#( ray : dude youre so fucking dehydrated drink water )

[dullweapons]

❝ everything that you thought had meaning : every hope , dream , or moment of happiness ⸻ none of it matters as you lie bleeding out on the battlefield ... but does that mean our lives are meaningless ? ... would you say that of our slain comrades ? what about their lives ? were they meaningless ?... they were not ! their memory serves as an example to us all ! the courageous fallen ! the anguished fallen ! their lives have meaning because we the living refuse to forget them ! & as we ride to certain death , we trust our successors to do the same for us ! 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 ! 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 ! 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐨𝐮𝐭 ! 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄 ! ❞

GOD OF WILL ; RAY CADELL . ( god of soldiers , god of war , protector of women , protector of children , defier of fate , the great ax )

symbols : sword & shield , helmet , horses , battle axes , dark reds & browns , cows / bulls .

thousands of years of living & watching the cycle has intrigued the god of demons himself ; demise . who approaches ray & offers him power . ray at first refuses . he does not wish to be tied to him nor his maker any longer ⸻ but the power demise offers is true power , that of a god . he would serve no man nor god : only himself . demise only gives one condition . one that he will learn in time . begrudgingly , ray agrees .

with the power he becomes a new god under the pantheon : din , nayru , farore , hylia , demise & now ray . being new he is not the strongest of them but as time goes he grows in power . he becomes a god of war , often sought after during combats no matter how small . soldiers pray to him for wisdom on the battlefield . his houses are often safe havens for the downtrodden or abused . he is a more active god , answering as often as he can ⸻ but only when they have truly exhausted all other options . i don't see ray being a god who will approach & solve your problems . he would come when your knees are bloody & your voice is hoarse : & he would tell you to rise & remember yourself . take up your sword & fight .

that being said , he isn't going to force you . if anything he wants you to improve yourself . have self respect . you are not to run yourself to death under his care .

i also don't see him as a god who wants sacrifices or even offerings . no blood , no killing animals unless you need to ( such as for food or fur ) but if you wanna throw some jerky at his altar he aint gonna say no lol he chill .

random ideas :

maybe marries the goddess of time cause why not lol . she always liked him . any kids between them would be new gods -- better gods then the golden ones which like ..... ray wants them dead af

100% loves the gerudos still but does not force them to woshipship him . he gives gifts when he can . pls ........ he loves you guys so much :(

if you put his alter next to a hylia statue something in ur house gonna get BURNED DOWN . major no no .

[nocturneblight]

“Power of voodoo? Who do?”

I think I’ve reached peaked neurodivergence with this one, can you tell I imagine random stuff when I listen to music? Yeah. It’s one of those days.

My brain is friggen FRIED. I was out all day yesterday painting a roof! Florida is fucking hot! Between getting dizzy and dehydrated, it SUCKED. however, I got a good amount of work done on it so it’s all good, definitely gonna have to go back and paint the rest of it soon but for now, I may relax the best I can. Only problem is, my body temperature is still raised up for some reason, even in a cold room I’m feeling kinda warm and uncomfortable. I think the copious amount of uv rays dicked with my melatonin amount. I got about two hours of sleep, or maybe an hour and a half before I woke up wide awake and viola! I’m here, drawing Serperior and David Bowie, on the exact same page. Never thought you’d see these two together, right? Me neither. BUT sleep deprivation plus caffeine and music would cause the most oddest of imagery.

By the chance that no one understands this joke and thinks I’m actually delirious: It’s a mix between a lyric from the song by David Bowie called “magic dance” plus that one old comic involving the horse and a hungry dude. Why is Serperior there? Because he is. (I didn’t like drawing a basic simplified human character so I made it Serperior instead, deal with it).

Anyways….. Wonderful day you all! I know the text above is in a goofy manner but, all of you who live in a hot area, Drink water! I was lucky enough to be guzzling it down the other day and I didn’t pass out thanks to that. I came very close mutiple times, many moments I felt pressure on my temples and got kinda grainy in the vision. Even with the amount of water I drank, I still got very easily beaten up by the suns heat. So I urge you all to do the same, don’t get yourself hurt or killed when hanging out in the sun, play it safe. We’re all too fragile to be passing out on the floor and risking harming our heads or any other body part. Oh and, Please do where a hat if you can if you’re hanging out outside for a crazy long time, something to cover your neck and scalp. Those parts are hyper sensitive to the sunlight and can become easily damaged by the sun, possibly inflicting cancerous growths. I trust you understand my point. Later friends!

[legendofzeldaalinktothepast]

Opalescent Tides - Chapter 1

“Amethyst wakes up on the shore of Beach City, and she couldn’t be more confused.” 

Fandom - Steven Universe 

Pairing - Pearl/Amethyst 

Rating - T 

Human/Mermaid AU. 

Next Chapter 

* 

Waves crashed against the shore, and seagulls cawed from up above. Though her eyes were closed, the glaring sun bore straight through Amethyst's eyelids. She stirred, gritting her teeth as the sand ground against her blistering skin. Finally, she forced her eyes open, letting out an audible gasp as the sunlight hit her eyes. 

As soon as Amethyst's eyes adjusted to the sun's blinding rays, she finally managed to look ahead. She was the surrounded by beach, the dark and endless ocean... and just behind her was an even darker and more ominous patch of trees. Not a single grain of sand around her was familiar. Amethyst heaved herself to her feet and looked herself over -- her dark brown skin was covered in blisters... She must have been laying in the sun for quite a while, she observed. Amethyst hissed through her teeth as she pulled a layer of skin off of her sunburnt arm. 'Gross.'

