Posts by BADGERFACE

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  • [you are my one and only] — badger

    ⛧ OVERVIEW.

    — badger, badgerpaw, badgerface

    cis male, masculine, he/him

    pansexual + polyamorous | no preference

    — 10 moons, ages realistically on the 1st

    created may 19th 2019

    traditional riverclan | apprentice


    ⛧ PHYSICAL.

    — black and white long-haired cat

    deep amber, almost red eyes


    — smells like roses and wood smoke


    detailed description:

    — badger has a tall, powerful build, yet radiates elegance and sophistication. he carries his heavy frame proudly, so that it appears to be feather-light. a black stripe down the center of his muzzle divides his face in two. pointed, dark eyes are almost crimson in his skull, his gaze piercing and manipulative. the dark streak continues from his head down his back. his long, snake-like tail is entirely black, as are his ears and paws. stripes down the outside of each limb connect the line on his back to his paws. long, glossy white fur covers the rest of his body. by the time he is old enough to be a warrior, he will have long legs and a broad chest betraying his fluid agility. while he is often relaxed and charming, if he chooses his large frame can quickly becoming intimidating.


    ⛧ PERSONALITY.

    — narcissist, selfish, opportunistic: while he is careful to be seen as someone kind or caring, badger's only true loyalty is to himself. he will befriend those who he deems necessary to him gaining or maintaining power over others, and his allegiances can shift with a moment's notice.

    — hedonistic, flirty, manipulative, cruel: as he gets older, badger will realize he exclusively looks for short flings. he takes pleasure in manipulating others into loving him, then torturing them emotionally. he may find romance in other clans. he will not take responsibility for any of his litters except in extraordinary circumstances. his desire to feel power over others is not limited to romantic relationships and may later manifest as an intense hunger for political power.

    — charismatic, charming, friendly: badger is laid-back, casual, and fun to be around. his charming ways making finding friends and romance easy for him, almost always as a front to meet whatever his goals are.

    — opinionated, political: his interest in gaining power will make him very interested in politics and very eager to participate in any form of debate or discussion, as long as his opinions are not controversial enough to be considered deplorable or worthy of personal judgement.

    — lazy, insensitive, unpredictable: he does not care about serving his clan, and will avoid doing anything that will not benefit him, directly or indirectly, in some way where possible. in friendships or relationships his charming nature can be instantly disappear in private, to be replaced with someone cold-hearted and unloving. his rapid personality swings serve to emotionally abuse his selected victims.


    ⛧ RELATIONSHIPS.

    — family: badger was born to loner NPCxNPC parents who told him about the clans. his father, brandy, was particularly aggressive and emotionally abused badger's mother, leading badger to internalize this behavior as normal. brandy eventually murdered badger's mother and turned his rage on his son, causing badger to escape to riverclan. even upon joining riverclan, and learning what kind of behavior is considered abuse, he is uninterested in any non-abusive romantic relationship. badger has no biological siblings.

    — mentor: n/a

    — romantic relationships/mates: n/a

    — close friends: n/a

    — friends: n/a

    — enemies: n/a

  • [you are my one and only] — badger

    —⛧ i'm underneath your skin


    Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Fusce sed ante purus. Aliquam erat volutpat. Integer id ex metus. Suspendisse nec nisi a elit vehicula fringilla. Nam ut ipsum at libero ultrices mattis eget non magna. Pellentesque felis tellus, rutrum a sem nec, hendrerit tincidunt nunc. Nulla tincidunt, urna quis rhoncus viverra, sem ante ornare erat, in viverra nisl eros et leo. Aenean lorem dui, finibus in fermentum a, placerat vitae neque. Nam tempor faucibus consequat. Maecenas tempor tincidunt commodo. Phasellus tincidunt elit quis turpis elementum, sed rhoncus elit convallis. Phasellus sed tristique elit, eget vulputate diam. Nulla facilisi. Nam molestie nec quam quis pharetra. Nam lobortis ornare lorem, at molestie arcu rutrum quis.


    "speaking." thoughts


    7klVsMF.png

  • [you are my one and only] — badger

    ⛧ HISTORY + IMPORTANT THREADS.


    — created may 19th 2019
    — eat your heart || badger's intro     || badger shows up on the border of riverclan with near-fatal wounds after narrowly surviving his father's murderous rage. he is saved by hawkpaw, gladefall, and feathersong.

