redarrxws-blog

[redarrxws-blog]

Had he not been looking for it, he probably would have never noticed, it's so subtle. The slight shifts in her facial expression, and he briefly wonders if it's because she's trying to restrain from showing them, or if it's because she's a more reserved person by nature. Either way, it isn't remotely threatening in the slightest, more annoyed than anything. 

Her annoyance is understandable, in suggesting silence, he hadn't exactly decided to practice it himself. Then again, part of him felt as if it wasn't exactly necessary beyond being an extra safety precaution. But Roy's always been stupidly brave with a sense for the action. It is, perhaps, one of his biggest vices in these trying times - what with the excursions he sometimes takes to kill off as many infected as he can. Working well after his biceps burn from repeating swings. 

Roy notes that he isn't the only one here lagging around, and it makes his plan to ask for her to accompany for a while doesn't seem so unrealistic. Although, she could simply be waiting for him to remove his person. Either way, despite snapping, she has yet to stop talking and to leave or start gathering her own supplies. 

The roll of his eyes is exaggerated and it's partially because he's not used to having an audience. "Then I apologize." Pressing his teeth to the back of his mouth, he debates on how to go about this. On one hand, he can take her word for face value, she wasn't exactly displaying the signs of a liar. On the other, she could be practiced. 

Slowly, he notes, "I have enough food for the both of us. And water if you don't mind river water." He makes a quiet humming noise. "But I suppose I don't mind distilling it." He pulls his bag off of the floor, hoisting it onto his shoulder. The cans inside clunk together as he adjusts it so that he has easy access to his main weapon - his ax. 

She can do what she wills with that invitation. If she does accept it... he wonders if she'll be able to keep up. It's not exactly problematic so much as it's, well... He's not sure how to title it. He wouldn't mind lagging a bit, but there was potential for danger. Roy wasn't sure just how well she handled that, and thus far, he'd only learned that she preferred to sneak as opposed to step onward boldly. 

||lil'shit meets ginger shit|| zombie au w/ redarrxws

#redscarfedvillain

[redarrxws-blog]

N.E.R.D. - Love Bomb

#turn up the volume #//off to work

[redarrxws-blog]

Island in the Sun // Weezer 

#turn up the volume

[redarrxws-blog]

They stop walking - or Roy freezes, he's not certain because he's completely caught off guard here. Until he's being pushed forward and the cell door is being closed behind him. Snapping out of his brief shock, he debates on just where to begin. He's a good kid, there's no way he belongs here under constant watch and high security.

Wally. Fucking. West.

Roy had worked with his uncle a few times, more often than not indirectly. He'd even worked with the kid a few times. And so, he asks because he can't exactly put two and two together without having anything to go on in the first place, "What the hell are you doing here?" His mouth curves down into a deep frown.

Alright, so let’s set the record straight. Please ignore the official reports. Wally West didn’t belong here. He wasn’t some fuck up. He went to college. At Stanford! He’d been about to graduate with a Bachelor’s in Metaphysics. He had a girlfriend! Why would he want to fuck that up? The road to his white picket fence life (with a closet full of superhero gear, hehe) had been lovingly paved and painted.

Only to be royally ripped a new one by some bogus charges. Like Wally would kill someone. Like Wally would kill Barry. He didn’t know how Strange had spun it to sound like anything but manufactured bull, but one miserably short trial later, he’d been shipped off to Belle Reve.

"Palo Alto, California…" he mumbled, frowning as scribbled on front of a wellworn envelope. It was just about finished. Wally had practically begged a guard to disraction in order to procure a pen, but he’d done it. And all he had to do was deliver a nondescript package-disguised-as-book to Riddler. Easy enough.

Out of habit- free time always made him edgy- he glanced up.

No fucking way.

“Roy?”

#thefreshiest #v: belle reve #fuck i forgot where i was going with this dude #I'M SORRY I'M TRASH

[redarrxws-blog]

I'm primarily mobile, so I'm practically begging that anyone who rps with me doesn't use any formatting - or weird spacing - beyond smaller text. Sorry, it just makes it so hard for me to reply since my phone automatically shows posts in html format when I try to reply.