To make matters worse, Amethyst was thirsty. The kind of thirsty that made her head throb and her throat feel like she'd swallowed a mouthful of sand -- though, to be fair, that wasn't entirely out of the question. Regardless, Amethyst crouched in front of the water and cupped her hands in it, taking a reluctant sip.

'Ugh, of course it's saltwater! Dumbass.' she thought with a groan, immediately spitting it back out. 'Guess I gotta find some fruit... Or even running water. There's probably people somewhere, right?' It was unlikely she'd waken up on a deserted island -- she had no memory of a shipwreck, or being on a ship in the first place, or... Anything at all, really. Now that she thought of it, she couldn't remember anything.

'Alright, don't panic. It's probably not amnesia, I'm just... really fucking sore and thirsty. Maybe I'll feel better once I get some water.' Taking a deep breath, Amethyst made her way through the patch of trees up ahead.

From the outside, the woods had seemed endless; but after only a few moments of walking did she hear a loud crack, followed by the sound of fizzing. Amethyst tensed for a moment and gazed upward, but her fear eased once she saw a beautiful red firework shimmering in the evening sky. 'And where there's fireworks, there's gotta be people!' she thought, her heart racing. She quickened her pace and headed towards the source of the noise, grinning even harder as another firework echoed in the woods.

Her feet soon met pavement, giving her a short moment of relief before the concrete burned the soles of her bare feet. So she quickened her pace until she reached a patch of cool grass.

Amethyst looked around at the quaint little town around her. The road was lined with various vendors; some were selling meats and vegetables deep fried beyond recognition, while others were advertising toys, games where one could pop balloons with darts, people selling fish in plastic bags... The latter of which made Amethyst shudder.

"Lemonade! Only twenty-five cents!" a tiny voice drew Amethyst's attention. She locked eyes with a small, curly-haired boy sitting behind a chipped wooden table. His cheeks were bright red from the sun, and he wore a pinkish-red tank top with a yellow star on it. On the table before him, there was a plastic pitcher filled with lemonade (the ice had already melted, but Amethyst sure didn't care), tiny paper cups, and a jar filled with quarters. "Get your freshly squeezed lemonaaaade!"

As Amethyst approached lemonade stand, she fumbled through her pockets in search of change, but they were filled with nothing but seaweed and grains of sand. Ugh, really? I don't have anything?' she thought. In all honesty, she was struggling to remember what twenty five cents even looked like. Trying to remember anything other than her name made her head ache... So she shook it off. Now wasn't the time for that; dehydration was getting to her, and if she didn't get something soon, she'd only descend even further into insanity.

"Hey, kiddo!" Amethyst greeted, shoving her hands into her pockets as she approached the boy.

"Hey, Miss!" the boy greeted. "Do you want some lemonade? I made it all by myself! Well, mostly -- my dad cut up the lemons because he doesn't trust me with knives, and he also helped me squeeze them because I wasn't strong enough... But it's delicious, I promise! And only twenty-five cents! My name's Steven, by the way!"

"Oh, that's awesome!" Amethyst licked her lips, her eyes locked on the pitcher. "Here's the thing, though... I don't really have any money. At least not right now, but uh -- I'm absolutely dying of thirst, so do you think I could -- "

"Say no more!" Steven said, thrusting a tiny paper of cup of lemonade Amethyst's way. "Don't worry 'bout the quarter. It's on me."

Amethyst smiled weakly. "Thanks, buddy. Next time I get my hands on a 'quarter', I'll be sure to pay ya back." She reached for the cup and downed it immediately -- it tasted purely of sugar, with maybe a hint of lemon, but to a woman on the brink of dehydration it might as well have been liquid gold.

"No problem! And really, it's no big deal if you don't pay me back!" Steven said. "Hey, you gotta place to stay? Not to be rude, but you look like you've been sleeping on the beach."

Amethyst blushed; with her soaking wet hair, sunburnt skin, and sand-covered tank top and shorts, it wasn't hard to guess, but she still felt self conscious nonetheless. Even after the cup of lemonade, she was still too dehydrated to think... She could barely even remember where her actual home was. But she wouldn't dare admit that; no, she'd find her way back home soon enough, and if not, she'd spend the night at a hotel until she was well again. "Mm... I'm just passing through." she said with a shrug.

"Ohh, I see!" Steven said, though he didn't look fully convinced. "Well, here's another glass of lemonade for the road! On me." he added with a wink. Amethyst smiled gratefully and ruffled his hair. "Thanks again, little dude." As she turned and headed off, she took another sip of the lemonade and continued on her way.

As she walked, she glanced around in search of something, anything that looked familiar. 'Do I... live in this town? Maybe I passed out drunk on the beach... But I've never heard of hangovers causing legit amnesia.' she thought, scanning all the little houses. None of them rang a bell.

She glanced back towards the direction of the beach, her stomach turning. 'If I'm not from here, then... Maybe I washed up in some kind of shipwreck? But from where? Ah, but there wasn't a boat anywhere, so maybe not... Or maybe someone mugged me and whacked me over the head...' she thought, tapping her head as if it'd shake a screw loose and jolt her memories back into place. Everything was so foggy... And the fact that it was getting dark wasn't helping. With each shade the sky grew darker, a feeling of unease grew within her gut... She could see some of the vendors starting to close up, which only sent her anxiety even further into the sky. The only thing scarier than being lost was being lost and alone, especially at night.