    — dancer stuffed with straw || medicine den, recovering || after several days of unconsciousness, badger wakes up in the medicine den. he meets and gains the trust of hawkpaw and finchpaw. he feels strangely drawn to the other tom, but is unsure why.

    — wandering eyes || stranger in camp || he ventures out of the medicine den for the first time after arriving in riverclan.

  • eat your heart || badger's intro

    ⛧ i'm underneath your skin


    He supposed he should feel betrayed, but he did not.


    He had woken to the sight of his own mother's dying form. Before his eyes she had changed; from a her to an it, and then his mother was no longer his mother, only another corpse. His wrathful father then turned on him, wet yellow eyes stretched open to the point of breaking, bloody claws fed moments ago by his mother's flesh now yearning hungrily for his. This had been horrifying, but not surprising. And that is why he did not feel betrayed.


    Somehow, he had survived, in the literal sense of the word. He was a walking cadaver, a ruined body grinding its nails to dust as it clung so desperately to the precipice of life. Shaking legs carried him interminably forward, fueled only by a mindless, numb inertia. Something hot and red dripped into his eye with the rhythm of a rainfall. His father was dead.


    To an observer, this frail ghost's journey would perhaps seem to be a final march undertaken by a foolish denier of the inevitable, a pathetic refusal of the infinity of death. But his was not wandering without end, and perhaps that is what kept his body and soul chained down in this world and not the next.


    There was somewhere he could go, where there lived neither the madness of his father nor the simpering weakness of his mother. A place ruled by more than strength alone. A foolish concept indeed, for he knew they would help him. Him.Without concern for their own, without concern for themselves, they would help him. Because they were generous? Because they were kind? It was idiocy, but idiocy in his favor could become reason again.


    A sickly grin split his face in two for an instant before dissipating like smoke in the wind. The insanity of the dying had ensnared his mind, and the world was fracturing. Inside the cracks there was just darkness and more darkness, but that was okay. He had come far enough.


    The cracks became the whole, and there was nothing left but emptiness.


    Badger collapsed to the ground on the RiverClan border.


    "speaking." thoughts


    7klVsMF.png

  • eat your heart || badger's intro

    ⛧ i'm underneath your skin


    Can you hear me?


    Can you hear me?


    Can you hear me?


    The phrase echoed in his ears, reverberating until it was just sounds. Meaningless noise hummed in his skull.


    But even as he rolled in and out of consciousness, the subtlest of smiles managed to twist his cold lips. Stinging herbs were biting into his flesh, a she-cat's voice was ringing out serious and steady... they were bringing him back to life. They were toiling to save him.


    He could feel the lure of a dark riptide, its vice-like grip dragging him down under icy waves. The spray buffeted his face - was it real, or was he just imagining things? But he smiled. At the paws of these strangers, at their sacrifice - he would live. Then his muscles went slack as he was pulled under once again, and he resigned himself to his imprisonment for the sunrises to come.


    "speaking." thoughts


    7klVsMF.png

  • dancer stuffed with straw || medicine den, recovering

    —⛧ i'm underneath your skin


    His time spent dreaming was over. The black ocean which had confined him in its depths now warmed and let his body float to the surface, rusting away the shackles that had bound him to the unconscious world. Corpse-like crimson eyes fluttered delicately open and stared upwards with a watery gaze. His ears had been packed with dry grass and his mouth was full of sand. No one had been there to witness his awakening.


    Disused, trembling muscles screamed in protest as he struggled against gravity. He felt like a creature constructed from dirt and twigs, with no life in its limbs to carry out its will. But it seemed there were still a precious few drops of blood yet left in his husk of a body, and inch by painful inch he managed to raise himself off the ground. Hissed curses dripped from his maw as jelly-like legs slid ungracefully into a seated position.


    So he had been saved; his mother had been right. He almost wished that they had escaped together, as she'd longed to for so many moons. He almost wished that she was here now instead of whatever strangers laid in wait outside of this dark, sharp-smelling den. But perhaps her death had been merciful, in a way. She had been weak. This world had no part for her to play which would not be cruel in the end.


    A soft exhale escaped his lips. Like so many others, his mother would be buried only by the sands of time. Tragic, perhaps, but her only possible destiny. So he closed his eyes, and when they blinked open again she was gone. There still lurked in his memory a name, but not a face. A picture, but not a heart. Something inside of him flickered and changed.


