STARLIGHT ･ﾟ✧ NESSY'S WRITING STORAGE

[roy v.]

[align=center][div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; font-size: 8.4pt; text-align:justify; line-height: 125%; width: 430px"]The little boy stumbled his way home, half-delirious and full of fear, glancing over his shoulder as he tucked his fists underneath his shirt. He climbed the porch into his house and as he opened the door with trembling hands, he could feel himself crumbling. "Kyle?" The call had come out as a soft sob, and his voice wobbled as it rose up the stairs.

From inside his own room, the teenager raised his head and lowered the Shakespearean book he'd been reading into his lap. When his brother entered the house, he never closed the door; he slammed it like his life depended on it and shouted to make himself known.

"Kyle?"

This time it was louder but Kyle was already up and moving, toppling over his chair and swinging his door to pelt himself down the stairs.

"Roy, what is it, are you okay-?" The fifteen year old cut himself off as a body rammed into his chest before he had even got down the last step.

"Kyle!" Roy sobbed, clinging onto his brothers shirt and pulling himself into him.

"Roy, oh my god, what happened?" Why was he crying? He never cried. Kyle hadn't seen his brother cry in...he shook his head and pulled his arms around him,  crushing him in his grip.

"What's wrong, Roy? What's happened?"

He gasped as Roy pulled his fists out and showed him reddened knuckles with split and bruised skin, pooling thick drops of blood. The front of his shirt was red with the blood and Kyle's eyes swam before him.

"I- I punched- punched this other kid wh-who was making fun of this boy-boy." Roy hiccuped and stumbled over his words, bottom lip trembling. "And I was so mad, I-I-" The boy stopped to breathe and he couldn't look up at Kyle's face, expecting to see disappointment written in his eyes. "I couldn't stop, Kyle! I was so mad...I punched him again and again. I messed up, I messed up- I'm sorry, I'm sorry-" He promised him that he wouldn't get into trouble anymore and he messed up.

But all his brother was feeling right now was brotherly worry. "We have to tell Dad."

He wasn't expecting Roy to blow up on the spot. "NO! You can't- YOU CAN'T TELL DAD!" Roy resisted Kyle's firm grip and pushed against his chest, trying to get away. "He'll be mad and he'll hit me- He won't let me leave the house and he'll be mad that I got in trouble again!"

Kyle grabbed the shaking boy by the face and looked into his wide eyes. "Dad would never, ever hit you, Roy. Do you understand?" He savagely spat the words, desperate to get rid of the fear in his brother's face. "Dad isn't like Dave's dad. He'll never try and hit you if he's mad." In his heart, he knew that his father was not the type of man to do that; but if Roy was afraid, he swore an oath that his father or anyone would never lay a finger on Roy over his dead body. He didn't know that he'd someday break this promise.

But what Roy didn't tell his older brother that day was that he hadn't lost control. The ten year-old knew exactly when he had raised his fist and exactly when it connected with the smirking boy's mouth. Over all the fear he'd felt afterwards as the boy ran away, calling him a monster through a snotty nose and tears, he felt relief. The anger that welled up in him was gone. For once, everything in him was...calm.

And then he realized how he felt and he realized that wasn't normal. He liked punching that kid, and that's what made him afraid, what made him look at his fists as though they were guns. He wasn't afraid of getting in trouble, or getting hit by his Dad, or Kyle disappointed face. He wasn't afraid of punching someone because he knew that he would do it again.

He was afraid of himself.

[nessy]

[align=center]

honeypaw played with the idea that maybe, lucifer wasn't the nicest guys around before focusing back on littlepaw. he gave the slightly shorter tom a smile (with the hopes that it wasn't as awkward as he felt). "well, it's um, nice to have you, littlepaw. i'm honeypaw." he coughed not-so-subtly. "just, honeypaw." someone had introduced him to last names and well, he didn't exactly know what those were until they explained it to him. apparently, you had your first name and a last name, the latter of the two which told others which family you belonged too. he didn't have one of those, but he felt like he should have had one, at some point. his memory was like a foggy path and he didn't know if the next step would reveal something, or just be more of nothing.