Amethyst seated herself on a nearby bench, drinking the last few drops of lemonade in her cup. She tossed it into the nearby trash can and rested her chin in her hands. She watched as a family of five walked by, the littlest of the three children holding onto the mother's hand. 'Do I have even a mother...?' she thought, gazing down at the pavement. 'Or a family? Anything? Ugh, what the fuck is even going on?'

She hated just sitting there; part of her knew that she needed to keep walking, looking for a hotel so she could rest her head, or even psychological help... But her body didn't want to move. She felt like she'd been hit by a train; maybe she was beaten and mugged after all. Nevertheless, for the time being, Amethyst leaned her head back against the bench and watched the seagulls as they swarmed above.

* 

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

With her chin in her hands, Pearl gazed at the worn down cuckoo clock. It had been gathering dust in the corner of the store for months, now; an antique worth a few hundred dollars, and it drew quite a bit of attention for Beach City patrons, but none of them had the guts to actually purchase it... And after weeks of living with it, getting startled by that obnoxious bird every damned hour, Pearl was starting to understand why.

On cue, the clock struck nine and the bird popped out of its little hole. It cuckoo-ed loudly -- nine times to be precise -- before retreating back to the safety of its little wooden birdhouse.

"Thank goodness." Pearl let out a sigh of relief. After the longest 8 hour shift of her life, she was finally able to close up. Before any customers could come in for some last minute shopping, she sprinted over to the door and tugged it shut, turning both of the locks and flipping the open sign around.

Stairs creaked from above, and Pearl turned to smile as Garnet approached. "Hey there! I was just closing up." she greeted.

Once Garnet reached the bottom of the stairs, Pearl saw that she was holding two milkshakes; one strawberry, the other banana. "Here you go." she said, handing the pink one over to Pearl.

Pearl beamed with joy. "Oh my goodness, Garnet -- that's too kind of you! Thank you so much, ah..." she said, immediately taking a sip.

"It's the least I could do. I still feel terrible that you had to work alone on such a miserably hot day..." Garnet sighed, leaning against the counter.

"No, no, don't you dare let yourself feel bad about this." Pearl reassured, resting a hand on Garnet's shoulder. "I'm the one that told you to get some rest. Working in this heat is already hellish enough -- I couldn't imagine doing it when you're dealing with those unbearable cramps."

"Still... You'd think I'd be used to it, getting it once a month and all." Garnet blushed, taking a sip of her milkshake.

"While that is true, sometimes mother nature decides to be a little extra cruel. She likes to keep us on our toes." Pearl smiled, giving her shoulder a comforting pat. "Since our sales were pitiful today, counting the drawer and cleaning the store should be a breeze... And after that, I was thinking of going out for a swim... Would you like to hang out by the pool, perhaps dip your feet in?"

"Not sure... I was planning to go up and lie in front of the fan, if I'm being honest. But if I start to feel a little better, I'll head over."

"Alright." Pearl smiled sympathetically. "Feel free to use my rice sock! And help yourself to my chocolate stash as well."

"Already have." Garnet smirked. She turned and made her way up the stairs.

Once she was gone, Pearl reached for a feather duster and quickly wiped down all of the little nick-nacks that lined their shelves. Then, she unlocked the cash register and pulled out the drawer.

"Twenty five dollars and thirty cents..." Pearl sighed once she'd finished counting. "Another week of ramen noodles, I suppose. Perhaps some rice and beans if we're feeling fancy." Shaking off her frustration, she locked the money up in the safe and made her way up the stairs. 'It'll be alright. Everyone has shitty days... Especially when they're first starting out. And besides, tourist season has just begun! Perhaps we'll need to advertise more...'

* 

Pearl slipped out of her sweaty work clothes and into her modest one-piece bathing suit. She grabbed a towel from the bathroom cabinet and headed back down the stairs, slipping out the back door. "See you later, Garnet!" she called, letting the door fall shut.

She hurried across the street towards the Universe household; an eccentric family of three, and regular shoppers at the antique store, they'd once told Pearl she was free to swim in her pool whenever she pleased... And she certainly wasn't turning down an opportunity like that.

Once she reached the house, she rapped on the front door. As she heard footsteps, she smoothed out her hair -- after all, there was a one-in-three chance she'd be greeted by the beautiful head-of-household known as Rose, and while she certainly had no intentions of being a homewrecker, she wanted to look presentable around her nonetheless.

"Good evening, Pearl!" Rose greeted, and Pearl's heart fluttered in her chest.

"Good evening to you as well!" Pearl grinned. "I had a long day at work, and thought I'd stop over for a swim -- if that's still alright with you, of course!"

"It's more than alright." Rose winked. "Come on in! Unfortunately, Steven's already headed off to bed, and Greg's watching a movie upstairs... As for me, Aunt Flo is currently visiting, so I can't join either -- otherwise I'd gladly swim with you."

"Oh, that's not a problem at all." Pearl said, admittedly a little disappointed; mother nature was particularly cruel today, it seemed. "I just wanted to cool myself off, anyway! It won't be a very long swim."

Rose smiled warmly. "Alright. Next time, though! Steven's been wanting to have a pool party... perhaps this weekend?" She shrugged. "Anyway, feel free to help yourself if you need anything to drink, or if you get hungry... I'll be in the living room. Gotta catch up on some reading, now that I've got some peace and quiet."

"Thank you! I think I'll be fine, though." Pearl nodded gratefully. As Rose headed back towards the living room, Pearl continued to make her way through the house and towards the back door.