    He was finally alone. Now there was nothing else for him but to wait patiently for that solitude to be broken.


    "speaking." thoughts


    7klVsMF.png

  • dancer stuffed with straw || medicine den, recovering

    —⛧ i'm underneath your skin


    Half-lidded eyes snapped open at the sound of another cat, and his gaze flitted upwards from the dusty ground to the face of the newcomer. A young tom, with earthy fur and eyes like sap and honey.


    A shy smile gently parted his lips. "No, you didn't disturb me," he said, his voice a dreamlike murmur still heavy with sleep. "I was just waiting for someone like you, actually. I woke up a little while ago, so I suppose I'm better..." His black-and-white head tilted slightly, a teasing mirror of the other tom. "Your voice is familiar. Were you one of the ones who saved me? How many days has it been?" His soft gaze was steady, warm, and empty as it pierced into his companion's. He idly wondered was what was hidden beneath the surface of those unknown amber lakes, that were so much like his own.


    "speaking." thoughts


    7klVsMF.png

  • dancer stuffed with straw || medicine den, recovering

    —⛧ i'm underneath your skin


    "I think that counts as you saving my life. I won't forget that." His voice was quiet, but the words filled the air and hung there, like smoke without a breeze to carry it away. A wary hunter's gaze fixed the stranger as he stepped closer. Was it predator or prey he now observed? Could one even tell? Surely, appearances betrayed nothing of that nature.


    But as their eyes met, he shivered. It was fitting that the other tom's were the color of tree sap, for he almost couldn't wrench himself free of their sticky grasp. He wanted to stare into those amber pools, to explore their depths and discover what lay entrenched in mud and weeds at the bottom. His claws burned cold with the thought. What could be dredged up? What could be gouged out?


    The rising roar of his thoughts went sharply quiet at the tom's introduction. Hawkpaw. He wanted to say it out loud, again and again. But again the machine of his mind was interrupted. Badger gazed at him silently for a moment, dark eyes becoming thunderstorms with pain. The fine muscles of his face tensed as if he was steeling his nerves. Unlike his mother, he was good at playing a part.


    "I... I used to live with my mother and father in the forest." He forced the words past a nonexistant barrier. "My father got angry a lot. He..." He paused and swallowed, holding in false tears, letting the slightest waver warp the edge of his voice. "He killed my mother. Right in front of me. Then he was going to kill me... but I got away." How easily the pained face he wore came to him. "Before she died... She - my mother - whenever things got really bad, she used to tell me about the Clans. She wanted to escape my father and come here, but she- she never got the chance. But she saved me, because the way she talked about the Clans... I knew you would help me." His voice was a masterfully played instrument, holding on a sorrowful note. He cast soft eyes up to Hawkpaw's, putting on a brave smile. "Sorry if that was too much information. I just... I had to tell someone. I haven't talked to anyone but my mother and father for so long. Oh, and... my name's Badger." Play a hopeful tone, while staring wistfully into nothing. End scene.


    "speaking." thoughts


    7klVsMF.png

  • dancer stuffed with straw || medicine den, recovering

    —⛧ i'm underneath your skin


    His nose wrinkled slightly at Hawkpaw's question. Had the other tom even been listening? "My name's Badger," he said again, as if for the first time. Without much else to say, his gaze wandered aimlessly around the den. The sharp, heady scents of herbs filled his nose, some he recognized, others entirely foreign. Clearly, they had resources here that he would never find alone. Perhaps these cats were content to participate in some symbiotic relationship with their clan, but he preferred the life of a parasite. One black ear twitched, betraying devilish thoughts. In exchange for their kindness and goodwill, he would leech them dry.


    The arrival of a tiny she-cat interrupted his drifting thoughts. His head tilted in greeting, and he gave her a gracious smile. "I am awake," he echoed. Her dismissal of Hawkpaw clearly indicated that she had authority here. By the smell of herbs that clung to her pale fur, she was a healer of some kind, if a young one. Perhaps worth befriending. With the trust of the host, the parasite is not purged.


    He drank from the tangle of moss, before lifting his head and meeting her cool, professional gaze. "I'm doing better," he said gratefully, as if he were too modest to answer the question directly. Deep, gentle amber eyes blinked at the she-cat. "I don't want to waste any more of your herbs." Low, soft-spoken, melodic - the voice that had soothed his injured mother to sleep countless times now turned on her.