"this is lucifer. don't take what he says personally." the apprentice warmed up visibly, offering a chaste smile toward littlepaw before ducking his head and shifting his paws before his eyes. "i can show you around, if you're not up for navigating this place on your own. i mean, shadowclan is really big." the tom's ears flicked back as he continued. "i think i used to get lost every time i left my cabin. so. it might be hard for you..." he trailed off, thinking that his attempt at being considerate might come off as rude.

[spoiler=･ﾟ★ ☾ HONEY-SCENTED KISSES | 8/28]GENERAL ★
★ honeypaw | honey
★ male | he/him | amab
★ seven months | created 8/20 | zodiac here
★ apprentice of riverclan
★ speaks in bold

OTHER ★
★ unknown to himself, he is a reincarnation of maplefur, a previous warrior and leader of windclan from feralfront.
★ probably gives the nicest hugs and he is a sucker for soft touches from those he trusts.

APPEARANCE ★
★ physical health: 100%
★ domestic feline | american curl and munchkin cat mix
★ whole description here
★ current injuries: none

PERSONALITY ★
★ MBTI | trope | trope | trope
★ biography
★ positive traits here
★ neutral traits here
★ negative traits here
★ what's happening, currently, that's affecting his personality?

RELATIONSHIPS ★
★ demiromantic | love is an iffy thing rn; he hasn't felt it before as he was reincarnated
★ unknown |  very confused
★ single pringle, not interested | no crush | [ 0 ] potential crushes
★ no parents (physically reincarnated) | adopted by n/a
★ trusts: ??

INTERACTION ★
★ easy, but tricky fighter | easy to attack emotionally | attack in bold underline
★ will not initiate fights (most of the time) | will fight back if attacked
— usually a pacifist, he is generally a gentle person
★ ask to maim/capture/kill
★ peaceful/nonviolent actions can be powerplayed | prone to flinching away from touches

[recyling]

[align=center][div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; font-size: 8.4pt; text-align:justify; line-height: 125%; width: 400px"]it was cool on skyclan's territory, a rare thing in green leaf. he was lucky that his coat was so short, or else he'd be burning from the inside out. he visioned wheatpaw, the arrogant mouse brain complaining back at camp, and he was suddenly relieved that he'd left the camp. he just needed silence. peace for himself.

easily, he leapt his way from tree to tree, weaving between the branches as though he were still on solid ground. one moment, the wind was whistling between his ears. the next, he could hear his sister's voice, her jubilant laugh ringing in his ears. she called to him, "slow down, deadpaw!" from a couple of trees behind him. but the both of them knew that he was better at tree-climbing and in them, practically a bird. "you'll have to fly before i slow down!" he bellowed back.

deadpaw blinked away the memory.

willowheart was no where in sight. what he thought was her laugh, was only the wind, it's whistle like a sharp, cruel laugh. he dug his claws into the branch he stood on. it wasn't fair. she shouldn't have died in that border skirmish. it was everyone's fault for convincing poppystar to start a fight over prey. those stupid fools. they fought and wasted herbs for nothing, and now willowheart was dead. dead, dead, dead. she was in starclan and he was going become a warrior with her. they were supposed to fight side by side.

a yowl tore through him, full of grief and mourning. the sound reverbrated between the leaves and startled birds into the air. he leaped onto one branch after the other until he forgot about wheatpaw, about his clan, about everyone he loved dying.

he only knew the feeling of flying.

[recyling]

[align=center][div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; font-size: 8.4pt; text-align:justify; line-height: 125%; width: 400px"]there's an easy shift in his behaviour under the thick foliage. angelpaw's tense muscles uncoil as he glides across the floor, as swift as a snake, searching for it's prey. while some feared the darkness, and others what lay within it, he sought comfort through it; the shadows pulled over him like a thick blanket.