* 

Before she knew it, the sun had set; the once beautiful sunset had turned pitch black, and stars appeared one-by-one. Amethyst had half-dozed on the bench for God knows how long; and in all honesty, her body was still sore -- if anything, even more so than before. As much as she didn’t want to get up, she knew she had to find shelter soon...

'Guess I should look for somewhere to sleep.' Amethyst thought. As she pulled herself up to her feet, every muscle in her legs ached in protest. 'Fuck's sake...' she thought with a grumble.

Amethyst began to head down the road, searching for anything that resembled a hotel... She gazed with envy at the houses and apartments that surrounded her, with lit-up bedrooms and people chatting loud enough to be heard through the window screens. Amethyst came to a sudden halt as she heard a familiar voice -- the voice of the boy who'd given her the lemonade earlier, to be exact.

"Ooh, mommy, look at the moon!" he shouted, pointing out the window. "It's a full moon! Do you think there's gonna be any werewolves?"

His question was followed by the sound of an older man chuckling. Amethyst's heart sank; for a reason she couldn't quite parse, she wanted Steven to notice her standing right in front of his house... Maybe if he did, he'd have some more pity on her and let her spend the night inside.

But the boy didn't notice; he turned back around and away from the window, saying something else that Amethyst couldn't quite make out, now.

Clenching her fists, Amethyst eyed the front door. 'Maybe I should just... Straight up ask. Worst case scenario, they tell me to fuck off. I think I can handle that.' Taking a deep breath, she took a step towards the house -- only to fall right on her face.

"Fuck!" she hissed through gritted teeth, gripping her knees. As she tried to right herself, however, her legs refused to obey. 'What the...?' She ran her fingers across her calves, noticing her leg hairs slowly disappearing; purple, opalescent scales began to take their place.

"What was that?" a voice called from inside the house. She no longer wanted to be seen -- not while this was happening. Amethyst dragged herself behind the bushes just before the front door opened. Silence filled the air for a moment, before a deep voice announced, "I don't see anything." and the door shut once more.

Amethyst would have let out a sigh of relief if her legs currently didn't feel like they were on fire -- if they could even be considered legs anymore. At this point, they had begun to fuse together, forming a shimmering fish tail. And to top it all off, her unquenchable thirst had returned.

'The beach... I need to go back to the beach.' Amethyst thought. Her arms trembling, she began to struggle through the grass, though she couldn't quite remember which direction the beach even was... But before she could feel completely hopeless, something on the other side of the picket fence caught her eye -- a massive pool of water. She could faintly smell chlorine, but that didn't matter -- water was water, and if she didn't get to it soon... She feared what would happen.

She spotted a small hole beneath the fence; probably dug up by a groundhog or other woodland creature. Amethyst dug her claws into the hole that'd already been started -- taking a short moment to gawk at the fact that her fingers were webbed, now -- raking out clumps and clumps of dirt until the gap was just big enough for her chubby body to squeeze through.

The pool was finally within reach. Amethyst dragged her body across the remaining grass and leapt in with a splash, and almost instantaneously did her pain begin to wash away. She drew in a long, deep breath, allowing the water to enter the gills that opened up on her neck. No longer did her throat crave water, or did her muscles ache; like magic, she was healed.

Amethyst was confused -- far more than she ever thought possible -- and yet... she was calm. Her eyes fell shut, and she slowly drifted down to the very bottom of the pool, sprawling herself out on the floor. 

* 

Pearl made her way through the back yard, her flip-flops squeaking beneath her feet with every step. Placing her neon beach towel on the lawn chair and setting her shoes aside, she approached the pool and dipped a toe in to test the temperature.

"Eep!" Pearl immediately jerked her foot away. 'Goodness, that's cold...' Bracing herself, Pearl climbed down from the ladder and submerged her entire body in the water.

"Ah... there we go." She let out a sigh of relief once she adjusted, gazing up at the night sky. The full moon illuminated the surface of the pool. Crickets sang from the nearby bushes and trees, and fireflies glowed on the other side of the yard. The row of moonflowers framing Rose's garden had bloomed for the night. ’I wish I could stay here forever…’ she thought, smiling warmly.

Pearl’s peaceful mood was soon interrupted, however, by the mosquitoes buzzing near her exposed skin. "Shoo!" she hissed, splashing water at the swarming pests. When that proved ineffective, she sank down into the pool until the water met her nose.

But as her feet met the floor, her toes brushed something... Soft. Slippery, too. Pearl turned her gaze downward, expecting it to be one of Steven's many pool toys -- only to see a fin covered in shimmering, opalescent scales... And attached to that fin was the torso of a beautiful, lavender haired woman.

[schweeeppess]

WIP Wednesday my dudes. have it. I dunno if i’m ever gonna finish it.

__

Jason grunted when he felt the weight shift and grow heavier on his back, the rod playing peek-a-boo through his body and protruding from his liver shifting painfully. Damian winced beneath him and Jason cursed.

"I've got a few granola bars in my pocket," Jason said through gritted teeth. "Reach over and grab them."

Damian offered no response as he obeyed, tight-lipped and determined.

They wouldn’t be in this situation if Bruce had just answered his fucking phone. Jason couldn’t help but remember that fact. He and Damian wouldn’t be trapped under the mountain of rubble that was once one of Wayne Enterprise’s visitor centers.

Jason had gotten wind of a plot to blow the building a mere few minutes before it was executed and, in that time, he’d tried calling Bruce to no avail. He hadn’t seen the point in leaving any voicemails, though, so he simply didn’t. Jason knew that today Damian and Bruce were supposed to be paying the visitor center a visit—it hadn’t exactly been a secret—which was why he’d tried reaching out to the man.

