2018-12-10 10:26![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
redthedragon
redthedragonwrote a drabble in class instead of being assed to take notes.
warnings for: past violence, damage to hands, suicide (it does not stick, but it is mentioned), and just general miserable situations. it's a rex story set in Hudson. nothing there will ever be good, lmao. but its not so bad overall
length: 786 words
Rex bounced a rubber ball against the wall of his tiny goddamned apartment in the bowels of Hudson’s cheapest district and glared at his damned stupid injured right hand as it utterly failed to bend when he tried to move it. “Gah, fuck.”
He went to pick up the bouncy ball again in his left. He missed fidgeting with his blades, but Deiya had taken them, and that was that.
Felyx stumbled out of the bathroom. “Yo, King, your fingers feeling any better?”
“Still broken.”
“You ought to go ask for time off. Shotgun said--”
“I don’t give a damn what Shotgun says. I don’t need time.”
“Christ, you’re pissy.”
“My fifths-damned hand’s broken. I’m entitled to be pissy, Sneakyfingers.”
“Eh. You’ve got two of ‘em.”
“Your point?”
“Quit moping. You’re a big boy. You’ll heal.”
“I know,” Rex snapped. “I am, therefore, not asking Deiya for leave time to go to a fucking clinic.”
“Look, King, crush damage is pretty bad--”
“Death is worse.”
“You’re not going to die.”
“I miiight.”
“You won’t, you big fuckin’ baby. Get over yourself.”
Rex huffed and threw the ball at the wall again. “Would you get out of my apartment, Felyx?”
“No.”
“Your parents’ restaurant is literally three blocks away.”
“Nope.”
“Felyx. I will physically throw you out.”
“With one hand?”
Rex caught the ball, dropped it on the floor, and stood up.
“Point taken,” Felyx said quickly. “I’ll knock it off.”
“Good,” Rex said, and attempted to bend his smashed fingers again. “Aw, shit.”
“Are you seriously trying to use that hand?”
“Yup.”
“Don’t.”
Rex sighed and put the hand down. “Yeah. I know.”
Felyx sat down on one of the cushions on the floor. “You know, for someone as dead broke as you, this place is surprisingly nice.”
“Scrap engineering,” Rex said, “I make what I haven’t got. Just like everyone else down here.”
“I did notice all the carved bone shit.”
“Yep.”
“That’s going to be rough to do with one functional hand.”
Rex shrugged. “I’ll shoot myself in the skull later and then I won’t have to worry about it.”
Felyx snorted. He assumed it was a joke, of course; Rex only said that every time he had a relatively minor injury, after all, and long as he aimed somewhere hard to see, when Deva brought him back, no one would notice.
Rex preferred it that way.
“Ah, man,” Felyx wheezed. “One day you’re really gonna do it and not a one of us will believe you. You’re gonna wind up waspfish food.”
Rex picked his ball up and tossed it in his hand. “I knew a guy who ended up waspfish food once.”
“Nasty, Felyx says. “He live?”
Rex threw his ball at the wall. “Nah. Wound up eaten by eels.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“No harm me.” Rex caught the ball and threw it at the wall again. “I lived.”
“I see that,” Felyx said, and stood up. “Sure you’re not going to do anything about that hand?”
“Nah,” Rex said lightly, catching the ball. “I’m just going to die.” He laughed. “Seriously, don’t worry, I heal pretty fast. Be fine tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” Felyx said. “‘Cept that Joe stuck your hand in a damn hydraulic press, and bone chips don’t like to heal right.”
“Trust me,” Rex said.
“You know I do, King.”
After Felyx left, Rex crawled into the bathtub and shot himself under the chin and woke up two hours later to Deva’s most irritated face. “”Can you not stop dying for one month.”
“No.”
“I fixed your hand. That is what the problem was, yes?”
“Yep. Thanks, Deva.”
“Do not thank me,” Deva said, voice flat. “Just do not die. I hate this city.”
Rex shrugged. “You don’t have to keep coming back. Just leave me dead, then--”
Deva flicked Rex between the eyes. “I will not. You are aware of this.”
Rex sighed. “Yes.”
“Good.”
On that note, Deva unfolded themself from where they’d been crouching over Rex’s corpse and swept out of the bathroom with their characteristic odd, jerky steps. Rex sighed, stood up, and stepped out himself. He grabbed a rag off of the shelf. He had to take a crack at getting this blood up before anyone showed up and looked for him, and he didn’t have the money for any more water this month.
“You really do heal quick,” Felyx said blankly the next day. “Your hand is fine?”
“Yeah.”
“Lucky fuck. Bet that comes in handy. Hey? Hey?”
Rex bit back a sigh. “Punny.”
“Seriously, though,” Felyx said. “That’s pretty damn lucky. Wish I had that. Must get you out of a ton of trouble.”
