#mistral scribbles

[moonlight-mistral]

commission for @cianur0!

based off this post

[mistral]

appreciates u

thank u, feeling very appreciated today

[iingezo]

@mintenochian YAAA MISTRAL IS WAYY WAY UP IN FAVE BESA RANKS FOR ME if only the rest of that family wasn't so hard to draw I really want to repaint Mistral in particular for myself again — selective-reading kidbrain never originally put together the "baby" in the Baby Bella series and I always thought her card art was grown (just stylized) ;; BUT I COULD PAINT HER GROWN AND MAJESTIC they are so cute tho as is ; o;;;

@missbaphomet my greatest pride w besa scribbles is these sleeper-agent esque reactions>: ) @ghostlythunderbird | @eyeimagery EEEEE best of luck re/collecting !!: D hope old cards safe ! I want to get back into completing mine one day but leftover gaps are becoming trickier finds </3 I miss trading in general tho (lmk if you're on the lookout for any: 0 there's also a v sweet wiki / fan community about)

[howlingday]

Mamma Harley Arc AU:

Nora: So… You use a giant hammer?

Harley: Yeah.

Nora: And you like it when things blow up?

Harley: Uh-Doy!

Nora: … Can you be my mom?

Nora laid back on the comfy couch. Beacon's Headmaster, Ozpin, was kind enough to allow Harley the room while performing what liked to call "on the spot therapy". This was common in her wilder years, usually in the back of a squad car after a failed heist. Criminal psychology was her bread and butter, but you had to learn the others to get a full course meal out of your work.

"Now, lay back, relax, an' tell doctah' Harley all ya poblems." She clicked her pen. "Let's start with ya childhood. As far back as you can remember."

"Well, I grew up in a small village in Mistral." Nora began. "It was just me and my mom, and we didn't have anything. We might as well have been homeless, even if we had a roof over our heads."

"And what was ya mothah like?" Harley asked, scribbling into her notepad. "Was she a loving mothah?" Nora was quiet for a moment. "It's okay, take ya time."

Nora took a deep breath. "I thought she was. She took care of me. Tucked me in, fed me, and took care of me when I was sad. But then..." Nora tensed, taking a deep, shaky breath.

"Here, kid." Harley hand Nora a box of tissues. Nora blew into a tissue as tears welled in her eyes. "Don't hold back, just let it all out."

"Th-then the Grimm attacked, a-and they killed everyone." She blew her nose again, heaving breaths as she relived that awful time of her life. "A-And Mom j-just abandoned me! I -I watched her r-run ahead without me, and I cried, and I cried, b-but she never looked back for me."

"Nora?" The girl looked up to the woman. "Do ya want a hug?" Nora quickly nodded her head, and felt the motherly embrace of the psychiatrist.

"I... I just don't know what I did wrong!" Nora sobbed into Harley's shoulder. "W-What kind of a mother abandons her child?"

Harley was quiet, stroking the girl's back. Swallowing a hard lump, she answered. "Awful muthahs. Horrible, awful people." Harley pulled away from Nora. "But ya made it here, alive and happy. Ya mother may have abandoned you, and yes, ya lost her, but she's the one who lost something more important. She lost the chance to see the beautiful and intelligent woman ya growin up ta be. An without her, ya came here an made so many friends to take her place a hundred fold." Harley smiled. "So don' give her a second thought."

Nora sniffed, then blew into another tissue. "Thank you, Ms. Harley."

"Oh, pshaw!" Harley hugged the girl. "Jus Harley is fine, sweetie. Now, if ya eva need someone ta talk to, here's my numbah. Call me whenever, and if ya can't get ta me, jus leave a message."

"Thanks, Harley." Nora stood up. "I'm gonna go hang out with my friends."

"Have fun, sweetie!" Once Nora left, Harley walked over and shut the door. She locked it, and shoved the couch into the door knob. She sat down.

'W-What kind of a mother abandons her child?!'

