Posts by DUSTDEVIL.

The skyclanner did his best to amble, though streams of blood carved down his sides. A bite mark wedged between his rotating shoulder blades, given to him by a street-cat named Pock. His muscles ached, his jaws tinted pink with blood, and another tiny stream of blood leaving his nose like a cave. Still, he laughed. Don’t feel sorry for him. He’d caused it, yes, once again running his mouth and toying with a trigger with a gun in his mouth as always.

Pock was just protecting his alley, the little nook in that concrete jungle. Dustdevil with his thrill-seeking nerve strummed like a guitar, well, a fight was easily picked. The pair had roughed each-other up, but a twoleg had intervened. Pock looked pretty bad too though, he knew that jab to the eye would surely scar.

Part of him wanted to find a little porch canopy to shelter in for the night, but something told him to go back home. Something knew he was about to do something stupid and get himself killed. An illness in his heart webbing his veins and stroking the seesaw that was his personality. He just couldn’t understand this feeling of emptiness, this weight of loneliness. Especially when he surrounds himself with people, and usually got whatever he wanted as far as materialistic crap. He spits out the tang of blood, wrinkling his nose as the cut in his lip stings. His shoulder bite throbbed though, and he knew not what possessed him to do what he was about to do.

Tugging up some grass, he pats the non-herbal plant into his wound and winces. Skyclan border passing under his feet. Sleep, my god, sleep. He made it halfway across camp, and though it was the peak of morning he hadn’t a wink of sleep in nearly fifteen hours. Tired eyes point to the warrior’s den but he hadn’t the energy to climb. He lays down in the soft clearing in the midst of camp, huffing painfully as his bruises groan in protest.

❝ UGHF! … ow ❞ he grunts as a set of unwitting paws tumble over his aching ribs. His eyes fluttered open to spot the red and white tabby as she regains her balance. ❝ jeez, clumsy-paws ❞ he jokes but his voice is raspy and pained. Sundancer’s demeanor switching, perhaps he looked about as bad as he felt. Probably needed more than grass for these wounds, he thinks to himself with mild humor. ❝ I asked a horse ‘why the long face’. Joke wasn’t well received ❞ he jokes again, because he hadn’t know how to face the truth. He didn’t know how to tell people he was afraid of feeling numb, he was afraid to tell them he needed this in order to feel. He didn’t know how to communicate emotions, only trash-mouth.

❝ S’fine… I’m good ❞ he lies, trying to alleviate the situation by sitting up but a bolt of pain rides down his shoulders and makes him hunch over and groan. ❝ I put grass on it, s’fine ❞ he repeated, looking over his shoulder to inspect the burrowed teeth-marks. Sparkpaw already making plans to escort him to the medicine den. He hated it in there, the smells ticked his anxieties.

Sore, Dustdevil’s eyes fluttered open and he rolls and turns every few seconds endlessly. His bruises whined against his flesh, and the deep bite to his shoulders may be licked over with woulds but sleep was uncomfortable. So the distant howl of a feline easily woke him, and he blinked around with bleary blue hues. Screwing together his brows, he rubs his wrist over his lids. ❝ w-… what did… n’one hear that? ❞ he mumbles sleepily, shaking out his coat to wake himself.

‘fox’

suddenly the camp was a mist of pelts, all bleeding from the woodwork and underbrush to a fallen figure at the camp entrance. Juniperstar, the irony taste of blood heavy in the air, and that of the culprit canine-like beast. The cocktail of scents and words of his clanmates was enough to draw him to the scene. ❝ he’s dead?…. ❞‌ Dustdevil’s eyes widen, horror stretching his features as he looks to the others. Some, as stricken as he but a concoction of sadness, emotions due as per the law of family no doubt. His attention however snaps to Tawnydove, Confusion carved deep into the brown and blonde tom’s features. ❝ lose…more? … ❞ Dustdevil was clueless, thinking that the tabby medic was simply going mad. Juniperstar’s death perhaps tipped the scale.

Turtledove, he swallowed hard as the older sibling sings mournfully into the breaking dawn. Dustdevil could’ve sworn he had been pronounced dead, this must be, denial. ❝ Wh-…. ❞ he had many questions, but he decides to turn his attention to Amberlight, she spoke to Turtledove and Sundancer, but their closeness to the fallen Juniperstar would easily drown the world out around them. ❝ We can go, Amber ❞ he sidles up to the molly, ❝ my wounds are fresh, I can uh… lead a trail away... give his friends and family time to...uh, grieve? ❞ he muses quickly. Though it seemed everyone believed he would somehow return, come back from death. There was still so much to learn for the young man, for now, he'd serve dutifully albeit blindly in these times.

