burning the cross into Whumpee’s skin like a brand mark.

((more prompts))

[uzumaki-rebellion]

"King Killmonger: The Golden Jaguar" Chapter 6

Need to catch up? Masterlist HERE.

"Love Ever since the first moment I spoke your name From then on I knew that by you being in my life Things were destined to change cause

Love So many people use your name in vain Love Those who have faith in you sometimes go astray Love Through all the ups and downs the joy and hurt Love For better or worse I still will choose you first"

Musiqsoulchild – "Love"

His heart was in the shape of his woman.

King N'Jadaka held out his big hand next to Queen Yani's and let their wedding bands touch so the Wakandan media could snap holopics of the bride and groom exiting the Temple of Sekmet. He gazed at his new wife and her smile increased the size of her shape on the left side of his chest.

They were made for each other.

No queen on earth had ever come to the throne like her or had the power she commanded by his side. What the world couldn't see was that she held a priceless leash around his neck and could make him do things that no other woman before her ever did. Yani dominated his every waking moment and was the one he wanted to see first when his work day in the West palace was over. Their wedding cemented a holy bond and he preened before his citizens letting them see how blessed he was to have her and his beautiful children.

He lifted her ring-clad hand and kissed it, then led her down ancient fawn-colored stone steps toward a wedding carriage drawn by two mighty water buffalos whose bloodline his greatest grandmother Queen Shuriya had bred and tamed her entire life. The two giant beasts were direct descendents of the one she rode in a painting hanging in his royal office.

Sydette clapped her hands excitedly as she peered at the giant animals and the decorative vibranium blue colors painted on their flesh.

"They are so huge, Baba!" Sydette yelped.

"Come on, watch your step Sweet Pea, we have to ride through the street," he said, clasping her hand.

Riki climbed down the last step and latched his eyes onto one of the buffalo and raised his arms out wide to try and match the length of the giant curved horns adorned with gold and silver jewels that jutted forward making them dangerous for potential gorging. He glanced back at N'Jadaka and grinned. The great beast's head turned and stared at the little prince. Joba moved closer to her brother and both children peered with quiet curiosity at how massive Wakandan animals could be.

"Yani," N'Jadaka said, helping his wife onto the carriage where she took her seat and fixed the train of her dress.

He lifted Sydette into it next and his younger children waited for him to place them on board. His family seated, N'Jadaka stepped onto the roomy carriage and he and Yani waved at the crowd. Their children sat across from them with booster seats so they could see better.

The two coachman sitting in the driver's seat awaited a signal from the Kingsguard escorting them on foot. There was a slight jerk and the carriage began to move at a steady pace. The proud king kissed his queen and the crowd cheered louder. Flowers and soft palm seeds were thrown at them and the children tried collecting as many as they could catch with delighted smiles on their faces.

He held Yani's hand tight and they all watched their citizens celebrate. Behind them, the rest of the royal family rode in a protected motorcade and they wound their way through the streets of the golden capital.

Surreal.

The feeling of watching himself from afar took over and N'Jadaka took a deep inhale of fresh air. His emotions rested in his chest and throat. This was the fairy tale made real. He had a queen. A kingdom. A giant double palace. To lose so much, but to be given much more in return overwhelmed him.

He gazed at Yani and she continued waving at their people. They waited to cross over a bridge that would take them deeper into the heart of Birnin Zana and a flock of prized river birds flew across their carriage, their purple and blue wings a brilliant flash of color over their heads.

"That's a good sign, kumkani," the lead driver of the carriage said, "it means you will be blessed with many children."

Yani laughed and patted N'Jadaka's hand.

"Listen to the man, Yani, the heavens have ordained that we get it poppin'."

"Any excuse to get me pregnant right away," Yani said.

Riki slipped a hand in his side pocket and pulled out a folded square of money. He gave it to the king.

"What's this for Lil Man?" N'Jadaka asked.

"A boy. If you and Mama insist on making more of us, please let it be a boy. Toussaint and I are struggling to catch up in our age group," Riki pleaded.

"I will do what I can."

Yani took the money away from him and stuffed it into her bodice.

"Not you two plotting," Yani quipped.

N'Jadaka threw his head back and laughed.

"Mama, it's time to throw the bouquet," Sydette squealed.

The carriage crossed over the bridge and stopped once it got to the other side. As tradition dictated, Yani stood inside the carriage and tossed the bridal bouquet into the river water to signify the queen's blessing to become the new mother of the nation. The flowers floated away and spectators snapped holopics and cheered for their new queen.

"They were so pretty, I wish you didn't have to throw them away," Joba said, her face peering over the side of carriage.

Yani caressed her cheek.

"I will have more flowers given to me back at the reception," Yani said.

Joba looked happy about that and climbed onto Yani's lap for the rest of the ride through the city.

Admiration, awe, and even love flowed out to the new Udaku family taking over the throne. A tide had shifted yet again in Wakanda. His popularity was at an all time high with younger citizens, and even some of the old heads begrudgingly accepted his leadership. They finally accepted his love for the nation as genuine.

Their carriage ride continued until they reached Old Village, a section of Birnin Zana that had been the social center for centuries until Queen Shuriya pushed them into a new technological age that shifted the heart of the city elsewhere by the riverbank. While the rest of the world was barely entering the early modern era, Wakanda had already settled into post modern advances.

The family stepped out of the carriage and walked a quarter mile to another temple dedicated to Mama Wati that rested across the mouth opening of the Ibukan River which connected the water flow through the city to the ocean miles away. Priests of the water deity stood outside waiting for them. He and Yani were both anointed with fresh oils and smudged down with dried plants that only grew there. They were prayed over and then led out into an open street where citizens cheered them on while they made the final trek to the edge of the great mound, the place where vibranium crashed into the earth. Singers and dancers greeted them in a secured area where the family could all see the enormous rise in the distance where the glowing blue metal rested underneath.

Ogum shifted inside of N'Jadaka. So did Bast. He pointed to the majestic sight making sure his children studied it. "That's the place where it all began," he said.

Sydette, Riki, and Joba nodded and stared at the mound. At its tip, it stood nearly a mile high, but deep inside the earth where the rest of the vibranium sank itself, there was enough to supply his people for another millennium or more. They all felt the energy emanating from the ground they stood near. His vibram tattoo itched from the mighty source. The great mound wasn't just a mining area, but a holy place too. From their vantage point they couldn't see the mining side of the mound. Their view looked like an image one would see on a postcard or tourist advertisement. High above them the Royal Talon Fighter floated into view. It was time to return to the palace for a twelve course feast, with music, dancing, and a full evening of celebrating the new king and queen.

