#gardening gloves arc

[thebasilbuffet]

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 193 }

the haunted one.

academy arc

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

{ beyond infatuation, how i obsessively adore you | that’s what i do… }

when you began your first year of high school, you didn’t expect to meet someone that absolutely terrified you.

during your walk to campus, there was a huge crowd of students heading towards the same destination. you were in a bit of a haze, still feeling sleepy despite how you much you rested during the weekend, making you feel a bit listless as you yawned and continued your walk.

"HEY, YOU THERE! WHO THE HELL GAVE YOU PERMISSION TO WEAR GLOVES TO-"

you were taken aback upon hearing an older man you assumed to be one of the teachers yelling at another student. when you follow his gaze, your eyes go wide upon seeing the boy settled several feet in front of you. he was at least a head taller than your average teenaged boy, donning a coat over his school uniform with a glove covering one of his hands.

but perhaps more so than that was how you could see a black and purple haze looming over the entirety of his body, dancing around him like shadows born from the night itself. you witness the way his eyes glow a faint, blue hue as the boy meets with the teacher's gaze, quickly realizing how even he seemed to take notice of the shadows dancing around him, causing him to immediately look away as he barked order at the other students.

"stand up straight and smooth out your uniform!"

before the strange boy could even notice you, you purposely take a step back into the crowd, feeling your heart race with anxiety as you prayed that you wouldn't be in the same class as him. for several seconds, you didn't move, simply allowing your peers to put a wall between you and the boy haunted by shadows. the fear and anxiety you felt was out of character for you, yet still, you couldn't stop the feeling of dread from coursing through your veins.

as you heard the first chime of the warning bells, alerting you to how you only had five minutes left until the class period began, you steadily make your way toward the building after ensuring that the shadow boy was nowhere to be seen. entering the building, you made a mental note of your classroom name, heading to the left of the hallway before entering class 1-d. the area was already filled with students, yet thankfully, that strange boy was nowhere to be seen.

visibly relaxing, you take a seat and get out your pencil case and notebook, opening it to a fresh page as you got ready to take notes for the day. you were simply doodling against the margins of the pages when you heard some commotion coming from the classroom settled next to your class. your peers were curious, making a crowd outside of the halls. you remain seated, but was able to catch a glimpse of 4 rowdy boys tumbling straight into the linoleum floors.

everyone seemed to laugh at their fall, yet you knew otherwise-

because they were surrounded by that same, purple and black aura that surrounded the same boy from this morning-

this epiphany made you feel sick with anxiety all over again, and you were wondering if you could truly avoid such a strange boy for the next 3 years of your high school career.

{ ... }

"sung jinwoo is so cute, did you see him during track practice today?"

"hehe, no kidding... i usually go straight home after classes, but seeing such a hot guy is enough to make me linger on the bleachers."

it was obvious that your classmates didn't see the shadows surrounding jinwoo like you did, but who were you to warn them about it? the more attention was given to jinwoo by these girls, the less he would realize how much you had been actively avoiding him.

which was, in your opinion, no easy feat.

the boy seemed to be everywhere, his presence felt looming all across the school as the shadows seemed to lengthen and appear in the most inopportune of times. from surrounding the campus ground gardens to even darting between the lockers, you had a feeling that jinwoo had specifically planted them in these locations-

but for what reason, you couldn’t say for sure.

just as you were ready to head home for the day, you notice how jinwoo and his group of friends were lingering in front of the school's main gate. he seemed to be listening to their conversations with a tranquil smile on his face, the same shadows seeming to dance around him as you had to take a step back and reorient yourself.

clearly, you had to find a different way out of school, mentally groaning to yourself as you retraced your steps and decided to head to the back entrance and make your escape there. this would lengthen your time to get home by an extra 10 minutes or so, but you were willing to make this inconvenience happen if it meant that you could remain out of sight from jinwoo.

with you finally leaving the school, you make your long trek back home, completely and blissfully unaware of the pair of glowing, purple eyes hidden within your own shadow. there was a sudden shift felt within the air as you visibly froze, unable to move when the faint smell of someone's cologne fills the air-

and you found yourself trapped within someone's embrace. you couldn't bring yourself to move even when you felt something soft touching at the top of your hair before moving to the shell of your ear, "you've been avoiding me for half of the semester now, why is that?"

a shaky breath manages to escape from your parted lips when your captor slowly reveals himself to you, pinning your form against the concrete wall as his silvery eyes were seen glowing a blue hue. he lets out a hum of your name before placing his gloved hand on your bottom lip. you feel the way the pad of his thumb traces at them, causing shivers to run down your spine the more he keeps his gaze on you, trapping you with the sheer intensity of it.

"normally, i wouldn't care about such trivial things, but seeing the fear and discomfort in your eyes each time you look at me- it bothers me."

you let out a gasp when you saw one of the shadowy wisps reaching out to you, doing all that you could to move away from it as it seemed to dance around jinwoo's head.

"kekeke, my king, i believe she can see me."

your eyes go wide, hearing the disembodied voice clearly while swallowing thickly. jinwoo hums at the sudden revelation, seeming to know about your sharp senses from the beginning.

"is this why you've been avoiding me? are you scared of me?" the last part of his question comes out in a whisper when he purposely steps even closer to you, trapping you against the front of his chest and the wall. his gaze seems to intensify when the wispy shadow begins to make a beeline for you, aiming for your face. you immediately clench your eyes shut, preparing for the impact-

only to gasp and let out a string of giggles when the shadow begins to gently tickle you, the sensation feeling like a ribbon going all across the skin of your neck as the shadow continues on with its featherlike caresses against you.

"hehehe, s-stop it! it's so... so t-ticklish!"

jinwoo was smirking at your reaction, silently ordering his shadow to move away from you, giving you a moment to breathe and collect yourself. once you were calmer now, you felt jinwoo gently brushing back your hair while telling you, "you have no reason to fear me... i won't ever hurt you."

"in fact," he leans in closer to you, pressing a lingering kiss against your forehead while murmuring against your skin, "i would much rather protect you than have you keep me at such a distance."

as if those were the magic words you needed to hear, you felt your fears pertaining to jinwoo disappear, like smoke being blown into the air. unable to find the right words to say to him, you smile back at him, watching as jinwoo returns it before taking your hand in his, determined to walk you home as he acted like your own personal shield.

{ ... }

"how unfair is this? jinwoo's already dating her."

"ugh, i feel like jinwoo could do so much better than her."

"but still, out of everyone here, his eyes has always been on her and no one else... which is a bummer, really."

your classmates were heard talking about you, stating your name, their voices filled with disdain and envy, watching as you and jinwoo were eating lunch together while settled on the grassy terrain of your campus, so caught up in your own little world with him that you didn't even hear nor pay any attention to their scathing words.

however, this doesn't mean that jinwoo hasn't heard them, allowing his gaze to glance away from you momentarily as his glowing, purple eyes look over at the group of girls who were badmouthing you. he allows beru to give them a scare, causing a burst of wind to surround them as the former ant king successfully causes their half eaten lunches to blow away.

"oh my god, what was that?!"

"let's go back inside."

you, remaining blissfully unaware, look back to see your classmates scrambling away from the area, a wistful smile painting your expression, "jinwoo, did you do something to them?"

"i don't know what you're talking about. the wind just happened to get incredibly stronger around that area." jinwoo hums before placing one of his homemade rice balls in your hand. you end up accepting it with a smile, "is that so? what a coincidence that the wind came specifically towards those girls who kept glaring at me."

jinwoo lets out another rich chuckle, absolutely delighted at how you were playing along with him as he presses a kiss against your lips, "what a coincidence indeed."

no one would ever tease or demean you while you were under his protection and care, for jinwoo would do anything and everything in his power to maintain your happiness for forever and a day.

a.n. - yay another jinwoo story! it's so much fun, and so incredibly cute writing for academy arc!woowoo. he is so sassy and determined as a teen 😭 🙌🏻

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[viridianevergarden]

This again. I just want to break down my thoughts here so bear with me.

(I did the math and calculated ~ 7.9k people voted that 55%) 💀

First of all,

Elain doesn’t just enjoy gardening for the aesthetic, but rather for the fruits of her labor through hard work. Spring Court’s flowers and nature are only in bloom by magic (The High Lord’s). Not work. Not labor. But rather for convenience and aesthetics (to embody the very domain that one, being Tamlin, High Lord of the SC, resides in). That, to me, goes against Elain’s very enjoyment of the craft of her gardening.

Couple that with the fact that she has completely neglected using those gloves that Lucien gave her. She put them down after they were gifted to her, not even bothering to look at them as if she didn’t care for them. She doesn’t seek protection from the labor of her craft. She doesn’t want to make it easier. She enjoys the challenge. I think Feyre’s perspective on that made it clear.

And again, why would Elain in her right mind willingly go to be with her younger sister’s abusive ex? Why would she? I’m pretty sure she is well aware of what transpired between the two. That she is aware of Tamlin’s actions. Especially when he is partially, if not entirely, responsible for her life quite literally being turned upside down. Having her mortality stripped from her and her love and happiness (or simply content) gone along with it. If she is so visibly uncomfortable with Lucien, who was an accomplice, I’d imagine she would also hold animosity or discomfort for Tamlin tenfold.

Secondly,

Regarding mating bonds being rare: This is a story that encompasses a main group of protagonists. 3’s are SJM’s specialty. Just because 3 brothers may get with 3 sisters does not automatically mean that mating bonds aren’t rare. As a fae romance series with mating bonds clearly being a significant staple throughout, we will encounter mating bonds. Especially with our protagonists. That just seems like logic to me. Even then, it’s been stated and shown time and again that not every mating bond works or is positive. That just because two individuals have a bond doesn’t mean they’ll have good chemistry.

Also take into account that our dear Inner Circle is not the entire continent of Prythian. The Inner Circle does not equal the entire population. So therefore, a small group of mated individuals ≠ a common occurrence.

What’s wrong with the storyline matching up to have a 3:3? Is the perfectionism so wrong? I think that the phrase “too perfect” should be replaced with “complete/completion”. One last brother to one last sister is the remaining piece of the puzzle. Yes, you can argue that the cliche of 3:3 is boring or too simple but this is SJM’s world. She is a cliche author. She always has been.

Lastly,

I believe that Tamlin has had his redemption arc. If you want to call it that at least. In my opinion, he doesn’t need one. His prime arc is over. The series is way bigger than just Tamlin now. I simply see no reason as to why SJM should take more time for Tamlin , who arguably has done more than enough, rather than anything else. I feel like it’d be a backward progression.

Not every character has to be redeemed.

Not every character should be able to find peace or become good after selfish or morally questionable acts.

Not every character calls for major development.

To me, it’s just bad writing to redeem and develop every single character.

Even then, Tamlin is a well written character. He doesn’t need more depth. (I think this post alone proves that people don’t understand him already). He doesn’t need Elain to come in and “fix him”. No one can. No one but Tamlin himself. And we see that if anything, he’s wasting away rather than trying to help himself. He’s wallowing in his grief, anger, and hatred. Be it for others -like Rhys- or himself. It’s on him. Hell, even Rhys tried to help him. Yet he remains unmoving. That is Tamlin’s choice. Elain shouldn’t need to be his catalyst for change. He should.

To Conclude,

I see no logical reason again as to why people think this is a possibility. It just seems like a terrible writing choice for the story of ACOTAR. Of course, SJM can indeed surprise us. She wields the mighty pen after all. But then again, why would she turn around and completely dismiss 4 books of chemistry with a certain shadowsinger just to pitch our third sister with someone like Tamlin or Lucien? If she had planned to do so before, why would there be 4 books worth of obvious chemistry? It’d be a waste. If she has planned or plans to have Elain go with Lucien or Tamlin, why hasn’t she written any semblance of true chemistry between them? If Elain should allegedly have a balance with Tamlin or Lucien, why isn’t there any chemistry? All I’ve seen from Elain is obvious discomfort.

“I thought it was obvious…” - SJM

I could write more about Lucien and Elain’s dynamic but I think that is a whole different matter that doesn’t pertain to the current topic so I’ll leave this here. Thanks for coming to my ted talk.

[communist-hatsunemiku]

Top 5 or top 10 favourite Miku designs!!!

OK im finally going to answer this ask using 100% of my brain power.

I don't actually have favorites generally, but there are some modules I would LOVE to see more fanart of, these modules maybe have like one or two pieces of art out there.

SO

Jersey

just perfectly fits when playing PO PI PO, and Miku with her hair in a bun is always good.

2. Hello, Good Night

I mean just look at Her, She's the Queen of dreams and snork-mimimi. Basically the sandman if he was fucking epic. (this song is so fucking hard tho)

3. FOnewear Style

Extreme video game vibes, and ELF EARS. AND THE BOOTS WHIP ASS!!! I love all the little ball accessories

4. Hello World

I've literally never seen fan art of this module. It's super "sci-fi princess of the galaxy" vibes, it's Miku from the year 2253. It's the Miku that appears as an AI controlling some kind of 'Arc' class spaceship, the humans on board have all died for some reason so when you meet her she's been alone for awhile... I just made myself sad wtf.

5. Dancing All Night

Extremely cool, extremely techo, this Miku knows how to put on a rave, and the little screens on her chest are animated! Plus the black boots, the black skirt, and the black gloves are sexy af

6. Interviewer

This is what Miku wears on a day She has off, the low ponytails, the bike shorts, no shoes, baggy hoodie like whats not to love. But then they go and give Her red eyes? why tf not

7. Racing Miku 2012 ver.

The racing QUEEN, She is presiding over one of those violent 'death race' type of motorsports events and She's sitting in a skybox watching the chaos unfold and laughing. She may or may not be meddling with the outcome of the race with a devious control panel that's linked to all kinds of hazards built into the track. She may or may not have some kinda freakish underling that's just begging to activate his most fucked up traps and obstacles, and She may or may not allow him to set some of them off, if she's in the mood.

8. Siren

I find this module really charming because you'd think the color combinations and the kind of antiquated dress design wouldn't work but they come together in this campy way and it's so good. And the song it's tied to has this great 'twist' where the beginning of the song is this slow ballad being sung in some kinda garden, and then it's revealed that She's ACTUALLY performing in this crazy far off alien-world arena where I imagine all kinds of shady characters and rough types are patrons. And they come from all over to hear Miku sing.

I'm going to stop at 8 modules, ty so much for this ask though! These kind of questions really give me a chance to write about Miku and dive into imagining Her in all kinds of settings and scenarios!