Like a newborn foal, his forelimbs quivered with so much as half his weight, he turns his half-lidded stare to Cane, instinctively Dustdevil smiled in greeting. ❝ AW, you're so sweet …. y’know when I found out you were a mediator… I thought, they said ‘meat-eater’… heh- ❞ he rambles, delirious from the pain. ❝ I assumed you were the only meat-eater- OW❞ he shifts, attempting to throw his weight toward Hurricanegaze to alleviate the sudden throb on his opposing side. ❝ nope. ❞ he says simply, letting himself slide back down to the grass.

He eyes Turtledove as she inspects his wounds, and his skin prickles as he feels the heat of stares. Dustdevil snorts, ❝ s’bout time someone noticed my true potential ❞ he played off her sarcastic words, and grunted as she prodded him. ❝ hey! … watch it lady, don’t wanna end up like that guy ❞ he points to himself and bubbles up in laughter again, licking the blood off his upper lip. He didn’t try to stand though, no, though his trash-mouth frolicked, his body trembled with exhaustion. Tawnydove’s voice greets his ears and Dustdevil cocks his head, staring into the dirt. Waiting for the inevitable critique of his own doctoring of his wounds. ❝ Very bold of you to assume I think, … especially before I do things ❞ he answers Tawnydove with a wry smile.

The medic slips away, only to return with plants. Their stronger more unique smells seemed to indicate their value, whereas his own little bandage made him smell like a fresh cut lawn. What hurts the most? he's asked. ❝ my pride ❞ he responds with a weakening smile. ❝ my shoulder, oh heavens my shoulder. I swear I can count the jerk’s teeth right now ❞ he answers honestly now. Dustdevil didn’t care for being doctored though, no he didn’t like close inspection. Under his fur were a lot of secrets, thousands of scars, thousands of stories. Thousands of sarcastic and flippant remarks at the ready if ever asked about them.

❝ what are you some kind of horse expert? ❞ he grumbles in response to Honeypaw, propping himself up with his paws again. He has to unsheathe his nails and dig them into the ground to anchor himself so that Tawnydove can mend him properly.

❝ I’m your first patient, huh? ❞ he queries toward Sparkpaw.

Still trying to process what he had heard, still trying to soak in the fact that everyone was expecting Juniperstar to just miraculously survive. Dustdevil quietly rethinks the sanity of these warrior cats he joined merely five moons ago. Sure, he had heard talk of nine lives, but that was only legend right? Nobody could possibly come back from the dead. He steps sideways toward Minnownose, still eyeing the cats around him as if the answers would be written on their muzzles. He finally addresses the older short molly with a widened gaze. ❝ Amberlight and I were just discussing a plan… if we can catch a trail, I can leave a trail of my own away from camp… my wounds are still fresh ❞ he informs the former leader ❝ Amber! ❞ he whips his skull around seeking the molly out again from the fray.

~Jadefeather~

Dustdevil didn’t know that stink-man was their latest recruit, no. Another daylight warrior amidst the tree-house cult, former leader of an infamous band of killers. A small wren tucked in his jaws, the brawny feline pushes through the overgrowth and emerges into camp only to see an elder finally gone senile. That was his first thought at least, deduced from half-lidded eyes and a habit of adjusting to the world around him slower than most. That wasn’t some old timer loosing his marbles, no. That ratty tail, long gangling legs, tabby coat that looks as if it’d been hit by a tornado. Dustdevil’s brows rose for a moment in shock, registering who it is finally, a smile carved around the wren in his mouth. Stinky-man was playing snake, apparently.

Seems he wasn’t in Tawnydove’s good graces, Dustdevil hums with amusement as he listens in. He pads past the trio, he regards Sparkpaw with a ❝ Hey ki-d ❞ a broken greeting, due to his jaws being full. He makes plans to sit in the shade, enjoy his lunch. Turning in a circle, he plops down unceremoniously. Sundancer’s vibrant coat snatched his attention as she seemed to pause, by god whatever wheels were turning in her head, Dustdevil could feel his smile spread even wider as she made for Ryland.