"Me..." Harley sobbed into her hands. "I'm the kinda muthah who would do that..."

[tinygryphon-58570]

Still working on placenames, but!! A scribbly updated map to go with my new lore reworking! (buildings/landmarks obviously not to scale xD)

I’ve also updated my subclan headings here on my about page, but there’s not a whole lot of differences since I moved to Singer’s Brook other than -

the inclusion of a Wind temple & resident priest/monk to give my lore some sort of authority figure and law & punishment system (which I realised I was lacking x-x) but it’s fine he’s a super chill dude

my disabled subclan now live with the Centaurs, because heck yeah multispecies integration

my Longneck/Sprangyroo couple now run a wool & grain farm instead of being wandering adventurers, and I am HIGHLY anticipating the release of this month’s Mistral Jam sheep Familiar so I can add that to their livestock o-o

[oak-n]

quick mistral sketch cause i can’t post anything on twitter without adding at least a scribble to it. not healthy

[unofficialadamtaurus]

I have many, many thoughts for this AU but I’m holding myself back from actually writing it to finish Hollow People first*. Just picture one of those harnesses for small children but I am simultaneously parent and child and you’ll have a good idea of my mental state.

*warning: this writer is known for making promises she does not keep

AU details and scribbled notes transcriptions under the cut

AU details:

We’ve still got the 4 kingdoms in this AU, but it’s a historical setting. Aura/semblances/grimm still feature. Firearms are a relatively new and unreliable technology. Menagerie is a nation of mostly faunus on the cusp of being formally recognized as a kingdom by the other 4, but tensions with Atlas and Mistral have made the road to formalization difficult.

Racist humans believe faunus are descended from grimm and/or cursed by them on some level despite zero scientific evidence to back up either belief, resulting in rampant and violent discrimination. Menagerie was founded as a safe haven for faunus and to push back on those beliefs but people like Adam think their methods are too circuitous to make effective change and have taken measures for immediate relief into their own hands.

Approximately ten years before Adam was born, a bandit group called the White Fang was formed with that idea of direct action as its central mission. Some believe - erroneously - that the WF is a tool of the Menagerie royal family, the Belladonnas. In reality, although the Belladonnas and the WF’s current leader, Sienna Khan, do communicate, these interactions are typically hostile in tone and there is no love lost between either group.

It would be a shame if some shadowy faction decided to take advantage of this tense situation...

Notes transcription:

listed from top -> bottom

20 years old

6′ 4″

faunus

former SDC slave

burned slave camp to the ground at age 12

bandit

leads Vale branch of the White Fang *sound familiar?*

Notoriously ruthless

scarred from clashes with humans and grimm

(with an arrow pointing to the purple bracelet around his left wrist) gift from Blake when they were both children

staunch supporter of faunus rights

“ends justify the means” mentality

believes Ghira + the Belladonnas are cowards for not doing more for faunus rights

[the-river-person]