N'Jadaka gathered his family close as they were lifted up into the air by the gravity beam and gently pulled inside the aircraft.

The cheers from their guests were loud as they exited the Talon Fighter and Yani had to pause in her steps to take in all the love. She gazed across the royal garden at the number of people calling out her new name.

"Queen Yani!"

She grinned and the children ran away from her toward Umama and Dante where all their young cousins stood gathered waiting to run around and play. Yani felt the shift in power in the royal garden. With her new isicholo firmly rooted to her scalp, she absorbed the way all the spectators watched her closely, especially the Wakandans of the noble class. No longer viewed as a separate entity from the king, she was now ogled openly as an extension of Udaku power.

Hugs and kisses were shared and the immediate royal family and the wedding party were gathered up near a view of the river and the backdrop of Mount Bashenga where a photographer snapped holopics before taking different groupings of Yani with the bridesmaids, the children, her husband, and then a lovely shot of three generations of queens. She stood in the center as Umama and Ramonda flanked her, their crowns breathtaking. Sydette and Joba were brought in for a candid, and then N'Jadaka and his groomsman and grandfather were photographed with Riki. Forty minutes later the bridal party was paraded around the guests and Yani saw the breadth of the decorations and reception set up. It took her breath away at how massive the royal garden was and how simply setting up where the sun would set behind them looked so different and unexplored.

N'Jadaka clasped her hand and led her to the head table. Guests were given a brief amount of time to personally greet the king and queen before their twelve course meal began. Love surrounded her and the enormity of her place as the queen of the nation sank down deeper.

Although it seemed like twelve courses would be a long grueling process, Yani found it to be relaxing and paced well. Everyone feasted, laughed, cried, caught up with each other, and dabbled in intrigue with so many important people in one place. By the time the royal orchestra kicked up the music for the first bridal dance, Yani was ready to move around and help her digestive system handle her stuffed belly.

N'Jadaka held her close as they shared their first dance as husband and wife. They then split apart to dance with their elders and then others were invited to join them. She took that opportunity to walk around and greet nobles with N'Jadaka once the dancing area filled up.

Heads bowed at her approach and she shared small chat with dozens of guests on the east side of the reception area. Umama and Ramonda had taught her how to move her eyes so that people around her felt appreciated even if she couldn't get to them one on one. She waved, blew kisses and kept her momentum moving through the hundreds of people yearning to see her up close with the king.

N'Jadaka held her hand like he would never let her go. His love flowed all around her and his gaze never left her unattended. They quickly moved back toward their own table and noticed Mpilo with his mother and sister speaking with Dante. N'Jadaka lowered his mouth to her ear.

"Should we make our announcement now before the party gets a little wilder with all the dancing?" he asked.

Yani squeezed his hand.

The month prior they had been meeting with Umama and the Council of Elders regarding an important decision about Mpilo and his baby sister, Nandipha who had recently turned fifteen. They took their place back at the head table and N'Jadaka gestured for Mpilo to come to him with his mother and sister. Yani sent word to the orchestra leader to finish the song they played that had the wedding crowd cutting up.

Mpilo's eyes grew wide with curiosity as to why he was being summoned by the king in front of two thousand guests. N'Jadaka was handed a mic and Yani stood next to him. The king cleared his throat and gazed upon the audience.

"This is my executive assistant, Mpilo, and he has worked for me since leaving primary school a couple of years ago. Next year he will begin his mandatory military service, and that is a very important and serious undertaking for our young people. My father proudly served and I understand the pride that comes from serving a country such as this…"

Yani watched Mpilo's face as N'Jadaka spoke. He was nervous and shy at being put on the spot, but his mother's and sister's faces beamed at being addressed directly by the king.

"As many of us have experienced in the Great Removal of the last war, Mpilo's father and brothers were taken. He has taken the great responsibility of caring for his mother and sister…however, I feel this is a great burden for such a young man starting out his life. Queen Yani and I have spoken in private about this and we've made the decision to have me step in as Mpilo's unvikeli."

Mpilo's legs almost buckled and his mother and sister kept his body steady. Whispers among the nobles could clearly be heard moving rapidly around dining tables. Yani held out her hand toward Mpilo and pulled him next to N'Jadaka. Her personal attendant Sindiswa handed her the same matching unvikeli necklaces that her own children once wore for T'Challa. Mpilo lowered his head and spoke with a soft voice.

"King N'Jadaka…Queen Yani…I am not—"

"You are not what?" Yani asked.

She touched Mpilo's chin and lifted it so their eyes could connect. The young man pressed his lips together. Yani unfastened the necklace and handed it to N'Jadaka. He turned Mpilo to face the guests while he hooked the necklace in front of everyone.

"Fatherhood is very important along with a mother's love and guidance. Queen Yani has told me time and time again that I have become a father figure to you in these hard times after the war. I humbly ask that you allow me to step in for your father to help guide you until you reach legal adulthood when you turn twenty-six. At that time you and your sister will be registered in our ancestral rolls as extended kin. When you turn thirty I will petition the Council of Elders to grant you a title with a rank that they deem appropriate. I will do the same for your sister when she also turns thirty."

Mpilo's mother and sister wept openly.

Yani touched Mpilo's hand.

"Mpilo?"

Mpilo's chest shuddered and he wiped his eyes quickly. He raised himself higher and pulled back his shoulders.

"I will accept this kumkani," Mpilo said.

The guests clapped and Yani had other wedding attendants escort Mpilo's small family to one of the royal's tables near Umama and Dante. Yani and N'Jadaka followed, giving heartfelt hugs to their new kin. Music played again and the wedding celebration continued late into the night. Once the moon had risen and the children were allowed to stay at the reception for another hour before their bedtime. Yani sensed N'Jadaka's energy depleting. He was ready for the night to end so they could be alone. Their children would stay with Umama and they would have their home to themselves for the night before they had to finish the rest of the wedding duties the next day in Necropolis City. After that, they would be whisked away to their boat where they would have two solid weeks with no one else but them.