[recyling]

[align=center][div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; font-size: 8.4pt; text-align:justify; line-height: 125%; width: 400px"]"Angel Dante di Angelo!"

The sharpness of his full name made him gasp as he whipped around, pasta still in hand. He relaxed when he recognized who it was, until, he realized he was in deep shit. "What the hell do you think you're doing, sneaking in at—" Willow whips her head to view the time on the microwave. "—one in the morning?"

He gives an awkward shrug as he puts back the pasta. "No, no—you can't just shrug this off. This is the fifth time I've found you doing this." His sister moves around the counter towards him. [abbr=Angel, what's wrong with you? Don't you understand how dangerous it is to be—]"Angel, Cos'hai che non va? Non capisci quanto sia pericoloso essere—"[/abbr]

[abbr=Of course, I fucking understand!]"Certo, che fucking capisco!"[/abbr] He slams down the plate on the counter, the corners of his mouth twisting. "How can't I when every time I do it, you fucking remind me?" Angel looks down at the pasta, frowning at the loss of his appetite.

[nessy]

[align=center][div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; font-size: 8.4pt; text-align:justify; line-height: 125%; width: 400px"][abbr=I'm sorry, Willow. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry...]"Mi dispiace, Willow. Mi dispiace, mi dispiace, mi dispiace..."[/abbr] He's crying now and he can't stop the tears.

[BB. VAUGHAN]

[align=center][div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; font-size: 8.4pt; text-align:justify; line-height: 125%; width: 400px"]You didn't really have crushes when you were younger. You were more focused on other things, more important things like the soccer games that took place between your town and the neighboring one, your sister and parents, and poetry. You were the one kid that everyone prodded, cheeky grins as they asked who was your crush.

"No one." You said with a shrug. "You can tell me! I promise, I won't tell anyone." That always bothered you. Why did you have to like someone? There wasn't a rulebook that said you had to like anyone. So you shrugged them off, told them to leave you alone and eventually, they stopped asking. You guessed they assumed you'd never like anyone, ever, so you were never asked out on dates. You talked to people but it wasn't like you were friends with them.

The first time you met her, she was stealing, a long cape with a hood over her head. Your fifteen-year-old self watched, stunned, as she speedily shoved the apples into a cloth bag along with breads and pears. When she looked up and saw you, she stared. You stared back, entranced by just how pretty she was. You thought that thieves were grimy and dirty, the way everyone described them. "Please." She whispered, dark eyes wide with panic. You wanted to do the right thing, but the way she looked at you, pleading, made you hesitate. "It's for my family. Please."

That struck a chord. For my family. You blinked once, before nodding. She looked at you with gratitude and you could see her eyes shining. "Thank you." She walked past you, her side brushing yours. You looked over your shoulder and watched her form move briskly through the market, away from you. Then you looked down at your hand to find an apple in it, red and as shiny as a ruby.

The next time you met her, it had been at a celebration - someone's birthday or something, you suppose. Clinging to the frays of the crowd, you didn't dare walk in. It felt like you were intruding on something that didn't involve you but really, you were just nervous and a wallflower is all you'd ever be.

And then your arm was being gripped and you were being dragged, "Hey, let go—" But then she whipped around, facing you. You were struck again by that delicate face, which had a smudge of something across her cheek; it made her seem more real and not as ethereal as you thought. "Did you tell anyone?" She said. The grip on your arm tightened, eyes poring into your own with such intensity, you immediately shook your head. "Thank god." Her eyes closed and you watched her face, dark eyelashes a striking thing against her porcelain skin. The relief she felt seemed to make her face soften.

"What's your name?" You looked down at the ground when she'd opened her eyes. You glanced up at her through your lashes, shyly. She had this sort-of half smile on her face as she watched you.

"Burnabee."

"Well, you're not much of a talker, are you, Burnabee?" She smiled as you blushed. She was right about that. You weren't a talker. You want to apologize and say sorry for being such a disappointment. "It's alright. I can talk enough for the both of us. I'm Jade."