[kinaesthetiqueer]

What These Hands Can Be

Rating: G

Words: 7,174

Pairing: Jaune Arc/Pyrrha Nikos

Characters: Jaune Arc, Pyrrha Nikos, minor Nora, Ren, RWBY, Oscar, Ozpin, Theodore, & Rumpole

Other Tags: Post Volume 9, set in Vacuo, alternating POV

Summary: Pyrrha barely knows what to do with her hands these days. She's been gone so long that everything, and everyone, is so different now. Even Jaune. Especially Jaune.

Author's note: My gift for @ssarkosghost for @remnants-of-rwby-exchange! I am so sorry that is a day late; please forgive me. I went to edit and accidentally added 3k... It is in its entirety below but the AO3 link will be by chapters.

gloved

Pyrrha spends a lot of time looking at her hands now.

Her nails are often chipped, bitten. When she was young, her mother had her wear gloves to curb the habit. They were just thick enough to keep her from nibbling the thin keratin to ragged edges. Mittens helped protect her young hands from bitter Argus winters when she wanted to build snowmen at the park. Garden gloves kept dirt from gathering under her nails as she worked alongside her mother in the tiny flowerbed their townhouse called its own. As she grew older, darker pairs helped to camouflage the tell-tale glow of her semblance in use, carefully hiding her critical advantage. Gloves, for one reason or another, have followed her throughout her life.

The desert is too hot for them.

Without them, Vacuan sands and wind roughen her palms beyond belief. Her callouses toughen, her fingertips thicken, and her palms crack, no matter how much moisturizer she applies after showers. There are other ways to minimize the damage, but to keep one’s aura shield engaged all the time outdoors was one of many marks of an outsider. Pyrrha shrinks at the thought of attracting even more attention.

Most people don’t recognize her these days anyway. Pyrrha runs her hands through her ponytail, much shorter than she remembers. It had been like when she’d emerged from the glowing golden portal, blinking and confused, stepping into what appeared to be a war room meeting of her closest friends and many unfamiliar adults.

“I’m sorry, I… I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Pyrrha had whispered into the silence, rubbing her throat. Her bare feet made little plap plap sounds on the cool sandstone as she took a few unsteady steps forward before stopping just out of reach of the closest person- a young, wide-eyed boy she didn’t recognize.

The portal shrunk, fizzled, and faded into oblivion while she struggled to remember why she’d just stepped into their midst. She fidgeted with the ends of her sash in her hands. Still, the urge to rub her throat remained, as if she needed to warm her voice box before speaking any more. 

The crying and screaming broke the silence first- Nora’s shrieks, Ruby’s choked sobs, Yang’s cracking voice. Then came the questions- Blake’s skepticism, Ren’s disbelief, Weiss’ caution.

Are you really Pyrrha?

Oh, of that, she was positively sure.

What happened to you?

She had died, that was somewhat evident by the scar tissue that twisted and stretched beneath the fabric of her loose linen dress and the horrifying memory of searing heat. Ruby had nearly vomited on the spot at her halting recollection of her death, gaze pinned to the [place that Pyrrha massaged at her collar.

Where have you been?

That question haunts her, even now, a little over two weeks later.

One year, eleven months, three weeks, and five days. The number rolled off Nora’s tongue quicker than it had any right to, but with such fury and despair that no one questioned its accuracy. That was how long it had been since the Fall of Beacon, since she’d been gone, how long she’d been dead to her friends. It’s a massive amount of time to be unaccounted for and unexplainably absent. It had taken a woman Pyrrha had never met to get them to all finally believe that she was herself, that she wasn’t some trick of the enemy or especially vivid group hallucination. 

It was when she’d taken Robyn Hill’s hand that she had first noticed she was no longer wearing her gloves. Robyn was wearing fingerless ones, much like Nora’s, but black. Robyn’s grip was firm, her soft smile reassuring.

“Just tell the truth,” she said.

There was not, and still is not, much to tell.

She’d died. There was nothing. Then there was golden light and they were staring at her. She was herself. She was alive. She didn’t know why her hair was cut or why she had a sash that should be ash, just as much as she should. She answered question after question until they sort of devolved into a distressed, hopeful argument about her existence.

At that point, with the truth told and nothing more for either of them to do, Robyn helped her sit in an extra chair to watch the proceedings. The action of sitting only made her realize how exhausted she was by the affair, even if she wanted nothing more than to be accepted into their fold again.

That being said, the results of their argument mattered little. Instead, Pyrrha finally dared to look over to the one person, out of friends and strangers, that had yet to say a word.

Jaune?

He stared at her, blue eyes wide. His hair was cut in an unfamiliar way and streaked with white that she didn’t remember. The lines around his eyes spoke to an age that shouldn’t be possible, but his haunted expression was more than just seeing his old partner back from the dead. That expression spoke volumes, though he did not.

“Hey,” Jaune says now, knocking on her open door “You ready to go?”

Pyrrha looks up from the creases in her palms, the unbroken lifelines and calloused fingertips, the bare nails and chapped knuckles. The tanned skin there is some of the only exposed skin she has. The rest of her is covered in brown, sheer compression arm and leg sleeves, a burgundy athletic romper, copper vambraces and greaves, and long boots and UV goggles, both suited for the sand. Her sash flows to her calves as she stands and reaches for Mellon and Tora, bringing them to her side with just a thought.

Her red gaiter hugs her neck, making it difficult for her to reach up and massage her throat. Jaune nods and turns into the hallway without a second thought though, so it’s not as if he needs to hear her say anything.

Pyrrha pulls the fabric up over her nose and follows Jaune without a word.

2. clenched

Pyrrha is dead.

Three words, one truth. Through the past years, it’s the one thing he has forced himself to believe and remember, despite the pain it causes. He had promised to fight in her memory, to do what she would have done. The tattered remnants of her extra sash always hug his waist, taut when he twists or bends and flaring out when he leaps or falls. Its flowing length reminds him that its owner lost her battle so that he might win a war. Isn’t that the truth of it? Such things are unchanging, immutable. Decades to reckon with that truth and now here it is undone, just as surely as his aching bones and rusted armor.

Pyrrha is back, Jaune thought when she stepped out of the glowing portal. Pyrrha is… alive?

Her bright green eyes, darting with uncertainty and anxiety, were as expressive as ever. Her hair was shorter, though still a ponytail in that same brilliant red. Her crown was absent, though its charms hung from her ears. With the white linen dress and her sash wrapped around her waist, she looked a bit mismatched, contrasting youth with a world weary frown he often saw in the mirror.

Two weeks and three days ago. 

Jaune’s own tally picks up where Nora’s left off. 

He can hear Pyrrha’s footsteps behind him as he winds his way through the cool hallways of the Shade Academy dorms. Her footsteps don’t sound like he remembers them, less assured. He tries not to listen and focuses on finding the way out. Another quirk of Shade was a particular aversion to exit signage; early on, it was helpful to stick with some of the other students, whether those from Vacuo or those who chose to attend Shade after the Fall. Now he’s that person for Pyrrha, leading her to the open common area that exits to the main campus.

I bet Pyrrha could probably just use a compass to get out.

His chuckle dies in his throat. No longer is it a hypothetical. What once might have been a bittersweet thought is a plausible reality.

Pyrrha is alive. She’s right there. Right behind me.

His thoughts echo her name relentlessly, a plea, a prayer, a petition. It’s caught between his ears in a way that he can’t force it past his lips. 

It’s a trick. It’s just another trick- Jaune swallows, closing his eyes briefly to steady himself. In his mind’s eye, he can see Pyrrha behind him, cruel joy in her emerald eyes, a self-satisfied smirk on her face. He can almost feel the pain of Miló slicing through the gaps in his armor again. 

No, it’s not. She’s here. We both are.

He takes a deep breath, holds it, and exhales. He hears Pyrrha step around him, approach his left side, and take a deep breath of her own.

“You… didn’t actually explain… what are we supposed to be doing?” Pyrrha murmurs, brushing against his side. The gesture can’t be more than an accident but suddenly it feels like every eye in the common area is on him and her, together.

He sidesteps, awkwardly covering the flinch by heading toward the doors again. He does remember the stilted text he’d sent; it’d taken nearly three hours to compose it.

> Need you ready for combat in fifteen. I’ll come by your room.

“Oh yeah, right. Headmaster Theodore got a transmission from a couple of miles out that a relay tower was damaged badly by the windstorm last night. He wants you to clear and organize the metal before someone actually fixes it.”

Jaune times his shove of the door with the end of his explanation and hopes that Pyrrha will not ask the obvious question. They step into the hot afternoon sun. Jaune squints, but Pyrrha just lowers her goggles over her eyes. She looks even more Vacuan than some of the townsfolk. While the so-called Beacon Brigade students, like teams CFVY and SSSN had to earn their respect at the ‘Skirmish of Shade’ and Jaune and RWBY came upon their respect with their efforts in Atlas and beyond, Pyrrha managed to curry the favor of a fair number of Vacuans simply through her sacrifice at Beacon. Her new outfit, her weapons, even her rudimentary scroll- they were all gifts from local shops. In a way, she belongs to this desert kingdom more than anything or anyone else.

“Jaune?”

He flinches too hard to hide it this time, but her expression is unreadable.

“Yeah?” Jaune swallows bitter bile, waiting for the inevitable question.

“Where are we going?”

We. Right.

“West, out of the city. Come on, we’ll be faster on the rooftops.” Jaune heads for the closest wall gate, desperate to leave his thoughts behind him.

“Jaune, please accompany Pyrrha on this mission,” Oscar had asked simply this morning in Theodore’s office. Before that, Jaune had been unsure why he had been summoned; Oscar’s text had very few details. Probably because he would have already been walking in the other direction, soulless desert be damned, if he’d known what these three had planned.

Headmaster Theodore, Professor Rumpole, and Oscar- yes, actually Oscar, judging by the slightly guilty expression- watched him expectantly.

“A squall came through last night and the Western relay node has gone offline; we need the wind damage cleared before we can actually repair it,” Theodore explained further. “That’s where you come in. I’ve sent coordinates to your scroll. Clear the debris and report back.”

Jaune casually adjusted the straps of his chest plate, trying to conceal the hitch in his breathing. “Oh, well, I was supposed to-”

“Xiao Long has been reassigned to a different mission with her teammate Schnee. Mr. Daichi and Ms. Scarlatina are handling your original mission,” Professor Rumpole raised an eyebrow up at him. “You’re clear to help your partner with this.”

“I mean, sure, but what about back up?” Jaune swallowed, nervous. “I’m sure Nora would love to help! They’ve been pretty close, right? Oh, or Ren! Grimm have been really nasty in that part of the desert, yeah? Wouldn’t it be better if-”

“If her partner stopped avoiding her?” Rumpole finished, crossing her arms and glaring at him. “We’re spread too thin to have full teams on small jobs.”

The room was silent for a moment.

Professor Rumpole wasn’t quite as terrifying as Professor Goodwitch, but eventually, he still looked away.

“Fine. We’ll get it done,” he muttered, already turning to go. He could see Oscar making a face out of the corner of his eye. Good, he could stand to feel a little guilty about it. There’s no doubt this was his idea.

I don’t want to… not yet.

“What’s the problem here? Stop spitting into the wind!” Theodore retorted, standing from his chair, pressing his gloved hands to his desktop and peering at Jaune. “Didn't you miss her?”

He froze, a wave of rage passing through him. He clenched his teeth and fists as the feeling filled every crevice of his soul and simmered into a boil. Then, just as quickly, the wave receded, drawing back until he was hollow once more.

“Of course, sir.” Jaune turned and left without another word. 

It’s not as if anyone else would understand.

3. hesitant

Jaune leaps from rooftop to rooftop, with his only objective seeming to be to get out of the city in the westward direction. By the time Pyrrha’s moisture wicking underclothes have soaked up a gallon of sweat, they’re finally on the outskirts of the capital. They’re heading into the blazing sun, which isn’t relenting as it sinks lower toward the horizon.

Not once does he look back at her, only opting to look once she’s at his side in the shifting sands. Even then, he only glances at her and nods once. He pulls his scroll out,much higher tech than hers, and orients them with a map. In the distance, a blue objective waypoint blinks steadily. She nods and he puts it away as they set off.

Her words stick in her throat, like they so often do these days. As they jog through the sand, heat waves shimmer. The trick to running through the desert, as Fox Alistair graciously advised her last week, is to never give the sand a chance to know you’re there. Pyrrha springs from step to step, lightly pressing on the hundreds of grains under her sole for just a moment before pushing off again. Jaune runs alongside her, much more fit than she remembers. It almost makes her laugh, to see him so seriously engaging in exercise that would have had him gasping or swearing at Beacon.

Almost.

The sun has sunk lower into the sky by a few degrees by the time the mangled tower comes into view. Pyrrha almost skids to a stop at the sight of it, slowing her gait as they approach.

“Badly damaged?” She croaks out as they slide down the dunes that have been blown into formations around the structure. Once the sand settles under her, she takes a long drink from her water pouch. Jaune does the same, moving into the shadow of what’s still left standing.

“Emphasis on badly,” Jaune quips dryly. Then he looks over, startled, when Pyrrha snorts. The sound surprises her as well. She clears her throat and busies herself with another drink of precious water.

“Blueprints?” Pyrrha asks, conserving her words. 

Jaune passes over his scroll. She peers at them, looking up at the twisted metal structure. Some of it can be bent back into shape, mainly the huge looming top half of the tower that hangs at a seventy-five degree angle. Other pieces scattered around are definitely just scrap now.

As she looks over and over the structure, she circles it and memorizes the appropriate shapes. Scattered shrapnel gathers into a pile without much thought, neatly pulled from the sand before it can pose a trip hazard. On her third circuit, Pyrrha dares to look up at Jaune.

He still sits listlessly in the tower’s shadow, sand pooling around the ankles of his boots. He has his arms folded across his knees, chin on his arms as he watches her work. Their eyes meet briefly before his gaze darts away. Still, he remains angled toward her.

Pyrrha points up at the twisted spires where the forces of nature had torn the metal apart. “Some of these are too big for me to adjust–”

“That’s fine,” Jaune says quickly. “Do what you can and we’ll–”

“–by myself?” Pyrrha finishes, trying not to look too hurt. The face coverings help with that. Nothing can hide how her shoulders curl in for a moment, betraying how much she wants to shrink under Tora and let the sand cover her.

“What am I gonna do?” Jaune snaps bitterly. His anger carries like sand on the wind. They stare at each other for a long moment, at once a few feet and a million miles away. Pyrrha coughs, reaching beneath her gaiter to massage her throat.

“You could… boost me?” Pyrrha suggests gently. No sooner than the words have left her mouth does she regret them.

Oh… I should have let him tell me. She frowns, licking her lips nervously. Would he have though?