Epilogue

Wind swept through the red grass like a wave upon the sea, sending ripples down the slopes of the endless hills. In the lowest valleys the grass vanished into a soft white fog, making the hilltops seem as if they were detached from the earth and floating through an ocean of clouds. Sans gazed around in wonder, while also having to shield his eyes a little. Above them the sky was a thousand blending shades of purple, everything from a deep angry bruise to a very soft lilac. At the edge of the Horizon was the sun, and from here it looked a very deep red color, and though it wasn’t terribly bright, he still had to shield his eyes. It seemed that he needed some time for his eyes to properly adjust to seeing the surface in all of its overwhelming brightness after living in the muted and shadowed Underground for all his life. Well for lifetimes on end, really. Mouth open wide, and eye lights nearly pinpricks in shock, Gaster too appeared to be too stunned for words at the sight of this world. Sans knew that his uncle had been around to see the Surface of their own Universe, and judging by Gaster’s reaction, it was nothing at all like this. The River Person had taken them to this place because he said it was still a relatively safe Universe to visit for a little while. Comfortably seated in his ferry boat, the River Person didn’t seem inclined to go anywhere soon, so they’d opted to explore for a bit while staying in sight. Arriving at another Universe was just as bizarre as leaving one had been. It was as if there was a reflective orb in the distance, only when you got closer it wasn’t you that it was reflecting, but a place. And if you got close enough it was as if the reflection warped and twisted itself so that it swallowed you and you were sitting in another Universe as smoothly as if you’d landed your boat at the docks. Actually the ferryboat itself was sitting in the middle of the red grass, and looked perfectly natural there as if it were supposed to sail across the sea of red grass and plants instead of up and down a river. Out in the distance the world got even stranger. To the right, he wasn’t sure what the compass direction was because the red sun appeared to be circling the horizon instead of crossing overhead in an arc, he could see bright glow that spanned the whole edge of the sky in that direction, as if the area was filled with light. And to the left the sky seemed to get darker and darker until the horizon that way was shadowed and still. “Pretty, isn’t it?” “Yes,” he breathed, still trying to take it all in. The next moment he leaped away in shock as he realized the comment had come from someone who had unexpectedly been standing beside him. It was a skeleton, somewhat similar to himself in appearance but not quite. Wearing brown pants that might have been tucked in overalls by the green straps that were sticking out from one side of the waist, a white shirt, and a long brown scarf... the skeleton’s clothing alone made a strong first impression of him. But more interesting than that were the splotch of black ink that coated the bottom right side of his jaw and the enormous paint brush that he carried on his back like a sheathed sword. Over his chest was a belt holding a series of tiny phials with heart shaped stoppers, each phial held a different colored liquid within, and altogether and in order they formed a kind of rainbow pattern. Finally, around his neck and hanging down his back was an incredibly long scarf of some brown fabric. The Skeleton was grinning at him, mischief dancing in his eye sockets, which Sans had only just realized contained some odd shapes. In his left eye, the pupil was shaped like a bright, five pointed, golden star (☆), twinkling merrily as if to say “I’m excited!” to all the world. And in his right eye the pupil took the shape of... and this left Sans feeling more bewildered than anything else, a small purple 7. But even as he watched the pupils changed shape, and again, and again. A spiral (๑), a triangle border with nothing inside (△), a check mark (✓), an eroteme (?), a small crescent moon (☽), a pair of squiggly lines that might have been either water or a double tilde (≈), a silcrow (§), a percontation point (⸮), and a very small umbrella (☂). “Hullo!” said the skeleton. “I’m Ink! Guardian of the Multiverse and Protector of AUs!” Gaster, who had turned around to see what Sans had been reacting to, was examining the newcomer with something akin to professional curiosity. “AUs?” he asked, tilting his skull slightly to the side. “Alternate Universes,” clarified Ink. “And parallel ones. And pretty much any other kind of universe that springs up. So... now that I’ve introduced myself, who are you two?” Other universes, the thought was a little frightening. Sure he’d heard Gaster practically wax poetic on the subject numerous times, and here he was standing in another universe entirely. But it was different hearing someone else talk about them existing, as if they’d seen them with their own eyes. An entire multiverse full of them. And if Ink was truly the Guardian of that Multiverse and every universe inside of it, then he must be a really important person. “I’m Sans-” he started to say, not sure whether there was special protocol for introducing yourself to a Multiverse Guardian, but Ink was already cutting him off, flapping his hand impatiently at them. “No no no. There are way too many Sanses and Gasters floating about. Even I’m a Sans. We like to use... well I guess you’d call them nicknames. They help keep us from getting confused. More confused. Some people use the name of their AU, others ” Somewhat at a loss, Sans turned to look at Gaster, who only shrugged unhelpfully. Well alright then. A nickname huh? His thoughts raced back years and years, decades, centuries, all the way to that very first therapy session with Doctor Whimsol. She’d suggested that he didn’t have to be a Sans if he didn’t feel like one. For a while he’d toyed with various other names, mostly Fonts in the style of Skeleton naming conventions. But he’d never really made anything of it. Perhaps one of the ones he’d liked would do? Something that suited him the way that he was now. He’d changed a great deal since then. There was no way anyone would think of him in formal terms, even now. But he was a bit more serious, even though he tried to stay approachable. He wasn’t suffering from depression and guilt, and he was a lot more active than he had been. So something light-hearted but serious, informal like, with a sense of movement.... It came to him and he grinned suddenly. “Mistral,” he informed the Guardian of the Multiverse. “I’m Mistral.