You wrote poetry about her but none of the words were right. None of them fit together to sum her up. She was beautiful, just like the stone she was named after. She was tall, with long and sleek raven-hair that made you want to run your hand through it. Calculating eyes. Intelligent and sly, but determined to take care of her family, just like you. She was a thief. She was your friend, and you were in love with her.

One night, the two of you were on the roof of your house, watching the stars. You've been friends for a while now and it's easy to talk around her.  "That one is the Big Dipper." She pointed up at the constellation and you grinned, shoving her shoulder with your own. "No offense, Jade, but everyone knows that one."

"Where did this sass come from?" She shook her head and you snorted, ducking your head. "Hey, come on. Lemme see that smile." She poked your side, and you arched an eyebrow as you looked up, not even attempting to stop the wide smile you gave her. 

"I wished you smiled more, BB."

Your heart raced. "Yeah, well. Maybe I will." You reply as smoothly as you can, and turn your eyes away from her, letting it slide over the roofs of other houses.

When you worked out the courage to ask her out, finally, laying your heart bare, she took it in her hands and held it so carefully, you'd think it was made of glass. You couldn't believe she agreed.

She held your hand and kissed the corners of your eyes. She looked over your poetry and told you it was the greatest thing she'd ever read.

It was during a party, where you found she had cheated on you. Horrified, you watched as she kissed a boy you didn't care to learn the name of. You didn't know that she'd seen you as you left, hands wiping at your eyes as you walked down the street. She ran after you, apologizing and begging for your forgiveness. You were hurt, and angry. You had kissed her with as much softness that you could muster up and reveal to her. Had you been too clingy?

You yelled at her that you loved her, that you loved her so much it hurt, it ached, and it burned in your chest. She was sobbing, wiping her tears and you resisted the urge to hold out your arms for her to walk into. She quietly said she never wanted to hurt you. You wanted so badly for all of this to just disappear, that somehow, she hadn't cheated on you. But you were not raised to have your heads in the cloud; even you knew you couldn't keep your relationship with her. You had more self-respect than that.

So you left her alone on that empty street by herself.

She had been your first love, and you vowed to yourself to guard your heart so no one would ever hurt you ever again.

[nessy]

[align=center][div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; font-size: 8.4pt; text-align:justify; line-height: 125%; width: 400px"]Emmett's head shifted barely inches to the side. The sudden light made him look almost menacing, illuminating his wide smile and making his eyes sharp. But when it softened, you could see the young naivety in his eyes, a deep sense of something so unreal you couldn't begin to process it.

[nessy]

[align=center][div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; font-size: 8.4pt; font-family:verdana; text-align:justify; line-height: 125%; width: 400px"]"I'm not good with feelings." He said angrily, shifting from one foot to the other nervously. Around Clover, he became that way. Nervous. She could see through him easily and he'd given up with trying to hide how he felt around her.

In the distance, the dusk was starting to appear over the hills, a dark shadow of the former sunset of red and orange. "I know," She replied, watching the darkening forests that lay behind her, the omnipresent trees still and silent. "That's why I try not to bring them up often. I'm just saying that your fear gets the better half of you."

[nessy]

[align=center][div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; font-size: 8.4pt; font-family:verdana; text-align:justify; line-height: 125%; width: 400px"]― "You―" Milo grips the front of the man's collar, dragging him down with the beginnings of a snarl curling his mouth. "―don't know shit about what happened to me. Absolutely fucking nothing." he shoves him away, ducking his head to blink away the growing wetness. "So don't pretend like you do."

― "Why do you always flinch so hard?" Her face is gentle, kind and unthinkingly, Lee is angry. Because maybe there was a time when someone wasn't kidding when they swung at me. Lee doesn't reply and instead shoulders the lumpy pack onto his back, and gives a non-committal shrug afterwards. He flashes a smile that he hopes appears charming. He knows in the way she's looking at him that she isn't convinced by his response.