Posts by ??¢???????

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; background-image: url(http://static.tumblr.com/a2977…tumblr_static_ping68.jpeg); background-position: center; width: 450px; border: 1px solid #fff;][fancypost borderwidth=0px; background: white; width: 400px; margin-top: -0px; text-align: justify; color: black; font: 11px arial]

Honeypup was downright horrible at stealing.

He was predominantly not slick, and it was not just out of a preference of wanting to do things head on. He was just blatantly awful at attempting to take something away that was not his in an incognito fashion. Others could do it with such grace, but not this guy. Hence the reasoning behind his appearance at the training session. Was this a learning experience that would reflect immaculately on who he was as a person? No, of course not, and Honeypup even asked himself that very question. In spite of his own self inquiry, he had no disinterest in showing up, and it did not turn him off from an opportunity to learn. He loved knowledge, and he loved gaining more of it. If that knowledge happened to be about bettering one of his weaknesses, then it would only drive him to participate!

The alabaster adolescent lowered his haunches down beside Quickkit, who appeared to be just as enthusiastic as he internally was to learn about how to steal. Cobalt optical bullets plunged and latched onto the striped figure of Foreignersgod, faintly ground-tilted auditories actively picking up noise from all around. Honeypup patiently waited for the session to begin.
[/fancypost][/fancypost]

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; background-image: url(http://static.tumblr.com/a2977…tumblr_static_ping68.jpeg); background-position: center; width: 450px; border: 1px solid #fff;][fancypost borderwidth=0px; background: white; width: 400px; margin-top: -0px; text-align: justify; color: black; font: 11px arial]

"Think your quick? Want something to do? Come on down to the shore - spectators are of course welcomed."

The telepathic message was aimed to be projected to any accepting minds of other Rifters within the Rift's territory. The husky who had been responsible for the dispatch was hoisted upon a 5 story sand dune, distanced an estimated 50 yards from a messy start line. His perch at the top of the dune symbolized the finish line. Unfortunately for the participants, the forces of nature would act as obstacles to becoming victorious in this race to the top. The sand, for one, was a terrain that possessed a slight amount of drag, and the tumultuous gusts of powerful wind did not assist in making the sand any less of a challenge. Not to mention the tyrannical gale was rocketing to the contestants head on. They would need to be capable of pushing past the paramount gusts...

"The only requirements to this race is to have legs. As long as you're in possession of those, you're set, for this race will be only done on paw, hoof, ect. A race dedicated to a mix of winged and ground members will likely be held later. Other than that, there are no rules. Where I stand marks the finish line." The reasoning behind his telepathic connection was simply because the wind would swallow up his voice, making it so that nobody could hear him. The connection was notably choppy, since Honeypup was still getting used to his telepathic abilities, yet he was able to get his point across with enough effort and concentration. In regards to the restriction, his weekly task did mention 'legged' within it's description. If the race received enough recognition, he'd for sure host another race on his own time that winged speed demons were eligible to participate in.

"On my mark..."

/ my next post will mark the beginning of the race ; )
[/fancypost][/fancypost]

[fancypost borderwidth=0][justify]tracking !! + cries bc lorla/solem

[fancypost borderwidth=0][justify]I have whatever's on this account + maybe 15k silver on my main to donate !! I'll poor in everything I have

[fancypost borderwidth=0][justify]tracking + possibly participating
awesome idea - my feels have defiantly been getting crushed bc I stalk all the oneshots & they're tragic af but so well written so :')

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; background-image: url(http://static.tumblr.com/a2977…tumblr_static_ping68.jpeg); background-position: center; width: 450px; border: 1px solid #fff;][fancypost borderwidth=0px; background: white; width: 400px; margin-top: -0px; text-align: justify; color: black; font: 11px arial]