With confidence and malice she dumps the moss-water on the ratty gangling man and Dust bursts into laughter, uncontrollably so. Spitting out bits of prey and narrowly choking. ❝ AWe- stinky... that... was coldblooded ❞ his curls dance with his chuckles.

He’d discovered it a while back, yes. The tire swing in the orchard, Mothshine had been the guinea pig of the operation however. Leaping onto the monster leg that hung from the tree for whatever odd reason. Entertainment, there couldn’t be any other reason. Dustdevil’s shoulders were still healing, stupid physical limitations. That didn’t stop him from launching himself up and into the circle that swung gently in the wind. His momentum causing it to spin, Nails quick from their sheathes, dig into the black rubber he now perched.

Curly tendrils wagging with the lash of his tail as he balanced accordingly. Dustdevil’s day had been nothing short of mayhem in the department of pure waste of time. Digging his little hide-out deeper, meeting up with a kittypet named Roger in town, playing a little game of ball. So many exciting things, and stupid jokes to keep his day occupied and mind in the clouds. He’d brought back a finch, so he did his part he supposed. ‌His mood, however, terrifyingly unpredictable. Clouds of depression stormed over him now, for no reason other than the loss of adrenaline.

The longer he spends with his thoughts, the darker they get. Adrenaline makes him drunk and numb to his aching soul. How could such a bone-headed idiot possibly have such complex problems and emotions? He dares anyone to have the answer to that question. Hell, maybe someone does, but it doesn’t matter…not like he’ll ever ask. Dustdevil likes being viewed as … shallow.

Too much quiet, he decides but seeks nothing to fix it. He tilts forth, then back, then forth again. Eventually the tire picks up his rhythm, but how long until he does something stupid?

Minding his own business for once, the blonde and brown feline crossed the soft underbrush, eyes of sapphire orbs glittering upon a nice place to rest after a long day of his usual shenanigans. Little did he know, he was an unsuspecting victim to absolutely savage advances. CRACK...He stands stunned, ears flattened and lashes halo his widened eyes. Thick syrupy goop pooled on his skull and dripped down his face in long yellowish strings. 'Gotcha' he hears from above, whipping his skull up fast to register what had just happened.

Thats when he spots one of the apprentices, Irispaw, moving along the oak limb. ❝ HEY. You little brat- w- ❞ he cuts off and wrinkles his nose up at the weird smell. Shaking his fur off violently, he staggers and falls. ❝ the heck was that?!... ❞ his eyes return to the tree, and he makes for the trunk. Unable to stay irritated for long, his angered muzzle twisted into the puzzle of curiosity.

To say he wasn’t startled from quite an adventurous reverie would be a lie. He flinched, angling his head back through the tire to spot Hurricanegaze, to whom he delivered a welcoming smile. He liked the guy, albeit chill and quite an opposite to Dustdevil’s explosive unpredictability. He still regarded the other guy as someone to simply chill with. ❝ Tshh, don’t give me much credit. Mothshine tackled this thing before I did… ❞ he admits and rolls his shoulders to get comfy. ❝ There’s room for one more up here, I don’t bite… well, unless provoked of course ❞ Dustdevil shifts sideways a bit, into the smooth curve of the tire and it wiggles in the air in protest to such movement. ❝ It’s weird, to be honest. like all twoleg things… ❞ he rambles on a bit.

Cold, the goo made Dustdevil shiver but not from the cold, but the disgust as he’s told that it is egg. Bird baby goo, and while that should sound delicious, Dustdevil regards the smell with a dry gag. Sparky’s at his side, offering help when he wipes his forehead, he allows himself to be ushered away by the medicine apprentice. ❝ that wasn’t fair, kids don’t play fair anymore ❞ he grumbles to Sparkpaw, and lifts his soaked head to regard Ternpaw. ❝ She did but y’know what. I might just call it war. I’mma get revenge ❞ he rambles to the other apprentice. Dustyegg, he wrinkles his nose up. ❝ If anyone calls me Dustyegg they’re getting a donkey kick to the forehead ❞ he warns with a mild chuckle, albeit one that flashed his teeth. Honeypaw was next, obviously amused. ❝ laugh it up fuzzy ❞ he comments airily, ❝ you’re right though. Life isn’t fair, so it’s time to break the rules ❞ he adds before whipping his head up to Irispaw. ❝ you hear that jerkpaw? this means war y-❞ he cuts off as she shouts down to someone below.