She strode past a crowded table of elder relatives from Umama's side of the family and zigzagged to where Twyla and her husband Bibi sat talking big talk with Kendall. Twyla gently grabbed Yani's wrist and pulled her down in the seat next to her.

"Look at you," Twyla said.

"I feel wonderful," Yani purred.

Twyla stared into Yani's eyes and cradled both of her hands.

"Are you finally happy? Have everything you want?"

Yani glanced over at N'Jadaka who strode past with his male cousins from the states. Every eye was on him and his bold steps made her heart thump faster. She patted Twyla's hand.

"It's like being back home when it was us against the world. That peace that we stole together…the peace I thought I would never have again…I have it forever now. Mi can breathe and not fear anything or anyone," Yani said.

"He is so in love with you. Everyone can feel it…oh look, here he come," Tywla said, her voice bursting into loud laughs as N'Jadak reached for Yani's hand and pulled her back by his side. He bent down and kissed Twyla's cheek.

"Tryna steal her again?" N'Jadaka said,

"No king, I would never," Twyla teased. "That was a nice thing you did for Mpilo and his sister. Did Nakia take you up on your offer to be Toussaint's unvikeli?"

"She's still considering it. Her mind is still bent on going to Haiti. I don't think she wants the pressure of the throne on her son. She likes being out of the public with Toussaint," N'Jadaka said.

"Well I think she should let you take care of Toussaint the way T'Challa watched over your brood," Twyla said.

"I agree," Yani interjected, supporting Twyla's declaration.

"Maybe she'll come around. But I won't force it. Umama and Ramonda are worried about her leaving and if I push to protect Toussaint, then she might flee sooner."

Sydette rushed forward and pulled on her parent's hands.

"The magic show is about to start!" Sydette shouted.

"Did you have more cake?" Yanis asked, wiping the side of her daughter's lips that were smeared with blue and purple icing.

Sydette licked the side of her mouth and grinned.

"I only ate a tiny piece. Come on, we have to watch the show!"

They followed Sydette toward a circular stone amphitheater hidden behind the tall row of forty-foot tall ironwood trees. The wedding guests trailed in finding seats and the royal family sat in the center front row. A female magician delighted the audience with an astonishing show that lasted forty minutes. There were acrobatics, visual illusions, mystery and panthers used to entertain a mesmerized crowd. The show ended with an acrobatic troop from Ghana, a gift from First Lady Vivienne Tettah and her husband President Kojo Tettah.

Music back near the wedding gazebo started up again and the guests waited to disperse and party far into the night. N'Jadaka led Yani to the center of the open garden theater and bid their guests a fun evening. They herded their children with Umama toward the East gate of the palace, waving and accepting the cheers and final well-wishes.

Parting ways with Umama and the children inside the palace, Yani and N'Jadaka braced their backs against the private elevator glass that whisked them up to their home. There were no night attendants or servants to pamper them. They were completely alone the way they wanted to be.

N'Jadaka helped Yani out of her dress in his bedroom and then she pulled off his robes. They took a quick sonic shower and scrambled to get into bed. Exhaustion prevented any frisky behavior. Happiness and love cradled them in the quiet privacy of the large round bed. Fireworks lit up the sky from their wall window. The king pulled his queen onto his chest and held her in a tight embrace.

A restful slumber guided them the rest of the night.

N'Jadaka watched Yani sleep curled into his side.

He kept his left arm around her as her soft warm breath blew across his left pec. He checked his kimoyo beads on his right wrist and whispered instructions for their breakfast to be brought to his bedroom within the hour. Snuggling against his wife he caressed her cheek and then carefully kissed her forehead. They both needed rest and quiet before leaving for the family tombs in the city of the dead ancestors. Yani's name would be added to the ancestral rolls as they paid their respect to the past queens and kings. Afterward, they were free to honeymoon.

The wedding had been a tremendous affair and the Wakandan news and the global media had a field day reporting on the splendor and the grand entrance of Queen Yani. The outside world was permitted to see them leave the temple, but only the Wakandans could relive the experience on vids at home. World leaders who were still in Wakanda gave vid chats to their own people describing the experience. Royal images of the wedding party circled the globe.

Yani murmured into his chest and he looked down. Her eyelids fluttered open and he smiled at her.

"Hey Mrs. Udaku," he said.

She grinned and stretched her neck to kiss him.

"Since we never consummated the marriage, does that mean we failed our first duty as a couple?" she asked.

He laughed.

"We were too damn tired, girl."

"You must be getting old then, I could've done a little something," Yani bragged.

"All this talkin' now when you were snoring the moment we hit these sheets last night. Stop lyin."

"Hmmm," she said stretching, "It was a long day. A glorious day, but very long."

She pushed back the covers and slid down his body, engulfing his penis, sucking on it until the hot flesh hardened like a brick.

"Aye, Ma…protocols are in order. You make me nut and we don't pay our respects to Bast, we'll curse this union."

He pushed Yani's mouth away. She rose and left their marriage bed, naked as a jay bird and picked up the ceremonial bundle.

"Should we do this now, or after breakfast?" she asked.

She stood holding the bundle looking sexy and ready for anything he had in mind. His gaze dropped to her vulva. The piercings they marked her as his precious gift sparkled in the morning light that spilled from the window.

"You make it sound so clinical saying it like that," he said.

Yani padded back to the bed and stared at him.

"If we don't do it now, we might forget and mess up later. We'll get on the boat and be so happy that we're alone that I know you'll make love to me and overlook the rules," Yani said.

"We can set an alarm on our kimoyo beads," he suggested.

"So you don't want to do it now."

"I don't want to rush getting intimate with you."

She fondled her vulva, peeling back the outer labia. The pink inside already glistened. His dick jumped at the sight.

"Let's just do the ceremonial part now, pay homage to Bast and then we can relax until we are alone again. Our first time together as husband and wife shouldn't be quick," she said.

She reached for his dick and stroked it, letting the pre-cum pearl down the taught flesh. Fully engorged, his erection looked darker than the skin surrounding it.

"Okay," he huffed, watching her soft hand go up and down the shaft. A thick tear-drop shaped bit of pre-cum slid over the crease in her hand and he groaned. He didn't have to choke back on sound. The home was theirs to be loud.

Yani unfurled the ceremonial leather bundle and they touched the inscriptions of symbols and words etched into the leather. He helped her tie it using the strings on the four corners like a corset around her midsection. She used pillows from the bed to make her head and hips comfortable as he knelt between her legs.