Blue eyes snap up, wide and betrayed. Jaune’s eyebrows furrow, putting the pieces together. His accusation is swift and accurate: “Nora.”

“She’s been catching me up on what I missed,” Pyrrha says apologetically, clearing her throat again. 

That was a bit of an understatement. Nora had spent an hour or so each night in their shared room rambling about JNPR’s misadventures after Beacon. Even though Nora falling asleep mid sentence was somewhat normal for them, she’d still double checked with Ren that she was okay, or at least close to it. They hadn’t yet gotten to the part where Nora earned the sharp, spider-webbing scars that adorn her skin now; Pyrrha hasn’t been sure if she’s allowed to ask.

“It has been a rough few months for us, Pyrrha,” Ren had said over mugs of cactus leaf tea, squeezing her hand kindly. “Let her enjoy talking to you again.”

It’s hard not to enjoy their late night talks. When the desert is dark and cold and the Shade dorms cool down enough for a light blanket, it’s positively cozy to listen to Nora ramble on about events she can only imagine. Besides, Nora doesn’t expect her to talk; she doesn’t need Pyrrha to clear the scratchy, annoying feeling in her throat to contribute. Her simple hums, sighs, and giggles do just fine.

“She’s mentioned it a few times so far,” Pyrrha explains as she fidgets, twisting her bare fingers around each other until her joints ache with the strain of contortion. There’s no escaping this awkwardness. There’s only the two of them, the blistering heat, and the dead reception tower for miles.

Jaune gets to his feet, stiffly approaching despite stumbling down the small remaining dunes. She watches him flex and clench his hands as he nears, until he’s just inches away from her, standing shoulder to shoulder. He stares up at the relay tower while she stares at the smooth expanse of his cheek.

Her fingers twitch.

“Yes. I can boost you,” he says finally, after they’ve stood there for a moment. She nods. After hovering with hesitation for a half-second, Jaune puts his hand on her shoulder.

Pyrrha gasps, reeling from the sensation.

Once before, she’d felt this power- the clear, pure, and deep well of Jaune’s soul. Back then, it had been just a moment, a passing awareness. Now, Jaune’s aura flows through her, intense and all-encompassing. It’s a cool stream, a fresh snow, a crisp mint leaf, an ocean wave-

“Hey, hey,” Jaune snaps, suddenly in front of her. He steadies her by the shoulders, searching her eyes with panic. “What’s wrong?”

Pyrrha surprises herself by laughing, joy as clear as wind chimes. When she lifts her goggles to wipe the tears of mirth from her eyes, they evaporate from her skin almost immediately. He lets go of her shoulders and steps back, swallowing hard.

“I was right,” Pyrrha gasps, trying to catch her breath. “You do have a lot of aura. Jaune, that’s amazing!”

For a moment, Jaune’s face is open and hopeful, beaming with something close to joy. Then something shifts; his expression shutters as surely as the city of Vacuo before a sandstorm. He takes another step to the side, keeping his hands to himself.

“It’s… well, yeah.” He sighs, looking up at the defunct lights that line the vertical beams of the tower. “I’m not the same stupid kid I was at Beacon.”

What?

Pyrrha opens her mouth but nothing comes out. She squeaks, furious at her voice for abandoning her. She reaches out for Jaune, but draws back almost immediately. He side-eyes her, gaze dropping to her hand, then to the sand at their feet.

“I can do less, if it’s easier. Just figured you’d want to get back to campus as soon as possible, you know?” Jaune continues, concentrating until his hands shimmer with aura. “I also don’t have to touch you. I should have asked. That’s on me.”

She frantically massages her throat with both hands, trying to get her fingers to find purchase on the sweat-soaked skin under her chin. Jaune frowns at the ground again, hand hovering near his belt now.

Finally, her voice struggles free. “Jaune, I–”

He hushes her. Somehow, that hurts more than anything else.

“Do you feel that?” He whispers, hand firm on the hilt of Crocea Mors now. Pyrrha feels anger swell and flare in her heart at the dismissal.

“Jaune, this is important–!”

It doesn’t matter how important what she needs to say next is. 

The ground beneath them explodes.

4. sweaty

Beware sudden dunes.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Jaune shouts as the burst of sand sends him flying several feet into the air.

The brisk advice had come from a fair number of people, namely members of CFVY who he'd tagged along with on missions in the early days of their return. The vagueness was purposeful, as any number of wildlife, geographic features, ruins, weather, or worse, Grimm, could cause new sand dune to arise. Velvet had at least elaborated with a story about a huge family of mole crabs.

This was no mole crab.

Jaune recovers midair, twisting to get his bearings as huge claws flail menacingly, reaching for purchase and prey. In mere seconds, the creature uncovers itself, shaking off sand to reveal its inky black carapace, ashen boney plates, glowing red markings, crimson eyes, and golden stinger.

“Deathstalker!” Jaune calls out, unsure where Pyrrha is. He expands his shield and lets its hard light wings catch the wind, carrying him out and away from the relay tower. He stumbles into a run at the far edge of the crater made of dunes. Now that he turns around, frantically sweeping his gaze across the landscape, it’s relatively obvious that the dunes that allowed the tower's full height to be revealed were hiding something dangerous. Relay towers didn’t sit in craters of their own making, not in this ever-shifting landscape.

Not again. No, no. Where is she?

He searches for bright red among the settling sand cloud, shielding his eyes as the Grimm hisses. It swivels its body toward the communication tower. Jaune’s heart sinks as he sees the object of its focus.

Pyrrha crouches within the twisted spire of the relay tower, precariously balancing one of the remaining beams. Her newly forged weapons, not too dissimilar from Miló and Akoúo̱, glint in her hands. The blade of Mellon, in its short sword form, retracts on its cord as she watches warily, making the sound that the creature hones in on. Though she is still, the whirring is like catnip; this Grimm is on the hunt.

“It can hear you!” Jaune shouts to her, running down the dune to the fight. Nothing else is likely to be here, right? A Grimm this big shouldn’t tolerate too many others. But a Grimm this big shouldn’t be so close to the settlements either! …I guess anything’s possible with three Kingdom’s worth of stress calling every Grimm on Remnant.

As he’d expected, the Grimm swivels toward him, its beady red eyes glimmering in the sunlight. With the scattered sand settling, the heat becomes oppressive again. He ducks and parries the pincher that swings toward him with his sword, then blocks the other with his shield. The impact nearly squashes him, but he activates his shield to force it back. His timing is perfect, almost instinctual now.

“Jaune!” Pyrrha shouts from above. As the deflected claw rears into the sky, a swarm of shrapnel attacks the creature’s face, piercing its eyes until they weep black and red sludge. Jaune scrambles out of the way as it flails and screeches in agony. Pyrrha clambers down the ladder-like structure, face unreadable behind her goggles.

The sand explodes in front of them as the Deathstalker slams its stinger into the sand where he’d just been standing.

“Great!” Jaune shouts bitterly as they sprint away from it, putting the relay tower between them and the monster. “Now it’s pissed and blind!”

“I’m sorry! It was about to crush you!” Pyrrha cries out. “What else was I supposed to do?”

He rolls his eyes and doesn’t answer. What else indeed.

The Deathstalker screeches behind them, drowning out Jaune’s harsh bark of laughter. Still, Pyrrha looks at him oddly, tilting her head. He ignores her, looking around. The Grimm itself is nearly half the size of the crater. The only thing nearby is the tower, its twisted metal, and the concrete platform that anchors it in the desert. Above them, the bulk of it twists to the side like a misshapen crane arm.

“Get us up there!” Jaune demands, gratified that Pyrrha questions neither his order nor his tone. She immediately crouches and launches him off her shield. Carefully composed as he soars upward, Jaune grabs one of the steel beams and pulls himself onto it. Pyrrha follows, wrapping Mellon’s grappling cable around a piece of metal a few feet away. It carries her to safety for the second time today just as the Grimm scuttles over, ramming its stinger into the sand again. Its struggle to remove the stinger conceals the sound of the cord retracting this time.

Small mercies.

Pyrrha looks over her weapons in her hands, perched next to him. “Jaune-”

“I’m thinking!” he hisses, watching the beast howl with frustration as sand sprays up into the air and its stinger comes up empty. 

She yanks her neck gaiter down to her collar and lifts her goggles into her bangs. “Listen to me!”

“What part of thinking-”

“Jaune,” Pyrrha cries out. “I’m not going to lose you again!”

“You didn’t lose me, Pyrrha!” Jaune snaps back. “You can’t lose something on purpose.”

This high in the air, the hot, dry wind whips around them. Pyrrha licks her lips, expression pinched in a rare moment of irritation.

“What?”

The tide within Jaune swells. The wave crests, but it doesn’t break. He looks away, trying to spot the shimmering mirage of Vacuo city in the far distance. At this time of day, it’s too hazy with the darkening sky to see much of anything.

“I thought you remembered everything,” he mutters. Then he swallows, “this isn’t the time for this.”

Get it together.

“I fail to see any other time for it!” Pyrrha exclaims, voice cracking. “Why is it that it takes mortal peril for us to talk to each other?”

“No way! You don’t get to put this on me!” Jaune snarls, unable to quell the vicious bite in his voice. “All I ever wanted to do was talk to you! You couldn’t even let me return the favor! You kept me going at Beacon, day in and day out, but when the time came for you to actually trust me, you shoved me away! You didn’t even give me a chance-”

“Ozpin didn’t even want us fighting her!” Pyrrha puts her shield on her back so she can balance better, coiled like a spring on the precarious perch. Jaune mirrors her, except he sheaths his sword instead. Old, buried anger comes to the surface. He’s kneeling amongst the rubble of Vale again, trying to make sense of the locker he’s just crawled out of and hoping against hope that he’s having a particularly bad nightmare.

“Exactly! Ozpin died fighting Cinder! But you thought you could do it by yourself?” Jaune laughs bitterly, all too aware that there are tears streaming down his face. “Do you know how many times I’ve defended you and your last choice? Surely, I thought, surely my partner didn’t ship me off and go get herself killed in a fight she knew she'd lose! Of course she thought she stood a chance! Of course she just needed to get me out of her way!”

There’s a moment of stunned silence. Even the Grimm is quiet beneath them.

“Did you… Did you just think I thought you were in my way?" Pyrrha shouts, eyes wide in disbelief. 

Jaune doesn’t hesitate to snipe back. “What else was I supposed to think?”

Pyrrha’s face twists with pain or anger; they’re so unfamiliar on her countenance that it’s hard to tell. She clenches her empty hand, pressing her fist against her thigh. 

“I was protecting you!”

“I didn’t need you to protect me!” Jaune counters, as the wave of anger finally crashes to shore. “I needed you, Pyrrha!”

5. gentle

In two weeks and three days, Jaune has not once said her name.

His initial silence was unsettling. His surprised stare was unyielding. After all of the excitement and questions had settled, he’d finally spoken, cutting across the chatter.

“Robyn, could you?”

She’d taken Pyrrha’s hand again, almost apologetically, then nodded at Jaune. He’d taken a deep breath, before looking her in the eye, seeing her and not just past her. She’d shivered, feeling undone by his intensity.

“What are you?”

Those three words inspired nothing but confusion. “I… I don’t think I understand. What am I? I’m… a huntress-in-training? A girl?”

Your partner? 

She’d kept that one to herself.

Despite wanting to puzzle out the expression on his face, she glanced down in time to watch Robyn’s aura shimmer from pale purple to bright green. She looked back up at Jaune, at Ruby and her team who looked between her and him with varying levels of disapproval and understanding. Finally, Jaune sat back in his chair and sighed, apparently content with that answer. The tension still did not leave his shoulders.

“Alright then,” he said quietly into the silence. “Welcome back.”

The greeting felt hollow, especially since he went out of his way to avoid her from that moment onward. In fact, between her miraculous return and their current mission, she could count their conversations on her fingers. 

Now, she rubs her fingertips on the woven texture of her compression tights, savoring the distracting sensation. There’s nothing else to say but the truth.

“I knew I was going to lose you,” Pyrrha insists, using the word that had started this entire argument. “But I wanted you to at least be alive if I had to.”

Jaune is pale, his fury waning by the moment. The tear tracks on his cheeks dry almost as quickly as they’re created. “What did that matter? We could have both made it out. It wasn’t… You didn’t… Damn it, Pyrrha.”

“Jaune, hear me please. Running would have killed me, even if I still drew breath,” Pyrrha swallows nervously, but the lump that has plagued her all these days is completely gone. She continues, “I thought if I fought, I might survive. I could live or die with that, if you were okay. I hadn’t abandoned my duty and I hadn’t failed you.”

“But you made me abandon you.”

Pyrrha smiles, just for a moment. “That was selfish of me, wasn’t it?”

“It was!” Jaune shouts, flinging his free hand out so hard he nearly loses his balance. Pyrrha flings her own hand out, yanking his breastplate toward her with her semblance. He yelps as he stumbles forward over the metal trusses, nearly colliding with her. He flails for a moment, but quickly regains his balance.

The tower groans. With both of them tipping the scale away from the base, its stability compromises rapidly. Pyrrha glances down at the scuttling Grimm beneath them, still wandering in the fugue of its own rage and agony.

“Yes. It was,” Pyrrha whispers. She relaxes her semblance, allowing him to move away from her. 

Jaune doesn’t budge. Neither of them do, knelt precariously across from each other. Her hand hovers between them, still outstretched and bare. Gently, she places her hand on his cheek, expecting him to flinch. But he doesn’t. He leans into it, sighing and letting his eyes slip closed. His skin is rough to the touch, with soft barely-there hairs that tickle the ridges of her finger pads. It’s a wonder all of its own, the feeling of her skin pressed to his.

“I have always loved fighting by your side, Jaune,” Pyrrha murmurs, stroking her thumb along his cheekbone and wiping his tears away. “It terrified me that you might die by mine.”

“Then let me choose that,” Jaune whispers. “You owe me at least that much.”

The metal scaffold beneath them shudders, nearly throwing them off. Pyrrha keeps them both pinned to it, gasping with the force of the continued ramming. Below them, the Grimm has finally given up on trying to reach them directly. It slams its pinchers into the heavily fortified poles at the base, screeching in frustration. They gawk at it, then at each other as the metal beneath them begins to creak and sway even more. The Deathstalker screeches and turns in a circle, viciously  stabbing into the stand with its claws.

“Okay,” Pyrrha promises quickly, though the thought of it seizes her heart in a familiar vice grip. “I swear I won’t… I won’t make that choice for you again.”

Jaune nods into her hand, closing his eyes briefly. He sighs.

“To be clear though,” Jaune says with a tiny, watery laugh, “I’m not trying to die by your side anytime soon. Or ever?”

