Tiypo
Forever Phone Posting
All signs point to Creme being the living embodiment of RNGesus; we must praise her, least we get SMASHED for not.
Honestly though, both girls come across as interesting teammates.
Hold It In (RWBY/Transistor)
- Thread starter Prok
- Start date
- Crossover
Honestly though, both girls come across as interesting teammates.
Prok
Go play Star Fetchers
- Location
- Scotland
Heck, you're making me blush. I'm glad that they do, though, because I have plans for them. Both of them. I know I've said that enough times, but this, the way the votes are going right now-All signs point to Creme being the living embodiment of RNGesus; we must praise her, least we get SMASHED for not.
Honestly though, both girls come across as interesting teammates.
You know what? Fuck being unbiased. I'm beyond happy with how the votes are going because they give me hope that when their stories happen, people will go along with them. Which is really what I want to happen, because railroading them would just suck all of the fun out of it, and throwing out their arcs would break my heart. And this? This is a good sign!
People are, people are choosing them over Salem, over Saff, and that... amazes me.
Anyway, I'm gonna close the votes now, so I don't forget later, and Ada, Creme, and The Nobody win!
Interlude: Ada Doyle, The Barely There Girl
Prok
Go play Star Fetchers
- Location
- Scotland
On a somewhat ironic note, GOD BLESS R/EYEBLEACH
Post-fuckup edit: huge thank you to @Algalon for pulling this from the aether with his spooky mod powers!
|||
Your name is Ada Doyle, and your eye hurts.
The sun is still high in the sky as you walk home, blade safely sequestered away in a quick sheath of wrapped leather- non-shifting weapons aren't legal to carry bare on a preliminary Hunter's license, as you found out the hard way- but it's on its way down, the horizon touched gently with pinks and oranges. The end result is that, naturally, you're being blinded by the sun as you walk home.
"Fucking sun, gotta shine right in my eyes while I walk home, what kinda right's it thinks it's got, pulling that shit..." You grumble to yourself as you navigate.
The pain flares up, and you have to stop for a moment, gently gritting your teeth and palming the gauze covering the source of your pain, gently rubbing it. It's not very effective, but the intent matters, you suppose. After a few moments of head-pulsing pain, it fades again, and you're left wondering what caused it. Taking a few deep breaths, you press on.
It's nothing fresh gauze and painkillers can't fix, you hope.
Once it settles down to a more typical pain, you walk on-
a hot breath on the back of your neck becomes a high, shuddering laugh-
You whip around, eye wide, machete out of your scabbard in a flash as you feel yourself flicker, ready to...
... Get caught up in old memories.
You take another deep breath, trying to calm down your heart so you can't feel it pulsing in your chest, in your wrists, in your neck... nothing there.
There's nobody there. It's nothing to worry about, she tells herself as you slip your blade back into the scabbard, and walk home a little faster anyway.
|||
Your apartment is a small, not quite dingy affair, but... lived in, you'll say. Granted, it's still situated in one of the rougher parts of Vale, but it's cheap, and the landlord doesn't ask questions about why a 17-year-old girl with a missing eye needs to rent an apartment by herself. You walk past that odd picture frame in the hallway that you can never quite bring yourself to take down, showing a girl the same age as you. Same hair, same eye colour, same eyepatch...
Walking past it, you untie your makeshift sheath from the belt loops on your trousers, leaving it in a bucket near the door, and pull your poncho off, hanging it up as you walk past the otherwise empty coat hooks, happy for the chance to bring some order to your life.
You walk into the small kitchenette cum medical facility you call, er, your kitchen, and, after some effort, manage to get up onto your counter and into the cupboard with the gauze and eyepatches. You suppose you should move them down to the lower cupboards, but in truth, she knows she just likes climbing on the counter.
It's a simple pleasure.
Taking out the gauze, the painkiller tablets somebody your size really isn't supposed to have, and antibacterial solution, you set some water on the hob to boil. While waiting for that, you begin the process of unwrapping the bandages around your head, laying the small pocket mirror in the kit in front of you as you do.