#mun info

[redarrxws-blog]

There's a lull in fire, but it's unsettling. A silence that swells with tension, and Roy can't help but to feel that something very bad is coming. His suspicions are confirmed when he hears the multiple clicks of guns being emptied and reloaded. There's a moment in which he thinks the shootout will resume, an arguably stupid assumption - he realizes when the first bullet whizzes past their hiding spot.

And from that point on, it's a barrage on their location.

It's not the most graceful grab, but Roy manages to tuck a hand under Artemis' costume and yank her into his lap. Away from where the first box explodes into splinters. He awkwardly maneuvers his bow so that it's stretched uncomfortably against his foot before loading it with a smoke grenade.

Flurry of bullets aside, there's another problem here. It's practically impossible to not figure out how someone is fairing when teamed up, and for whatever reason, it's hard to not feed off the blonde's anxiety. His attempts at compensating confidence resulted in his own frustration, and now... He didn't like hoping for the best. "We run on three." Roy removes his foot from the string and sends the bomb sailing.

"Three!"

➵ Pull yourself together ➵

Artemis had been on empty this whole trip, her skills felt as if they were vanishing, and the least of her worries at the moment was the hostile shooting. Her brows furrowed, and she knew that it had been a horrible idea to go out on the job tonight, especially with Roy. She was deeply surprised by how well he was actually taking it, putting up with her. She seemed to cringe at every bullet, twitch at the sight of blood, and cower at the mere sound of another dead body dropping to the floor.

Looking over to her partner, she eyed his thigh, closing her eyes momentarily and looking away behind their protection at the moment. Artemis pursed her lips together, tried to gain any sanity she had left and picked up her bow, along with an arrow. She took a long drag of breath, reopened her eyes and aimed quickly, letting go when she had gained enough strength and huffing when she only hit the man’s shoulder. She hid back behind their barrier, turning to him again when she heard her name.

Artemis gave a nod of agreement, “I’ll follow after you.” She had thought about apologizing, but telling him that was damn near impossible right now.

#v: going south #greenarrowsniece #// i don't mind at all uwu

[redarrxws-blog]

Roy really needs to practice his facial expressions outside of his seemingly default looks of dismay. It's been so long since he's actually wanted to appear as if he wished to cause no harm. But he can't force away the feeling of flexing instinctively, never once leaving himself loose enough to be vulnerable. He can't hide the way he towers, body hooked forward slightly as if he had to bend to peer down at her. Yes, she was small, but she wasn't a toddler. It was all a subconscious attempt at intimidation.

He couldn't stop it even if he wanted to, but perhaps his natural standoffishness was for the best - often providing him with a constant barrier that warded away conscious, would be, predators.

Anyways, she's unaware of the significant meaning behind his gesturing, and it leaves him stuck at what to do. Leave her be, or extend his hand, offering hard earned resources in an attempt to offer help. Assuming she needed any in the first place. However, even an extra set of eyes could be useful, and, well there's a worrisome burn when he speaks. An extended period of silence and solitude had rendered speech no longer mandatory. The loneliness alone made him wish to seek out his own troop, but this was becoming depressing.

It takes only a moment to decide that he wants to bring her along when he returns to his moderately sized base. "No," he responds, swallowing to dispel the raspy dryness in his throat. "But silence, or at least more reasonable volume control would be appreciated." As if he could talk, despite offering no change in his own baritone. His eyes flash towards the windows at the front of the local brand store and he feels no apprehension upon seeing shadows shuffle still, ever eager, towards the alarm.

Lips twitching - whether in amusement or vague irritation, he isn't certain - he disregards her following statement. It had been so long since he'd been met with the baited snark of another person, and it warms him pleasantly, sparking a thread of foggy memories. To think he'd once expected the epidemic to bring together his loved ones.

Foolish. If they weren't dead, they were boxed up somewhere, too paranoid to approach.

"Are you alone?" he retorts with ease, albeit sounding childish. Divulging that sort of information left one open to ambush, often brought forth by the most needy looking survivors. He's expectantly defensive, but she looks so on edge. Perhaps a little worried for time but... There's no doubt about it, that trap outside was from her.

||lil'shit meets ginger shit|| zombie au w/ redarrxws

#redscarfedvillain #v: spooky zombie butts

[redarrxws-blog]

Doing a survey. Reblog if you are a "Just Wing It" role player. No planning or plotting is needed. Nor permission to make a starter just for you.