Pyrrha responds with a tiny giggle of her own as the Deathstalker begins to slam the tower again, jostling them. “So not today?”

“Definitely not today!” Jaune yelps. “Fight and live?”

“Fight and live!” Pyrrha repeats, pulling away to put Mellon back in her belt. They scramble to their feet, running for the main tower as the metal twists and groans beneath them. Jaune turns back to grab her hand, helping them both stay steady as they leap for the tiny grate that acts as a service platform within the main body of the tower. Some twenty feet below, the Deathstalker continues to bellow and batter the foundation, its single-minded hatred fueling it beyond reason. That fury makes it dangerous to fight up close, but in a few more hits, they won’t have a choice.

“Jaune?” Pyrrha shouts over the cacophony of bestial rage and structural collapse. He tears his gaze away from the furious Grimm and raises an eyebrow at her. She squeezes his hand and grins. “Help me?”

He smiles in understanding. This time, when Jaune activates his semblance, Pyrrha is ready for the burst of power and energy that flows through her. She flings out her free hand toward the huge piece of tower that had been their perch, seizing it and flipping her wrist to twist it off the main structure.

The motion shakes the tower, but Jaune catches her by the waist, anchoring them both by clinging to the foundation beam nearby. Pyrrha gasps her thanks, then continues to focus on the task at hand. She lifts the huge chunk of metal as easily as a handful of ball bearings, then crushes her fist, shaping it into a wicked javelin of steel.

Then, with Jaune holding her steady, she flings the makeshift weapon at the Deathstalker’s back. The Grimm screeches in agony as its carapace rips in two, expelling viscous sludge several feet into the air. Flailing its stinger, it struggles where it's skewered into the sand, then finally goes limp. It, and its sludge, dissipate, carrying black ash onto the wind and into oblivion.

They both relax their semblances as one, exhaling with relief. Still Jaune doesn’t let go of her; she makes no effort to move away. Further beyond the relay tower, the sun sinks below the horizon, throwing reds, oranges, and dark purples into the sky.

“Uh, well… if headmaster Theodore asks…” Jaune clears his throat, looking down at the metal carnage below them. The Grim had completely destroyed every bit of the distribution box and shredded the cable connection. CCT technicians, they were not, but anyone could see it was beyond hope. “It was like that when we got here?”

Pyrrha snorts once, then again and again until she’s howling with laughter. She turns and throws her arms around his neck, gratified when he hugs her back with the same intensity. The tower trembles a little underneath them, but it’s not going anywhere anytime soon. Neither are they.

She’s been back for two weeks, three days, and a handful of hours, but only now does Pyrrha feel that she’s home.

“Hey, Pyr?” The love in the nickname punches the wind out of her lungs. She nods into his shoulder until he continues. “The next time you want me to leave, just ask, okay?”

She nods again, clinging to him even tighter. However, she knows, just as well as he does, that she could want nothing less than that. She pauses, concerned.

Does he know? Please… I need him to know.

Choked, Pyrrha murmurs, “I never want you to leave me again, Jaune.”

She can hear the tears in his voice as he replies, “Okay, good, we’re on the same page then.”

Let’s stay that way.

Their trek back to Shade takes much longer than their breakneck outgoing pace. They take down small Grimm here and there, chatting about pasts both separate and shared, walking shoulder to shoulder in the cooling desert. He hugs her before leaving her at her room door, promising breakfast together. It’s both the most normal and oddest thing that has happened in her whole second life.

Exhausted, Pyrrha showers and crawls under her blanket. Whatever missions she had today, Nora isn’t back yet, though it’s plenty late enough for their nightly life updates. Somehow though, she knows she wouldn’t be able to listen for very long. Her eyelids droop shut and she snuggles into her pillow, grateful for its softness.

“I can only do this for you,” whispers the memory of an unfamiliar voice, just as she’s drifting off. “You’ll arrive just when you’re needed and you’ll arrive just when you need it. You’ll say what you need when the time is right to say it and you’ll listen when you need to hear. Everything beyond that is up to you.”

When she wakes the next morning, it’s because Nora is bouncing on the end of her bed.

“Pyr, wake up! It’s Friday! It’s five-thirty and it’s already hot!” Nora announces gleefully. Moreso than other mornings, she can’t help but notice her energy seems more genuine than usual, more like the joy she once had at Beacon. “Get up, get up! I want breakfast!”

Pyrrha sits up slowly, combing her fingers through her hair. Small grains of sand fall to the blanket. She also has the distinct sensation of a dream slipping through her fingers. She frowns, grasping for the memory to no avail.

“Pyrrha?” Nora asks, coming to rest on her knees in front of her. “What’s wrong?”

She blinks at her friend and smiles. “I had a dream I think… I just can’t remember it anymore.”

At this Nora beams and crows, “Dreams, scheams! Who needs them? We have the whole day ahead of us!”

Her hope and enthusiasm is contagious. Pyrrha grins and sweeps her into a tight hug. Nora squeaks and hugs her back, obviously startled but not unhappy about it. When she finally pulls back, neither of them mention the tears on the other’s cheeks.

“You said something about breakfast?”

Nora takes her by the hand and drags her out of bed, then throws her combat outfit at her face. She catches it easily.

“Yep! And it waits for no one! Come on, we have so much to do today!”

Pyrrha can feel her heartbeat quicken with joy, tugging her lips into a smile.

Today, and everyday after that…

It’s a life worth fighting for.

-

Epilogue

Thursday Evening

Theodore sighs. “Oz, this is a risky gamble you’re taking.”

The nickname makes him twitch a little bit.

Half a dozen conversations have come and gone, not to mention a host of different people needing their audience. Oscar makes no decisions without Theodore’s council and he makes none without Rumpole’s. They’ve been in this office for hours, and yet there’s no question of the gamble to which he refers. It’s been a few hours since he’d called Jaune in for a mission assignment.

“Oscar,” he reminds the headmaster. True, it was Ozpin’s memory of JNPR’s initiation shenanigans that had given him the idea, but it was a plan all of his own. “And it’s nothing they can’t handle.”

 “How long do you think it’ll take for them to realize we’ve sent them to a defunct relay tower with an active Deathstalker den?” Rumpole mutters.

“Hopefully longer than it takes for them to say what they need to say to each other,” Oscar replies, sipping his cactus leaf tea.

Rumpole is even shorter than Oscar, but her unimpressed glare manages to make him shrink into his chair a bit, chagrined.

“I may… also have Ren and Nora on standby at the current Western relay node, just a half mile way?” Oscar admits, flushing. “If something goes wrong, they’ll handle it.”

This made Theodore laugh loudly, his voice booming in the tiny office. Oscar winces at the sound, but it’s impossible to escape it. By the time the older man finishes, he has tears in his eyes.

“Ah yes, the other partner duo famous for currently getting along!”

“How convenient,” Rumpole drawls, dusting off her vest with a roll of her eyes.

“Two Nevermore, one bullet,” Oscar quips. He salutes them with his teacup and heads for the door.

Well, you certainly seem rather pleased with yourself, says Ozpin, amusement plain as day.

Oscar smiles into his tea, a small smile just between them.

By magic and miracles beyond his own power, Jaune, Nora, Pyrrha, and Ren had each other once more. With these little nudges, team JNPR will surely ride again, changed but whole.

It’s the least we could do, don’t you think?

[miasmaghoul]

*hands you a comically small microphone 🎤*

miasma, which one of the ghoulettes do you think has a piss kink?

*stands here patiently waiting*

I think they will all play in that space from time to time, but that could just be my overactive pissboy brain.

All flavors of piss girl thots below the cut!

(Please note I am wicked high and this is probably A Lot lmao)

Cirrus does it only on rare occasions, if someone needs to be treated with special cruelty. To be debased and degraded. It doesn't happen often, but every now and again Aether will come to her with a certain look in his eye. Will kneel at her feet with his head bowed and ask for it with soft, distant words. She indulges him every time; the sound Aether makes when she soaks him from the neck down is simply exquisite.

Cumulus is into holding. Likes to chug a huge bottle of water and then work on a craft project, or open a long book. She sets goals for herself once pressure starts to build low in her belly - 20 more stitches, one more row, ten more pages, and then she'll reassess. See if she can keep holding it. She can, of course, but she squirms. More and more as the minutes tick by. She's full after three hours, wriggling by four and absolutely aching by the time the fifth hour passes. So much pressure she can hardly stand it - she really, really has to go...but, well, she hasn't met her goal yet! And Cumulus is anything but a quitter. She clenches her thighs, breathes deep, and tries not to think about how far away her bathroom is.

Sunshine is the biggest pissboy amongst the girls, i think. She likes when Mountain will let her whip it out in the greenhouse so she can water the plants. Sometimes she even waters him, while Mountain tugs at himself and thanks her profusely. But she also adores having someone soak her - loves when someone lets go while they bounce on her cock, loves to be made a mess every now and again. She's also super into wetting, happy to drench her uniform while she sits in Copia's lap and sucks his gloved fingers until he cums in his pants about it.

Mist, when she indulges, likes desperation. She wants her victim partner in beautiful agony, wants them so full they can't help but shiver and leak. She absolutely used her magick to her advantage, drawing fluid into already straining bladders until they're fit to burst. Likes them to beg and plead and tremble like frightened kittens until they simply can't hold back any longer. If her partner has a cock, she takes special joy in forcing them hard and telling them to hold it. Keep it in so she can make them feel good even in their misery. So far, no one has been able to cum before they make a mess.

Aurora thinks of it less like a kink and more like a game. She like to see how full she can get, likes to see the way her bladder bulges out between her hips. Sometimes Cumulus will join her, but Aurora doesn't take things as far as Lus like to. She prefers to hold it as long as she can, and then sneak outside to find a place to let go. Somewhere she can hear people milling around, with extra points gained if she can see them too. Her favorite spot is a portion of the roof overlooking the rose gardens - she'll sit on the wide stone rail edging it and spread herself open, groaning as it arcs out of her and rains down onto the grass below. One time the stream managed to catch the sun just right, and Aurora joyfully told everyone at dinner that night that she could piss rainbows.

[saika077]

Random HC:

The first years (+Ortho) playing DnD in Ramshackle Dorm

Yuu/MC is DMing of course

Player characters (I won't go too deep into their character details tho)

I feel like Ace'd be a Human Rogue, it kinda fits his personality imo. I personally don't see him as someone who uses brute force or blast magic, so Rogue it is. Specifically, I feel like he'd be an arcane trickster.

Deuce's character would be a Monk 100%. As for the race I can sorta see him being a Tiefling. Now you might be asking, "why a Monk and not a Barbarian?", While I do acknowledge his tendency to go apeshit at times, he actively tries to grow and change from his past habits. Perhaps his character could be an ex-barbarian who is training hard to be a Monk (multiclass)?

Jack's character'd be a Goliath Fighter, the only justification I have for this is that I feel like the competitive nature of a Goliath and their desire to push beyond new limits fits him like a glove, also the fighter class suits him just fine imo.

Given his background, I feel like Epel would be a Druid (they're basically magic farmers/gardeners). However, he'd give his character cantrips like Poison Spray, various spells but no healing spells (yea this party is pretty much fucked). You can fight me on this but post-character arc Epel would be a Halfling, he'd use his size as an advantage in combat.

As for Sebek, I can't see him being anything other than a Paladin. He'd most likely be an Aasimar... or maybe a half-elf? No? Too on the nose? Anyways, he'd give his character enchantment spells, and maybe some healing spells like Cure Wounds.

Ortho is the party's main support, with him being a tiny fairy bard (now you see why I had to bring Ortho in this otherwise the party won't even survive the winter). He's just a little lad who loves berries and cream :). He also provides bgm and sfx for the campaign.

I'm sorry but I have very little to no faith for this party. But I'm sure they'll somehow survive.

Together, the fate of the world somehow lies in the hands of these murder hobos.

Random shenanigans

Ace attempting to steal a treasure/sacred item from a monster's lair, only to miserably fail a stealth roll. Everyone had to haul ass out of there.

Deuce getting emotionally attached to an Npc with tragic backstories and/or noble goal, and then stubbornly tried to save that npc and getting upset at the DM for killing them.

something tragic happens and someone just says "this is so sad, Ortho play the acoustic rendition of Piece of My World"

Ace, to every barmaid bc he's broke: "hey (with rizz)" *rolls a Nat 1 Charisma*

With how hotheaded the NRC kids are it's only a matter of time until an npc taunted or look at them the wrong way and they'd be like "oh that's it, now you're gonna get it! I ROLL FOR INITIATIVE!" completely unprompted (like in the second half of the Halloween event bc I still find it insane how everyone immediately resorts to violence, even some of the more levelheaded students).

The one time Ortho and/or Sebek can't make it to a session, Jack gets knocked out by an enemy and the gang tried to heal him. Ace: "ok but can we try slapping him awake?" Deuce:"oh that's a good idea! Can we, Yuu/MC?" Yuu/MC:"...roll me a strength check" (they forgot that they have a healing potion)

The DM sitting there horrified while watching the party using the "power of friendship" on an NPC

I feel like half of them would brute force puzzles in a dungeon and it works like one out of three times or something.

"why do I hear boss music?"

Yuu, the DM, puts their hands together in front of them, a strange smile plastered on their face as they calmly said; "everyone, I want you to roll for initiative 🙂"

[spyxfamilyanalysis]

SPY × FAMILY analysis Ep.2 pt. 2.2

Mission: 2 - Secure a Wife

~Comparing to Manga~ Chapter 2 (continue)

Warning?: There may be some profanity in this post, and the after half sounds silly :)

Now we know in the previous part, I have discussed the opening theme, and some first parts of the episode, now we are going to continue on Yor and the deal between her and Loid

After the phone call...

We could understand the pressure Yor is having: her brother's approval, and the condition to bring someone who is willing to help her for Camilla's party. Because, bringing some random man without knowing him is a very bad idea, as Mr. Dominic will inform this man to Yuri, and if he found out Yor still does not have a "someone", who knows what he will react?

We do know that Camilla's party is essential, for a co-worker like Yor, to attend, but of course, it's optional as well. In Camilla's thought, there's a 50-50 (or even a 90% chance) whether Yor will come or not. She will, if she found a boyfriend, and won't, if she does not. If it's a latter case, Camilla will automatically think Yor is single (at the age of 27). However, despite that, whether or not, Yor will still attend, even if it might negatively affect her dignity as a woman... but because it is for stronger bond with the co-workers, she still goes.