"Ready?" he said.

She nodded.

N'Jadaka began to kiss and lick her clit, pulling soft moans from her lips as his tongue slathered her tender parts with saliva. He stroked his dick while working his mouth magic on her. Yani's thighs parted further while she cupped her breasts.

His lips dripped with her sticky love offerings, and by the time he was flicking the tip of his tongue just under her clit, Yani was calling out his name, letting the sound fly up to the high ceiling. It echoed like angels around them and he grunted a satisfied noise that helped her release into his mouth. Her vulva throbbed against his moist lips, the strong pulses pulling him up to his feet.

"Yani!" he shouted, jerking his dick faster hunched over her.

He aimed his release all over the leather corset, soaking it with hot white semen that continued to spurt as he squeezed his balls. Yani quickly unfastened the strings keeping the offering of cum from spilling away. His sweat fell onto her breasts and he gave one final tug to his dick.

"I've got it all," Yani said.

She curled the sides of the leather back into a bundle and he walked with her out to the balcony. A brass burning ring sat near the center of the space. Yani placed the semen-soaked bundle into the ring and they both struck a long match together, setting it ablaze. They each added small tied bundles of herbs to the leather and the smoke turned from white to purple and sent a trail of thick color up into the morning sky. N'Jadaka held Yani's hand and they spoke out loud ancient words to bless their union in the sight of Bast's offering.

The leather and herbs burned down quickly, and they showered together in his bathroom, taking their time lathering each other up and allowing steamy water to cascade down their wet bodies. He kissed and fondled his wife, enjoying the taste of her in his mouth and the scent of her skin in his nose.

Breakfast was full of them laughing and recounting the events of the day before. Yani held his hand tight when they left the palace together dressed in long white robes.

The trip to Necropolis City was taken in the Royal Talon Fighter with their children.

Walking the steps holding Yani's hand, N'Jadaka stared at the building that his body once rested in. Joba paused walking up the final step and N'Jadaka took her hand. His youngest daughter's body shook and he sensed her hesitancy.

"I'm right here Sunshine," he said.

Joba squeezed his hand and they entered the building following Umama and Ramonda. They walked along a long hallway that led to a special room away from the tombs. The walls in the room were covered by a gigantic purple and silver silk tapestry that displayed all the family names since the time of King Bashenga and Queen Tiye.

The only people allowed to witness the addition of Yani's name in person were their immediate family members. A small ceremony led by a Necropolis City elder didn't take long. Next to N'Jadaka's name was a space for Yani, and she signed a slender tablet that burned her name into the silk for all of time. A small sample of her blood had been taken to make the ink that burned into the material. Sydette and Riki watched with wide eyes. Joba clung to his hand.

Ushered back outside, the rest of their wedding party and familial guests waited for them, tossing flowers at Yani and N'Jadaka. Kisses and hugs were passed around and given to their children last. The ramp to the Royal Talon Fighter awaited them. N'Jadaka and Yani both fought the urge to run away from everyone.

"Have a beautiful trip!" Umama called.

N'Jadaka glanced at his children standing with his grandmother and grandfather. He waved, took Yani's hand and guided her into the Royal Talon Fighter.

Gliding along the Ibukan River, they spotted the royal house boat in the distance. Yani hugged him tight.

"Finally…our honeymoon," she whispered.

The Talon Fighter touched down on the ground near a dock. Okoye and Ayo departed the Talon Fighter first and spoke with the Doras guarding the boat. N'Jadaka squeezed Yani's hand and they both ran toward the boat, flinging off their ceremonial robes revealing swimsuits under neath. Okoye threw back her head and laughed.

"Be safe my king. We will track your trip discreetly and bring the royal children to you in two weeks," Okoye said.

"Bye!" Yani squealed.

N'Jadaka activated the onboard system and programmed it to sail away from the dock. He poured Yani a glass of champagne and they stood on the bow to watch it sail out of the golden city.

Yani toasted his glass again and he held her waist.

"To us, my king," she said.

"To us, my queen," he said back with all the love he could muster in his voice.

Chapter 7 HERE.

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[dynoguard]

A Dinosaur’s Harvest Festival

Everyone loves a feast, no matter when you’re from.

Of the five sapient civilizations to call this planet home, only one (the one we don’t talk about) had no known form of harvest festival. The festival for our most recent cousins, the dinosovians, translates as “Festofall,” a corruption of the archaic “Feast of All.”

The “modern” (from the standpoint of dinosovian time-refugees) holiday is a synthesis of a number of similar festivals, mainly “Tubersprang” and “The Hunt of the Gorged” that merged with the rise of multi-species nation-states during the first industrial age. 

From a human perspective, Festofall comes across as a mix of Halloween and Thanksgiving held at a state fair. Cooking begins a full thirdmoon before the festival starts. Each family prepares a vast quantity of a specific dish, all of which is brought together for a community-wide potluck and cook-off. Competition is intense, though caring about winning is seen as gauche. 

The festival lasts for “two claws” (eight days) of feasting, carnival games, live music, dancing, and traditional theater. The potluck aspect is used by every aspect of food production, from farming to dining, to showcase wares and joust with rivals. On the fourth day of the festival, just as the sun begins to set the participants’ offerings are judged, and prizes are passed out.

The prize in question is an “honorloop”, conceptually similar to a blue ribbon or a medal, but taking the form of a ring of metal, braided leather, carved wood, or horn (tough plastic is always an option in the modern day) that is inscribed with the accomplishment.  These are worn over the winner’s own horn-tips, spikes, or talons as jewelry during every major festival for the year, before they are returned for the next year’s competition.

But when the judges go to give the honorloops, they are always wrong! Each replaced by a crude fake bearing a humorous, insults. The nature of the insults varies regionally, but “least improved”, “tastes like it smells” and “bland in, loud out” (very rude in the native podite) are traditional favorites. The honorloops have been stolen by impish bogies called “wildmolts”, “hollowkind”, or “Snappy Jarry.”

Dinosovian folklore associates the child’s first full molt with the shedding of their “hatching wildness” (Dinosovian children can walk within hours of hatching. A hatchling for the first three years or so is essentially a pet raccoon that gets bigger and more sapient every day, with substantially more bite-strength). The wildmolts are this lost wildness made manifest, in the form of macabre goblin-like pranksters.