Pulling the patch away, you find nothing too concerning- tears, sure, but that's normal, no real mucus buildup, no blood, perfectly healthy eyehole, as far as your not medically trained ass can tell. As you look at yourself in the mirror, she sees how her eye is sunken, the lids drooping and deformed from years of having nothing to shape them. And beyond that, bright pink flesh, not inflamed, thankfully perfectly healthy.
You take pride in the fact that, despite years without formal medical attention, you've only had one eye infection, and that was when someone played dirty and threw sand in your face during a spar. Not hard enough to trigger your Aura, and too fast to react with your Semblance.
Ass.
Taking the water off the heat, you turn the hob off and leave it to cool, taking the time to think about... well, today.
You... passed your test. That's good. Hell, that's great! You're going to Beacon! You made...
Friends, you guess. There's that Arc guy, he's... quiet, but nice. Lumen's... a bit of a dick, but not in a bad way, and Creme...
It was weird, having someone check on her during the aftermath of one of her more severe episodes. It was nice, but it was weird. You wouldn't mind having that happen more often, on reflection.
But, yeah, it was... it was fun! Just, joking around with other people who aren't dicks that ask about your eye, or why you're so short, just, four people having fun and laughing about it.
... You didn't get their fucking Scroll numbers, you fucking dumb bitch-
Ugh. You can deal with that tomorrow- lockers still have to be cleared out, yearbooks, projects- eh, you'll probably run into them again at some point. No big deal.
Checking if the water is cool, you dip a cotton ball into the liquid and put a couple drops of disinfectant on it.
... Get it over with Ada. Putting it off isn't going to make it hurt less. You need to do this, she tells herself.
Gritting her teeth, you watch from afar as she gently wipes the mix of boiled water and disinfectant across her eyelids, wincing as the pain hits her. You feel it too, but it's just so... distant.
You find yourself pondering your feelings on today as you watch yourself clean out your eye socket on autopilot, observing yourself and your thoughts as time passes.
You passed. You made friends. Both of these are good things. Very good things. And yet, you find it... hard to care. You observe the disinterest, not quite connecting to it yourself, treating it more like a metaphorical curiosity to be turned in the hands. An oddity. Not one you can throw away.
As you wrap up your bandages, placing another patch just before you forget, you quickly down one of the painkillers with some water, before finishing the job, and wandering through to your bedroom.
Ha. Bedroom. Broom closet, more like. It's messy, as one would expect from someone your age, but you made your bed this morning, so that counts for something, right?
You flop down onto it, just about managing to kick your shoes off as you do. Ugh... you hurt all over. As soon as you hit the mattress, it's like every latent ache and pain in your body from the weird tingling sensation in your face from where you got a faceful of... what, fire? No, what's that other shit- plasma?
Plasma, yeah, sounds about right. Then there's the bullet to the back of the head, that hurts like shit, especially since you weren't even the one that got shot in the head, ugh. At least it makes all the other aches and pains kind of... not matter, in comparison.
You'll take that.
Without meaning to, your thoughts slowly drift towards that disinterest from earlier. You're... happy, about passing, about, about managing to make new friends through it, but you don't... think you're as happy as you should be.
For a moment, you wonder what that says about you. What this disinterest says about you. What your inability to be just truly, honestly happy about your own accomplishments says about you.
You feel those questions on your chest like physical weights, for a moment, and you can't help but feel a little short of breath for it.
Once again, you're watching yourself from the third person, and you find it... easier. You see yourself begin to flicker and imagine what it would be like to just... let it happen completely. Would you disappear, completely stop existing, just like that? Would you sink through the floor, through the earth, all the way down to the planet's core? What would happen then? Would you burn? Would you suffocate? Or would you just be kept there, unable to move, breathe, do anything to help yourself until you starved, or died of dehydration?
Some basic survival instinct gently clears its throat and you remind yourself that none of those are actually desirable.
Before you find yourself completely engrossed in those thoughts, you pull your Scroll out from your pocket, your earphones from another, and play some music to calm your nerves.