#lord i prefer this so much #I'm terrible at plotting and i just mess things up #mun info

[redarrxws-blog]

"Hardeehar." Roy falls into a brief silence, not quite sure how to excuse his absence. Sure, he's busy. They're all busy. But it just feels like a deflated excuse before he can manage to force it out. So, instead, he shrugs. "Aren't you the fastest guy around?" He nudges his friend in the side.

"Can't escape your justice daycare long enough to stop by?"

~redarrxws~

Wally chuckled, raising an eyebrow to mimic his friend. “I don’t know what happened to not talking about that. I still think it’s funny,” he replied, aware that most others would not get away with the same. “But anyway, how are you? It’s been a while since we’ve caught up. You never seem to stop by any more.”

#justwestofbest

[redarrxws-blog]

Collecting characters for Masterlist - Reblog if you are a DC RP blog.

[redarrxws-blog]

Last Dinosaurs // Zoom

#turn up the volume

[redarrxws-blog]

Coming into the new world order, the most startling thing was the conflict with the remaining survivors. Even before the outbreak, extremely trusting relationships were something that he rarely reached for. But now, they seemed to fall between the fine line of whether someone would live or inevitably die. After the first close call, he tended to drift on his own, well aware of his own luck in warding off the day that he would join the flock of insatiable flesh eaters. Self preservation, at this point, was more than a nature categorized necessity - a favor to those who often found that perhaps if there had been one less corpse, they'd still be skirting through the post apocalyptic cities.

Had they been more wise, they'd have ventured through the soft planes of the countryside or the rugged terrain of dense mountainside forests. Less people, less infected, less conflict. Warily wandering deeper inland to the scavenged towns was but a meager price to pay. Roy appreciated the light exercise, jogging at a pace that rarely fluctuated while equipped with little more than a thick fireman's ax, a well oiled pistol with a finite ammo supply, and a flare gun.

On his own, it doesn't take much. He collects protein from wild caught animals, more easily startled but in a larger abundance after the turn of the world. Farm grown fruits - more currently raw limes that burn away the enamel on his teeth when he doesn't turn them into watered down drinks - ward away constant sickness. But beyond the two, he still brings back food from ransacked stores. Granola or canned vegetables being the most prominent.

Halfway through his scavenging, an alarm rings somewhere off in the distance, and Roy tenses for a long moment. He doubts the population of the town was truly frightening before the virus, but he doesn't want to find out either. It's the soft click of the store entrance that has him loosening up, all except for the hand around a can of what he suspects is beans and his other hand that tickles the handle of his gun.

The voice that greets him is undeniably feminine, lacking the soft squeak of the youth that once flooded earth and the raspy lilt of a young man. Humans are... tricky. Each one more dangerous than the mindless sacks of gore that drunkenly waddled through neighborhoods. They thought independently, all having their own morals, each one different from the last. Strategists with the ability to evoke empathy and sympathy from anyone else who'd been forced to endure this hell.

Roy had learned some time ago that it'd be worth the waste of a bullet if he didn't want to end up consuming raw flesh, brain addled by infection.

When he turns, he's gripped by his conscious, hand dropping away from the curve of his gun. Allowing the can to drop into the bag between his feet with a dull - thunk - Roy frowns deeply. She's tiny, without any real defense, he doubted from her unguarded stance that she knew how to fight. And he's clueless as to how she could have survived this deep into the invasion. He doubts that she's be here, alone, if she were roaming with any sort of group.

Roy feels apprehensive. "I'm not one of them." And then he presses a few fingers to his lips to see if she recognizes the gesture. He'll have to kill her if she does. The group of people it belonged to had not deemed the world a terrible enough place, opting to destroy whoever and whatever they approached. People like that were no longer human at heart.

In all truthfulness, the thought of eradicating the young woman left him with a sense of dread and self disgust. Vigilantism, even at it's worst, often followed a no killing honor code. Times change. Ideals are no longer what they once were. "Are you lost?"

||lil'shit meets ginger shit|| zombie au w/ redarrxws

Humans were strange, with their susceptibility to death and disease, but she supposed that now that she was one of them, there was a certain level of caution that needed to be taken to ensure her survival. The average, everyday necessities were certainly a lot easier than narrowed glances thrown over a shoulder, care taken to ensure that she hadn’t been followed by either human or undead, and she found herself nostalgically longing for those small inconveniences in exchange for this tiring hell.