“ Looking intrigued, Ink nodded enthusiastically. “It suits you! A little rough of a font, sort of like brush writing, but with this... um... crystal stuff on your bones, it really works.” Oh yeah, Sans had forgotten about the Kenón still growing on him. It had sped up its growth a bit in the Void, which made sense because they were already connected. Small spikes of silvery-grey crystal were now easily seen growing up from the collar of his shirt and from his sleeves, and tiny lumps were beginning to form under his usual overcoat that betrayed the crystals growing underneath. “I think,” said Gaster suddenly, “That I would like to be known as Majuscule.” Sans stared at him. “You want to be named after Capitalized Letters?” he asked incredulously. It wasn’t a font. Though they weren’t really required to stick to those if they truly didn’t want to. But it was related enough that it was odd that Gaster would want to choose that of all things for a name. The smile the scientist gave him was a smug one. “When I use the Wingdings Sign variant it really doesn’t differentiate between Minuscule and Maguscule symbols like the font does in physical writing. And since I cannot speak it out loud and adjust the volume of my speech, it is as if I am saying everything in capitalized letters, constantly speaking with maximum intensity all the time.” Oh Angel, of course Gaster would choose something that convoluted. Sans groaned and rolled his eyes, surprisingly Ink only looked amused and actually giggled, his eyes flitting between an octothorp followed immediately by an S (#S) , an ecphoneme (!), an on/off symbol, and an asterisk (*). “I’m guessing you guys are new travelers to the Multiverse. That means you’re the ones I was looking for. You see, I felt a Universe die recently, and I went to go protect it from whatever was causing it to be destroyed. But it was dying on its own, of old age. I’ve never seen a Universe do that before, reach its natural ending. Then I found a trail in the Void, the sort of paths the River Folk make when they travel, and I knew that someone must have escaped before everything fell apart. And well... here you are!” Ink smirked and stuck out his tongue in a sort of “blep” way. Somewhere in the back of his head, Sans couldn’t help but notice that the tongue was rainbow hued. But now that he was reminded, he had more important questions. “Did you see anyone else?” He asked. “A ship in the Void? Any survivors? Papyrus? Well, my Papyrus anyway. He’s the Captain of the Royal Guard. And there were a lot of people on the ship before it fell into the Void. Please, if you’ve seen anything...” He trailed off hopefully. Ink’s eyes had suddenly become two ecphonemes (!). “Wait, there are more than just you two?” asked the Guardian excitedly. “It’s pretty rare we get more than a Sans or a Gaster. For some reason the Sanses seem to be inclined to go traveling more than others, though we do get Papyruses and Gasters here and there. But I don’t recall seeing a ship...hmmm.” Then Ink reached back and pulled on his scarf. Upon closer inspection, Sans could see all kinds of writing on it, scribbles and notes. Ink was using the thing as a planner. For a moment Ink squinted down at the scarf, searching through all the notes. They could see his mouth moving as he silently muttered some of the reminders he was reading. At last he looked up. “Nope, sorry. I haven’t seen any ship. But I’ll make a note to keep an eye out for one. I definitely don’t want to miss seeing that. Oh, but I did write down something else. I found this where your universe used to be.” And digging into his pocket, Ink produced something that was difficult to see. It was like a point, but without any width, depth, surface, or length. It flickered strangely and Sans heard Gaster’s intake of breath behind him. “There it is!” said the Scientist as he stepped forward, reaching for the thing. “The last fragment. The final percentage. What bit of me are you hiding in such a small form?” His hand closed around it and he closed his eyes, looking triumphant and relieved. Just as quickly he snapped them back open again in alarm. “Sans!” “What?” “I had three assistants, Sans. Three! Not four! I don’t know who Goner actually is!” * * * The Tem had managed to push the wreckage away from itself, freeing its trapped hind leg. Nobody else was in this part of the Ship, mostly being occupied in repair work or attempts to plan and reorganize. He’d volunteered to come out here and replace the spark plugs in this area because it would make it easier to get away from people for a while. A low creak, like metal under strain, made him turn. It was similar to the sound he’d heard earlier before the ceiling fell. This ship had taken a lot of damage in the crash, it was no wonder it was all falling apart at the seams. There was no one there. Yeah, probably just more infrastructure damage from the crash that needed to be repaired. Turning back brought him face to face with the grey torso of Goner, who was looming over him with his pale whitish-grey eyes. “Your name is Bob, right?” Said Goner in an expressionless tone. It wasn’t really a question exactly. More like a statement with a question tacked onto the end like an afterthought. Suddenly Goner’s expression seemed almost sly, sinister. Perhaps it was just the lighting, but the Tem shrank from the Monster as he leaned forward. “My name is Goner, I have a feeling we’re going to be very good friends.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ink!Sans belongs to @comyet Special Thanks to @msaoa12345 for their continued reblogging, praise, and excitable and positive commentary. Without their support, this story wouldn’t be anywhere near finished.