... And cause permanent hearing damage, but that's just a bonus. As the sound of soothing low-fidelity music fills your ears, you close your eyes and let it flow over you.
You feel the impact of thin knuckles on thinner wood more than hear it, and you open your eyes. A completely different song is playing in your ears, and the sky through your window is much pinker, twilight settling in properly. You must have dozed off.
Removing your earphones, you get off your bed and walk to the door, passing the living room, the hallway mirror, and up to the door.
Cracking the door open a little, leaving the chain on, you see an old woman in grey waiting outside.
"Hello, Ada!" She chirps, still managing to sound bright and cheery at her age.
"Oh. Hey, Mrs Pearl. Hold on-" You close the door and quickly undo the chain lock, opening the door for the old woman. You like Mrs Pearl. She knows how to keep you grounded. And she lives right across from you, so, you know, might as well make friends with your neighbours.
"I remembered that today was your test, so I thought I would make something special for the two of us. Have you ever had chargrilled shellfish?"
Immediately, your mouth begins to water as the smell of the dish wafts from her still open door.
"No, but if it tastes as good as it smells, I'd love to."
Her smile widens, a little croaky giggle escaping her.
"Well, come on, let's start before they get cold! You can tell me all about your test."
You find her smile infectious as you follow her, closing the door behind you and taking in the heavenly smell of marinaded shellfish slowly grilling.
"Well, I think it went well..."
It's... odd, the more you think about it, but your eye doesn't hurt so much anymore.
Post-fuckup edit: huge thank you to @Algalon for pulling this from the aether with his spooky mod powers!
|||
Your name is Ada Doyle, and your eye hurts.
The sun is still high in the sky as you walk home, blade safely sequestered away in a quick sheath of wrapped leather- non-shifting weapons aren't legal to carry bare on a preliminary Hunter's license, as you found out the hard way- but it's on its way down, the horizon touched gently with pinks and oranges. The end result is that, naturally, you're being blinded by the sun as you walk home.
"Fucking sun, gotta shine right in my eyes while I walk home, what kinda right's it thinks it's got, pulling that shit..." You grumble to yourself as you navigate.
The pain flares up, and you have to stop for a moment, gently gritting your teeth and palming the gauze covering the source of your pain, gently rubbing it. It's not very effective, but the intent matters, you suppose. After a few moments of head-pulsing pain, it fades again, and you're left wondering what caused it. Taking a few deep breaths, you press on.
It's nothing fresh gauze and painkillers can't fix, you hope.
Once it settles down to a more typical pain, you walk on-
a hot breath on the back of your neck becomes a high, shuddering laugh-
You whip around, eye wide, machete out of your scabbard in a flash as you feel yourself flicker, ready to...
... Get caught up in old memories.
You take another deep breath, trying to calm down your heart so you can't feel it pulsing in your chest, in your wrists, in your neck... nothing there.
There's nobody there. It's nothing to worry about, she tells herself as you slip your blade back into the scabbard, and walk home a little faster anyway.
|||
Your apartment is a small, not quite dingy affair, but... lived in, you'll say. Granted, it's still situated in one of the rougher parts of Vale, but it's cheap, and the landlord doesn't ask questions about why a 17-year-old girl with a missing eye needs to rent an apartment by herself. You walk past that odd picture frame in the hallway that you can never quite bring yourself to take down, showing a girl the same age as you. Same hair, same eye colour, same eyepatch...
Walking past it, you untie your makeshift sheath from the belt loops on your trousers, leaving it in a bucket near the door, and pull your poncho off, hanging it up as you walk past the otherwise empty coat hooks, happy for the chance to bring some order to your life.
You walk into the small kitchenette cum medical facility you call, er, your kitchen, and, after some effort, manage to get up onto your counter and into the cupboard with the gauze and eyepatches. You suppose you should move them down to the lower cupboards, but in truth, she knows she just likes climbing on the counter.
It's a simple pleasure.