His senses where far too acute to not catch the tornado of movement that had harnessed Pollux's animate frame. His mentor morphed into a tumultuous storm of obsidian offensive assaults, a powerhouse of darkness. In that moment, the speed of the world around him took a drastic pivot for a realm that was drowned out in quicksand. Every movement was slowed by ten-folds as the opposing individual expertly advanced into the showers of angelic sunlight, making the glorifying luminosity projected by a celestial configuration of Herculean scintillation oddly disfigured. A knight drenched in black begrimed the immaculate cloudburst of refulgence. The stygian force of nature had somehow managed to engulf the entire setting, in which was ablaze with daylight, to become completely starless. Pollux had bludgeoned the serenity in which encircled the miniscule partials dancing innocently within their playground of galactic illumination. In conclusion, the child was right to have been cautious. Ebony pen pricks dilated sharply against soulful waves of cobalt as soon as the Doberman catapulted himself directly towards him. With bodily receptors aged by travel, adventure, and quick escapes, the crest-white adolescent instinctively dropped his aerodynamic frame to earth’s face. Upon viewing a sliver of an opening – an awkward on at that – Honeypup took his chances. As if tender paw pads where being painstakingly incinerated by a carpet of fire-caressing stones, he bulleted from his vulnerable standpoint, and right when his war-stricken mentor was at his peak in being airborne, the Harbringer youth rocketed beneath the lengths of the soaring hound’s figure. He was unsuccessful in the art of scrambling out of the male’s overall shadow – that quickness would come with age and nerve-ripping training on Pollux’s part – yet he had thrown himself out of physical contact with success strapped around his breastplate of dirt-sprayed fur. Theoretically, his mentor would land only a foot away from him, and from a spectator’s view, both of their figures would be facing away from one another, back to back. Unfortunately, the crafty escape had been done extremely scrappily, and lacked professionalism that would also be gained by hearty stretches of training. Without even shaking his ruffled pelt to scatter the soil droplets from his meatsuit, the smaller canine attentively swiveled on his hind heels, with guidance and balance provided by his outstretched tail, to face the dominate dog now in front of him.

“First lesson – never let your guard down.”

“Never let your guard down.” The shaken pupil, still positioned in that same defensive crouch with its feline flare that could almost register as familiar to those who had witnessed a certain greater power brawl, airily echoed the first lesson ruggedly presented by his teacher. Pollux’s speech was water to a dehydrated traveler trekking miles across desert after desert of liquid-deprived terrain. In this case, the words that leaked from the other male’s pearlescent gates of enamel played the part of the water, and his grain acted as the traveler. The male kept his dilated eyes hooked into the shoulders of the male, waiting to catch any erratic movements on Pollux’s part.
[/fancypost][/fancypost]

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; background-image: url(http://static.tumblr.com/a2977…tumblr_static_ping68.jpeg); background-position: center; width: 450px; border: 1px solid #fff;][fancypost borderwidth=0px; background: white; width: 400px; margin-top: -0px; text-align: justify; color: black; font: 11px arial]

His viewpoints on meetings are as erratic as the weather in Chicago. (It’s snowing and its April someone save me honestly)

Sometimes, they acted as the needle of political alterations hyped with adrenaline that would skin into his young veins dulled by stagnant seconds. Other times, they where bland, flat lined, dead, like every other meeting he had attended. However, he had not been to many meetings, which would beg confusion from others if they were aware of his conflicting emotions. Shining the spotlight on how Honeypup felt today, he was rather eager to gather himself and report to camp to absorb what his monarch had to say. The pearlescent, youthful hound was faintly amused to see so many tired faces, and was even more curious as to why they’re canvases so easily reflected drained, exhausted lifestyles. Just as he was well rested, everyone else had to be worn to the bone! His vocal cords lined with the airy precipitation of adolescence vibrated briefly in a humored snort as he whisked across the assembling mass of members. With an exercised amount of control, he seated himself beside the member who had most recently gathered; Sona.

Patiently, he waited for the clan-wide cattle call to advance into a beginning.
[/fancypost][/fancypost]

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; background-image: url(http://static.tumblr.com/a2977…tumblr_static_ping68.jpeg); background-position: center; width: 450px; border: 1px solid #fff;][fancypost borderwidth=0px; background: white; width: 400px; margin-top: -0px; text-align: justify; color: black; font: 11px arial]

The pearlescent youth's movement acted as though they were drenched in the likes of quicksand in contrast to being quick and sharp, which resembled the pace of adolescence that he seemingly stood out against like a strip of onyx against a blinding white backdrop. The way Talia's dialog was shrouded in bittersweet, liquid gold alerted Honeypup that there was virtually no need to worry about being kidnapped or clobbered into the ground to get his pharynx painstakingly cleaved from his neck. He knew right off the bat that she was safe, that she was an individual of kindness and soul, yet from what he had seen in the past, the Commander possessed issues of her own. She, much like himself, participated in the sanity-rendering marathon of night terrors. She saw no stars when the sun set, for her portals into the visual world were befogged with hysteria like his own. With a sabotaging thirst for liquidized escapes and pill-formulated smiles, Talia appeared to have the tongue of quite a few members of The Rift. Bluesrock was an alcoholic, and he was positive that there were many more down the line, a mere question mark popped into mind upon attempting to conjure names. He had never tasted alcohol, but imagined - like most kids did - that he would not grow fond of its taste. Not only that, but what it did to people was truly horrendous. It controlled them, festering within and undermining their neurological controls and them to a point were it transferred into an addiction. It debilitated resistance, if the alcohol managed to be hardwired into the system sturdily enough. As for pills, they seemingly reflected similar effects. He found it funny when an individual could not fight temptation. Something that was not even animate had so much power over a being that was capable of making decisions; what a fucking joke!