    "speaking." thoughts


    7klVsMF.png

  • dancer stuffed with straw || medicine den, recovering

    —⛧ i'm underneath your skin


    It's not a waste if they are put to use. You are not a waste, not to us. Hm. The young siamese was certainly an emotional one, while Hawkpaw thought a bit more practically. Whether that information would be useful had yet to be seen, but it didn't matter if it wouldn't. Only when all the details came together did things really begin to get interesting. He briefly dipped his head in thanks and offered a smile to the tom in return for the bird. It was large and plump, its soft flesh practically begging for the touch of his fangs. But for now, he had something else to focus on.


    Despite his humble words, he was, in fact, in a great deal of pain. The scored flesh over his eye burned hotly under the poultices, and every breath stretching his flanks set his body on fire. The muscles between his ribs were taut and constricted, forcefully steadying the flow of air in and out of his lungs. His eyes continuously glazed and refocused as he slipped in and out of a vacant stupor. He would perhaps be more comfortable laying pathetically in his nest, but he preferred to address these other cats as he did now: straight-backed, strong, and as an equal. He had wanted to gain only their sympathy, not their pity.


    "Maybe something to help me sleep," he said, as if a little embarrassed to ask. "Oh, and thank you so much for everything you and your clan has done for me. I'm not really used to cats being this generous." He shrugged slightly. "I already told Hawkpaw, but I'm Badger, by the way. Sorry, I'm not good with names, I might have missed it if you already introduced yourself...?" He had an excellent memory, but he thought it might endear himself to Hawkpaw a bit more if the other tom believed they had something in common.


    Though he had only been awake briefly, exhaustion was weighing heavily on Badger's shoulders. Tired, wet eyes peered at the other cats through the gloom of the den, and he suddenly wanted nothing more than for them to leave. But he would rather fall unconscious than seem rude by callously dismissing them, and he steeled himself to endure whatever remained of this encounter.


    "speaking." thoughts


    7klVsMF.png

  • wandering eyes || stranger in camp

    —⛧ i'm underneath your skin


    Since he had first awoken, he had spent the days lethargically coiled in his nest like an adder during winter. He had waited patiently through every sunrise, letting time restore what he had lost to the earth through his wounds and fill his hollow bones. Now his muscles were again alive with hot, red, viscous purpose, and the slimy tendrils which had taken his mind in their grip had retreated and shriveled away.


    Dawn was beginning to break overhead. Faintly, the distant melody of birdsong and the cool scent of dew drifted to his senses as if he were still locked behind the dusty veil of unconsciousness. All at once, his confinement became unbearable. He scrabbled desperately to his feet as if driven by the mindless instinct of a lower creature, dark amber eyes flaring wildly with an urge to escape. Slinking out of the gloom draping the back of the den, he approached the gap in the wall of woven reeds. Half-hidden in shadow, he crouched near the entrance and peered out into the daylight. From here he witnessed the camp for the first time, its outline weakly illuminated by the glow of the rising sun.


    Even from the few interactions he had shared with the clan cats, it was obvious that they were less than him. They were unthinking followers of their arbitrary code of honor, unquestioning servants to an artificial regime. It was not any cat's inborn nature to live such a life. But however draining it would be, he vowed to blend into their ranks, earn their friendship, participate in their rigid hierarchies and archaic rituals. Because although the wild forests beyond the clans promised freedom, he was not yet ready to offer his life to their boundless dangers.


    Coaxed out of the den by the sight of a meager fresh-kill pile, the tom's gaze flickered rapidly across his surroundings as he silently padded through the clearing. Thankfully, only a few figures milled about in the morning air; his appearance would not be made into a spectacle. It was the perfect setting to begin to gain the trust of these weak-hearted, gullible cats. He dragged a plump finch from the mound and began to tear into its soft flesh, ears alert for the sound of approaching footsteps.


    "speaking." thoughts


    7klVsMF.png

  • wandering eyes || stranger in camp

    —⛧ i'm underneath your skin


    The sound of yet another unfamiliar voice. Badger glanced up to see a spindly, long-legged cat join him near the prey pile, and he offered a shy smile as the Tonkinese settled himself. "Hi Rootlegs! Nice to meet you. If you're the oldest healer here you must be really skilled," he said, as if both impressed and a little intimidated by his companion's rank. Internally, he delighted at the chance to gain the sympathy of an influential member of the clan. How curiously illogical it was that feelings of pity and trust were so often intertwined. "I've talked a bit to Finchpaw. She's one of the younger medicine cats, right? She's really nice!" He tore into the bird at his paws as he chirped pleasantries, ivory fangs grinding its body into shapeless flesh.


