COME DRINK THE WATER / OPEN, TRIPLE JOINING

[J. HOLLOWAY]

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/ please wait for jaws and skull to post with tim and bell!

Jesus fucking fuck, as him to name two things that he loved about these pieces of shit, and Jason couldn't even offer one. They are annoying. They are tiny. Tim is a stubborn exhausted wreck who runs on caffeine, sheer willpower, or his hatred for some really small thing that he managed to focus on just a little too well. Bell isn't quite as bad of a mess, or more like she's a different kind of a mess. Not too used to civilization, not that there was anything else left of that here. Mostly he just hates her dogmatic side, the part that always gets her way. She's trying it right now, they both are, and it's pissing him off. It's so pissing him off. They've been humming the same thing for the last few hours now, pausing only when he looks back, just long enough to give him those innocent Bambi eyes, and usually they would work. That's usually the kind of thing that has him going all soft in the chest, warm and fuzzy because they're kinda adorable, even though all three of them are deadly even without the other, Tim with that silky, liquid way he moves, and Bell with all of her brute force. Because okay, they're both shit human beings, but so is he and it's worth it.

They're still good, at least for each other. In an annoying sort of way.

"Will you shut the fuck up? Pretty please?" In one last-ditch attempt to make these fuckers understand the concept of mercy, Jason turns around with his own kicked puppy expression, wide silvery blue eyes and corners of his mouth turning down. "Just. Shut the fuck up." However long they had been walking, it was way too long. Their surroundings have gotten increasingly more urban, which would normally have been pretty fucking pleasing. If he didn't have to deal with this shit, at least. Jason loves these sorts of places. Lots of places to hide, climbing room without all the grass and leaves. Sure, there's still dust and dirt, but he's never had his brother's problem with being dirty. Not like Bruce. "Aren't you guys bored of that yet?" Almost there. Almost there, he repeats to himself, reaching into his jacket to adjust the strap with his throwing knives. Hopefully he wouldn't need to use them. They were here to make friends, or whatever.

[div style="background=; border:0;font-size: 9.6pt; text-align:justify; line-height: 1.2; width: 527px"][spoiler=THEY WERE KIDS THAT I ONCE KNEW | INFORMATION; 03/17/2017]‣ Jason "Jay" Holloway / Gives out nicknames freely, but dislikes them from strangers.
‣ Cisgender Male / Bisexual Biromantic / No Clear Preference / Hypersexual / Flirtatious
‣ Taken? Nobody Knows (don't ask) / ½ Jaytim [OTP?] / ⅓ Daredona [BROT3?/QPT3?]
‣ About Eighteen / Born July 7th / NPC x NPC; Deceased / Younger Brother of Bruce H.
‣ Obviously heavily reliant on his inner circle, but still attached to Bruce, Dick, and Stevie.

‣ 6'0 & 170-190 lbs. | Muscular, solid build, well-defined but not to any scary extreme.
‣ Kinda messy, short black hair. Cropped close on the sides but with a slightly longer top.
‣ Cold pale grey-blue eyes. | Constant wolf's grin, reckless and intimidating. "I can and will."
‣ Warm, moderately tanned skin. Freckles on his shoulders from constant exposure to sun.
‣ Wears layers. An undershirt, a shirt, a worn down red hoodie, and some jacket over top.
  ‣ Black or white undershirts, tight. Jacket is either black, leather or whatever he picks up.
‣ 9mm pistol; holster on right thigh. | Worn set of throwing knives. | Spiked brass knuckles.

‣ Hot mess. | Lots of issues that he hides with a lot of sarcasm. Be careful around him.
‣ Mostly just a stressed teenager with terrible sleeping habits and an inferiority complex.
‣ Adaptable and weirdly charming, able to convince most people with a smile or a threat.
‣ Hardworking and focused, but incredibly snarky and emotionally distant. Picks favorites.
‣ Has a terrible temper and doesn't balk from doing immoral things, but sticks to his code.
‣ Would die for a stranger, but particularly overprotective of his small group he calls family.
‣ Lowkey suicidal but feels bad about thinking like that. Not obvious about it, just reckless.
‣ Likes to start fights because he can and because he's an adrenaline junkie. Don't fall for it.