In retrospect, he should have known Bruce wasn’t going to answer him. It had been a stupid waste of time to even try with the thickheaded ass.

So, because Bruce hadn’t answered his call, here Jason was: probably going to bleed to death, his arms shaking worse than an earthquake from the strain of trying to hold all the slabs of concrete up and give Damian some room, blood dripping down his face and falling from his eyelashes—annoying as hell—and honestly? Going out like this? There were so better ways to die.

Jason held back a cough, tasting the blood as it filled his mouth, and feeling as the liquid slipped past his lips to drip from the corner of his mouth.

Damn it.

His muscles were screaming at him for what he was doing to them. The muscles on his back were practically sobbing, they’d been tense for so long, and his forearms and calves? They screeched and protested this the loudest. They made their discomfort loudly known. At this point? Jason was surprised he was still holding everything up.

Again the weight on the debris shifted and Jason swallowed his agony, sealing it up tight inside. Damian relaxed back against the ground, the granola and protein bars clutched protectively against his chest.

“In my jacket. Inner left pocket.” As Damian reached into the pocket Jason narrowed his eyes and added, “Don’t drink it all.”

There was no response offered as the kid pulled out the small flask filled with water. Jason always carried one around on patrol—what else was he supposed to do, die of dehydration? No thanks.

Damian simply looked at the flask, set it aside, and reached into his own belt to pull out a small canister. Jason couldn’t say he’d been surprised when the kid revealed his utility belt hidden in his civvies. Damn Demon probably took the thing to school.

The canister Jason found curious; he’d never seen it before.

“Don’t scream.”

It’d been one helluva warning, and the only thing Damian had said the entire time, so of course Jason had opened his mouth to ask Damian why as the kid sprayed whatever the hell that was on Jason’s bleeding wound and it started burning worse than anything Jason had ever felt.

And so, of course, he screamed and an arm buckled, dropping him onto a forearm and leaving only one tremoring arm straight as his body leaned forward into the fall. This caused the debris on Jason’s back to shift worse than it had before, and the rod moved right along with it, digging itself in deeper as Jason again cried out in agony.

Damian grunted—the rock trapping his ankle must’ve been affected by the rest on Jason’s back—and glared up at Jason, whose face was now inches away from Damian’s.

Way too close for comfort, in both of their books.

Jason held his breath and tried to focus on ignoring the blinding pain as he squeezed his eyes shut. The cough he’d been holding back the entire time finally realized itself, and Jason twisted his head so that the blood in his mouth wouldn’t get on Damian and instead stained the ground beside him.

“Sorry,” Jason muttered afterward, sighing.

Damian offered no response to the apology, instead saying, “Your wound should have stopped bleeding.”

Jason opened his eyes and glanced over at the kid. “Well, did it?”

“I cannot see.” So he did the next best thing, and reached out to touch it.

Jason bit back his cry of pain, instead hissing out, “A little warning next time?”

“I… apologize.” Then, before Jason could recover from the shock of Damian Wayne apologizing, he continued, “Drake’s component worked. Your wound has stopped bleeding.”

“Great. I won’t die of blood loss then. Yay, Tim.” Sarcasm practically dripped from the words as Jason spoke them—though the knowledge that he wouldn’t be dying anytime soon did bring a little comfort, even if he wouldn’t admit it out loud.

The kid snorted and an awkward silence fell upon the two, blood continuing to drip from Jason’s head. The wound in his torso had stopped bleeding, but the area around the rusted rod both burned and felt cold. Jason wondered just what was in the ‘component’ Tim had made; he wondered when Tim made it.

When Damian started to twist, Jason’s attention snapped back to the situation at hand.

“You good, kid?”

Damian scowled in response. “Your breath is rancid, Todd—but to answer your question, yes. I am fine. I was simply testing my leg. It is free now.”

Little shit.

Jason didn’t respond. What could he say?

“Can you reach your phone?”

Damian shook his head. “I left it at the Manor.”

“Are you fucking kidding me.” Jason wanted to strangle this kid right about now. He had his phone on him, but Bruce wouldn’t fucking answer him. What made now any different from the last time he’d tried calling?

Regardless he found himself saying, “Left pant pocket. The second one. Grab mine, and call your dad.” Maybe Bruce could sense the difference in callers; maybe he’d get the feeling that it wasn’t Jason calling per se, and would answer because of it.

Maybe he just didn’t want to talk to Jason.

Without a word, Damian again did as he was instructed. It was weirding him out—Damian’s silence.

The sound of the phone ringing wasn’t a very loud one, because Jason kept his volume low, but in the cramped space they had, it may as well have had the volume of an air horn.

His thought about the tight space made Jason realize something he hadn’t before.

This was almost just like his coffin.

From there, Jason’s mental stability only started plummeting. He noticed, for what seemed to be the first time, how close the ‘walls’ were, how the back of his head was already hitting the ‘roof’. He noticed just how much his muscles ached, how he was trapped under debris, his body shielding someone else’s.

When he started hyperventilating Jason didn’t know. All he knew was that, sometime during his panicking, Damian’s call must’ve gone through, because the sound of Damian’s voice hit him like a sobering slap in the face. He chose that to focus on—Damian’s voice. The words he was saying.

“—ith Todd. He threw himself over me in an effort to protect me, undoubtedly, despite the fact that he could have escaped safely. I find it an unwise decision; we were near the exit when the building came down. Hurry, father, for Todd may bleed to death if you do not, and he is the only thing keeping the debris from crushing us both.” Damian hung up, then.