    "How I got here is kinda a long story... Well, I used to live with my mom and dad in the forest. My dad was crazy and he killed my mom and then he was going to kill me, so I ran away," he said with a slight shrug. What had happened had happened, and he had already spent days trapped in the medicine den with nothing but time to reflect on the loss of his family. Knowing his father, it was practically inevitable that this was how it had to end. "I think I'm already happier here. Everyone's been so nice, even though I'm a stranger..." His dark amber gaze, sparkling with hope and vulnerability, flickered up to meet Rootlegs'. "If you're one of the important cats, could you help me with something?" He paused for a moment. "I was wondering if I could join RiverClan. I know it's a lot to ask, but I just don't have anywhere else to go." He glanced at the dusty ground, allowing the slightest tremor to enter the edge of his voice as he continued. "I'd try my best to fit in and be really helpful!" Pathetic words, so worthy of trust. A grin threatened to break through his mask before he forced it down.


    "speaking." thoughts


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  • name this jerk

    hey yall im trying to decide what this asshole's warrior name should be. sorry there are so many options lol i couldn't really narrow them down.

    please vote once only if you see this thread, election fraud is no joke and voter apathy will destroy this democracy.


    anyways guys please share your opinion in the comments below to be entered into my giveaway for fortnite vbucks, have a good day lovelies

  • wandering eyes || stranger in camp

    —⛧ i'm underneath your skin


    "A trial? O-okay." This time the tone of uncertainty wasn't put on. He hadn't anticipated that there would be some kind of selection process to get into the clan. Didn't these whiny mouse-hearts just accept any charity case who managed to drag themselves to their borders? A few crimson-streaked, downy feathers were settled in the dust at his paws, the kiss of the sky now forever out of reach, the flesh they had been bound to now stripped away. "Who's Twistedstar?" He asked, heaving his scarred body off the ground with the stiffness of a creature of stone. "Is she important?" Ugh. This infantile charade was getting tiring; obviously this new cat would be the clan's highest authority. But the delicate bloom of youth was supposedly a picture of innocence, and that was not an illusion he yet wished to break. Later, his ego could be fed.


    //adkfjksf yes please


    7klVsMF.png

  • “knight in shining armor” :: trad love plot

    oh awesome ok so that totally works, he was a loner for his whole life until just now when he joined rc. maybe it was back when he still was a more empathetic guy before his shitty family relationship made him a cold-hearted asshole.


    ok so maybe i could make a thread where, now that he's a member of a clan, he remembers the time he rescued a clan cat and wants to go see him because


    1. as a loner he met very few others and generally has an obsessive personality, so he just has some drive to go see this guy now that there's an opportunity

    2. he feels like he is owed something?

    3. he wants to see for himself whether 'empathy' was useful at all (did the other one survive or did he just waste his time)


    so currently while his psyche has the framework in place for him to be an abuser, he hasn't yet discovered that he enjoys taking power over others in relationships (he will find that out during the course of his relationships with hawkpaw in rc) so he won't becoming abusive for a little while


    anyways excuse all this rambling, its not really relevant except to my own thought process of char development

  • wandering eyes || stranger in camp

    —⛧ i'm underneath your skin


    As he sat straight-backed beside the spindly healer, the effort of keeping on his innocent mask was already becoming tiring. A venomous, hate-filled hiss reproached him from shadows of his mind. It sounded like his father. The parasite does not survive without the host. If his resolve weakened, if his stamina ran out and the disguise slipped - there would be no place for him in RiverClan. He would survive. As his thoughts raced his posture slumped, sharp shoulder blades stretching his pelt upwards.


    Then the sound of a high, anxious voice keening from the edge of his perception broke the thunderstorm, and it dissolved away into harsh sunlight and clear blue. His striped head snapped up and swiveled to face the cat who had addressed him. "I just came here a couple days ago," he said, saccharine smile spreading over his features. "I used to live in the forest. My name's Badger. What's yours?" Sweet like honey, as gentle as the first flower of spring; two wide amber eyes met one blue. Internally, he recoiled with revulsion at the sight of the trembling, skinny, pathetic creature - the picture of a clan cat. Never, he decided, would he let himself become something like that.


    "speaking." thoughts


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