The wildmolts, are of course, dinosovian children, who have been making their costumes and planning the theft of the honorloops since cooking began. The children hide the stolen loops in public places, and the winners must find their proper prizes before the festival ends or they must wear the mock-prizes at each of the year’s remaining cultural festivals and bank holidays (of which there are many). Wildmolts trade hints at their hiding places (in the form of riddles and puzzles) for treats and small toys. Adults are expected to play along with the ruse.

The second half of the festival belongs to the wildmolts, with adults and children alike participating in ritualized practical joke games that vary community-by-community (the uniqueness of which is a point of local civic pride.) These range from insult-competitions to hold-my-klem* reckless self endangerment. At night, live theater performances take on a more macabre tone and scary tales are told around bonfires.

Many of the more modern additions to the holiday, such as Aegis Shows, Pulse-Tag, and the Gorge-o-Rama (sponsored by Mr. Big Byte, Gorge Responsibly) take place in this latter half of the festival. 

The dual nature of the holiday symbolically conveys that even in times of plenty, the unexpected can strike at any moment. Post Time-Slip Festofall celebrations are held from November 16th through the 23rd. Mid October is generally considered more “seasonally accurate” to the original Pre-KT celebration, with the later date being intentionally chosen to overlap with American Thanksgiving. 

Festofall is, in human terms, a largely secular holiday and is open to human participation in most communities.

The above images were taken at the Ceratopolis Festofall celebration on the 7th-12th of Harvest Moon 2, 5 BKT, and were generously provided by the Dinosovian Cultural Council of Colorado. 

* a foamy beverage distilled from cycads 

[bonefall]

Do you think we could get a rundown of Skyclan leaders like you did for Shadowclan? From when the destruction of their forest territory started to when Skyclan broke up?

It would be a pretty short list, because of the massive interruption.

Leaders Flystar -> Cloudstar -> Spiderstar -> (RATS WE'RE RATS WE'RE THE RATS) -> Leafstar

Clerics Twigtail -> Fawnstep -> Brackenheart -> Oakstep -> (Unnamed Link) -> Pricklenose -> Skywatcher

You'll notice that the Cleric list doesn't have an interruption; that is because the Cleric took the role we eventually see Skywatcher in. They called them the Hub, after the center of a spiderweb. It was someone who would keep track of where all the dispersed cats were and pass on relevant news.

Modern Clerics evolving out of the Hub is why SkyClan's medics are so strange. They have some massive differences from a Forest Four Cleric.

There is no law against them having children. In fact, it's preferred that they did, as it's proof that they know how to care for other cats.

They can have mates, too. Echosong is actually casually the girlfriend of Leafstar.

They act more like a combined doctor/therapist than a doctor/priest. SkyClan clerics are here to treat physical and mental needs. Instead, the leader takes on more spiritual roles.

Anyway, leader succession guide;

Flystar

The destruction of the territory was happening before he was leader, but he took over when it started getting real bad in the Skyfall Era.

He was a HARDCORE kind of loyalist leader. We would know him today as a Hard Traditionalist, insisted his warriors pray harder and live better lives to prevent the destruction.

He invented the Law of the Wild, which we know as the law that bans becoming a kittypet. He did this in response to many of his warriors trying to live double lives.

Lived for a very long time, and oversaw the worst of the destruction, but Forest Four remember the story completely wrong.

The story is told that Flystar forestalled disaster with his hard ways, but Cloudstar was a weak, bumbling successor, who is ultimately blamed for SkyClan's exile.

In truth, Flystar died and left Cloudstar as a young successor. Cloudstar hadn't lost a single life or ruled for more than a year when the last acre of forest was clear-cut.

Flystar was a brown cat with black dapples on his face and chest.

Cloudstar

Gets done so, so dirty in the Forest Four history lessons. I have an entire scene dedicated to Firestar realizing that the story sounds pretty fucked up in Firestar's Quietus.

His first deputy was Buzzardtail, who was his best friend. They tried to keep the Clan together, wandering for years while looking for a new home.

In terms of personality, Cloudstar was a total worrywart. He was always preparing for the worst, and his ingenuity saved a ton of lives. He cared a lot for safety and making sure the travelers were procuring rations.

It still wasn't enough. He was a fantastic leader, soft, caring, beyond dedicated to his friends and family. Cats still died.

He was constantly missing his mate, Birdsong, and his kittens. He was notoriously amazing with the kits, often carrying them when they got too tired.

He was a big guy, too.

Displays the same vitiligo as Skystar and has a striking resemblance to him. Definitely a direct descendant.

His blotches loosely resembled an eye on his side, which ended up becoming... that.

Spiderstar

No Buzzardstar in BB. Buzzardtail died during the very long journey.

But Spiderflight knew him very well. He was her mentor.

Cloudstar died in the abandoned barn where the rats would eventually gather, every night.

Spiderflight had spent most of her life traveling, most of SkyClan had. She did not remember the old forest, just the general stretch of land that would become their Gorge territory.

She only knew what had been taken from her in stories. Kit's tales, to her, she'd been born on the move and that was where her heart was.

She picked up a lot from Cloudstar's resourcefulness. She'd always been close to the leadership, ever since she was young. Slotting into the role was easy.

Cloudstar never wanted to leave such a young successor, as Flystar had done to him, but he had no choice in the end.

She'd never been "good" at sadness. She didn't want to sit vigil in that barn with everyone else; it was too easy to give into despair if she didn't keep moving.

It was Spiderstar who settled SkyClan into the area, and she was the first Hub really. She just happened to teach Oakstep how to do it next.

Important since she only got three lives.

She had distinctive web-like stripes on her tabby body, a large "cape" over her shoulder of two big spokes connected by smaller strokes.

[voidsentprinces]

Summer Time.

Hien in trunks. Aymeric in trunks and a light swimming jacket. Haurchefant unleashed in a speedo. Zenos fighting the kraken in the middle of the ocean. Hythlodaeus getting a tan neath a parasol with sunglasses. Emet-Selch grumpily administrating suntan lotion. Hermes teaching Meteion to swim in the ocean. Raubahn and Thancred grilling up a banquet.