His words reverberated in Jason’s mind. ‘He is the only thing keeping the debris from crushing us both.’ That sentence made the pain in his muscles spike, and Jason groaned. His muscles were beyond the minute trembling, now periodically tremoring and violently.

In a weak effort to distract himself from the pain Jason asked, “What’d your dad say?”

“He did not answer.”

What? Jason must have asked the question out loud because Damian sniffed and repeated what he’d said before.

“My father did not answer. I left a voicemail.”

“A voicemail?” This was a joke. This was a sick, cruel, twisted joke fate was playing.

He was going to die beneath this rubble, the same way he had the first time. Again, the thought sent Jason’s mind into a panicked frenzy and he started hyperventilating.

“Todd? Todd. Todd, listen to me!”

Damian’s voice sounded like it was underwater: muted, for all intents and purposes. Jason could hear it, but he couldn’t understand it though his panic.

“Jason!”

Damian’s use of his first name shocked him enough to yank him out of his head, thrusting him back into the crammed space as his mind was flooded with flashbacks.

“W-what?” he rasped out. It felt like there was cotton in his mouth, choking him.

I can’t breathe. And again Jason was dragged back into the hysteria in his mind. The ground beneath Damian turned into dirt, and the oxygen became thick and warm. The few rays of sunlight that filtered in through cracks in the debris vanished and plunged Jason into darkness. His torso lit aflame with agony and where’s Bruce? Where’s Bruce, where’s Bruce, where’s Bruce?

Jason shouted when he felt something prodding at his wound, mind sobering at the pain, and everything snapped back into reality. The ground beneath Damian was concrete, there was light illuminating the area, and his pain hadn’t been as bad before whatever had disturbed the sore area had poked at it. His gaze focused on Damian whose eyes were narrowed at him.

Wait a goddamned minute.

“Are you done, Todd?”

He wasn’t sure whether to feel annoyed or grateful, so his answer was a rasped, “Fuck off.”

Damian snorted.

Instead of trying to get a read on his mental state, Jason forced any thoughts about the resemblance this situation held to the other thing out of his mind. He needed to think; to focus on solving their current predicament, not have a heart-to-heart with himself.

Jason’s mind felt slow, as he tried to think of solutions. Like each thought he had was dragging its feet to form. He made a noise of frustration after two minutes straight of the infuriating sensation.

“Something the matter?”

“You wouldn’t have any ideas about getting out of here, would you Damian?”

The weight shifted again, but this time it was too much for Jason’s muscles to support. His arm buckled, the rod went deeper, and he screamed from the pain that ripped throughout his body, now on both forearms and centimeters between his body and Damian’s. Jason’s head was beside Damian’s, his forehead on the cool ground.

Damian didn’t answer him.

Beats passed in silence before Jason spoke in a voice rasped with emotion and pain.

“I’m sorry, Damian. You shouldn’t have to die like this. With me, of all people. It…” He trailed off, train of thought slipping, before quickly finishing. “I’m sorry.”

He couldn’t come up with any solutions. The only way this would end was in Jason’s body finally caving in to the blood loss and pain, making the debris crush them both. They would die here. Already Jason’s mind was hazy and black splotches were staining his vision, eating away at the real-life visuals as they began to spread.

Jason heard Damian suck in a long breath, which he found curious, seconds before the kid yelled, “Superman!” then, lower, whispered, “Help us. You’re the only one who can.”

Why the fuck didn’t I think of that? “Nice, Damian,” Jason managed to murmur.

Mere seconds after Damian’s cry for help, Jason felt the weight on his back grow. Again the rod dug deeper, but this time his body buckled completely beneath the weight. There was no scream of pain, this time, as he felt the wound worsen and pressure on his back increase, because Jason’s mind decided to let the ink spreading across his vision seep into his head and he blacked out for a few seconds. When Jason regained some remote form of consciousness, he felt his body being lifted in someone’s arms, his limbs dangling limply in the air.

He moaned when he felt the rod still impaling his torso, pain flaring violently. Jason tried to force himself to stay awake, ‘tried to’ being the operative words. Moments after his eyes fluttered open and he caught sight of Jon helping Damian out of a hole in the debris, Jason’s mind said good-night again and he passed out cold.

The next time Jason woke up, he was lying on his side in a much cooler area, more alert than the last time he’d been conscious but not quite all there yet. A few seconds after his mind booted up, he opened his eyes, only to immediately shut them again because of harsh lights burning at his pupils. Moments after he’d closed his eyes, his hearing started to crackle to life, voices drifting to him.

“—not leave the foreign object in for much longer, else I fear an infection will spread to infect more than just his liver. We must act quickly, Master Bruce.” Alfred?

The muddled texture of their voices made it difficult for Jason to tell who was talking, but if he tried a little harder…

“Jason’s going to need to get a liver transplant, either way, and we need to get more red blood cells in his body.” That sounded like Tim. Why was he here? Where was here?

“Tim, I need you to find a suitable donor for Jason, now.” Ah. That gruff voice was unmistakably Bruce.

Wait.

“On it, B. Here’s some Epogen for Jason—catch.”

“Good work.”

“Sir, I believe Master Jason is awake.”

Well. Thanks for blowing my cover, Al. With no way to avoid confronting the others, Jason’s brow wrinkled as he opened his eyes, squinting to try and protect them from the lights. He shifted, accidentally stretching the skin around the metal stick still shish-kabobbing his liver, and only allowed a groan to escape him at the pain that flared up. Only when he opened his eyes did he really realize where he was, and when he did, he groaned again, shutting his eyes.