Taking out the gauze, the painkiller tablets somebody your size really isn't supposed to have, and antibacterial solution, you set some water on the hob to boil. While waiting for that, you begin the process of unwrapping the bandages around your head, laying the small pocket mirror in the kit in front of you as you do.
Pulling the patch away, you find nothing too concerning- tears, sure, but that's normal, no real mucus buildup, no blood, perfectly healthy eyehole, as far as your not medically trained ass can tell. As you look at yourself in the mirror, she sees how her eye is sunken, the lids drooping and deformed from years of having nothing to shape them. And beyond that, bright pink flesh, not inflamed, thankfully perfectly healthy.
You take pride in the fact that, despite years without formal medical attention, you've only had one eye infection, and that was when someone played dirty and threw sand in your face during a spar. Not hard enough to trigger your Aura, and too fast to react with your Semblance.
Ass.
Taking the water off the heat, you turn the hob off and leave it to cool, taking the time to think about... well, today.
You... passed your test. That's good. Hell, that's great! You're going to Beacon! You made...
Friends, you guess. There's that Arc guy, he's... quiet, but nice. Lumen's... a bit of a dick, but not in a bad way, and Creme...
It was weird, having someone check on her during the aftermath of one of her more severe episodes. It was nice, but it was weird. You wouldn't mind having that happen more often, on reflection.
But, yeah, it was... it was fun! Just, joking around with other people who aren't dicks that ask about your eye, or why you're so short, just, four people having fun and laughing about it.
... You didn't get their fucking Scroll numbers, you fucking dumb bitch-
Ugh. You can deal with that tomorrow- lockers still have to be cleared out, yearbooks, projects- eh, you'll probably run into them again at some point. No big deal.
Checking if the water is cool, you dip a cotton ball into the liquid and put a couple drops of disinfectant on it.
... Get it over with Ada. Putting it off isn't going to make it hurt less. You need to do this, she tells herself.
Gritting her teeth, you watch from afar as she gently wipes the mix of boiled water and disinfectant across her eyelids, wincing as the pain hits her. You feel it too, but it's just so... distant.
You find yourself pondering your feelings on today as you watch yourself clean out your eye socket on autopilot, observing yourself and your thoughts as time passes.
You passed. You made friends. Both of these are good things. Very good things. And yet, you find it... hard to care. You observe the disinterest, not quite connecting to it yourself, treating it more like a metaphorical curiosity to be turned in the hands. An oddity. Not one you can throw away.
As you wrap up your bandages, placing another patch just before you forget, you quickly down one of the painkillers with some water, before finishing the job, and wandering through to your bedroom.
Ha. Bedroom. Broom closet, more like. It's messy, as one would expect from someone your age, but you made your bed this morning, so that counts for something, right?
You flop down onto it, just about managing to kick your shoes off as you do. Ugh... you hurt all over. As soon as you hit the mattress, it's like every latent ache and pain in your body from the weird tingling sensation in your face from where you got a faceful of... what, fire? No, what's that other shit- plasma?
Plasma, yeah, sounds about right. Then there's the bullet to the back of the head, that hurts like shit, especially since you weren't even the one that got shot in the head, ugh. At least it makes all the other aches and pains kind of... not matter, in comparison.
You'll take that.
Without meaning to, your thoughts slowly drift towards that disinterest from earlier. You're... happy, about passing, about, about managing to make new friends through it, but you don't... think you're as happy as you should be.
For a moment, you wonder what that says about you. What this disinterest says about you. What your inability to be just truly, honestly happy about your own accomplishments says about you.
You feel those questions on your chest like physical weights, for a moment, and you can't help but feel a little short of breath for it.
Once again, you're watching yourself from the third person, and you find it... easier. You see yourself begin to flicker and imagine what it would be like to just... let it happen completely. Would you disappear, completely stop existing, just like that? Would you sink through the floor, through the earth, all the way down to the planet's core? What would happen then? Would you burn? Would you suffocate? Or would you just be kept there, unable to move, breathe, do anything to help yourself until you starved, or died of dehydration?
Some basic survival instinct gently clears its throat and you remind yourself that none of those are actually desirable.