[evergreen-dryad]

dragon scribble #1

This is a dragon that hides in mist and mountains, they whisper fearfully, as the mistrals that do sing his name, however disguised in gentler names, for they do not wish he, somehow, sense the vibrations of his true name, and his thunder fall upon their heads.

Yes, he thinks it ridiculous. They should all just scream his name from the rooftops, so it will never be forgotten from the morn to the loneliest moors. Cower and dye it in fear, humans, for there is no other delicacy dragons relish more -- the taste of fear to one's Most Frightful Name.

Rak thinks that he does have the Most Frightful One.

But alas -- there is another dragon's name the little humans and fae murmur of even more fearfully, and it makes him bristle, it does --

Urek Mazino. Drat him! Curse him for a thousand blood summers and moons! Who thought it was a Most Frightful Name at all, it Was Not! This Urek Mazino, known lord and liege of The Moving Forest, wasn't even trying to be strike fear into the hearts of the masses at all!

They say, they conspire behind bar counters, that this famed Other Dragon Urek Mazino, even goes down to town in human skin and even happily sings (or attempts to) to serenade ladies, both human and fae.

They say, in giggles that he despises, that he does not discriminate.

It is surely the most fitful nonsense he has ever heard of. Perhaps that Other Dragon Urek Mazino was trying to do the age-old tactic of collecting a harem for his hoard instead.

,

Urek Mazino, also known as The Moving Forest, for when he transforms back into his true form: a silvery-green bract of pine forest across the long length of his spine seems to materialise before your very eyes. They say he is as vast as the great forests of old, and there is nothing older than the trees that tower, with eyes that speak of barks built up over years and years of rain and sun and wind. Something ancient lives in his red eyes, too bright and beady to be blood, but when fixated upon you?

Something that was previously a silver-haired lout of a youth stupidly laughing? Watch out.

Do not presuppose the honour of his eyes lowered upon you. They say he is a generous outlier of a being after all, being a dragon that has made a pact with a living forest druid for power and peace. They say he is near a warlock, that Wizard White could not cast a spell that could actually hit him in the war.

He avoids flying over the woods for a reason. Any long stretch of greengreengreen because Other Dragon Urek Mazino, is far too friendly for his tastes.

//have some snippets from a WIP where I’m rambling through the worldbuilding to find the loose thread of the story! Today’s mood of the day is dragons :D

[phichimettizine]

Wondering who’s works you can expect to see in Breathless? Here’s our full contributor list. Watch for previews of their works, and check them out. 