Godbert sculpting a mighty sand sculpture in his image. Opposite of him Ysayle and Menphina work to make ice sculptures. While, Theliak, Kan-E-Senna, Leveva, and Urianger read their books in their chairs. Nophica, Merlwyb, Lyse, Fordola, and Ardbert getting into a watermelon crushing competition. Yotsuyu being fanned by Grynewaht and sipping from a cocktail glass. Hilda, Lyna, Joye, Wuk Lamat and Ameliance race through the sand. Alisaie with Alphinaud in a headlock dragging him towards the waves for the annual swimming practice. Fourchenault, Azeyma and Y'shtola are on lifeguard duty. Asahi drowned in the corner. Fandaniel mocking him by dead man floating next to him. Jannequinard also has drowned but is posing dramatically even while out of commission. Nald and Thal watch over them bemused.

Cid, Nero, Biggs, Wedge, and Jesse getting the water slide going. Alpha, Gigi, Sylphie, Gatty and Omega building their own sandcastle as Zero and Golbez enjoy their own beach size beverage. Estinien posing dramatically on top of Godbert's sand statue. Tataru, Chai-Nuzz and Papalymo going over the logistics of the beach visit's costs. As Krile paints the ocean view while being hyped up by Dulia-Chai. Jandelaine is doing face paintings.

Kai-Shirr Nashu and Brandihild burying Hildibrand up to his neck in sand. Stephanivien inventing a new watergonne for summer time joy. Fray and Sid brood in the corner trying their best not to join in the summer fun. While Rielle, Ryne, and Gaia sample tropical fruits. Lahabrea, Themis, and Erichothonis look on exasperated as Athena builds a giant moth mecha to attack the Beach Bash. And by build I mean she is super vising from a well shaded and high position while Hesperos and Agdistis do it for her. Hegemone serving as her butler. Yugiri and Gosetsu are judges for the watermelon crushing competition. Gaius is tiredly looking on as Rex, Alfonse, Milisandia, Allie, and Ricon play volleyball against Livia, Rhitahtyn, Varro, Lyon, Gabranth, and Misija. Varis and Hydrus wander across the sand judging the volley ball match. Baderon, Mother Miuonne, and Momodi referee the match. Wilred, Emmannellain, Artoriel, Honoriot, and Cyella run commentary.

F'lhaminn, Alianne Gilbrillont, and Buscarron serve up drinks to Thordan, G'raha and Edmont as they swap old man stories. Nymia and Althyk ease drop over their own drinks. While the Heavens Ward wait their turn to play volleyball against Mitron, Nabriales, Venat, Altima, Pashtarot, Deudalaphon, Igeyorhm, Halmarut, and Emmerololth.

Julyan Manderville and Halone are hunting down Hamon Holyfist for acting inappropriate. Wyrnzoen, Curious Gorge, Broken Mountain, Dorgono, Rurukuta, Chuchuto, Widgargelt, O'tchakha and D'zentsa hold a booth for punching a bag as hard as you can. While Byregot administrates Beatin, Brithael, H'naanza, Serendipity, Geva, Redolent Rose, Severian, Adalberta, and Fufucha working together to gather the materials and create more stands and bags since Eorzea is made up of martial gods who keep breaking the punching bag and the stand. Moenbryda has the highest record of breaking it.

Oschon, Cirina, Magnai, Luciane and Sadu aid Sisipu and Lyngsath in catching the food required to run this entire operation with Llymaelyn's express approval. While the Wheiskaet and his Company of Heroes guard the establishment. Ilberd, Laurentius, Yuyuhase, V'kebbe, Perimu and H'raha have a dart throwing competition. Ywain, Myella, Jacke, Karasu, Momozigo, and Drusilla are in the middle of a game of poker.

Jenlyns, Radovan, and Sanson swap tales, the Troupe Falsiam, Guydelot, and Jehantel aid the Songbirds for entertainment. Sophie and Erenville are handing out fashion show fliers. Runar, Y'mhitra, Tesleen, Cymet, Almet, and Uimet administrate parasols, seatings, and food to keep everyone comfortable from the heat of the sun. Seto along with Magnus and his gang work to ferry people to and from the beach. With K'lyhia, Surito, E-Sumi-Yan, and Cocobuki figuring out a schedule to keep everyone on task. X'rhun, Arya, and Martyn run a magic show with plenty of rapiers and surprises. Rhaglr watches over Arenvald and Hoary Boulder arm wrestling with Coultenant, Aenor, and Clemence cheering them on.

Midgardsormr, Nidhogg, Hraesvelgr, Azdaja, Tiamat and Bahamut watch this go on with amusement. As Vrtra is sending out reports and orders to Nidhana and her alchemists along with Ahewann and the Radiant Host aid in the security of the event.

And of course, there is the Warrior of Light. Enjoying their vacation...or they would if the REVELRY HADN'T SUMMONED SUSANOO TO JOIN IN!!!!!! NEVER A DAY OFF I TELL YOU! NOW THEY GOTTA DEAL WITH A PRIMAL PARTYING ALONG!

[simlit]

Chosen of the Sun | | forest // fifty-six

| @rollingsim | @maladi777

POLL RESULTS | A 67% majority votes to apologize.