Jason was in the Batcave.

Fuck.

Tim’s face popped into view when Jason opened his eyes again, long locks of hair hanging over his bright baby blue eyes like a curtain. He grinned, said, “Hey there Jason.”

Unable to voice a response, Jason grunted and closed his eyes again. The light was really doing a number on them, alright? He liked not being blind, thanks.

His replacement plowed on.

“So we’re gonna send you back under for this bit—it’s gonna hurt, like, a lot even when it’s over—but to catch you up to speed”—something stabbed Jason in the thigh and he cursed mentally—“Bruce just gave you a shot of Epo ‘cause you’re low on red blood cells, we’ve got you hooked up to some fluids, there’s a cannula in your nose to help you breathe—” Huh. Jason hadn’t noticed that. “—because of all the dust and stuff that polluted your lungs when the building went down, and oh, hey, awesome! You’re about to get a liver transplant—speaking of, yo, B! Found a donor!” 

Tim’s voice went a little distant, like he’d turned away or something, but it was back in a few seconds. “Yeah. Until then, we really should get that rebar steel out of you, huh? Don’t want anything else getting infected, because then that’d be more work, and I already have so much more aside from this. Tam’s gonna kill me if I don’t fax a copy of the paperwork over to her dad by the deadline, which is—shit, that’s two hours from now and I haven’t even gotten started on that.”

Replacement—Tim, it’s Tim—kept talking, but it was too much for Jason’s drugged brain to keep up with—which, speaking of, the drugs they had him on must’ve been strong enough to knock out a rhino, because ever since the Pit next to nothing worked on him—so he passed out at some point during the surprisingly distracting rambling.

[nickireadstfc]

The Foxhole Court, Chapter 8 – The Hangover: Neil Josten Edition

In which Neil has a hangover that could kill a man, attempts to actually kill a few men (read: the monsters), Wymack is still the best person alive, and Andreil engage in some Totally Straight Bro Time™.

Sounds good? Then it’s time for Nicki to read The Foxhole Court.

So, last chapter was a train wreck. I’ve had lots of you coming up to me trying to restore Andrew’s honour and telling me it wasn’t all his fault, but still. The monsters have lost some serious sympathy points in my books.

(I’ve also been told it gets worse, which, might I add, is not reassuring what the hell.)

Let’s get crackin’ and see if our boy Neil is still alive.

           As soon as Neil could breathe again, he twisted and shoved Nicky as hard as he could. He was too sick and weak to push Nicky off the other side of the bed, but the boots he was still wearing would leave bruises on Nicky’s arms and chest.

Alive and kicking, pun absolutely intended.

Also, GOOD. Hit that fucker.

My initial love for Nicky is going through a serious dilemma right now, by the way. On one hand, he’s still the comic relief, which I love, he’s funny and loud and a much-needed ray of sunshine in this otherwise pretty depressing monster squad. On the other hand, he does not seem to understand consent, which goes against every principle I have.

He might have to settle as the Problematic Fave. We’ll see.

           “Hey, hey,” Nicky said, trying to deflect him. “It’s fine. Ouch! Relax, will you?”

           “Don’t you fucking touch me,” Neil said savagely.

I have a strong feeling Neil says everything savagely. That’s like saying Andrew said something murderously, Seth said something angrily, or Renee said something gently and glitter rained down from the sky, the sun bursts through the clouds and angels sang of everything good in this world.

It’s like, duh, that’s how they function.

           “He’s awake?” someone asked from the door.

           Neil snatched the alarm clock up and hurled it at the new arrival, who ducked out of the way just in time.

Attempted Kill Count: II.

Aaron and Nicky try to make him feel better by offering him water and food, and carrying him since he can hardly stand due to his Massive Cracker Dust Hangover, an act of niceness that I am totally not buying.

You drug him and were planning to do God knows what with him if he hadn’t had himself knocked out in time, and now you’re trying to play good Samaritan? Y’all can exit stage left.

           “Drink up,” Nicky said. “You’ll need all the water you can get today. Crackers’ll dehydrate you like nobody’s business.”

           Neil answered by upending his glass on the floor.

           “That’s mature,” Aaron said.

           Neil threw the glass at him.

Attempted Kill Count: III. Neil is on a roll today.

Neil, smart runaway that he is, does not buy the monsters’ Samaritan act either and instead does what I’d advised Nicky and Aaron to do: Exit stage left, that is to say, he gets the fuck out of there.

As soon as he’s in the vicinity of a payphone, he calls Matt and the other not-entirely insane people on this team, which is pretty much the only sensible thing to do in this kind of fuckery.

           “I’m in Columbia with Andrew.“

           “You’re – what?” Matt went from half-asleep to wide awake in a heartbeat. The alarm in his voice only made Neil feel worse. “Jesus, Neil, what the hell did you do that for? Did he–“ Matt aborted that and asked again, “Are you all right?”

           “I’m fine,” Neil lied.

The fact that this is alarming news to Matt and the gang is fucking alarming news to me. Please don’t tell me this is what happened to Matt last year. Please.

Also, Neil “I’m fine” Josten strikes again.

I am instantly proven right as we find out that yes, this is exactly what happened to Matt last year. Poor Billie Joe. You just rose so much in my sympathy ranks. <3

Neil truck-hitchhikes home which we are skipping because it is, frankly, it’s not that interesting. However, as he gets home, it is time for my undisputed fave to appear again:

           Neil wasn’t quite ready to face Andrew yet and he didn’t want to deal with his teammates’ curiosity over his prolonged absence, so he went to Wymack’s apartment instead.