There would be no other fate of his sister, but unadulterated pain. This sting, would brand her heart, searing hot pain to the very soul. Today marked the day, his sister would become widow. “not my brother” he’d snap, when anyone would speak about the former Shadowclanner as his ‘brother in-law’. Dustdevil claimed his nieces and nephews though, god he loved the shit out of them. What would he do without his little bodyguards?.. that’s when it hit him, he supposed. Pantherfrost was their father, and the word had never felt meaning to him. No. Dustdevil’s father had been cruel and abusive, the word ‘father’ was bitter on the tongue. Pantherfrost wasn’t a bad father though, he was so kind and selfless for them.

“ You should be with your family Dust ” an npc confronts him from the log he sit pondering. Idly shaving off moss from the bark as the npc stares, waiting for a response Dustdevil assumes. ❝ My sister is losing her mate…. , and Pantherfrost never w-… we… uh, never got along ❞ Dustdevil snaps, yes he barks it out like a cornered dog. ❝ It wouldn’t be right. ❞ he finishes, he’s not sure who he’s trying to convince. He swallows because he can’t help but know the absolute agony his nephews and nieces will feel soon. He still hadn’t finished mourning his mother, no, he was still in the raw stages.

Finally the npc gives up with a shrug, and when they disappeared, Dustdevil let his shoulders drop and his mask deflate. He frowned toward the earth below, brows knitting together. Without fulling registering what he’s doing, he slides from the log and makes for the medicine den. At first, his gate is confident and his expression neutral. Move with strategy, not emotion. He spots Tawnydove leaving the den, not a good sign, Dustdevil greets the medicine cat with a nod.

His demeanor breaks at the entrance though, and he feels not sad, empty. Knowing he could do nothing to help his family heal, while they lose someone they love. ❝ M’sorry…. ❞ he says simply, sitting away from the familial circle. ❝ thanks for making my sister happy…. for giving me my favorite little nieces … and nephews ❞ he’s looking anywhere but Pantherfrost as he speaks. ❝ For being a good dad to them. ❞ he adds through his teeth. ❝ … again….. I’m……sorry ❞ it’s hard for him to say that word, and he feels himself shrivel up in the inside just saying it.

The sullen air dances as his family mourns, the bitter passing of time and the heavy blanket of loss that sweeps over their backs. Anchoring them down. Dustdevil however, he stands outside that warmth of accepting loss. He lets the winter of isolation lick his shoulders, because this wasn’t his sorrow to feel. Pantherfrost and he had never gotten along, in fact, he had wanted to kill the man truth be told. Now, his little sister was a widow and his nieces and nephews were half orphaned.

Dustdevil didn’t know how to comfort, he didn’t know how to handle loss because he still hadn’t accepted the loss of his mother. He didn’t know how to be sad, only angry. His anger expressed in hard empty smiles and scathing remarks. Adrenaline. He flourished from the thrills. Peeled at the skin of danger looking to bleed it of everything it has. In truth it was only something to numb his brain. Something to convince himself and others, he was just an emotionless brain-dead idiot.

This doesn’t sit with him. His paws itch for the sand, his heart screams out for the ocean. He had been pacing under the treehouse, swatting a moss-ball from the nursery as he rowed through his river of thoughts. He needed to visit home, and he didn’t want to go alone. So without an ounce of hesitance, he looks up and hunts down his victim. He’s ungraceful, a storm to fit his name as he makes for Hurricanegaze. ❝ AYE, tuft-ears. ❞ he calls to the man, inhaling to speak again but in doing so, sucks a bug into his lungs.

The next few moments are spent hacking, ❝ Hey I – AH! ❞ he coughs again, eyes waters. Stupid bug. ❝ you like the ocean? … like uh, you ever been there? .. ❞ he finally manages.

HURRICANESTAR

Gliding the sharpened points of his claw between his teeth, he plucks free a chunk of meat from his lunch. His ears laid back against his skull, the breeze kicking up leaves and rattling the branches around him as he perched on the bridge. His mind however, did not share the peaceful disposition that his surroundings did. The atmosphere around him was stirred, like a stepped-in puddle. Murky and unpredictable.

