- Feb 18, 2023
- 381
- 55
- 28
anger makes you stupid . stupid gets you killed .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶
tw / mentions past gore, not in detail, but enough to cause some discomfort
He settled down, frame stretched across the rough terrain that poked into the thick mesh of his obsidian fur, but his face remained conflicted, peering up at the rising moon with a molten optic. His flank rose with a deep sigh, legs coming up to tuck themselves into his wooly fur, helm peeling away to peer at the decaying tree.
Damnit. He ended up back where he was, heart feeling heavier—burdened by guilt for things he couldn’t control. He was tired of losing cats. So damn tired. He grinned, bittersweet.
He remembered earlier days when he slept outside away from anything that mattered, no matter how much his heart twinged because he couldn’t. He shifted, pressing his helm into the bramble walls of the nest in desperate need of fixing up. Duskpool didn’t have the heart to destroy it. He couldn’t put it off forever, even if it left a bitter taste in his mouth. He should have done it earlier, but he didn’t. His paws refused to move, staring at decaying flowers intertwined within the brambles and drying moss with a saddened optic. Fuck me. He laughed bitterly, ringing out through the bleeding night.
Teeth sunk into the sensitive muscle, ignoring the flood of ichor as he eased into a more comfortable position, or as comfortable as he was gonna get. Not with all this damn undergrowth stabbin’ in his backside, but that was on him.
Besides. He wasn’t plannin’ on getting sleep tonight. Not for a while, at least. Not if he can help it. He was used to feeling dead on his paws, taking patrol after patrol, and if he wasn’t? Duskpool was training Drowsypaw.
It wasn’t healthy, but when did he give a damn about that? No. He could be on his last leg and Duskpool still would trudge on without a thought for his well-being. He didn’t care. He hadn’t for a long time. Not since he was nearin’ Pealpaw’s age, stuck facing the jaws of death at every turn and cats lookin’ up to him after his old man. He couldn’t afford to be selfish, not when he had cats relyin’ on him to survive, but even then, he did a poor job.
Duskpool winced, marred flesh crinkling with the motion because it was true. He failed. Stars know what would happen if they learned of his sins, things that kept him up at night with those damn what-ifs. He knew better than to think about ‘em for long, but it didn’t stop him.
The older warrior let out a pained grunt, flesh ripping along his cheek from it being pressed up against the prickly bramble, taking a clump of fur with it. Foxdung. He raised a paw to press against the beading blood, wooly tail thumping against the ground in faux agitation, pulling himself into a sitting position, shoulders pulled taunt to his frame. Maybe that’ll keep him from seein’ Yukio’s mutilated body, listening to the sickening echo of bone snapping. He couldn’t listen to a damn twig snapping without thinking of Yukio.
He wasn’t thrilled to see Smokefang’s trapped body or Shadowfire’s ragged wheezing. He stiffened, gritting his teeth. Get a hold of yourself. He hissed through clenched teeth, ignoring the bubbling pain that spread from the minor scratch. He pressed a paw against his pulsating orb, burning from the motion.
He damn well knew what would happen if he left himself to relax.
Seeing Shadowfire’s crumbled frame, blood saturating the ground. Duskpool finding himself staring into lifeless hues, maw parted just barely to see the coppery ichor that trickles out in a steady stream, adding to the growing pool. It made his stomach churn.
Listening to the constant snap of bone sending him into a panic, because he never made it on time, watching his son’s crumbled body, so bloodied he could barely make out the cream.
Shaking his helm, the obsidian-furred settled down, pressing his helm against the brambles, relishing in the familiar burn it brought. He wondered how long it’d take before he dropped dead from exhaustion, something Duskpool was willing to see through. Maybe then he’d get some decent sleep without the constant nightmares plaguing him like bugs to one of those upwalker lights.
Exhaustion pulled at his eyelid, pulling him into unconsciousness, muscles coiling beneath marred flesh as he sagged further into the ground. It wasn’t long until Duskpool jerked awake, flank heaving with gruesome pictures seared into the back of his eyelid, refusing to go away no matter how hard he willed them to go away, but they remained like sticky sap.
He bit back a sob that bubbled up in the back of his throat. “Damnit.” His voice was hoarse, pitched lower from sleep, teeth plunging deeper into his tongue until he tasted more coppery ichor.
“Are ya gonna take anythin’ else for me?” He laughed, sitting clumsily on his haunches to press a paw against his face, rigid claws prickling the skin. “Why won’t you take me? Damnit!” He dropped a paw, tilting his helm back to stare at the pines, barely visible against the light of the moon. Why do you keep taking them from me? He thought, dipping his helm until his chin pressed into his chest. He deserved it. Not them.