A sudden phone call cross her train of thought... It's "Shopkeeper", her employer from the Garden, a secret assassination organization. (we might wanna remember his name, because he will appear in the later chapters). Actually, from the voice of him, he looks rather be in the 40s, but when we see him in the future chapters from the manga, I thought he looks older than that. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The "job"

Yor was ordered to meet this "fortunate" guest at Royal Hotel, Room 1307. Interestingly, did you know that "1307" is an angel number? Though this is just my coincidence, I found out that this number may actually have special meaning, that it probably describes Yor a lot. In Angel Number 1307: Meaning and Symbolism: "In terms of love, Angel Number 1307 means perfection in a love relationship. At present, you are facing some trust issues in your love life, so the angels are urging you to trust your partner. There should be an attempt to understand each other better so that the love and chemistry between you increase and not diminish."

As ordered, Yor had finally revealed herself as an assassin known as "Thorn Princess". The reason is because many details of her assassin dress has roses patterns. According to the Wikipedia: Yor wears a form-fitting halter-style black dress that shows off her shoulders and cleavage, with a rose choker and a red rose pattern on the inside of her skirt.[...] She also wears a pair of black thigh-high boots with a rose symbol at the bottom of their sole and black fingerless gloves. The headband she wears is gold colored with a rose and two spikes on each side.[...] This outfit was the only good dress she had before marrying Loid, after which she purchased more formal wear to better present herself for Eden Academy's interview.

It is said that she had been doing this dirty work at a very young age, and it was later revealed that she did this job after her parents' death, leaving the siblings alone as orphans. To take good care of Yuri, somehow, Yor became an assassin, trained under the Director (appeared in the Cruise Ship arc's chapters). With that, she made a lot of money to buy things for Yuri to study. When she was young, she worked day and night to financially support the two, until Yuri was finally able to get a good job, she only needs to do night shifts as she may not need to get much money like before.

Though this is unrelated, Yor demanded: "May I have the honor of taking your life?" in the manga, while the anime: "I'm sorry to have bothered you, but could I choke the life out your body, Mister?". The anime made Yor so "polite" to the victim, and she just said "choke the life out your body", leaving so much bloodlust >:)

You may also notice, in the anime, the dead bodies were not shown full body nor clearly, yet it only shown some parts that does not contain the bloody scenes, or in dark shadows.

Mr. Curly Hair returned

A very funny detail that was not mentioned in the anime: Anya was shocked whether or not Franky become the new mom

A very cute detail: When Franky was angrily shouted at Loid, Anya was so scared, she hid behind the sofa. And when Anya asked if she was a bother, Loid gently pat her head :3

Yor meets Loid

As you can tell, Yor silently walked pass Loid without him recognizing, and even knowing that she is being stared at, surprised him a lot. That is because Yor had been going under many trainings to become an assassin.

Secretly sneaking behind a target without being realized was one of the basic skills, by covering much of your bloodlust, the target may see you becoming invisible behind them (I learned that from Killua, one of the Zoldyck's family members in the anime Hunter x Hunter)

To cover up the reason why he's been targeting Yor, he had to made up a reason because she's pretty (Is that a lie!? That's just literally mean you can flirt with her!)

And then Anya interrupted the two's conversation 😏, and accidentally read Yor's mind. Lucky that Loid is still single, otherwise, she would've killed his wife :)(which he doesn't have one) Anya's so shocked that Yor is an assassin!

Spy + Assassin = Waku waku! - Anya Forger~

This is so perfect, Loid needs a woman to be his "wife", and Yor needs a man to be a "boyfriend", To kill two birds with one stone! Anya has to act so well to get these 2 together, be sure to thank her later, Loid!

Loid is very good at lying, he even lied that his "ex-wife" really wanted Anya to attend the prestigious Eden Academy, even a 5-year-old can figure that out, but Yor believed him :) And so, they'll meet each other at Saturday night.

Before the night~

As it seems, the anime has a name of the shop Anya and Loid went to, DLID, open from 8:00 to 21:00. This was not shown in the manga, I dunno why?

And I was actually searching for the meaning of this sequence of numbers in Twilight's secret extra mission... And I really don't know the meaning of this numbers at all. At first, I thought you have to translate the numbers using the japanese alphabet, but then I forgot that Japan has 4 alphabets, and I dunno Japanese, so I can't really translate this message full of numbers. I really dunno if Tatsuya Endo writes random numbers or he writes the sequence of the code in numbers.

However, I do notice number 95822 was repeated 2 time in the second row. Number 58919 in third row 2nd column was a bit similar to 18951 & 58921 in fifth row; so my prediction that these numbers may have the same words, or sounds, or even handwriting (if we are talking about Japanese alphabet). Well I can't guess the sequence of the numbers, but generally, there are many numbers that are really alike, they may have small changes in the position of the numbers, or some numbers are changes into different ones.

Also fact about this numbers: When I try adding the 5 digits numbers together, some sums are the same, like 32076 in first row and 22482 in second row have sums of 18, 23486 and 84272 in the first column row 3 and 5 have sums of 23...

Secondly, if you minus and plus the sums of the number in sequence -+-+-+..., like (6+4+6+5+6)-(9+0+6+5+9)+(3+2+0+7+6)-(2+2+4+8+2)-.....+....., all the way to the end, it will = -1 :))

Yes, it took me some time to calculate this sequence of numbers :))

And how surprising that it is on Saturday, and also the day he met Yor for her friend's party. Not good, bro!

The night mission

While Loid was with Franky going on a secret mission, Yor was waiting him for very long... hoping that he wouldn't get into any trouble...

Well, they actually were. The bad gang noticed, and they were trying to capturing the two men. The little difference is: In the anime, Twilight was less panic, and calculating the situation, while Franky quickly ran away with the "treasure", yet in the manga, it seems that he was a bit more panic, as he was running and taking care of the gang.

And in the manga, we can tell that when Twilight decided to get the ring, he seems emotionless... while in the anime, he seems to smile a bit!

And there you have it! A car crash during an extra mission! :)) Classic~ right at the time Yor was being lonely at the party :)

The party night

Who left an innocent and beautiful lady at this time bruh!?

Tips for men, if you are going on a "date" or hangout in general with a girl, don't make she wait for you, like how Loid did to Yor, instead, girls can be a bit late for boys >:))) But honestly, both of you should be on time, for great first impression~ if we are talking about first times~ But that's not happening to me :")) Me single bruh

Yes people, this is from wiki: "Yor has been left waiting at the station and she assumes she has been played, but decides to attend the party on her own to prevent her brother from worrying."

And yes, I'm not gonna describe the details of what happened at the party, go and watch the episode by urself, Im here to say that this sassy little b1tch Camilla and her coworkers keep bullying Yor. To make her miserable or something bruh

But you know what they say, He laughs best who laughs last. Loid showed up right on time when we was still covered in blood and bam!: "Yor my wife, Ima her husband!" >:DDDD (evil laughing with broken english~)

And booom, jealousy Cam (I call that shorten for Camilla, keep error tying stuff), Loid too handsome and nice -> Ship TwiYor now! (is this ship outdated?)

And she threw out her trump card, badmouth Yor:

And then, bam! Loid stepped in! (This is too good! I cannot summarize the dialogue :")) ) Bruh he left her speechless, and she is grasped with admiration~

This is literal flirt? Twiyor canon ?

The revenge? Confession!?

As Loid truly apologized to Yor for what happened earlier, and we do seem know what was about the happen next, and since this is not a spoiler for next episode or anything, I won't go full details about the fight

I will now focus on the conversation between the two. In the anime, Loid seemed to speak more calmly about the "incident", but somehow, the manga made him speak a bit overreact?!

When suddenly,... you know what happened next. The remnants of the syndicate earlier, they want revenge bruh. I don't think they know that was Twilight. Man, he kept his identity too well, and also his lying is not bad (but ofc can't fool Anya). Yor believed his words that they are his patients. Because you know, in "believe" there is "lie"

And omg, in the manga, he thought:

But it is totally different in the anime, not as the insult:

And one of them almost killed Twi-Loid, and check at Yor people:

This might be the lamest excuse Yor has ever come up.

Seriously, though, how is it possible for a woman to kick a man jumping behind you, so accurately and so strong that he rolled and hit the wall. No wonder why Loid was speechless...

Because physically, a woman cannot hit a man with her legs that strong, the worst scenario would be he fell immediately on the ground, not suffering a few more rolls :))

And finally, the one-and-only confession, "He notices a grenade near an unconscious smuggler and grabs it before ducking behind a generator. Loid pulls the pin and hurls the grenade at the smugglers while using the pin as a wedding ring" (because he lost it) for Yor, (and they got "married")

I mean, before that, our man Loid was shocked, he fell on the ground :P

Watch at this moment: The confession

Yes this is extreme as hell bruh

This is the end of the full analysis of Spy x Family episode 2. Thank you so much for take your time reading.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few words from the "author" of this post (me)

As you may know, I am suffering studying at school, because this is an important year for me, and I only have a few months left before I graduate high school and take my entrance exam for university. So I will mainly inactive in this blog, unlike my main blog @laurenmiki06. (well, I also mainly look for BSD fan pic).

But don't worry, I still have my Anya facts working on, just not these days, that's all. Probably, I will secretly work on other facts post and continuing on episode 3 analysis. But I may have a bad feeling that you might have to wait for next year :"))

Yes, episodes in season 2 has finally come to an end. So I will keep updating the ep's name in my main post first, and maybe starts watching the episodes (though I know how it ends already: manga spoilers)

Overall, thank you so much for cheering me up! See you again one day :))

[unchartedthelostlegacy]

Alright, Chloe loved being horny, but this was a bit much. She couldn't focus on what app she wanted to open to look at what on her phone sitting in the car at the petrol station because. Nadine. She was swiping the homescreen side to side trying to remember where it was or even what it was called because thinking about Nadine constantly apparently took too much GPU in her brain computer (and also made it overheat).

What would Nadine be doing when Chloe eventually remembered what she had even left the house to do and returned from that errand? Would she be just getting back from her stupid three hours at the gym every day and Chloe could perform a jump-tackle into that delicious sweaty musk using the element of surprise so Nadine wouldn't dodge her and escape into the shower again? Or would she have gotten back a while ago and stretched on the couch reading in her old singlet that accentuated her gorgeous arms, cutely blinking in and out of a nap like that one goose gif?

The phone bill. Chloe had spent twenty minutes looking for the app to pay the bill for the phone she'd been holding.

"Well, that's one productive thing for the day," she muttered, revving up again and pulling out of the station.

Nadine was neither napping nor sweaty when Chloe sauntered back into the former Shoreline leader's flat. She was at the counter, surrounded by an unusual amount of dirt, replanting a cactus. Chloe had not asked about why an increasing number of houseplants were appearing on windowsills and in corners. Maybe it was therapeutic. There were worse home decor obsessions to have.

"I'm home," Chloe still wasn't used to saying that. "Did you dig another one out out of the bins behind Checkers?" God, Nadine was so beautiful when she was focused on something. Well, all the other times too, but...

"Lekker," Nadine said. "C'mere. It wasn't behind Checkers."

Chloe wandered around the counter, fussing with her ponytail to cover her gratuitous stares at arms, butt, back of neck, all of it. Nadine was wearing gloves to protect against the prickles and that made her all the hornier. Fuck.

"Didn't want to put the radio on, china?"

"They…they had it on unusually loud by the weights, you know…" Nadine suddenly sighed.

Chloe gave in and stepped forward, reaching around Nadine's waist and pressing her nose into the back of her neck where the curls just started.

"I think it...set something off."

This was a breakthrough, to be honest. Nadine only recently started opening up about the triggers Chloe had no idea someone would be embarrassed about, and was to be expected of a combat veteran.

"Gave you a headache?"

She felt Nadine swallow, and arced her neck so her ear was against Nadine's.

Nadine let go of the painted blue-and-white pot the cactus had vacated black plastic for and put the mini shovel thing aside. "I felt it in my chest for some reason and I started shaking. I thought I was losing my grip," she said."

"You...did grow up with bullets flying everywhere and bombs dropping, you know."

"Ja..."

"So you felt awful outta nowhere," Chloe murmured into perfect skin, "then you went and sat in the car until you simmered down a bit and then you saw a poor defenseless cactus someone threw out across the way--"

"Whatever, Frazer."

Chloe wanted to squeeze Nadine with her climber's grip. Instead she moved her thumbs as if she was smoothing around the woman's navel. "Gardener's pet."

Nadine scoffed. "What did you want to get for dinner?"

No, she hadn't meant to make the woman clam up again. "After we're done talking about...this?"

"I was waiting for you to get back!"

Nadine hated eating alone and sleeping alone. Big-family-pilled, Chloe would call it, before getting beaned with a pillow. It was from being accustomed to military life and order still, but neither of them admitted that.

"You," she muttered, and put her hand on Nadine's other cheek to press her face against her lips. She chuckled feeling the warmth of Nadine's blush. "Going to gnaw your arms off."

Nadine's stomach rumbled beneath her other hand. Chloe's nose let out titters and Nadine's hand slipped over hers.

"I warned you!" there was finally traces of a giggle slipping into Nadine's voice. "If you eat my arms I'm going to eat your huge ego-tripping head."

"Or we could both have crepes again," Chloe said, sighing. She let go of Nadine, slowly and deliberately, her body whining as her fingertips broke away from Nadine's hips. "We could get takeaway for once."

Because Nadine was too self-conscious to sit in her lap and be fed morsels at the French restaurant they frequented. And if Chloe didn't get some more hands-on time with the beauty she was going to explode.

Nadine grunted and moved to sweep away the stray soil and sand from the cactus with her hands, and Chloe picked up the bin to help make quick work of it and the gross plastic pot. Nadine set the cactus on the sill of the small kitchen window and looked at it for a few moments before shaking her head, as if to clear it, and then moving to the sink to wash her hands.

[penvisions]

return the favor {chapter 15}

Pairing: Post-Outbreak! Joel Miller x Reader, past reader x male OC

Summary: With the hoard behind you all, your group settles for the night and makes plans for the oncoming months. With autumn continuing on and the chill lingering in the air, winter looms and offers a whole new set of worries for travel.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: kissing, physical touch, calming touch, medical jargon, descriptions of injuries (brief), past trauma, mentions of past injuries, guns, gun violence, shooting, canon typical death, canon typical violence, suicide, implied past suicide attempt, catatonic episode, past pregnancy, implication of child loss, implication of terminated pregnancy, grief, heightened frantic emotions, kansas city arc, loss of a child that is canon compliant

A/N: another shorter chapter, but i feel like it's ended in a good spot to move on from to cover the off-screen time of travel that occurs between the episodes of the show. will be back to longer chapters after this and mostly all original writing as far as plot and characters go with little sneakie bits of the game lore sprinkled in

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist

Your hands were gentle as they came to rest on your stomach, you were laid out on the couch in the living room. A warm fire was going strong in the fireplace, smoke plumes blending into the overcast sky that promised more snow within the hour. It was deep winter, you had been bidden to stay in for the day and you had been more than happy to oblige. There was a pot of broth on the stove, simmering in a low boil with the last vegetables from the Fall harvest. The garden was small but always yielded good results in the rich Appalachian soil. The pantry was full of jars that held the rest of it, pickled in order to maintain longer, a skill you had picked up from your companion.