Juniperstar was back from the dead. He can’t wrap his mind around it. He had thought those ‘9 lives’ talks were just rumors and superstitions, a tailored suit for the code in which they and he served. That the forest cats were humble in their credulity. Like death, it was easier and less haunting to believe that there is something after it. It gives reason, we as thinking beings, need reason. ‘ Yeah, that’s right, I’m a deep thinker. I only do dumb things. ‘

Arctic optics stare into the cinnamon tabby’s coat from a few yards away, unwavering and questioning. He’s some sort of super cat, or, starclan got tired of his attitude. Dustdevil’s eyes narrow further as his theories broaden and break at the seams of possibility. He eavesdropped the best he could without falling. Though he was more so entertained by the chewing, he puffed out from his nostrils with a chuckle. Juniperstar’s temper had always been, amusing.

He’s drawn by the familiar albeit fading scent of the sea. He knew it better than the back of his paw, it called out to him, even through the thickness of the oak forest. He’s also stolen from the mindless travel and rather ill attempt at hunting. It wasn’t like he had much on his plate, so he followed after the sound of some strange girl hollering on the borderline.

Upon arrival, it appears we’re in mid-interrogation. This gives time for the curly-furred tom to observe their newest possible recruit. ❝ aw- man… Look at those ears!. they're adorable❞ a wide grin plashed over the blonde muzzle of the LaPerm, a wicked gleam in his arctic eyes. ❝ you look like a puppy ❞ his tone is perhaps cruel in the eyes of pride, but he means no harm. Then again, he doesn’t often mean anything by wheat he says anymore, Dustdevil leans toward being ignored rather than speculated against.

He had been scouting it all day, prowling the farm-line freshly kissed by the big green monster. The sun slipping down the sky but the afternoon was still young when he finally decided he couldn’t just let it go. Sure, the twoleg kept a plethora of defenses around it. The thing was practically a chicken fortress, patrolled by heavy horse hooves, monsters, twolegs, and one very large dog. Dustdevil bites on his lip in thought as he spots the sleeping black and white hound, tucked between the masses of corn stalks. This would need a whole gang of Skyclanners, surely. Dustdevil wondered if he should endanger so many lives over something that could potentially flop. Then again, life always had the potential to flop. So there was his answer, with a growling stomach and a headstrong mindset, he returns to camp at a hard run.

Panting, he skids to a halt in the midst of camp. The shadows still casting, and the sun still glittering between the trees. ❝ HEY… uh, hunting group… yeah I need a hunting patrol ❞ he skims the waters of the truth with an attention rock. ❝ if you're interested, meet me over here ❞ he adds, jogging toward a private little grassy knoll to discuss this, plan.

;; tags <3 CaserDilla   HURRICANESTAR   crunch of frosted leaf   turtledove

coop reference for writing aid.

He’s wiggling his blonde hued toes in the grass as he waits, humming softly and staring hard at a line of ants when Crimsonglare approaches, wielding a comment with both question and challenge. He blinks as if to register her words, marinate them in his understanding. ❝ WOAH- listen, Red, I can make tick-removal in the elders den fun. I don’t do boring, m’kay. ❞ he whips back with a sideways grin.

❝ quite a … presumptive tone you’ve got ❞ he cocks an invisible brow and leans back as if stung by her accusation. ❝ fine, you got me. I have a plan. .. A scheme ❞ he holds up his paws in widened gesture, as if it made it more ominous. ❝ chickens ❞ he drops it from his muzzle like it’s a bomb. He waits for others to gather around and for Crimsonglare’s reaction before he continues.

The taste of bug doesn’t lift his tongue, nor the sting of his esophagus. ❝ ehehehe so funny ❞ he mocks lightly, sticking out his tongue. His eyes drop now, all but suddenly to the assortment of planted flowers. Brows drawing together as he studies their color and their placement. A question lingers on the tip of his tongue but he is pulled back into his own topic. Hurricanegaze seemed immediately absorbed into the idea of his former home. Suddenly, Dustdevil’s jaw drops, and he blinks rapidly as if he’d dreamed it. This guy had never seen the ocean? He thought it was a myth.

He could still taste the salt, feel the sea-grass tickling his paws in the shallows, hear the screech and honks of the seagulls. The taste of Bluefish, making his mouth water slightly by the thought. ❝ y-… you think it’s …. ❞ he’s baffled, but he’s actually even more excited, he gets to introduce someone to the ocean. He gets to share some of the things that mean so much to him from his homeland. This guy was going to flip when he sees a hermit crab, or a sea anemone.

❝ heck yeah I’ve been there, born and raised on the coast…you’ve got to see it… I’ve gotta take you there ❞ Dustdevil’s eyes a wide and glittering with excitement of his own. ❝ We… uh, we could go today! … yeah, we’ve still got a few hours of daylight… we can sleep somewhere, and be there by tomorrow morning ❞ he breathes out his words quickly.