Rex snorts. “You don’t know the half of it.”
as always, your local gremlin feeds on comments. if you bothered to read this, let me know what you think, yeah?
warnings for: past violence, damage to hands, suicide (it does not stick, but it is mentioned), and just general miserable situations. it's a rex story set in Hudson. nothing there will ever be good, lmao. but its not so bad overall
length: 786 words
Rex bounced a rubber ball against the wall of his tiny goddamned apartment in the bowels of Hudson’s cheapest district and glared at his damned stupid injured right hand as it utterly failed to bend when he tried to move it. “Gah, fuck.”
He went to pick up the bouncy ball again in his left. He missed fidgeting with his blades, but Deiya had taken them, and that was that.
Felyx stumbled out of the bathroom. “Yo, King, your fingers feeling any better?”
“Still broken.”
“You ought to go ask for time off. Shotgun said--”
“I don’t give a damn what Shotgun says. I don’t need time.”
“Christ, you’re pissy.”
“My fifths-damned hand’s broken. I’m entitled to be pissy, Sneakyfingers.”
“Eh. You’ve got two of ‘em.”
“Your point?”
“Quit moping. You’re a big boy. You’ll heal.”
“I know,” Rex snapped. “I am, therefore, not asking Deiya for leave time to go to a fucking clinic.”
“Look, King, crush damage is pretty bad--”
“Death is worse.”
“You’re not going to die.”
“I miiight.”
“You won’t, you big fuckin’ baby. Get over yourself.”
Rex huffed and threw the ball at the wall again. “Would you get out of my apartment, Felyx?”
“No.”
“Your parents’ restaurant is literally three blocks away.”
“Nope.”
“Felyx. I will physically throw you out.”
“With one hand?”
Rex caught the ball, dropped it on the floor, and stood up.
“Point taken,” Felyx said quickly. “I’ll knock it off.”
“Good,” Rex said, and attempted to bend his smashed fingers again. “Aw, shit.”
“Are you seriously trying to use that hand?”
“Yup.”
“Don’t.”
Rex sighed and put the hand down. “Yeah. I know.”
Felyx sat down on one of the cushions on the floor. “You know, for someone as dead broke as you, this place is surprisingly nice.”
“Scrap engineering,” Rex said, “I make what I haven’t got. Just like everyone else down here.”
“I did notice all the carved bone shit.”
“Yep.”
“That’s going to be rough to do with one functional hand.”
Rex shrugged. “I’ll shoot myself in the skull later and then I won’t have to worry about it.”
Felyx snorted. He assumed it was a joke, of course; Rex only said that every time he had a relatively minor injury, after all, and long as he aimed somewhere hard to see, when Deva brought him back, no one would notice.
Rex preferred it that way.
“Ah, man,” Felyx wheezed. “One day you’re really gonna do it and not a one of us will believe you. You’re gonna wind up waspfish food.”
Rex picked his ball up and tossed it in his hand. “I knew a guy who ended up waspfish food once.”
“Nasty, Felyx says. “He live?”
Rex threw his ball at the wall. “Nah. Wound up eaten by eels.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“No harm me.” Rex caught the ball and threw it at the wall again. “I lived.”
“I see that,” Felyx said, and stood up. “Sure you’re not going to do anything about that hand?”
“Nah,” Rex said lightly, catching the ball. “I’m just going to die.” He laughed. “Seriously, don’t worry, I heal pretty fast. Be fine tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” Felyx said. “‘Cept that Joe stuck your hand in a damn hydraulic press, and bone chips don’t like to heal right.”
“Trust me,” Rex said.
“You know I do, King.”
After Felyx left, Rex crawled into the bathtub and shot himself under the chin and woke up two hours later to Deva’s most irritated face. “”Can you not stop dying for one month.”
“No.”
“I fixed your hand. That is what the problem was, yes?”
“Yep. Thanks, Deva.”
“Do not thank me,” Deva said, voice flat. “Just do not die. I hate this city.”
Rex shrugged. “You don’t have to keep coming back. Just leave me dead, then--”
Deva flicked Rex between the eyes. “I will not. You are aware of this.”
Rex sighed. “Yes.”
“Good.”
On that note, Deva unfolded themself from where they’d been crouching over Rex’s corpse and swept out of the bathroom with their characteristic odd, jerky steps. Rex sighed, stood up, and stepped out himself. He grabbed a rag off of the shelf. He had to take a crack at getting this blood up before anyone showed up and looked for him, and he didn’t have the money for any more water this month.
“You really do heal quick,” Felyx said blankly the next day. “Your hand is fine?”
“Yeah.”
“Lucky fuck. Bet that comes in handy. Hey? Hey?”
Rex bit back a sigh. “Punny.”
“Seriously, though,” Felyx said. “That’s pretty damn lucky. Wish I had that. Must get you out of a ton of trouble.”
Rex snorts. “You don’t know the half of it.”
as always, your local gremlin feeds on comments. if you bothered to read this, let me know what you think, yeah?
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