[recycling bin]

/ finally, i am here + I WIN, JAWS

It's Tim's fault, if you look at it objectively. The lullabies the people in the sewer hummed had lasted until she was six years old; she'd learned to fend for herself soon after. Children's songs weren't vital information then, but Tim's teachings have proven essential in irritating Jason, and that is information she cannot do without. Bellona has gotten used to this, the act of deliberately pissing off someone you want to keep around. It's mainly because she knows that neither of these two will leave because of it; she has known them since she was shorter than Tim, and this is a Harmless Thing they do. It doesn't mean they don't want her around, or that she doesn't want them around— it's a game, or a trust exercise, or a sign of affection, or all of the above. They're not allies, whom she watches carefully for any sign of betrayal. They're her friends, she thinks, and there is a clear difference. She has kept them not because they amuse her, or because they're of use to her. She has kept them because they are hers. People, she knows, aren't possessions the way objects are; she wouldn't like to be owned, not this feral, untamed thing. Still, they're hers, and she can't explain how or why. They just are. She trusts them with her life.

She stops humming when Jason turns around, pleading with his face and his words. Her hair is tied back, her hands are shoved in the closest pockets of her cargo pants, fully gloved and armed with her brass knuckles; her expression and body language carefully gives nothing away. She'd rather not fight whoever lived here, but if it came to it, her limbs are only slightly sore, and she's endured far worse than hunger, thirst, and lack of sleep. "It wasn't me," she tells Jason matter-of-factly, without a trace of guilt or regret for throwing Tim under the bus. She doesn't even look at the shorter boy, muscles relaxed and a guiltless, wide-eyed look on her face. She doesn't doubt Jason will see through her facade of innocence, but she isn't trying to conceal the truth in seriousness. This is a continuation of the game, like the humming was, and she's enjoying it so far. She can let her guard down, with them. "It was Tim making the noise." She wrinkles her nose. "You should tell him to stop."

---

[spoiler=information — 2017/03/23]— pm main account to plot. all opinions and choices are ic.
— nonviolent actions can be powerplayed. may react negatively.

GENERAL | pinterest board
— bellona drake-holloway | not fond of nicknames | dyadic trans girl [she/her]
— demi-homoflexible pansexual | single | not fond of exclusivity | polyamorous
— 16 years old | jan. 1st | npc x npc | gen 1 | 1/3 of daredona [tim/jason; qpt3]
— member of st. peter's | previously a sewer person | will sometimes wander

POSSESSIONS
— owns pair of plain brass knuckles | needs to wear leather gloves to fit
— large brown backpack | many cargo pants | scrunchies and hairbands

PHYSICAL | statuesque stunner
— about 5'9 [1.75 meters]. likes towering over other people, specifically tim.
— lean, lanky, angular. not comfortable to cuddle. built for strength & agility.
— half indian, half mexican. warm, rich brown skin. has too many freckles.
— chestnut brown doe eyes. | main expression is friendly, but hard to read.
— coarse black hair that's thick, curly, and shoulder-length. often tied back.
— sturdy, sensible clothing of any kind, but has a fondness for cargo pants.
— very faint australian accent; sharpens during situations of open emotion.

MENTAL | lovable rogue | the unfettered | wild card
— operates unconstrained by moral codes & laws. "i do what i want fuck you."
— unashamedly selfish; incredibly possessive of what/those she deems hers.
— cunning, opportunistic, expedient. will utilize any means to attain her goals.
— adaptable; changes to fit a situation. full of masks and facades and deceit.
— incisive, shrewd, & pragmatic. assesses the situation & reacts accordingly.
— cautious. only drops the "mask" when feeling safe enough to be vulnerable.
— mask-dropping entails making mistakes in front of you & being awkward af.[/spoiler]

[merged subs.]