next / previous / beginning

ASTER: Ahem. Well, I made a good decision bringing the Necromancer along, after all. I’ll, uh, leave things to you from here on out, then? KYRIE: Don’t you dare! ASTER: Ack! KYRIE: You got us into this mess! ASTER: What am I supposed to do about? You’re the ones with the magic! KYRIE: And I’m just supposed to let you drop this in our laps because of it? Either get creative or go down with the ship. I’m not dying here for nothing. ASTER: You seemed perfectly happy to do it for those other guys! KYRIE: Aster! ASTER: What?! What do you want from me? An apology? KYRIE: coughing ASTER: Oh for the love of light… Alright fine! Listen here you overgrown—I mean, uh, very handsome… giant… snake. I know you’re probably quite hungry, what with there being a smorgasbord of veritable nothing for you to gorge upon when there aren’t tasty little fools stumbling into your lair. ASTER: Aha… ha… I see I’ve gotten your attention. Yes, ah, likely because I am one said tasty little fool… But listen, I’ve had some time to reflect on the mistakes of my past, seen the error of my ways, you could say! I’ve even returned your abominable— I mean, lovely cursed skull back to its rightful place. I really do think that should count for something! Like perhaps, disqualifying me— KYRIE: coughs ASTER: Me and my comrades, from your lunch menu? [basilisk growls] ASTER: Mm, yes well, see, I would offer some free entertainment— a live performance— as payment, but seems your boney friend over there has done a number on me. Instead, perhaps I could regale you with a wonderful tale about a farmer. SARAYN: The beast is distracted. KYRIE: whispers Wait! Let him talk. SARAYN: Being devoured isn’t high on my to do list. You forget not all of us here have a death wish. KYRIE: Yes, yes, Lord Tev’us, I’m well aware of your voraciouswill to live. SARAYN: You say that like it’s a bad thing. Certainly you could use some. KYRIE: We only make it out of this one way. Believe me. I’m doing you a favor. ASTER: There once was a man who owned a hundred duck-sized horses. Or was it one horse-sized duck…? [basilisk roars] ASTER: Okay! Okay! Look, I’m really sorry about the stealing business, but I’m desperate here! I’ve got nothing else but music! I would have done anything— even port halfway across the world and beg a gargantuan python to hear me out! If there’s any bloody gods at all, you’ll see I’m trying! What did you even choose me for?! Haven’t I suffered enough hell on this earth already? By all the gold and silver in this damned world, I don’t wanna die like this! At least let me sing about it! That’s the only love I’ve ever known. I just wanted it back! KYRIE: Aster… SARAYN: It’s going? ASTER: That’s that, I suppose. Let’s not waste any time, lest the old beast changes its mind. The portal is just through there. KYRIE: But your curse— ASTER: I said come on.

[anhonest-puck]

mk this is lots but theyre all lovely. im gonna start u out with music videos and we'll go from there.

when in rome mv

lighthouse's tale mv

this side mv

speak mv

tinydesk

live on aol

the current (performance + interview)

cmt's on the verge (suuuuch a cute video.. babies)

i need to watch the punch brothers tinydesk eventually but black mirror is calling my name i think

giving u. live reactionz!!!! apologies this is gonna be long

when in rome mv: such a nice looking video…. i liked watching it because it just looked very very nice!!!! the monochrome made me happy :3 also someone in comments said: “Chris having a mandolin-induced seizure in a puddle is one of my favorite Nickel Creek moments” and i couldn’t agree more

lighthouse’s tale mv: OH MU GAAAHHHH!!!!!!!! i love this one so much. the colors shifting from bright and happy at the start to more mute and greyscale with the story of the song???? i can’t it’s such a yummy detail! also. ocean mentioned. it looked very pretty very late 200Wait this mv was made nine days after i was born.

this side mv: okay because i love this one too it’s so funny to me. they’re preforming to a wall. peak mv. but the second half of it for some reason reminds me of that one labyrinth movie that david bowies in. watched it with meekies and it was really good :3

speak mv: MOVIE!!!! i would watch a movie with only nickel creek music if that would exist ever… also i love chris’ funky ass outfit… play that mandolin white boy!!

tinydesk: YESYESYEZ I LOVE IT!! destination woke ester up and she came and snuggled me. my Cat is a creeker too! also listening to this working on homework 👍 silly guy got braces aahhhhh….. 21ST OF MAY!!! i love this song (also… seven days after my birthday…..) BITCH! there was an ad. interrupted my creeking. any way this might have been the best 20 minute video i could have ever watched

live @ aol: this video is very 2002 i love it so much. also they never fail to absolutely devour anything they’ve ever done i fear

the current: scrolling through pinterest listening to this one my computer died…… SARA IS SO GORG THOUGH! also why are kjp brand sweaters nd stuff so expensive. anyway they all sing so well together it’s genuineOH MY GOD WHERE THE LONG LINE LEADS TBIS ONESS MY FAVORITE it sounds so good live aaaaaahhhhhhHOLDING PATTERN!!!!! the snaps oh my god they’re so AAGHHHHYUUMMMMUY also “i have a special guest, nickel creek!” “wheeeeeewww :D!!” they’re so silly to me

cmt’s on the verge: i genuinely love how positive they are it’s such a huge inspiration for other aspiring artists!! also getting to hear their backstory is so cool :3!!!!!!!! hearing their parents stories too, soso cool!! also woah chris played with dolly parton? i had to rewind to make sure i was hearing that right that’s so cool

THANK YOU FOR THESE MONANA THESE WERE SO FUN TO WATCH/LISTEN TO!!!!!

[everybody-loves-purdy]

SkyClan once again being faced with the territory destruction & starvation that forced their predecessors to leave the old forest paints an ominous picture of what could follow, especially with a leader who’s now beginning to lose her eyesight.

SkyClan has only been by the lake for around 3 years at this point. Unlike ancient SkyClan, who’d held their territory for generations, their claim to their territory isn’t as strong. ThunderClan & ShadowClan, who gave up their territory so SkyClan would live by them and who would realistically be the next to face Twoleg destruction & starvation, would be more pressed to drive out SkyClan or pressure them to leave. While I’m sure Squirrelstar will leave SkyClan be given everything her parents did to bring it back in the first place, I can’t say the same for Tigerstar.

Within SkyClan, the older warriors will realize they have a decision to make. They can endure the journey to return to the gorge and a primarily solitary lifestyle, or they can stand their ground and fight for their territory. The younger warriors will push back against the older cats, not wanting to upend their own lives to journey to a territory they only know from nursery tales.

I think this is a great analysis for how things will go, and I really hope this is what will happen.

I feel that ThunderClan and RiverClan (as long as they get a reasonable leader at the end of all this in asc) will be pro SkyClan staying, while ShadowClan and WindClan will be in favour of them leaving rather than having to split territories again, if worst comes to worst.

[divinemackerel]

Ladies in White

There are two fears that sit on either of Man’s shoulders much more commonly than the rest, nestling into the crook under the chin but before the shoulders, attaching to the veins of the throat. Thanatophobia[1] and Xenophobia[2] never move from their spots once they settle, their limbs splaying like that of a tick as they gorge themselves.

[1] Fear of Death [2] Fear of the Unknown

It is because of them that we create ghosts, these lingering phantasms[3] to warn us of what is to come next. In fact, across cultures, there exist several types of consistent ghosts coincidentally, the most infamous being the Lady in White.

This Harbinger[4] appears as a woman in white dress or some similar garment, always before impending disaster, death, murder and/or suicide.