Then again, Honeypup wasn't really stable, was he?

Any stable being would show sympathy, supply encouragement, right? Yes, why of course, they would be nothing but supportive in assisting a suffering being undergo the struggles of such issues acting as a synonym to alcoholism. That was why Honeypup had no issue in classifying himself as odd, and why he was quite alright with explaining to others his own viewpoints with the upmost amount of honesty. He was an honest hound, after all. He held nothing back if his opinion was required or wished upon for contribution towards a particular scenario, no madder who the person was. To lie was almost deemed as a sin by one who took part in a godless, atheistic lifestyle. Lying transferred as cowardice to Honeypup, and that was something he refused to become.

"Talia." The pair of crystalline ice rinks - aged with the etchings of fallen monarchs and armies of long-forgotten skatings - frosted over the obsidian behemoth. It was quite funny to hear a voice so melodically soothing rumble from the depths of a beast so grand and dark. His neck slightly craned skywards to witness her optics of alabaster, but it was not something that bothered him in the slightest. He did adore large creatures, far more than smaller ones. Smaller beings could be crushed so easily, and usually were known to fail in striking fear into the hearts of enemies. You wanted to be big, right?

"That depends, really," His open-mindedness softly told him over the remarks of erratic ambition.

He was oblivious to the amused smirk that had enchanted seemingly immaculate facial features, and only became aware of it's presence mere seconds after greeting the ombre Fenrir. He was quick to explain its origin as well, simply so she would not be left in a shower of bewilderment. "Pay no mind to the humored expression. I just find it funny that such a relaxing sound comes from a body that looks like it could be a knight of tyranny," He would muse, a faint chuckle punctuating the explanation. He did not want her to take offense to his views, but if she did, the likely hood of him taking that to heart was very nonexistent. After all, they were only words, and his opinion alone was incapable of shattering glass or destroying peace. It took a sensitive individual of immaturity to do that, and Honeypup did not take Talia as one who would misplace the meaning of his words. She looked like a woman he'd want as a guiding light...

A mother.

"How are you?" His inquiry was flared with a physical movement; his lengthy swan-toned tail brushing across the sand beside him. It was a nonverbal invite assigned to towering hound to sit beside him, for he figured it would be appropriate to have them side by side to converse and enjoy the sunrise at a closer range of distance to one another.[/fancypost][/fancypost]

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; background-image: url(http://static.tumblr.com/a2977…tumblr_static_ping68.jpeg); background-position: center; width: 450px; border: 1px solid #fff;][fancypost borderwidth=0px; background: white; width: 400px; margin-top: -0px; text-align: justify; color: black; font: 11px arial]

Weekly tasks brought him a decent amount of interest. They acted as a blank canvas for him to splash his own amount of paint on. When a task was presented to him, Honeypup did not truly ponder on how to make it different, he pondered on how he would be capable of making it generally effective. Of course, it was lovely to have amusement incorporated in that, but he would only be thinking of himself upon regarding such non mandatory matters.

The part in which interested him most about this week's cattle call of assignments was that it was being hosted by nobody other than his mentor. Of course, he did not mind that Diamond joined in a little later, and that she'd likely assign him his task considering she seemed on deck at that moment, but Honeypup was open to anything. "I'm in need of a weekly task as well," The pearlescent husky pup would verbally address, sparkling almond-molded visionaries slithering from the doberman to the raccoon in a fluid fashion.
[/fancypost][/fancypost]

[fancypost borderwidth=0][justify]^ i need to try this

[fancypost borderwidth=0][justify]how'd sola feel about sadra? (bc im a nostalgic shithead darn)

if she could tell her past self 1 thing, what would that thing be?

[fancypost borderwidth=0][justify]ANTI

ANTI

A N T IIIIIII CLAN

^ reasoning behind my passion is bc I feel as though the entire clan itself has a more demonic aura rather than a peaceful, still-life one that I picture a neutral or even a pro clan to have.