Artists:

Cerisebio, @emptycicada, @magical-mistral-art, @bansheebender, @somethingyoirelated, @nehart82, @anonbaph, @bectara, @bullsfish,  casnouveau, @justdancingontheblades, @dyeingdoll, Eli_grey, Foxpirate, @haminnikiforov98, Ollie, @omtivi, Rosemuse, @jihyxnkim, @twiglightdragonsartblog, Wilderulz

Writers:

@d2diamond, @sinkingorswimming, @lucycamui, @n3rdlif343va, Noon30ish, @phoenixwaller, Antares, @downbyashes, @ashiiblack, @thebookewyrme, @pandamilo, Scribbles in the Margins, @silverphoenixwrites

You can preorder Breathless now, through Nov 22, at Patreon.com/Phichimettizine

[moonlight-mistral]

they have a symbiotic relationship

[mistral]

so what's your breath attack mistral

the breath that makes you cold :)

[bandleciity]

My Muse’s Handwriting. ; COMPLETED

FONT BRADLEY HAND ITC

Ever since she was younger, Tristana has had a habit of writing only in capital letters. Her penmanship isn’t the worst, but it certainly isn’t very elegant either - fitting for the Bandle Gunner.

FONT MISTRAL

Her signature, on the other hand, is much messier and the letters seem to blend in together too much, making it somewhat confusing to decipher. You can make out general letters, but also question yourself if she’s missing any. Not to mention, she scribbles quickly and with much force that the font ends up thicker than intended.

Stolen from ; @villainxsm​

Tagging ; All who read this !

[kineticallyanywhere]

Timetravel au where the RWBY+JRN+Oscar end up back in time during the start of the series and they all have to lay low pretending to be their past selves so they won't get caught but they sometimes get confused which version of someone they're talking to like Blake would be trying to act like her season 1 self and Ruby's just like 'blake it's me' 'oh thank god' but it's really hard for them to see everything back when it was peaceful and JNR has a hard time seeing pyrrha alive 1/2

2/2 but eventually they decide they have to warn people about Cinder so they go to Ozpin and then there's the adults like Ironwood all making a big fuss about what they should do and if they should believe the kids meanwhile Oz is kinda eying Oscar because he knows Oscar is his next incarnation &this is the first time he's known who his next incarnation is going to be which means he can prepare like never before but Oscar's like 'no I know what you're doing you want to kidnap past me stop it' 

RWBY Time travel anon here, 1. Please consider Oscar meeting Ozpin and finally having someone understand what it's like to be an incarnation of Ozma& having someone able to teach him and get rid of some misconceptions he has 2 Please also consider past Oscar waking up on his farm one day only to have all these really important huntresses and huntsmen trying to get him to join a hunter school, Ironwood& Crow are fighting over custody of Ozs next incarnation &past Oscar is like 'wtf is happening?'

This was all I thought about at work today please accept this offering of a scribble

MORE THOUGHTS:

I love the image of them all trying to be able to pass as the people they were just two years ago

Blake spacing out and Ruby coming over, like you said

Ruby: Hey Blake, whatcha doin?

Blake: U-UH-- BROODING!

Ruby: Blake it’s me, chill

Blake: ohthankgods

Oscar seeing Vale for the first time! 

Oscar: Beacon is so cool whoever designed this place I wanna shake their hand

Nora, to Ren: Wouldn’t he just shake his own hand?

Ren elbows her

I’m thinking alt/disconnected timeline. A universe that’s almost identical to theirs (maybe the phone numbers are different, or Blake’s ears are a different color) but it’s not. So they don’t have to worry about paradoxing themselves out of existence and they can change things here 

They def don’t know that for sure at first tho. can’t pass up all the Shenanigans for initially trying really hard to not break time

for example: JNR+O are going around Vale, looking for something, but turns out JNR don’t remember the area as well as they should. 