Truth be told, Dustdevil didn’t know a thing about young love. At Ternpaw’s age he had a few molly friends but he never regarded them with ‘love’. Love was fluid, for it slipped through the fingers of his comprehension. His mother and father had been together for convenience. His father had a twoleg with a warm home in the winter, his mother was a stray. Convenience, was love?‌ Dustdevil liked materialistic things, those he loved. His collar, his collection of things from the town. It was easier to define that as love, rather than dig into how you feel about others.

Waltzing across camp from the elders den, Dustdevil was conversing lightly with an npc elder. He had taken a liking to one of the funny old fools, he’d be damned if he was in that den to clean ticks and bedding. The brown and blonde tom waves a light goodbye when he spots the snowy-hued tabby, nibbling at dinner obviously not quite invested in the world around her. Something was certainly bothering her, and he knew not what possessed him to care. Nonchalant, he chooses his approach by snagging a small finch from the pile. He pads over to Ternpaw and plops down unceremoniously. ❝ whats on your mind loser ❞ he greets lightly, in his own way of course. Friendly, detached, yet still offering room for both talk or silence. He gets to work plucking feathers.

prt 3 of the mama's boy files

“You’re breaking up with me?‌” Vicky speaks hysterically, her dark tabby fur tussled by the wind and her golden eyes like lanterns, lit with anger and confusion. “Because you’re sick?!” she squints and shakes her head incredulously. ❝ I don’t feel good, it has nothing to do with this… I uh, just don’t wanna… I dunno, hold you back ❞ Billy waves away the notion of those two being connected, that’s just stupid. “ hold me back from what?” she demands, Billy clenches his teeth now and exhales from his nostrils with mild annoyance. ❝ Vick… ugh… look I don’t think… we just… look it’s just not gonna work… ❞ he says flatly now. He barely knew her, and they had been dating for a week. She flinched but instead of sadness, her anger flared up like sunburned skin. “ It’s just as well, you’ve got the emotions of a rock and you’re as dumb as one too” she fires forth with a scathing tongue. “ honestly, I’m surprised you made it this long. You’re just immature ” she adds with a roll of her shoulders. ❝ m’kay ❞ he hums, looking away toward the ocean. Finally she stomps off, and truth be told he never saw her again after that.

“dude, you broke up with Vicky because you’re sick? …” his cream-hued friend Jack pads up to him on the dock, Billy is leaned against an old light pole that flickered faintly above the lapping waves. ❝ yeah- no. Not because I’m sick. gah, why does everyone relate the two ❞ Billy groans, chucking a shell with a flick of his paw. “ well that’s what she told everyone ” Jack shrugs and sits next to the LaPerm. ❝ just didn’t work ❞ Billy tries to brush away the conversation. “well you seem all messed up about it”‌ Jack insisted and Billy laughs. It’s hard and rushes from his chest as if its with anger. ❝ Has nothing to do with her. ❞ he answers and his eyes narrow. “ well then whats wrong d-” ❝ JUST, … go away man ❞ Billy starts by growling but forces his voice back to normal. Jack doesn’t hesitate to stand back up and walk away.

Sobs rack his frame, hushed by the roar of the crashing waves below. Smacking the dark rocks and dragging foam up to the dangling paws and the face twisted in agony buried into the fur of his arms. He feels so alone, yet he pushes everyone away. ❝ m’not sick ❞ he whispers to himself like he’s telling a secret. ❝ I’m not… dumb❞ his whisper is broken. Why did he feel so much, why can’t he just be numb? ❝ I hate myself ❞ he adds, voice cracking like glass. He convinced his friends he was this emotionless bonehead, and he has the audacity to feel hurt when they voice it?‌

❝ mom, if you can hear me… I really freakin’ miss you ❞ Billy groans, shaking his forehead against his arm. ❝ you’re the only one that understands… ❞ he adds even softer. ❝ you can’t be replaced ❞ he shakes his head again, lips pulled back and his teeth glitter from the peeking light. ❝ Mom I’m so alone… I’m a bully… I’m so mean to everyone… I hurt someone today…. they think I’m just… I-… ❞ suddenly he’s ranting to the sky. ❝ I guess… I am sick ❞ Billy bites his lip, closing his eyes and letting the tears leak down his cheeks.