[align=center][div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; width: auto; font-size: 8.6pt; font-family:verdana; text-align:justify; line-height: 1.4; width: 500px"]It's with a psychopath's nonchalance that Tim deals with any sort of rebuttal, because yeah, okay, it's his fault, and yeah, okay, Bell's just thrown him under the bus, left him to somehow manage to fend off a disapproving stare, but is he particularly sorry about it? Is he sorry at all? Bellona is a very easy student to manipula— uh, teach— and with her dogged determination and his simple desire to make this trek a little less boring, it was only inevitable that his mind'd hatch a plan as utterly ingenious as the one to slowly drag Jason into madness through the medium of hummed children's songs. It isn't very mature, but then again, one could argue that Tim himself isn't very mature, and dammit, he's going to milk every drop of entertainment out of this. He's tired, he's sore, and there's a heavy, leaden weight on his back, pain gradually diffusing through his veins; if he's going to suffer, then so is Jason. Tim's blaming the entire excursion on him, anyway. This is just revenge.

"It was Tim making the noise," Tim mimics, tone much lower than usual, as though Bell has the voice of an extremely manly.. man. "You're a noise, Bell. Not even a nice-sounding one, either." It's a shit insult, but the abstract nature of it makes it all the more scathing— or something like that. Keep telling yourself that, Tim. "And hey, c'mon, my voice isn't that monstrous." Is it? It probably is. He doesn't actually know when the last time he sang was, but he's pretty sure that anybody can tell that the humming came from more than one person. "That was totally a duet." Blue eyes shift towards Jason, then, and Tim clicks his tongue. "You getting bored? Want us to spice it up a little? How about a bit of Marvin Gaye?" Not that he expects the heathen beside him to know who that is — she did crawl out of a sewer, after all — but it's she's learning. He's proud.
[spoiler=(UPDATED MARCH 29TH)]& Timothy Jackson Drake / Will Respond to "Tim" / Accepts other Pet/Nicknames
& Cis? Trans? Wh? Male / Prefers Male or Neutral Pronouns / Not Really Picky
& Assumed Bisexual Biromantic / Blatant Male Pref / Monogamous?? What Is He
& DOB: 19th July / About 16-17 Years Old / Unknown Parents; Both Deceased
& ½ Jaytim — OTP?? with Jason | ⅓ Daredona — (BR)OT3 with Jason and Bellona

& Pretty damn short for his age; 5'5, and weirdly light, even for that. Lithe and slim; has a flexible build, albeit one somewhat weakened by malnourishment. Has unkempt, startlingly soft black hair that falls somewhere between his ears and shoulders; generally keeps it pulled back in a messy bun for ease.
& Pale, grey-blue eyes that sometimes appear as an icy cyan. Has this branded onto his right hip. He wears clothes. Generally unarmed.
& Has metal plates in place of part of his lower spine. Can glow red when touched.
  — INJURIES/ILLNESSES: Suffers from fibromyalgia [click]. General scrapes and bruises, particularly centred around the throat, wrists and ribs.

& A literal mess. Look up the definition of "wreck" and you'll probably find a picture of him. Perpetually exhausted; never seems to properly sleep, and it's ruined him. Sharp and witty, but his judgement and skills of observation, while incredibly sharp, are little off due to a lack of any actual rest. Really fucking deadpan; speaks sarcastically and often in a blunt, dead-inside sort of tone. Sorta lowkey falling apart, except it's not really lowkey at all. 50% psychotic, 50% iconic, 100% bitter. Assume that his self-deprecating jokes are a cry for help, but don't be surprised when he rejects any aid at all. Struggles with confronting his emotions; fairly condescending at times. More than a little obviously suicidal and only really alive because of his friends. Relies on them heavily and doesn't bother to hide that fact.
& Intelligent and driven. A meticulous, methodical planner who, when at his worst, is already pretty amazing. A dark realist; puts a pessimistic twist on a logical outcome. Still, loyal and forgiving; despite his impressive ability to hold a grudge, he's just as skilled at putting things behind him and moving on. Believes in the goodness of people despite the fact that he also understands that in many, that goodness has been killed off. Really, really loves cats. Hurting.
  — DISORDERS: None that have been diagnosed.[/spoiler]