Oscar: Why don’t we just ask somebody? That person looks nice!

Oscar goes to talk to them, JNR about jump out of their clothes to duck and hide

Oscar meets Pyrrha. She gives him directions based on her teammate Nora’s favorite ice cream place

Weiss has to hear herself talk, it’s amazing

Ruby has to hear herself talk, it’s amazing

Zwei

After future! RWBY JNR+O have their dramatic info-dump with past!Oz Crew, they start looking into how far Salem’s Fall of Beacon plot has gotten, and look into the “exchange students”

Pull up a picture of Cinder

Yang: That’s the bxxx.

Speaking of that dramatic info-dump, I’m already thinking about That Conversation with Ozpin and Oscar because same hat my dear anon I’d love for Oscar to have the chance to talk to someone else, openly, who gets it. Who knows everything he knows now, and can’t lock himself away, and who gets it. 

I think (if this somehow happened just after volume 6 and present!Oz is still keeping his distance) Oz would at the very least speak up to Oscar in private, even if he doesn’t know what’s going on. I think he’d warn Oscar against talking to Ozpin, or letting on to Ozpin who Oscar is. It could lead to too many ideas or thoughts or emotions about things they have no actual power to change or control. That it would probably cause more problems than it solves (he’s not exactly wrong)

They do a pretty good job just writing Oscar off to the Oz Crew as just a kid they picked up in Mistral. They get through the conversation about timelines and where to go from here and what to do next without Oscar’s history or Oz’s backstory coming up. They’re pretty sure they can brush it off

but then everyone’s leaving Ozpin’s office and Ozpin says: Mr. Pine, If I could speak with you a moment?

Oscar’s nervous, and Oz wants him to leave, but Oscar’s pretty sure there’s no getting out of it. Then it’s just Oscar with Ozpin behind his desk. 

Ozpin’s looking out the window with his mug, and he asks: How old are you, Oscar?

Oscar says: Almost fifteen.

Ozpin sighs. He has to set his mug down. He asks: How long?

Oscar: I’m... I’m sorry?

Ozpin: How long have I been with you?

(Ozpin figured it out. Not right away, but through little things and little realizations stacking up. “I stand like that” “He asks the questions I want to ask” “He keeps looking to the side like he’s listening to somethi-- oh snap”)

(Step four: cry)

When the secret’s out to the past!RWBYJNPR teams that the future!RWBYJNR teams are there (because of course it gets out) Jaune marches up to himself, points to Pyrrha across the room and is like

“DO YOU SEE HER? LOOK AT HER. NO, LOOK AT HER AGAIN.”

Then he smooshes his face in his hands and is like

“You sweet summer imbecile take her on a date before the sun sets or I will fill you bed with molasses”  

From here it’s like re-imagining season 3 but with all these extra characters. Imagine the training fights oh man 

I kinda love the image of Oscar just hanging out in Ozpin’s office a lot, like during class periods he would otherwise enroll in if he wasn’t even younger than Ruby was when she started at Beacon. A 15 year old prodigy from a family of huntsmen and huntresses who’s been to combat school and breaths huntressing? okay. a 14 year old who’s never been to combat school, picked up a weapon less than a year ago, as is escalating in skill faster than conceivably possible? that’s a raised eyebrow or twelve

still dying for an Ironwood reaction to Oscar (volume 7 please) 

oh, backtrack: future!RWBYJRN+O don’t give themselves up as time travelers on purpose. They hold the cover pretty well until someone spots Yang with a robot arm and then it’s all out the window. past!Jaune probably sees her pull it off and shrieks dramatically 

seeing Qrow in 100% Support Oz mode is probably a little unsettling for them now

oh man how do they break it to them?? do they??

this is all I’ve got so far but it’s only been like a day

[tangent101]

The Symbolism of Death in RWBY and Adam Taurus

There has been an outcry among the diehard fans of Adam’s over his death and what they see as his “wasted potential.” But there’s one thing they don’t want to realize: Monty likely created Adam fully intending on having him die in a confrontation with Yang and Blake.

