Buster Moon OneShots

12

(BRO WHAT. About half a year old, I highly believe I had recently read one of OutrightElm's fanfictions because this seems weirdly familiar, even if I do not remember much of writing it.)

"Oh my goodness! Buster! Are you alright?!" a very VERY alarmed voice sounded behind him. The koala whirled around, wild-eyed. He was in a lot of pain at the moment. He did not want Rosita to know, especially since she would go into full mama-bear mode (despite being a pig, not a bear). Buster wondered why she was asking such a question.

"O-of course!" he answered, voice breaking on accident as he panicked. "Why would I not be?" he tried to smile but it looked fake, as if it were painted on.

"I do not trust your judgement. What the blazes happened to you? The back of your shirt is all bloody!" the pig stated in utmost alarm.

Buster's eyes widened. "Oh shi...taki mushrooms." he cursed, looking distressed. "It's nothing, Rosita. Don't worry about it. Uhh.... I'm just going to... get a clean shirt." he blurted before trying to run off, only to be snagged by the collar by Rosita.

"I think we both know you don't have any other white shirts. I have a T-shir in my purse that should fit you, but you need to tell me what's going on first." the pig said seriously, looking him in the e with a steely persistence. "I'm worried about you, Buster. I wouldn't ask if I didn't care. You've been acting weird lately, and this is just another thing. Come here and tell me what happened." she dragged his reluctant form upstairs, through his office up the other staircase, into his room, and loked the door. "Judging by the amount of blood on that shirt, I'm going to need the first aid kit. Come on, let's see it so I can fix it, you dolt." she said, but in a friendly, concerned way. She ruffled the fur on his head, and he quickly smoothed it back down again before unbuttoning his shirt and slipping it off.

He dropped it onto the grounf with a sigh. Rosita tried to see what happened to his back, but he shifted. "Buster..." she warned. She tried again. He moved more. It began a full on chase-dive-and-jump game before they both stopped, in front of one another, both breathing heavily. However, Buster made one mistake. He stood with his back to a mirror. Rosita's eyes widened and her expression softened and she gained a fearful look to her features. Her hooves were brought up to her mouth in shock. On Buster's back were WORDS, climbing up his spine

Pitiful

Stupid

Fake

Stain

Blemish

A little higher and the horror - as well as the size of the words carved on his back - grew.

Talentless

Twerp

Liar

Loser

Pathetic

Amatuer

Useless

And the last word hit hardest of all. It was the newest, the last three were still scabbing over, but the last was brand new, fresh.

MISTAKE

The last words was Mistake, cut into him in capital lettwers. Buster quicklt realized what he had just done and jumped away from the mirror, only to trip and stumble into a bunch of cords. "Buster... who did this to you?"

"It doesn't matter. Do NOT tell ANYONE about this, Rosita. Ever." he said, with the most deadly serious glare ever seen on his face.

"You know I can't promise that. This is really serious, Buster. Someone is CUTTING WORDS into your BACK."