He settled down, frame stretched across the rough terrain that poked into the thick mesh of his obsidian fur, but his face remained conflicted, peering up at the rising moon with a molten optic. His flank rose with a deep sigh, legs coming up to tuck themselves into his wooly fur, helm peeling away to peer at the decaying tree.
Damnit. He ended up back where he was, heart feeling heavier—burdened by guilt for things he couldn’t control. He was tired of losing cats. So damn tired. He grinned, bittersweet.
He remembered earlier days when he slept outside away from anything that mattered, no matter how much his heart twinged because he couldn’t. He shifted, pressing his helm into the bramble walls of the nest in desperate need of fixing up. Duskpool didn’t have the heart to destroy it. He couldn’t put it off forever, even if it left a bitter taste in his mouth. He should have done it earlier, but he didn’t. His paws refused to move, staring at decaying flowers intertwined within the brambles and drying moss with a saddened optic. Fuck me. He laughed bitterly, ringing out through the bleeding night.
Teeth sunk into the sensitive muscle, ignoring the flood of ichor as he eased into a more comfortable position, or as comfortable as he was gonna get. Not with all this damn undergrowth stabbin’ in his backside, but that was on him.
Besides. He wasn’t plannin’ on getting sleep tonight. Not for a while, at least. Not if he can help it. He was used to feeling dead on his paws, taking patrol after patrol, and if he wasn’t? Duskpool was training Drowsypaw.
It wasn’t healthy, but when did he give a damn about that? No. He could be on his last leg and Duskpool still would trudge on without a thought for his well-being. He didn’t care. He hadn’t for a long time. Not since he was nearin’ Pealpaw’s age, stuck facing the jaws of death at every turn and cats lookin’ up to him after his old man. He couldn’t afford to be selfish, not when he had cats relyin’ on him to survive, but even then, he did a poor job.
Duskpool winced, marred flesh crinkling with the motion because it was true. He failed. Stars know what would happen if they learned of his sins, things that kept him up at night with those damn what-ifs. He knew better than to think about ‘em for long, but it didn’t stop him.
The older warrior let out a pained grunt, flesh ripping along his cheek from it being pressed up against the prickly bramble, taking a clump of fur with it. Foxdung. He raised a paw to press against the beading blood, wooly tail thumping against the ground in faux agitation, pulling himself into a sitting position, shoulders pulled taunt to his frame. Maybe that’ll keep him from seein’ Yukio’s mutilated body, listening to the sickening echo of bone snapping. He couldn’t listen to a damn twig snapping without thinking of Yukio.
He wasn’t thrilled to see Smokefang’s trapped body or Shadowfire’s ragged wheezing. He stiffened, gritting his teeth. Get a hold of yourself. He hissed through clenched teeth, ignoring the bubbling pain that spread from the minor scratch. He pressed a paw against his pulsating orb, burning from the motion.
He damn well knew what would happen if he left himself to relax.
Seeing Shadowfire’s crumbled frame, blood saturating the ground. Duskpool finding himself staring into lifeless hues, maw parted just barely to see the coppery ichor that trickles out in a steady stream, adding to the growing pool. It made his stomach churn.
Listening to the constant snap of bone sending him into a panic, because he never made it on time, watching his son’s crumbled body, so bloodied he could barely make out the cream.
Shaking his helm, the obsidian-furred settled down, pressing his helm against the brambles, relishing in the familiar burn it brought. He wondered how long it’d take before he dropped dead from exhaustion, something Duskpool was willing to see through. Maybe then he’d get some decent sleep without the constant nightmares plaguing him like bugs to one of those upwalker lights.
Exhaustion pulled at his eyelid, pulling him into unconsciousness, muscles coiling beneath marred flesh as he sagged further into the ground. It wasn’t long until Duskpool jerked awake, flank heaving with gruesome pictures seared into the back of his eyelid, refusing to go away no matter how hard he willed them to go away, but they remained like sticky sap.
He bit back a sob that bubbled up in the back of his throat. “Damnit.” His voice was hoarse, pitched lower from sleep, teeth plunging deeper into his tongue until he tasted more coppery ichor.
“Are ya gonna take anythin’ else for me?” He laughed, sitting clumsily on his haunches to press a paw against his face, rigid claws prickling the skin. “Why won’t you take me? Damnit!” He dropped a paw, tilting his helm back to stare at the pines, barely visible against the light of the moon. Why do you keep taking them from me? He thought, dipping his helm until his chin pressed into his chest. He deserved it. Not them.
thought speech