There was a thud of boots on the porch steps and you felt your heartrate pick up. Thuds to knock off the excess snow could be heard as your companion stomped about before the door opened to reveal his tall, wide frame. He was bundled up, but there was a collection of rabbits tied together visible in his gloved hands as he moved to hang them by the door. The hook there just for that reason, the bucket underneath there for much the same reason. He made to take his outer layers off, a jacket, a vest, and his boots that still had a bit of snow caked on them.

“I just cleaned these floors, sir, you best not get water pooled on them.” You chided lightly as you leaned up a little from your pillow. You had been facing the door, a habit that was hard to break even in the safety of your shared home. The man moved to take off his hat, his hair loose in its tie up from the movement underneath the insulated thing, the flaps coming down to rest over his ears. He removed the scarf he had used as a makeshift mask, his bright smile killing the next words on your tongue.

“Yes ma’am.” He made his way over to you, fingers combing through his long, chocolatey brown locks.

His flannel was a pale tan, red and black making the typical pattern on the material as he sat down beside your stretched out legs. He brought his large hands to rest atop your own, over the swell of your belly. A gasp fell from your lips at how cold his hands were despite having worn gloves outside. You brought them up to your lips and began to blow gentle breaths on them to help warm them up a bit, looking up at him through your lashes as you did so.

“I think we need to start using the reserve. It’s too cold for you to be going out beyond patrol these days.”

“I will keep that in mind, my love.”

You felt warmth flood your whole body, eyes looking over the man’s face as he leaned down to place a chaste kiss to your lips. You both just rested by the fire, taking in the warmth it was providing. You looked over your companion, overcome with emotion once again. He was so pretty, with his long wavy hair, his strong nose, and delicately long eyelashes. His eyes were the brightest hazel in the sunshine, darker in the confines of the cabin. Darkest when he was deep in the throughs of passion. He was tall, nearly a foot taller than your short stature and burly. His chest being one the best pillows now that you had the opportunity to use it as such.

You had been caught off guard by how attractive he was when you had first met, machete in your grip and a gun in his own. You had stumbled upon his cabin in the spring years ago, looking for a new place to settle for a few days and potentially beyond that. It had taken you a treacherous year to travel from the wilds of Arkansas to the mountains of Tennessee.

You had been injured, one shoulder stitched from a rather close call with some infected. Thankfully the cut had been from running into a broken banister and not by one of their hands or them directly. You knew the infection spread from being bitten but being touched by them all at was unsettling. It had been reopened by the horns of a charging buck. The very same that your current partner had injured and was giving chase after.

He took you in, offered you a hot meal and a shower after medical attention with gentle hands. You were supposed to have been on your way by nightfall, but you had never left. You allowed your thoughts to play back the meeting of your partner, a smile decorating your lips as you watched him beside you now.

He was staring off into the fire in front of the couch, hands still atop your own. Moving slowly in soft caresses over the life you two had created together. Lost in thought just as you were.

You blinked and he was slumping over, blood blossoming across his torso and neck. He fell to the floor and you made to move after him when you felt sharp pains in your abdomen, blood sprouting to pool across your own body. Your breaths came fast and shallow, pain was all you knew in that moment even as you tried to will it away. Your left arm began to throb, your head began to pound and you felt the embers of the fire begin to fill the house with an overwhelming heat…

Your body lurched where you lay, almost convulsing as your nerves couldn’t decide if they should trap you in the makings of your dream world or in the present that was slowly coming back to you. Screams were being ripped from your chest as anguish thrummed tight in your chest, taking over your entire body and making it feel heavy. You blinked your eyes open, tears blinding you and you saw a dark shadow hovering over you, felt hands holding you down.

“You’re okay, it’s okay. It’s me, it’s Joel. You’re okay, darlin’.” A smooth, deep voice spoke to you in a low volume, trying to break the spell your nightmare had put you under. If it weren’t for the southern twang in them, you’d have vehemently pushed the person away. The hands atop your body became lighter, pressure going away as you stopped thrashing and began to calm down. Joel’s voice leading you out of the chaos that your mind was consumed by. Your screams became whimpers as the pain in your left arm became unbearable, white hot cascades over your skin.

You were lost, your mind reeling from the fresh feelings of loss and grief. Eyes blinking furiously as you tried to get rid of the tears blurring your vision. He had appeared clear as day, as if he were still alive and a part of this life, you life. Your chest heaved as you tried to breath, the simple task suddenly too much for you. Your skin was burning all over, nerves overwhelmed and overstimulated and you lived through the loss of your husband again. For everything that he was. For everything that he could never be.

You sobbed, openly and loudly. It was an ugly sound, contorting your pinching features into a look Joel never wanted to see on you again.

He could tell there was no pulling you out of this. He knew what this was, how all consuming it was. How you could only go through it to get past it. You reached your good hand to the tattoo on your injured arm. The one of the bear skull that hid such a long and deep scar. But Joel knew it was there, knew that the story about getting it jumping on a bed that you had told Ellie was a bold-faced lie. He knew that you had carved that scar into your own skin, in the middle of an episode too much like this one for his comfort. Your nails dug into your skin, and the staccato of your uneven breath got worse.

He talked you calmly through the episode, hands gentle on you as he eased you through it. When your eyes seemed to clear a little, he moved onto explaining where you were. What had happened.

“You passed out,” Your name sounded so sweet coming from his pursed lips, his face contorted into a mix of emotions. Worry, fear, stress, shock, all making his features pinched and his brow furrowed. You took in a deep breath and clenched your eyes shut. A hand came up to brush away the tears, a soft cloth helping to do so. You leaned into the touch and when you opened your eyes again your vision was mostly clear. Joel was sitting beside you, his large hands tending to you in your lost moment.

“Joel?”

“That’s right, just me.”

You shot up from where you were laying atop an old mattress, arms coming around him in a tight embrace. He didn’t hesitate to return it, his arms coming around you to hold you to him. Face buried in his chest, you inhaled deeply, his scent bringing a sense of calm to you. Washed over you and washed away the nightmare.

“You were hollerin’ and calling out names, tried to wake you as soon as you started.” His nose buried in your hair, his mouth speaking against your temple.

“Trauma brings up memories,” You sniffled, trying to rid yourself of the last of your tears. You felt him press his lips closer to your skin. You reveled in it, taking what you needed from the man in front of you.

It didn’t feel like a betrayal to the deceased you held close to your heart and soul. It felt like a chance at the life you still had, the life he had fought for you to have.

“Your arm is bad, how are we gonna fix it?”

“I’ve got to somehow tie the break together and get it lined back up, hope it heals right and stitch the wound shut.” You pushed away from him a little, to peer up at him. He had schooled the emotions on his face, appearing more like he normally did. You glanced around to see that it was just the two of you in the room and leaned up to place a chaste kiss to his jawline. One of his hands tilted your chin up a bit more and he swooped down to capture your lips with his own. The kiss was all consuming. His lips parted and you mimicked him, allowing for his tongue to tangle with yours.

“It took everything in me to stay up in that house while you two were down in the middle of all that.”

You felt his lips brush against yours as he spoke, not pulling away to properly speak. You pressed your lips to his again, letting him know that he had done a good job despite the circumstances, that he hadn’t failed. You could only hope that he realized it. 

You kissed him again and again and again. Trying to tell him the only way he would listen.

“Okay, I’ve got sterile needles and suture string.”

“You sure you’re not going to pass out trying to do this?”

“I hope not, Ellie, but there’s no telling. To be completely honest.” You looked over the small table toward her, it was a coffee table, low to the ground. Everyone was sitting around it as you laid out the materials you’d need for your arm. Your shaking had subsided to small twitches, as your body tried to deal with the pain. You had popped a hydrocodone to try and stave it off but you didn’t want to take anything more on top of that in case stray Infected from the ambush found their way all the way out to the outskirts of the large city. You needed to be alert to help protect everyone should a threat arrive.

Joel had washed his hands with pure alcohol you had in your pack, alongside your own good one. It wasn’t ideal, infection was a huge risk especially with how long the bone had been exposed to the open air.

“Okay, please, no one make any sudden movements, even if it looks like I’m gonna faint.” You looked around the room, making sure everyone understood. “This has to be done, otherwise it’ll never heal and infection is still a high possibility even after getting it all sorted out. Henry, please take the kids to the other room.”

With a curt nod, the younger man did as you asked. He ushered them up and away from the table but Ellie didn’t budge.

“No, I need to see so I can help. I need to learn how to do the stuff you do.”

“Ellie, this is an extreme case, I promise you.”

“I want to be in the room. I want to learn.” She crossed her arms and furrowed her brow in what was a good mimic of Joel, though you were sure she hadn’t meant to do it. She was completely serious, though you could see the hint of fear and worry behind her hardened stare. You both watched each other, her eyes glancing from the injury on your arm, to the stuff on the table, to Joel frowning at you both, and then back to you. “Please.”

You sighed, knowing she had a point, she needed to know basic medial know how, but this was an extreme case. Broken bones like with Joel’s knuckles at the start of their journey were easier to handle, easier to manage because it didn’t require putting the bone back into place quite so dramatically. You had set him on a healing path with ice, heat, plenty of bandages, and monitoring of how his movement had improved with each. You nodded at her, prompting Henry to guide his little brother away to leave you three in the living space alone.

He didn’t want Sam to see the blood, still trying to shield him from what he could. You didn’t fault him for that, you didn’t want Sam to see it either. He was still far too young to be exposed to a lot of things, and while some couldn’t be helped, you would make sure there was a limit.

It was one of the hardest things you had to do in your adult life, and that’s not an easy statement for post-apocalyptic times. You gently pushed down the exposed part of the broken bone into the incision you had cut to open the initial breakage of your skin, belt tight between your teeth. The leather creaked from the pressure of your jaw as you did so, it was agonizing. You didn’t have any numbing cream or any anesthetic left in your first aid kits, something that you had gone through years ago back when you had been more stationary…back when you were dealing with something far more life threatening.

Blood gushed from the open wound, prompting Joel to swoop in with his clean hands and sterile gauze to wipe it away, it was all he could do so you could see. The entirety of your arm was throbbing, making it hard for you to dig your fingers into the flesh to make sure the fragmented bone was once again lined up where it was supposed to be. The force of it digging back in was devastating, but you had to keep your fluttering eyes open to do it. One your fingers were pulled from the flesh of your arm, Joel wiped a new gauze and iodine over them. Trying to help keep the steps as minimal as possible for you. His thick fingers rubbed the blood away and cleaned your hand up as much as possible. The focus now was on stitching.

The belt was gently pulled from between your lips, the material no longer needed to help tether you to the task at hand.

You talked Ellie through the different ways to tie off the material you were using, detailing that there were different types of material depending on where and what the injury was. The different patterns of stitching and how they each held their own benefits.

Joel watched with focused eyes as you spoke and worked, seeming completely zoned into the craft of what you were doing. You looked so damn capable in his eyes, something so different from the fear and worry that had flooded him back when he had first allowed you to travel with them. The same fear and worry that bloomed when you had been ambushed that first day with the truck, he had the devastating thought that he would fail you too. But here you were, having survived with him, alongside him through everything encountered so far and you were now literally practicing surgery on yourself and using it as a teaching moment.

Your hair was wavy and wild pulled back into a topknot, bags underneath your eyes. Your nose was still bruised in an array of purple and blue, swollen cuts on the bridge and end of it. Your forehead scabs were dark and thick, but you looked so good to him. Strong and capable. It made his chest warm and his heart gave a heavy beat in his ribs. He couldn’t tear his eyes from you, how serious and focused you were.

Crickets were chirping outside, creating a peaceful lull of background noise as everyone settled for the night. Today had been hectic, it had been stressful, it had been terrifying. Everyone deserved some rest, especially the children. They would surely carry this day with them until they were their counterparts’ ages and beyond. Hell, you’re going to carry this day with you passed. The hoard coming up from underground in an explosion of screeches and the vibrations of the ground as it shook underneath the onslaught of their ascent would surely become a recurring nightmare, if deep enough sleep was ever achieved.

Joel was seated on the floor, leaning up against an old cabinet, one of his knees was propped up, but he slumped back heavily. The day having taken a lot from him. You were beside him, feeling vulnerable with your newly bandaged arm fashioned in a sling and held close to your body. You were laying beside him on your side, back facing him and his left arm was resting atop your side that was facing up. You’re breathing was evened out now, body only shivering every so often as it adjusted to the influx of narcotics you hadn’t taken in so long but needed to in order to get ahead of the bad injury.

Henry was off on Joel’s right, something you had tried to do but he quietly assured you that he wanted you to try and rest. He trusted Henry now, having lived together through the day helped the two men to fall into an even better understanding of each other. There was a sense of hopefulness that was budding in the air, affecting everyone as the night trudged on. Things would get better from here, despite no longer having a vehicle. There was safety in numbers, it was a human trait as old as time itself. Your trio had blossomed into a group, and that meant everyone would be able to watch each other’s backs. The children would have protection.

Henry was slowly chewing on the very last of the dried goods you had found in your pack, the children having already eaten. Joel had insisted on rummaging about for something for you to have on your stomach after your stitches had been completed and an empty can of soup sat off to the side. Small sounds could be heard as Ellie and Sam read a comic together, sitting atop the same bed in the bedroom.

They could be seen through the open door, a lantern on in their space to help them read better. Ellie was quietly narrating and mimicking the sound effects of the comic, working on the few signs that Sam had shared with her. You were watching them through blurry eyes, sleep scratching at you desperately, but you were staving it off until Joel was a little more relaxed. His had had been clenching and unclenching your side for nearly an hour now.

“You think they’ll be okay?”

“Yeah, I think…it’s easier when you’re a kid anyway.” Joel paused, mulling over his words, you heard him swallow thickly. “You don’t have anybody else relyin’ on you. That’s the hard part.”

“Well…I guess we’re doin’ a good job then.”

“What’s that comic book say? ‘Endure and survive’?”

“’Endure and survive’. That shit’s redundant.” Henry huffed a quiet laugh. He adjusted a little, the stool he was seated on creaking.

“Yeah, it’s -it’s not great.”