[3] Something with an Illusory Likeness [4] A Forerunner of Something

Growing up in the Arctic[5] one will most often see them lingering in the forests, and from a distance you may even think they’re human, but like a fox their feet don’t break the snow, and no hot air moves over their chapped lips. 

[5] Any land past 66° 33' N

There is no clear consensus as to what exactly makes Ladies in White show up, at least not to anyone who is unfamiliar with death. Recent studies you conducted[6] though revealed the answer, as you found a rabbit in a trap you laid days ago, its eyes staring intelligently up at you, its fur so white you might have missed it.

The White Lady stood approximately five feet away from the trap[7], her hands by her sides, her dress melting with her rib cage underneath, it being unclear where one ended and her ragged skin began.

[6] Desperate measures caused by desperate times [7] making Death inevitable

It wasn’t too hard to hold the rabbit to the ground with its leg still caught in the trap, though your hands shook without the mittens, your fingers struggling to unhook  the dagger[8] at your belt under the combined weight of the cold, hunger, the White Lady’s stare, and what you were about to do. 

You draw [8] your Eleventh birthday present  Flesh reflects across yet unused iron, and you see it in [9] [10] [11] [12]

[9] Fur [10] Yourself [11] Your breath, fogging your glasses [12] A thread

and your cut isn’t clean[13],  hands too shaky and the guard too rough against your hands[14] but, driven by pity, you try again[15], as the rabbit thrashes weakly, legs kicking as you press it into the snow, searching for the part you’ve read about[16],

[13] and regret seeps in like the blood to the snow, each mad flutter of the poor thing’s chest only worsening the spill [14] he has a poet’s hands, that was the first thing he said to you, his beady eyes so neutral, so warm in comparison. He added, a musician if you’re lucky. [15] and as you do, she does not move, impassive eyes watching as blood spills all over your spindly fingers, sinking into your skin too, deeper and deeper, poisoning the ichor in your veins [16] he disagrees, ruffling your hair as he says how you will be a warrior yet

your relief borderlines on euphoric when you finally cut the carotid arteries[17], you think that is why the rabbit stops thrashing at least.

The Lady in White stands there still, watching you as you sit back and breathe.

[17] blood vessels in the neck that carry oxygenated blood from the heart to the brain

Studies have shown that these heralds only show up when death is almost positively inevitable, as the threads of fate binding one to possible futures begin to close in. As an example, if local earthquakes lead to disruptions in the land that make an eruption almost guaranteed, Ladies in White will show up as the threads binding together future possibilities snap on the soon to be buried residents. 

It is unclear exactly why this summons them, but some cultures believe they help lead the spirits of the damned to the afterlife.

No one has ever been proven to have followed a Lady in White and returned to tell the tale of is this true.

If they do venture to the afterlife though, whatever that might be, you have a message for this one to pass along.[6]

So with unsteady hands, you clip your dagger[8] to your belt and stand.

[brian-in-finance]

Instagram 16 August 2024

Instagram 27 August 2024

Audio 🎧 from Instagram 9 September 2024

EXCLUSIVE: Apple and Skydance‘s youth empowerment tale Way of the Warrior Kid, based on the 2017 novel by Jocko Willink, has tapped 14-year-old Belfast breakout Jude Hill for its lead role, also bringing on three-time Emmy nominee Linda Cardellini (Dead to Me) for a role.

Hill plays Marc, a self-doubting boy who gets bullied and is hard-pressed to complete a single pull-up, with Cardellini as Marc’s mother, Sarah. As we were first to report, Chris Pratt also stars in the film directed by McG.

In Way of the Warrior Kid, Marc’s uncle, Jake (Pratt), an elite Navy SEAL, is injured on a mission and moves in with his sister for rehab. When he discovers his 13-year-old nephew is struggling academically, socially and physically, Jake takes on a new mission: using his SEAL Team training over three months of summer to help the youth find his inner warrior.

We were first to report on the package out of Cannes, as Pratt and McG came aboard, also sharing word of the $80M-$85M global deal Skydance locked in with Apple, where the company has a first-look deal. The film will be produced by Skydance’s David Ellison, Dana Goldberg and Don Granger, alongside McG and Mary Viola for Wonderland Sound, and Pratt for Indivisible Productions. Additional producers include Ben Everard for Everard Entertainment, and Willink. Will Staples (Without Remorse) adapted the screenplay.

Cardellini is coming off her starring role opposite Christina Applegate on Liz Feldman’s acclaimed dark comedy Dead to Me, which ran for three seasons, bringing her a pair of Emmy nominations, among other accolades. Also a producer on that series, she’s set to reteam with Feldman on No Good Deed, a new dark comedy from Feldman first announced in 2022, which also stars Ray Romano, Lisa Kudrow, and Luke Wilson. Soon, Cardellini will be seen starring opposite Ben Stiller in David Gordon Green’s comedy Nutcrackers, a project we first reported on, which is set to open this year’s Toronto Film Festival. She’s also the female lead opposite Vince Vaughn in Nonnas, Stephen Chbosky’s forthcoming comedy for Fifth Season and 1Community, which we announced.

Hill made his theatrical debut as Buddy, the young lead of Kenneth Branagh’s Academy-Award nominated and BAFTA winning Belfast — a coming-of-age drama examining a boy’s experience coming of age in late ’60s Northern Ireland amid the conflict known as The Troubles. For his performance opposite Judi Dench, Jamie Dornan, Ciaran Hinds, and Caitríona Balfe, he earned numerous awards, including Best Young Actor at the Critics Choice Awards and Best Newcomer at the Hollywood Critics Association Awards. Reteaming with Branagh since then on his Agatha Christie adaptation A Haunting in Venice, Hill will next be seen starring opposite Nicole Kidman, Gael García Bernal and Matthew Macfadyen in Amazon MGM Studios’ thriller Holland, Michigan.

Other upcoming Apple Original Films produced by Skydance Media include genre-bender The Gorge starring Miles Teller and Anya Taylor-Joy; Guy Ritchie’s Fountain of Youth, starring Natalie Portman and John Krasinksi; and the action-adventure film pic May Day with Ryan Reynolds and Kenneth Branagh in the lead.

Cardellini is repped by CAA and Jackoway Austen Tyerman; Hill by Berwick & Kovacik, UTA, and Markham, Froggatt and Irwin.

Deadline 27 August 2024

Instagram 9 February 2023 / Brian’s post

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