Clearly, Wymack is the solution to everything. Glad my boy Neil and I are on the same page here.

           “You should have called me,” Wymack said. “Me or Abby or any of the upperclassmen. All you had to do was say you didn’t want to stay with Andrew. Any of us would have come and gotten you.”

           Neil stared at him, to startled to respond.

Hello, and welcome to our popular show Neil Doesn’t Realize People Actually Care About Him, episode 1 of a billion.

Wymack apparently has some strong feelings about Andrew and Neil not killing each other entirely, which is why he calls down Andrew for some Quality Bro Time™ with his bf Neil – in typical Wymack-y manner.

           Neil heard [Wymack’s] furious voice loud and clear.

           “You have five seconds to get your retarded psycho ass to my apartment! You even think about telling me no and I swear to god I’ll throw Kevin’s contract down a garbage disposal.”

My dude, maybe think twice about using the R-word. Otherwise, what level of i c o n i c. #dicksoutforwymack

Andrew, miraculously, follows that kind invitation instantly, and this is where stuff gets good.

           “Have a nice stroll?” he asked, interrupting Wymack’s tirade.

           Neil returned his cold stare with a heated “Fuck you.”

           Wymack snapped his fingers in front of Andrew’s face, trying to get Andrew to look at him instead of Neil.

Tough luck, buddy, have fun prying those two apart. The fuckers even switch to goddamned German to have some private one-on-one time, ahem.

Pity Neil has to reveal his secret language superpowers so early in the game, though. I was waiting for the epic moment where Neil chimes into a Kevin/Andrew/Nicky conversation in fluent German just to deliver a savage burn.

           “How about I start with your parents?”

           “Good luck,” Neil said, feeling cold all over. “They’re dead.”

           “Did you kill them?”

           He said it so casually, like he was asking for the time, that Neil could only stare at him for a minute. (…) Then he remembered who he was talking to and asked, “Did you kill yours?”

What the fuck, you guys. How is this even a conversation they’re having. Who on earth just asks stuff like that.

           The twins didn’t know who their father was, and only Aaron grew up with their biological mother. Andrew was surrendered to foster care when he was just a few days old.

Oh. In hindsight, this explains why Andrew referred to their mother as “Aaron’s mother” before, but more importantly: What the fuck, why.

Who does that to a child, heck, who does that to a baby. Surely it’s gotta be healthier for twins to stay with each other? What the hell, Minyards.

Also, how did they pick which twin to keep and which one to give away? Like, “oh, this one looks much nicer, this one looks less like it wants to murder you as soon as you threaten its favourite rattle, better take this one and chuck the other one in the realms of Out Of Sight, Out Of Mind”.

What the actual why.

Did I say this was where stuff got good? We’re not done yet, ho boy. This is where stuff gets really good:

           “I didn’t kill my parents,” Neil said. (…) “Riko’s family did.”

OH SHIT OH SHIT HE’S TELLING HIM STUFF OH SHITTTTTTTTTTTT.

What follows may be the first real, pure, top-of-the-line Andreil scene we get to witness. Granted, Neil only gives Andrew the half-truth, leaving out some key details, but essentially, he pours his heart out in front of him. And I don’t only mean the whole factual side of things, but also stuff like “I’m too jealous of Kevin to stay away from him” and “He’s got you at his back telling him everything’s going to be okay” which I wish I’d made up as examples except those are actual quotes from the book.

And, might I add, not only is he confessing that stuff to one of his mortal enemies right now, he is also confessing that stuff for the first time ever to anyone at all.

I’m dead.

           Andrew reached up and forcibly uncurled Neil’s fingers from his mouth. He pushed Neil’s hand out of the way and stared Neil down with nothing between them. Neil didn’t understand the look on his face. There was no censure over Neil’s crooked parents or pity for their deaths, no triumph over having backed Neil into admitting so much, and no obvious scepticism for such an outlandish story. Whatever this look was, it was dark and intense enough to swallow Neil whole.

           “Let me stay,” Neil said quietly. “I’m not ready to give this up yet.”

Did I say I was dead? I just got fucking reanimated, lived a brief period of happiness, and died again.

WHAT LEVEL OF GAY SHIT. I know it gets even better later, [frieza voice] this isn’t even their final form, but I can’t help but be happy at the first glimpses of canon Andreil.

I am LIVING.

           Maybe Andrew’s night out in Columbia had been awful, and maybe he’d never want to say these things out loud, but having the air cleared between him and Andrew to some degree took an enormous weight of his chest.

Fsshgshsgdsjgjscjjs.

My sad baby boy Neil gets some peace and relief and breathing room I cannot believe.

           Andrew didn’t look at Wymack. “Neil wants to come with me.”

           A day ago, those words might have been an order or a threat, but today Neil heard only truth. He’d chosen the Foxes. He’d chosen to trust Andrew, whatever that meant and whatever consequences it brought down the road. There was no reason or need to hide behind Wymack now.

Are y’all seeing what I’m seeing………… are those…….. first traces of friendship and peace……….. w h a t

As much friendship and peace as you can get with the messed-up murder maniac, at least.

I’m so happy, you guys.

This does not make up for the problems of last chapter (especially my boy Nicky and I still have a bone to pick), but it makes me tentatively look towards an eventually positive future for our angry  babies.

           Hope was a dangerous, disquieting thing, but he thought perhaps he liked it.

Couldn’t have said it better.