“No.” A real laugh sounded from the younger man, startling you slightly. Joel’s hand traced a line up and down your side, trying to sooth you. It stilled before he spoke next, grip curling over you, grounding him as he made a decision you had already advocated for.

“Look, I don’t know exactly how I’m gettin’ to Wyoming. I’m probably walkin’. But, you know, if you want to.”

“Yeah.” You could hear the relief in Henry’s tone as he easily agreed to the half spoken offer from the man holding you. “Yeah, I think it’d be nice for Sam to have a friend. I’ll tell him in the morning.”

It was quiet for a moment, as the two men sat with their decisions.

“New day, new start.” With that, he stood and entered the room where his brother and Ellie were still reading. You heard Joel shuffle down to lay beside you, but you gently protested before he could settle completely.

“Your bad ear is up, I’ll turn around and you can lay on my other side. Please.” You didn’t mention that the move would put him between you and the door. He watched as your eyes flicked from it back to the floor in front of you. He nodded once, understanding what you wanted. He shifted, carefully moving over you to shield you from the door that you all had agreed to shove another shelf in front as a paranoid precaution.

He grumbled a little as he laid down, his back to the door, your back to him. There was enough space between your bodies that you weren’t touching as you both lay atop your spread-out sleeping bag, but you could feel the heat of him behind you. Your injured arm was making it hard for you to truly get comfortable, but this was enough. You adjusted your jacket so Joel had something plush to lay his head atop next to yours. You felt him place a chaste kiss to the side of your neck, the tickle of his moustache comforting against your skin. With that, exhaustion and the mix of pills you took finally dragged you down into a light slumber.

It was early morning when chaos came in the form of a loud snarl followed quickly by a scream, of the bedroom door swinging open so hard it banged into the wall with enough force for the doorknob to break the drywall. It bounced back and would’ve slammed shut if it weren’t for the two small bodies that came flying through the threshold, Ellie’s panicked screams and guttural growls from Sam effectively getting everyone startled and on their feet within seconds. You and Joel go to reach for the gun, but Henry is quicker and he snatched it before either of you could.

“Nope, nope. Nope.”

Ellei screams for Joel, screams for you.

Joel moves toward where the two bodies are thrashing around on the floor, Ellie fighting as best she could.

Henry shoots a daring warning shot at Joel’s feet as the older man prepares to lunge forward and physically save Ellie. His hands fly up and he lets out a low yell of frustration. One of his girls was fighting for her life, wailing as she did so and the other was plastered to his back with only one good arm.

Ellie screams for you both again and Joel bares his teeth at the younger man. He did not like this and neither did you. He had the gun, he’d shoot either of you before he would shoot his brother.

The two children struggled, rolling and thrashing about on the floor. Henry was Infected, the instincts of the cordyceps making him strong and he seemed to hold his own against a flailing Ellie. She was trying to keep him at bay, not wanting to seriously injure him despite him not being the one in control of his body any longer. Joel stood in front of you, his body half shielding you from the scene in case the young boy decided to change his attention toward someone else.

Another haunting shriek from Ellie had the man doing just that, he had turned from you and Joel to face the two fighting and fired.

Sam’s small body fell to the floor, the force of the gun hard. Ellie scrambled up, panting as she faced the motionless body laid out before her. Everyone was breathing heavy, adrenaline pumping harshly through your veins and hurting. Blood began to flow across the floor and you felt yourself heave. It was child’s blood. One of the few things you couldn’t stomach.

Joel was watching Ellie with rapt attention, crouched down slightly, You were sure if Henry didn’t have the gun he would’ve dove down onto the floor with her and taken her into a crushing embrace. He called her name quietly, her motions stilted as she turned tearful eyes toward him.

“Are you okay?�� He croaked out, voice holding so much emotion. He couldn’t fight the urge to step toward her and Henry immediately brought the gun up to aim it at him. You reached out for him with your good hand. Needing to be in contact with him. Henry’s eyes were panicked, thoughts hectic behind them.

“Easy, easy, easy.”  Joel raised both his hands up and held them for the younger man to see they were empty. He glanced over to you and realized you knew what was about to happen just as well as he did. A quick turn back to Henry and it was obvious that he was struggling with what he just did. He looked over toward the body of his brother and his breathing became erratic. “Henry, gimme the gun.”

Joel pleaded quietly and calmly with him, trying to get him to hand the gun over. Henry just kept repeating ‘What did I do’ over and over, voice getting more frayed and broken as he did so.

He brought the gun up and aimed it at his own temple.

“Henry, no!” Joel shouted, voice loud over your own pleas. Ellie watched on from her spot on the floor, tears falling from her eyes.

A second gunshot rang through the room.

It was followed by two screams and a shout.

Joel’s hands fell from where they had gripped you tight as soon as the short rang out, your face buried in the planes of his back. You scrambled over to Ellie, collapsing onto your knees and engulfed her in a crushing hug. Her arms were tight around you and you could feel her body wrack with sobs. You looked over your shoulder to Joel, pain in your eyes as he continued to stare between the two bodies that now occupied the room that had been so hopeful just the night before.

“Oh god.” He whispered into the quiet of the room.

He closed the distance and settled down on Ellie’s other side to shield her from the room completely. You both held her until she calmed down. His hands gripping you both and grounding you all.

previous chapter || next chapter

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics

[simplegenius042]

Tattoo Tag and Musical Name Tag

Tagged by @shallow-gravy for "spell out url with songs" tag game and @g0dspeeed @chazz-anova and @inafieldofdaisies for the tattoo tag game.

Tagging @socially-awkward-skeleton @adelaidedrubman @direwombat @snake-in-the-garden @a-rose-in-a-garden-of-weeds @strafethesesinners @strangefable @josephseedismyfather @josephslittledeputy @vampireninjabunnies-blog @voidika @poisonedtruth @cassietrn @wrathfulrook and @henbased + anyone else who wishes to join.

Answers to tattoo questions for Silva Omar below:

Does your OC have any tattoos? If not, do they want any?

Silva does! Around two and later a third.

How does your OC act while they’re getting a tattoo? Do they grit their teeth and deal with the pain, do they need something to hold onto while getting inked, ect.?

Silva's tolerance to pain is high. Not to mention getting a tattoo is not the worst pain Silva has dealt with.

Would your OC ever get a face or hand tattoo?

It would take a lot of convincing for the face and she'd have to see the designs. Hand tattoos are an absolute no... the scars are very sensitive to touch (often why Silva wears gloves... to protect her hands).

List any of their tattoos/prospective tattoos below. Feel free to add any meaning they may have

First tattoo a symbol of her status as a part of the Tumultite community (and the very few alive); a small simplistic design of a sword and a shield which rests on the right side of her right shoulder

The second tattoo is a homage to her first daughter, Persephone, who was really obsessed with planes; a small airplane going around in circles that rests somewhere on her left forearm.

Third tattoo she gets in the New Dawn arc and expresses her love for Faith and their daughters. I won't go into too much detail (because I haven't found an exact design), however I will say it has something to do with her and Faith's relationship, and will be somewhere on her right side (near her heart).

Now lets spell my url with songs!

S - Stronger (What Doesn't Kill You) by Kelly Clarkson

I - I Can't Decide by Scissor Sisters

M - Meant to Be by Bebe Rexha (feat. Florida Georgia Line)

P - People Like Us by Kelly Clarkson

L - Life is Fun by TheOdd1sOut (feat. Boyinaband)

E - Enemy by Imagine Dragons x J.I.D

G - Ghost by Confetti

E - East of Eden by Zella Day

N - Never Be the Same by Camila Cabello

I - I'll Be There for You by The Rembrandts

U - Unstoppable by The Score

S - Summertime Sadness by Lana Del Rey

0 - N/A

4 - 4Ever by The Veronicas

2 - N/A

[thebasilbuffet]

Basil, are you sure you don't need help..?

You're fidgeting with the gloves a lot..

- @basils-plants-and-potions

"Yeah, I know I don't need help. Please.... Stop asking."

(Basil's hands reach for the other Basil's but shake before going back to the tight gloves.)

[raventroll80]

I don't actually know, like, anything about your oc's. Give me a primer on 'em so I can start forming silly little headcanons about them?

Thank you so much for the ask!

I have a few ocs from a couple different things so I’m gonna organize them by the thing they’re connected to. (This is going to be a really long post, sorry)

The Troll Doomguy Au

(honestly I need to think of a proper name for this lol)

Things are a little messy and all over the place time wise as I didn’t originally plan for this to become a full on fic.

Slayer (the aforementioned troll Doomguy)

Roughly 15 feet of angry troll who also has a habit of eating the demons.

Cropped his ears at some point to make them look vaguely human, almost docked his tail but chose not to after seeing some now probably extinct species of demon use their tail as a weapon.

From the events of 2016 and prior he had the Meathook on his tail but put it on his shotgun after the attachment was ripped off by a certain grudge holding Cyberdemon.

In the events of Eternal it’s been replaced with a mace and has a more limited range.

He’s pretty smart despite what most people think, it’s just that a lot of his problems can genuinely be solved with Incredible Violence.

Has a very hazy recollection of the events of Doom 1993 and anything before that is even more hazy due to him repressing those memories.

He did have a wife and kid (stepson) who he loved dearly but lost them during an “accident”

Despite all this he’s actually pretty chill!

He tends to get easily attached to people who aren’t as easily afraid of him.

Considers Valen as family despite Valen himself not really knowing.

Mim Digsby

In the events of A Beast on Mars, Mim is the last human alive in the Mars Facility.

5,4 gremlin of a person who likes to take apart machinery in their spare time.

They’re a miner and mechanic who usually works with excavation equipment, and has clearance to work with mining gloves.

Started the trend of saying thank you to VEGA whenever one of the drones did something helpful or brought supplies. (This is also what got them their mechanic training after VEGA did some light string pulling)

Has punched a foreman for trying to make people continue mining in an unstable tunnel.

Used to be in a relationship with an Elite Guard prior to their “promotion” but things didn’t really work out after, but the two are still friends.

Is on Mars as part of a “criminal rehabilitation program”. Their license expired on their way moving back to Massachusetts and got arrested after getting into a fight with some rich dude at a bar.

VEGA (my take on Vega at least)

Plant enthusiast, he thinks they’re neat. Slayer was more than happy to give him a section of the greenhouses for his own personal garden.

Didn’t like Slayer at first due to how aggressive he seemed to be towards the equipment of the facility and was worried he’d end up harming any possible survivors.

Quickly found out he truly means best for the survivors of the invasion and also feels sympathetic towards Slayer after finding out the little bits of memory he does have regarding the UAC.

He’s pretty sure if he was capable of getting headaches he’d be getting them daily from Slayer trying to do something stupid i.e trying to fist fight a demon twice his size.

Keeps a list of all the things he’s caught Slayer eating that he probably shouldn’t be.

This list includes: excessive amounts of demons, Gore Nest remains, garbage from a cafeteria, an unidentified Argenta plant, dirt, Hellgrowth, and “mystery meat”.

Derrin Willams (Troll au Intern)

Used to own rats, but they passed away prior to the invasion.

Tech support for the ARC but also just helped out wherever needed.

Liked reading about the Slayer and Argent D’Nur and found him fascinating and was genuinely ecstatic to meet him. (He really wants to see a withrin)

Still gets spooked by Slayer from time to time, but has managed to spook him back.

Surprisingly good with a gun and can at least hold his own against zombies and like a singular imp scout

(Not really a personality fact but his last name comes from my blind ass mistaking the numbers on his uniform as the word William or Willams)

There are other characters and ocs I plan to appear in the au but I haven’t gotten there and burnout is making things hard in general, oof. I’ll probably do up a bigger one of these specifically for the troll au in the future.

Stowaway Mer au

I’m doing the Mer au version of Stowaway mostly because there’s significantly more stuff for it (see nearly 30 drawings and like 6 chapters for one au). But honestly it’s pretty far removed from Doom and I might rework it into its own thing… which means redesigning nearly 30 sea demons….

Em Barbatus

5,3, Former Canadian

Ace

Loves horror movies and practical effects.

Lived with her “aunty” Nihm in an apartment in Port Murlow prior to moving into the Old Taggart house with Flynn.

Works at a bait shop and Mr. Grimmar’s Occult Shop.

Training to be a mortician at the mortuary the Mr. Silas Grimmar owns.

Owns some homemade ghost hunting equipment and occasionally mucks about old abandoned places with her friends looking for ghosts.

Occasionally helps out at the local theatre’s costume department

Has committed the third least amount of crimes out of the main cast of the mer au

Hobby of beach combing and diving for junk in Taggart Bay.

Seth (technical Seth Willams in regular Stowaway)

The token mer of the mer au lol

Looks like a mix of leopard and Port Jackson shark and is from the Indo Pacific and southern Pacific Ocean (he is very fucking lost)

Needs glasses but can’t exactly get any as he’s a fish man.

Has a fear of the open ocean and orcas and does not enjoy long travels between the reefs an kelp

Has a fascination with human technology and history and enjoys exploring shipwrecks with his siblings. Though after a bad experience with some humans he is somewhat distrustful of them.

Has no clue how the hell he ended up in the Atlantic.

Has committed the least amount of crimes… so far

Flynn Taggart

Looks intimidating but is actually pretty chill

Moved to Port Murlow following his discharge from the military for various reasons.

Has many fond memories of his visits there when his grandfather lived in it, though he still doesn’t like the basement even now that he’s older.

Starting to show signs of selective mutism and is learning sign language because of it. He also isn’t a fan of eye contact anymore after the mountain incident.

Has a picture of Daisy in his wallet and is looking into getting her certified as an emotional support animal.

Recently gotten a job on a fishing boat and already doesn’t like his boss.

He inherited the house from his now missing grandfather Keen.

Doesn’t like being alone in the house

Tied with Vega for the second most crimes committed in the au (this wasn’t intentional I realized how many of the characters have committed crimes in this like halfway through the month)

Speaking of Vega

Vega Triton

Has a degree in marine biology and is currently studying a newly discovered species of bioluminescent algae he named Vegastella scriptorseintillais

Vega is the second oldest person living in the Old Taggart house.

Used to work with Dr. Hayden and Pierce but after an accident that left many researchers including Olivia dead Vega and Samuel had a dispute which left the two very bitter with each other.

He blames himself for the aforementioned accident.

Vega moved into the old Taggart house after realizing that living on a cave connected to another cave containing hallucinogenic algae is not good for his mental and physical health.

Nihm Barbatus

Freelance security guard and one Em’s mentors.

Met Em during one of her contacts on a cargo ship that had left Canada.