& anticlan vikings sounds badass as hell holY CRAP YES TO VIKINGS TOO

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; background-image: url(http://static.tumblr.com/a2977…tumblr_static_ping68.jpeg); background-position: center; width: 450px; border: 1px solid #fff;][fancypost borderwidth=0px; background: white; width: 400px; margin-top: -0px; text-align: justify; color: black; font: 11px arial]

"Understood." The main point that really excited the erratic trainee throughout the course of the announcements had to have been the rank name alterations, the general anti claim, and the clan 'merges'. He had never known for clans to combine before, and did not criticize himself for not knowing of any groups who had done what they were about to do. He had youth to thank for that, but in regards to any other clans in which they would be merging with, he had to place his bets on BloodClan. After all, they where currently moving quite a bit of their members over - him soon to be included - which gave him the idea that perhaps joining forces would benefit the both of them.

They were anti-clan too, which he found helpful in means of expressing brutality. It no longer came with the odd worry of being frowned upon by a neutral status.

Promotions and demotions up next were the contents in which the triangular appendages atop his skull had received, and he silently awaited the arrival of that news from the Chief.
[/fancypost][/fancypost]

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; background-image: url(http://static.tumblr.com/a2977…tumblr_static_ping68.jpeg); background-position: center; width: 450px; border: 1px solid #fff;][fancypost borderwidth=0px; background: white; width: 400px; margin-top: -0px; text-align: justify; color: black; font: 11px arial]

His mentor...was stepping down? The thought of Pollux departing the higher ranks told him that the exhaustion of life itself was far too overwhelming, and in receiving that, Honeypaw could only feel rather saddened that he would not be seeing the doberman around as much as he pleased. However, that would not discourage him from being proud that he could properly say that Pollux had taught him one very important thing - never let your guard down.

"Rest up well." The Siberian-chilled adolescent would muse, bestowing his teacher with a respected nod out of curtesy to his decision. Would it be rude to inquire about their teachings? Would he bring it up? Tell him to get a new mentor? Perhaps Honeypaw would bring the subject up later, but for now, he'd allow others to come forth and supply Pollux with support of their own.
[/fancypost][/fancypost]

[fancypost borderwidth=0][justify]voted on the new poll !!
also, I have a landmark discovery that would match a viking theme
so, they could perhaps have their new territory within uncharted viking burial grounds. This would not have to be their camp, but it could certainly be included as a pretty big part of their new lands.

^ trying to go along w the rawness of a new terrain + the new theme : )

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; background-image: url(http://static.tumblr.com/a2977…tumblr_static_ping68.jpeg); background-position: center; width: 450px; border: 1px solid #fff;][fancypost borderwidth=0px; background: white; width: 400px; margin-top: -0px; text-align: justify; color: black; font: 11px arial]

Lancelot.

Disgusting.

"Honeypaw Harbringer. Welcome..." The demonic grumble ruptured from the shallow depths of a being shrouded in purified, visual adolescence. The key word in this discription was visual, for the Harbringer's soul was conjoined with a spirit that was leagues older than his own. The topic in which was being discussed had altered his emotions consisting of chilled interest and an endless inferno of ancient hatred. All Sleepyhollows had to verbally muster was 'The Elite'. At that point, the voices of Cotards Syndrome that previously spun their audible, tumultuous webs of taunts emitted a singular caterwaul. This tore through the fabrication of sanity etched throughout the youth's exquisite control panels and unleashed a monstrous kraken of suicidal tendencies and intellectual hysteria.

The white tiger is out! Guardmasters, take your mother*ing posts! The old cat's back!

Lancelot was a pathetic worm who had destroyed their home along side two other clans. It was three against one, and their home - their lovely, beautiful, history-glorified home - was pulverized into the caverns of eroding memories and decomposing ambitions. All of the memories she shared...gone by the likes of a male who depended on others to do his dirty work. He was an individual who could be defeated, but chose to hide behind walls of able bodies in order to conquer. He himself was the very walking definition of 'pathetic', and when he crumbled - when he was bludgeoned into the spikes of absence - she shrieked with laughter. Her cackles rattled from a worn vessel drenched in auburn pigmentation, sombre-dipped tail maliciously curling at the tip in satanic pleasure upon realizing that the bastard was never coming back! One less creature to act as a garbage can for her oxygen, right? One less idiot to shake her head over, right? One less reminder of The Elite's demise, right? She'd no longer act as an eternal slave to the succulent sensation of crimson life-fluids creeping down her very throat that ached from the sobs that shook her very being over the losses that shredded every fiber of her hijacked tranquility, right?!

RIGHT?!

The white tiger has attacked! She's zeroing in on the pale dog. Poor pup has no chance of being in control... She's taking over!

Wrong.