Not being the most physically adept was certainly a handicap in the majority of situations, yet being quick-minded and clever was the only balance that had kept her alive this far. Thankfully those infected were significantly more stupid than she initially expected. An abandoned cell phone in her hand was set to ring as loudly as possible, an alarm set for a mere three minutes after current time. Eyes narrowed, lips set in a line of pure concentration as she tossed the device a decent distance from the door that she was trying to get into, a silent prayer that it wouldn’t break on impact.

Guttural groans sounded in the small pack of stumbling figures that hovered near the entrance to the general supply store. She keenly watched them from the corner of the building, gaze shifting frequently from them to the phone that she had thrown, yet she hadn’t lost any focus in her other surroundings. Any hint of movement out of her line of sight was quickly investigated, though thankfully nothing had actually given her trouble just yet.

The alarm finally sounded and she waited with bated breath as it gained their attention. As the blubbering fools they were, they began to slowly shuffle towards it, growling as though they would be finally cured of their hunger.

That sort of thing would be impossible for them, only holding their interest for a short amount of time, but that was all that she needed it to do.

Back pressed flush against the wall of the building, her movements were quick yet minor, careful to not steal from her distraction. Deftly making it to the door, a wave of relief washed over her to find it unlocked. She quickly ducked into the store, luckily avoiding detection, though she knew her mission wasn’t over just yet. Chocolate hues darted around, taking in her new enclosure. It seemed clear of danger, and well, supplies, but there were still some items lying around that she was sure that she could find a use for.

First things first though ─ get away from the windows. Her form was low as she silently made her way to the checkout counter. Almost easily came the initial breath that she let out when she reached it, only to be sharply sucked back to her at the sight of another form sitting there. Eyes wide and instinct spurring adrenaline, her hand reached to her thigh, where a holster was strapped, swiftly brandishing a modest, bladed weapon.

She had been preparing to strike before realization paused her. The figure hadn’t exactly exhibited the usual signs of being undead, but it wasn’t as though humans were equally trustworthy in these times, either. There were plenty of things to get straightened first, but only one held the most importance. Optics narrowed into a hard, pressing glare, the knife was held in a defensive position in front of her as she questioned him with a commanding, steady voice.

"Are you infected?"

#redscarfedvillain #v: spooky zombie butts #//fuck u omg

[redarrxws-blog]

"Bullet"//Franz Ferdinand

#turn up the volume

[redarrxws-blog]

Roy frowns deeply, deep grooves appearing around the corner of his mouth. "I try not to, Kid," Roy admits, tilting his head and raising an eyebrow. He sighs out a full breath until his shoulders sag and he looks completely drained, but there's no real frustration there. Something about Wal- Kid Flash just garnered an irrefutable sense of tolerance. "What happened to not talking about that?"

~redarrxws~

"Do you remember when you use to go by Speedy? Ha, cause I sure do."

#justwestofbest #// ahhh thanks uwu !!

[redarrxws-blog]

Vampire Weekend | A-Punk

#turn up the volume

[redarrxws-blog]

For whatever reason, Roy is certain that a surveillance mission shouldn't result in a mini-gang war, an irreparably hostile shoot out, and shrapnel lodged so deeply in his thigh that he's actually nervous about moving it. Stiff jawed and scowling, everything in him begs to blame it all on his blonde accomplice who seemed, at first glance, to be faring much better than he was. Temptation comes only in abundance - he wants to fling his bow to the ground and go home, marking this low grade bullshit as a failure.

Roy snarls out a fairly audible, "Fuck," spinning away from his makeshift barrier in a move that can be credited to taking dance two semesters in a row in high school. Drawing the string of his bow tight, he fires, and practice is the only reason his arrow doesn't cut right, hitting a kill spot. This is escalating quietly, and the sound of cars swerving and doors closing are signs that more gang members are arriving.

"You," he growls, focusing his attention on Artemis. "We need to move. Now."

#greenarrowsniece #hope this is good #v: going south

[redarrxws-blog]

The Black Keys // Tighten Up

#turn up the volume