Before you find yourself completely engrossed in those thoughts, you pull your Scroll out from your pocket, your earphones from another, and play some music to calm your nerves.
... And cause permanent hearing damage, but that's just a bonus. As the sound of soothing low-fidelity music fills your ears, you close your eyes and let it flow over you.
You feel the impact of thin knuckles on thinner wood more than hear it, and you open your eyes. A completely different song is playing in your ears, and the sky through your window is much pinker, twilight settling in properly. You must have dozed off.
Removing your earphones, you get off your bed and walk to the door, passing the living room, the hallway mirror, and up to the door.
Cracking the door open a little, leaving the chain on, you see an old woman in grey waiting outside.
"Hello, Ada!" She chirps, still managing to sound bright and cheery at her age.
"Oh. Hey, Mrs Pearl. Hold on-" You close the door and quickly undo the chain lock, opening the door for the old woman. You like Mrs Pearl. She knows how to keep you grounded. And she lives right across from you, so, you know, might as well make friends with your neighbours.
"I remembered that today was your test, so I thought I would make something special for the two of us. Have you ever had chargrilled shellfish?"
Immediately, your mouth begins to water as the smell of the dish wafts from her still open door.
"No, but if it tastes as good as it smells, I'd love to."
Her smile widens, a little croaky giggle escaping her.
"Well, come on, let's start before they get cold! You can tell me all about your test."
You find her smile infectious as you follow her, closing the door behind you and taking in the heavenly smell of marinaded shellfish slowly grilling.
"Well, I think it went well..."
It's... odd, the more you think about it, but your eye doesn't hurt so much anymore.
Last edited:
Passively-suicidal depression girl has a semblence that just let's her flicker out of reality? Yup, seems about right.
- Location
- Elsewhere
Hehe. I wonder what is the Buddy expy's backstory.
Hopefully nothing involving blue pills that make you feel nothing.
Hopefully nothing involving blue pills that make you feel nothing.
SalsaDeGranada
Thankful for our Cradle's Graces
- Location
- Philippines
She really ain't okay.
Great Greedy Guts
Ceterum censeo Vigilam esse delendam.
Ooof. I was already feeling bad for Ada. Now I almost want to see if we can't angle a spot on her team to make sure she's got someone there to look out for her. Nicely done.
NexysDhyArchen
Throne Breaker
Time to code ()Hug.
- Location
- A state of cleverness
Eeesh, eye gore. Guess Ada's a Persona user after all. Reminds me a bit of the eyeball scene in Planescape.
Anyway, nice interlude. Glad Ada's got someone looking out for her. Every member of the team's managed to find themselves outcast'd at Signal, haven't they? Was that intentional? I mean, some people in the class had to be friends, what are the odds that Jaune ran into the three people as awkward at making friends as him?
The laws of humor suggest Jaune tries to form CATA at Beacon only to get JNPR'd while Moss takes his place. At least CMTA is closer to Camarata...
EDIT:
Whoops, wrong game.
Anyway, nice interlude. Glad Ada's got someone looking out for her. Every member of the team's managed to find themselves outcast'd at Signal, haven't they? Was that intentional? I mean, some people in the class had to be friends, what are the odds that Jaune ran into the three people as awkward at making friends as him?
Great, now you've jinxed it and she's getting CRDL'd.
The laws of humor suggest Jaune tries to form CATA at Beacon only to get JNPR'd while Moss takes his place. At least CMTA is closer to Camarata...
EDIT:
Whoops, wrong game.
Last edited:
nmWarden
Webcomic Glutton
- Location
- Texas
So her Semblance seems to have a slider type of control for her intangibility. Based on her luck I'll guess she has a harder time seeing, hearing, etc. as she becomes intangible. I hope one of her new friends gets her a cute charm for her scroll and her weapon sheath. A little tangible reminder along those lines could go a long way with her.