A notable change in expression infected the pearlescent hound's aesthetic facial canvas as soon as the fallen clan's name ricocheted off his triangulated audio receivers. Figurative canine eyebrows tightly wound into an irritated knot between the upper portion of his mask, and his muzzle notably began to crinkle in the starting stages of an animalistic snarl. Sapphire optical gems flew up into a blizzard of electrifying Siberian brutality. His facade became capable of turning stomachs, for it was plagued with a mind-boggling dosage of disturbance in which eerily reflected a character who had heard the barely audible breaths of fading monarchs and bared witness to the falling figures of family members from the life-ending hight of a Ferris Wheel... She always hated that Ferris Wheel.

"The Elite was a nightmare and a dream fused into one painstaking figment of my own imagination. It was there, and then again, it was never." Someone completely different spoke. "Pleased to have you within our ranks, Nightfury." It was not Honeypaw who had decided to turn this ivory husky body around and ambulate off into the horizon line towards camp. Instead, it was one of The Elite's fallen Guardmasters. One of many, and one of none.

/ all opinions are IC - welcome to The Rift caleo! Lovely to see you return :3
[/fancypost][/fancypost]

[fancypost borderwidth=0][justify]CHARACTER NAME: Honeypaw
USERNAME: Wildflame
WHAT TYPE OF STORY? Poem
WHAT'S THE THEME? Trauma (tale of a rape victim)

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; background-image: url(http://static.tumblr.com/a2977…tumblr_static_ping68.jpeg); background-position: center; width: 450px; border: 1px solid #fff;][fancypost borderwidth=0px; background: white; width: 400px; margin-top: -0px; text-align: justify; color: black; font: 11px arial]

Weekly tasks brought him a decent amount of interest. They acted as a blank canvas for him to splash his own amount of paint on. When a task was presented to him, Honeypaw did not truly ponder on how to make it different, he pondered on how he would be capable of making it generally effective. Of course, it was lovely to have amusement incorporated in that, but he would only be thinking of himself upon regarding such non mandatory matters.

The part in which interested him most about this week's cattle call of assignments was that it was being hosted by nobody other than his leader. Last week, the tasks were hoisted to the ears of the public rather late, which was not necessarily frowned upon by Honeypaw. He was not interested in the reasoning behind the delay, and did not pay mind to not being bestowed an assignment by his mentor who was originally the creator of that rally. However, ever since his hiatus, the swan-toned hound saw no reason to ponder any longer about why his teacher was unable to continue out with the chores. "I'm in need of a weekly task as well," The approaching pearlescent husky would verbally address. Sparkling, almond-molded visionaries harpooned into the optics of The Rift's chief, awaiting for either him or a Jarl of any type to present him with a duty to attend to. [/fancypost][/fancypost]

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; background-image: url(http://static.tumblr.com/a2977…tumblr_static_ping68.jpeg); background-position: center; width: 450px; border: 1px solid #fff;][fancypost borderwidth=0px; background: white; width: 400px; margin-top: -0px; text-align: justify; color: black; font: 11px arial]

"You'll make everyone's naughty parts all gooey if you frown at people looking like that," Of course he was aware that this was Finnishwars, and of course he did not give a single crap if he got a fist to the cheek for emitting such inappropriate jargon. Honeypaw did not necessarily find the situation to degrade the chief's power, for a Swedish Vallhund could be just as petrifying as a 3 ton dragon. It would take quite a bit to prove that, but it was nothing Finnishwars was not capable of. The pearlescent husky found it bitterly amusing to see such a figure of strength become so unhappy with a mere body alteration. After all, host a good raid or a thorough torture session and one could sure as hell clobber the smiles off everyone's faces. Power malfunctions appeared to be a complete and utter pain, and he actually went through the pleasure of playing victim to one. From a gargantuan alabaster tigeress right back down to a pathetic puppy who's vessel was shrouded with wince-worthy lacerations and bent joints that did not look like they were supposed to be rendered...

The intellectually inclined canine strode over beside Downtownfiction, expression seemingly vacant of happiness. The only trace of emotion that littered the youth's angular expression was a singular, raised, metaphorically-present brow that silently poked fun at the scenario. Many where bound to express view points that would be soaked in the blood of irreverence, which Honeypaw would likely chuckle at. What could he say? The adorable, pouting monarch was asking for it.
[/fancypost][/fancypost]

[fancypost borderwidth=0][justify]perhaps honey + him could like
form a character bOND ??
BC LIKE HONEY SUCKS AT STEALing and he would love to accompany foreigners on like any stealing adventure and then he could perhaps try teaching honey on how to steal and then be like 'alright fuck it you're hopeless' but honey will be like 'just let me try stealing something pls' and then fore will be like 'no you'll get caught' & honey will end up getting caught and they'd have to make a wild escape or something along those lines or honey'll just get screwed + they'll just have some a1 adventures :')