Made friends with Flynn when he was briefly a freelance security guard, and was the one who told Em that Flynn was looking for roommates.

Friend of the Grimmar couple.

She also has a large extended family and plans to bring Em with her to the next family reunion.

Silas Grimmar

Port Murlow’s goth grandpa

7,3 and build like a coffin

Been happily married to his husband Hiram for many, many years.

Runs the local mortuary and an Occult shop

A jovial old man who often volunteers at the local theatre.

Graduated with a degree in mortuary science and occult studies from Miskatonic University.

Tea drinker

Hiram Grimmar

Silas’ husband and owner of the antique store across the street from Silas’ occult shop.

Has an archeology degree and is a retired archeologist.

Met Silas when his team needed to consult someone on some artifacts they had dug up.

Coffee drinker.

[his-red-right-hand]

His Red Right Hand, Chapter 1

The cool night air hit your face as a welcome balm as you stepped outside of the crowded house, pushing the back door closed behind you to semi-successfully muffle the loud music of the party. Leaning against it for a moment, you took a couple of centering breaths and then took a few steps out into the night. You didn’t even want to be at this damn thing, but you’d already cancelled too many plans with your friends to be able to get out of this one. Hindsight being 20/20, you probably should have suffered through a bar trivia night to avoid a college party. Crappy beer, loud music, and leering guys weren’t exactly your scene. Or at least not these days. Did you even really have a scene any more?

Not that you’d exactly been hanging out with your friends that much anyway. It hadn’t taken much more than an hour for them all to eventually disappear off into conversations and groups with people who actually wanted to be there, people who actually had the desire and will to try and be interesting. Something you just didn’t seem to didn’t have in you these days, not like you used to. Plus, you were pretty sure - before you entirely lost track of her - that you’d seen Sarah doing some shots, which meant that your ride home was going to be sleeping it off on the floor somewhere before too long. Well, if you were going to be walking home, you might as well start now. Fuck,  if you made good time you might even make the last bus, which would cut the walk in half.

With a softly huffed “Fuck it,” you set off across the mostly dead grass. You could cut through the gardens around here to get to the road without having to try and wade through the sweaty throngs of the party. It sucked you didn’t have your walkman with you for some music, but at least if you got too cold you could always actually put your flannel on, rather than just having it tied around your waist. Grunge was just not really designed for Florida. And sure, there was a serial killer about, but that guy killed people in their homes, not mildly trespassing in gardens.

You were shaken from your thoughts by a bright flash of light off a little ways to your side, behind some so-called privacy bushes that were meant to keep people from peeking into the garden. Not that you were sure why anyone would want to look into the garden of a shitty college house. But - was that a camera flash? What the hell was someone taking pictures of outside a shitty party? There was something niggling in the back of your brain, telling you that this was a terrible idea, but maybe it was the cheap beer, or maybe it was some faulty instinct you didn’t quite understand - and then. as you stepped around the hedges to see what was going on, you realised you really should’ve listened to that niggle.

Gore greeted you, three bodies of boys you think you vaguely recognised as some of your hosts. The blood and the expressions of terror made it a little difficult. Entrails spilled onto the grass from one, gutted from sternum to groin, like a hunter gutting fresh game. Another’s head tilted back at an obscene angle, his throat sliced open, the delicate tubework of life laid bare. The last was just a mess of blood and flesh, like he had stabbed and stabbed and stabbed and just more and more even though you weren’t quite sure it ever counted as a body any more.

And standing in the middle of this bloody tableau, right in front of you, taking several pictures of this display that he was clearly very proud of, was Roseville’s resident serial killer.

The Ghost Face.

Click-FLASH!

Another polaroid was spat out of his camera, his gloved fingers taking it and waiting, impatiently if the tapping of the flat of his blade against his thigh was any indication, for it to develop.

The blood spray had arced artfully over the white mask he was wearing, his long robe jacket thing. This close you could see that the hood was a separate piece, was splattered with so much more. A pleased sounding chuckle emerged from the figure, the camera and polaroid was secreted back in a pocket somewhere; maybe that’s what all the straps were for? And then his head turned. And now he was looking straight at you.

You stared into those empty black eye holes and they stared back into you. It felt like an eternity of you just looking at each other, time felt like it stopped existing as you were sure these were your last moments alive.

The moment stretch and then snapped as he took a menacing step forwards, only to pause and tilt his head to the side as you continued to stand still.

There were dead bodies here. He had killed them. He was about to kill you. You should run.

Why?

Why should you run?

Wait, why should you run?

This was the most interesting thing that had ever happened to you in your entire life, and you were about to die.

As you considered your imminent demise, and your struggle to give any fucks about it, the killer marched towards you, some sort of decision made. He grabbed a fist full of your tank top and spun the two of you, pushing you towards the wall of the house. You moved with him, trying very hard not to think about the soft and squelching things under your boots. Your back hitting the wall with enough momentum to force an exhale from you; this whole time your gaze transfixed by the empty holes of the mask where his eyes should be.

He cocked his head to the side, breaking the intensity of the eye contact; and now you were very aware of three other things. One was that the blade of his knife was pressed up against your throat, biting into the skin just enough that if you moved you’d cut yourself.  If he decided to apply any more pressure you would be adding to the blood on him. Another thing was that your nose was now full of his musky cologne, feeling almost light-headed with it. Or maybe that was the adrenaline of being in the middle of getting murdered.

And the third? That would be as you had moved together, you were deliberately not thinking of how well you had both moved in sync, you had grabbed onto one of the straps running across his chest. And you were holding on to it tightly as a lifeline.

“It’s not fun if you don’t run.” His rough voice seemed to carry a note of genuine disappointment in it, releasing his hold on your tank top, apparently the knife at your throat was enough to keep you still for him.

“I’m sorry...?” You roughly swallowed to try and get some moisture into your dry mouth, mentally cursing and letting out a hiss of pain as you felt blood well up against the knife blade. Fuck that thing was sharp. “I-I won’t ask you to make it quick or painless or anything?”

The angle of the blade shifted minutely, drawing more blood, and he bent his head in towards your throat to watch it roll down your skin. He was so close to you that you could feel the warmth of him against you, acutely aware of his other arm resting against the wall next to your head, effectively caging you in place even if there wasn’t a knife at your throat. You tried to shift your hips a little against the wall to ease the sensations building there without pressing them into him: you might be suicidal, but not quite that much. This was not the time for your thing about knives to rear its ugly head. Or your thing with blood either.

“You won’t, will you?” he asked, his voice cracking strangely as he almost growled the last part. Was he using something to change his voice? He straightened back up and easing the pressure on the blade, trailing the tip down the column of your neck, across your collarbone, slipping under the thin strap of your top and applying pressure again and you could hear him let out a breath as more of your blood welled up, pooling against your skin. “You wanna die that bad? Or is it just me?”

He pressed closer to you, the tip of your nose almost touching his mask. Fuck, the rich musk of his cologne was never going to leave you if you lived past this night. His thigh shoved itself between yours, every last shred of control you had went into not clenching onto it. As you let out a whimper, he pressed the knife deeper into your flesh, and you closed your eyes, overwhelmed as all your other senses were so full of him.

“Look at me,” he snarled suddenly and you snapped your eyes back open, earning yourself a chuckle and a purred “Good girl.”

Oh. Fuck.

“Oh man, you want it bad... You're practically aching for it.” 

You almost wanted to cry as he pulled back from you, just enough for the tip of his knife run slowly down your chest, over your top, tracing its way between your breasts to rest over your heart.

“Ask me nicely.”

A frantic swallow as you tried to remember how to talk. 

“Puh-Please.”

“Please what?” His thigh pressed up harder between your legs and you lost your battle not to clench against him.

“Please kill me.” He let out a harsh breath, whatever electronics altering his voice giving it a harsh crackle.

“Say my name,” he growled, the knife dropping down to his side so he could press so close to you now, chest pressed against chest; and all you could do was stare back into the eye holes of his mask.

“Please Mister Ghost Face. Kill me.” You surprised yourself by not having your voice shake. And by meaning every single word. “Fucking do it. Please.”

“You asked me so nicely...” A hand pressed tightly over your mouth to muffle your cries, eyes going wide with the sudden pain of his knife sliding into your side. He let out an approving noise as tears started to spill from you, the thigh between your legs now most of what was keeping you upright. “But that’s going to have to be a no from me.” 

Wait, what? Your brow furrowed in confusion as he pulled his hand off your mouth, taking a moment to gently caress your cheek before taking your hand that was still death gripped onto one of his chest straps and pressing it onto your stab wound. 

“There we go, pressure on that darling...” He slid the knife back out, another electric crackle over a growl as you cried in pain, your hand firmly pressed against it to staunch the bleeding.

Your legs crumpled under you as that solid thigh finally withdrew, leaving you a whimpering mess on the ground. He bent over to check that your hand was positioned properly, taking your other one to add pressure. Everything was growing hazy. You could feel the life draining out of you despite his efforts. A bright flash made you squint, the mechanical noise of a polaroid being spat out enough to get you to tilt your head up just enough to look at the mask again.

“One for the scrapbook.” He let out a dark chuckle, shaking the picture. “We are going to have a lot of fun babe. And if you’re real good, I might just gut you.”

He might have said more, but that was the point where the darkness decided to take you.

[annachum]

This reminds me of Cosette's arc from a lost child to a true lady beloved by many

Cosette spent her earlier years in the slums, then she was kidnapped and was so horrifically enslaved that she virtually nearly forgot how to read, write or even what compassion is like, and oh, she nearly DIED of frostbite when Valjean came to save her entire existence

It was the love from Valjean and those nuns and gardeners in Petit Picpus that saved her, it was the sisterly love from her convent school friends that helped save her. Throughout such love and care, Cosette is reminded of what true compassion is like, how to properly function like a human being ( relearning how to read, write and also recovering from severe malnutrition ). She went from a rather quiet and withdrawn kid who wears gloves and hooded cloaks even in indoors, to a healthier kid who likes to hang out with her friends and let her visual arts talent blossom

And because she was so sick when she first came to the Convent, Coserte needs special medical attention to her physical health all throughout her convent school years, not to mention the thrice a week therapy sessions in her 8 years there just to help her function like a regular human being once again

Cosette never forgot those horrible experiences thar nearly broke her. In fact, it made her more merciful

Which is another reason why her becoming a beacon of light and hope to many in her post convent Eras to be so important

She never internalized her suffering and instead, channeled her healing and grief to offer love and compassion around

She was saved by an army of people who loved her. In turn, she helped save many others from despair with her compassion

I think Cosette is one of the greatest characters ever written - she literally becomes a human embodiment of compassion and a reminder to us of the importance of hope

Also because of her severe sickness and malnutrition, Cosette becomes stunted in her growth and she was one of the shortest girls of her convent school classes

By the time she turned 16, she has grown into a lovely and healthy young lady with a curvy figure and rosy cheeks, albeit of petite stature ( cuz of the stunted growth thing )

When she first came to the Convent, Cosette was often virtually attached to hip to Valjean, and later on her convent school friends and certain nuns

Later on she came out of her shell more

Post June Rebellion Cosette eventually becomes a socialite who is passionate about her art patronage snd charitable efforts, and actually enjoys running the household she has with Marius. She came to live a life that she has been dreaming of since she was a child, and she eventually has a real home with the one she loves, after all ( just as she has wished )

[vlasdygoth]

Happy secret samol!! This year i got @arohawke as my recipient and i really hope you like it :3 They asked for spring in hieron ephrondir, and throndir's reaction to the understanding. I think this would take place some weeks or months after ephrim gets settled outside of the university proper, but like throndir says in the epilogue, that ten years was A Lot. And yknow, i think this is just the beginning of an even closer relationship between the two of them and their new garden.

image description under the cut bc it's a long one,

[ID: 1. A long, full color comic. Throndir, wearing a long blue coat, approaches Ephrim sweeping the steps to his small white house. Ephrim wears black pants and a chunky tan jacket. In the background is a forest, a tower, and an arcing branch of the rhizome. Throndir shouts "Hey!". Two square panels show Ephrim flinching, clutching his broom close to his chest, then relaxing as he turns to see Throndir. "Oh. Hey," he says. Next, a shot of Throndir and Ephrim from behind, looking up at the house. "You've got a nice place here. Good potential," Throndir says. "Thanks," Ephrim replies. Then a wide rectangular panel of Throndir in profile, frowning, the dark green forest behind him. Next, another wide rectangular panel of Ephrim in profile, looking at Throndir out of the corner of his eye. Behind him is a yellow field with green bushes and cypress trees. He says, "It's good to see you." Underneath, two square panels of Ephrim in profile. He looks straight ahead, and says "when you walked up, I thought…" Then he looks down, and says "I don't know what I thought. An angry mob or something." 

2. The second page of the comic. In a wide rectangular panel, Throndir turns to look at Ephrim, and says "You know, it's going to take a lot to gain back the trust people had in you, but nobody's going to come after you in the meantime. That's not how we should be doing things." In the same kind of panel, Ephrim replies with his eyebrow raised, "Well, not that I have any say in this anymore, but I agree." Beneath these panels, a tall shot shows more of the rhizome behind Ephrim's house, with branches and a large pine tree shrouded in white clouds. At the bottom of the page, Ephrim and Throndir stand a ways apart, looking at each other. Throndir has his hands in his pockets, and Ephrim is holding his broom close to him. "It's good that you stepped down," Throndir says. "It doesn't feel good," Ephrim replies. "I spent over a decade putting all I had into protecting this place and the people I love. And now it's like that means nothing." Throndir says, "You can't just expect people to forgive you without working for it. But… I've hurt you before, and you still forgave me, because you trust me. I trust you, ephrim. I know you'll put in the work to make amends." "That means a lot," Ephrim says. "I just don't really know what to do with myself anymore." 

3. The third and final page of the comic. Three tall panels descend like stairs from left to right. In the first, is a close up of Throndir with an open expression. "Well, actually." He says. In the second, he reaches into his inner coat pocket. "I stopped by to give you these. With that new green thumb of yours, I though you could help make a garden." In the third, a close up of a pair of tan gardening gloves in Throndir's outstretched hand. "Y'know, for the almanac," He says. Beneath, two long rectangular panels of Ephrim. In the first, Ephrim looks up at throndir with a shocked expression. "I— Thank you. And I will, I'll help with a garden, I'll help with the almanac." In the second, a close up of Ephrim holding the gloves to his chest, a tear on his cheek. He says, "Anything you want. You're too good to me, you know that? Always have been." Next, a long rectangular panel of Throndir giving Ephrim a big smile. "Well, I'll keep trying. We'll keep trying," He says. Finally, Ephrim leaps on Throndir to give him a hug. END ID]