So she's the Blake of the group (congrats, I like her more than canon-Blake). Canon-Jaune is the counterpart of Ruby, but this one could be more like Weiss; you'd think with their power they could handle everything, but we know better. Mr Lite-Brite can be compared to post-maturing Yang; he's brought up his family, has solid power, and he could fight with brutal cunning. All that's left is to see who our doe-tailed Faunus friend ends up blowing up on her first day at Beacon! Y'know I have no idea how the partner thing will turn out.
Anyone placing bets on how the other Beacon teams turn out? I'm betting that, along the lines of Light of our Solus, Yang ends up with strangers. Anywho thanks for the wonderful chapter (you monster)!
So she's the Blake of the group (congrats, I like her more than canon-Blake). Canon-Jaune is the counterpart of Ruby, but this one could be more like Weiss; you'd think with their power they could handle everything, but we know better. Mr Lite-Brite can be compared to post-maturing Yang; he's brought up his family, has solid power, and he could fight with brutal cunning. All that's left is to see who our doe-tailed Faunus friend ends up blowing up on her first day at Beacon! Y'know I have no idea how the partner thing will turn out.
Anyone placing bets on how the other Beacon teams turn out? I'm betting that, along the lines of Light of our Solus, Yang ends up with strangers. Anywho thanks for the wonderful chapter (you monster)!
Last edited:
Prok
Go play Star Fetchers
- Location
- Scotland
Not suicidal, per se. It's more just morbid curiosity than anything else.
I'll say that she suffers from something very specific and that it came before her Semblance planning-wise, but with it story-wise.
*coughcoughlookattheFateShopcoughcoughhundredpointoptioncoughcoughdoyouneedaneonsignaboveitorsomethingCOUGHCOUGH*
Actually, no, but you're correct. Not the slightest bit intentional, but I'll take it.
Ada's a quiet person, and more than a little aware that she can be rough around the edges, so she just... didn't make the effort. Then she found three people who, on top of saving her a few times during the test, actually enjoyed those same rough edges.
Like her or not, and by the looks of it it's definitely more like than not, you and yours are the best thing that's happened to her in years.
I'm glad that you like her so much! I'll be honest, even if I hadn't said anything, her character falling flat was one of my worst fears for this quest- even if she wasn't the lynchpin for a large sidestory, she is still one of the more genuinely interesting character concepts I've come up with, accidental Buddy or no.
As I've said before, the only two things governing team compositions are rolls, and my ability to create a colour out of their name.
Fun Fact: THE COLOUR RULE IS THE MAIN POINT OF STRESS FOR ME WHEN WRITING THIS QUEST.
SalsaDeGranada
Thankful for our Cradle's Graces
- Location
- Philippines
Two questions. Can Jaune sing, and what is his current color scheme?
Prok
Go play Star Fetchers
- Location
- Scotland
Jaune can sing, but finds making noise at anything above a slightly quiet talking voice almost offensive, and he's in his canon colour scheme of he doesn't have a colour scheme because all he's wearing is jeans, a promotional hoodie, and some cheap armour.
Black, blue, and white. And, yellow, if you count his hair, which I don't.
Two thirds of the canonical punching bag's colours are black and blue. Take that as you will.
SalsaDeGranada
Thankful for our Cradle's Graces
- Location
- Philippines
I'llNameThisL8r
Bad at names
- Location
- Here
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Can't you just google some paint swatches or something? It'll give you a bunch of colors you can turn into names ahead of time for characters.
- Location
- A state of cleverness
So he sings in the shower and hums along to the BGM everywhere else?
I thought he was wearing Blue's jacket over jeans and a black shirt, a la Collar Bone Shatteraxia?
Last edited:
ADeshantis
King on the Chromium Throne
- Location
- United states
Absolutely, but the question is, who's the unlucky bastard who's getting flung across the Emerald Forest at 2x fall speed?
- Location
- A state of cleverness
Jaune still exists.
Also acceptable!Cardin.
ADeshantis
King on the Chromium Throne
- Location
- United states
No, we can't pick on Cardin. That gets QMs compared to North Korea.
ADeshantis
King on the Chromium Throne
- Location
- United states
Birdy, no!
Edit: found the video
Edit: found the video