Consider for a moment: Adam’s symbol is a rose, wilting. It symbolizes death. In fact, Adam himself symbolizes death, time and time again. Remember when we first saw Adam? He had no cares in the world about killing off a train of people. It took Blake choosing to abandon Adam (and abandon a view of the world where you kill people you are opposed to) to save those people.

We next see Adam walk onto the scene at the end of Volume 2. A bunch of Faunus died furthering Cinder’s schemes and Emerald and Mercury speculate the White Fang are going to abandon them. Enter one Adam Taurus who insists the White Fang follows him and will do what he tells them to do.

If I remember correctly, his third appearance (or at least the third significant appearance) outside of Blake’s scribbles and the like is a flashback when Cinder tries to recruit the White Fang to do her bidding. After Cinder returns and kills a bunch of the White Fang to force the issue (having stolen half of Amber’s power) he then agrees to work with them. 

Near the end of Volume 3, Blake Belladonna comes across him trying to murder some random student during the Fall of Beacon. Blake confronts him, proves inadequate, Yang tries to save her by rushing in, loses a limb, and we have a significant ending: Yang and Blake’s relationship, which was growing, dies in the fires of Beacon. Again, the theme of death continues to play out with Adam.

His fifth appearance is in Volume 4 when he appears in Yang’s parts of Volume 4, both his mask’s visage for a PTSD episode and in a nightmare showing Yang to be powerless to stop him.

Adam truly starts to shine in Volume 5 when he deposes Sienna Khan and kills her, stabbing her as she turns toward him. This action has even greater significance when you view the Adam Taurus Short posted before Volume 6 as Sienna was a huge supporter of Adam and likely was instrumental in getting Adam a position of power within the White Fang. Later in Volume 5 we see him once more, ranting about Blake in a message to the Albain brothers demanding that the Belladonna family be murdered and Blake taken captive. (He also does )

It’s at the end of Volume 5 that everything falls apart. It is also one of the times he is thwarted (by Blake each time) and prevented from killing. Even then he tries to activate the detonator to destroy Haven Academy early despite the fact this will also kill all of his supporters and possibly himself at the same time. He ends up fleeing and Blake prevents Sun from running after him where Adam can use ambush tactics to regain the upper hand.

There is also the Adam Short and this continues to drive home the links of Adam and Death. He kills a human who is attacking the pre-violence White Fang to protect Ghira Belladonna. When he is praised by Sienna Khan (who basically gave Adam permission to fight the humans) he goes on to start glorifying in death and nearly murders another human before Sienna distracts him. Blake even calls him out on it before he turns it around on her and makes her feel guilty for “doubting” him.

Volume 6 continues the theme of Adam and Death. We first see Adam for one brief moment when the gang is freeing the train cars so to fight the Grimm attacking. While the only probable death is off-screen with one of the Huntsmen guarding the train thrown off by a Grimm, the Grimm themselves fully intend on killing everyone on the train and Adam as a harbinger of death remains an ongoing theme for the show.

We next see Adam in a brief cut when he murders a bunch of his supporters who dared mention Blake (and set up the rest of Volume 6′s encounters). He abandons the White Fang and decides his own vengeance is most important. From there we next see him, or a PTSD-related flash, with Yang at the Brunswick farm where everyone lay down to sleep and died. While this was again just a hallucination of Yang’s (the third we’ve seen), it continues the theme with Yang of being powerless and in fear. 

 Volume 6 finishes with the grand finale of Adam confronting Blake once more. We first see Blake in Episode 10 when she is fleeing someone and she comes across the corpse of one of the guards at the radar and radio transmitter. After that, we have the reveal that Adam has tracked Blake to this area. Adam continues to stalk Blake through the landscape until Yang can join her and together they fight this embodiment of Death. 

The thing to remember is it takes both Yang and Blake acting together to defeat Adam. While Yang did a bit of the physical fighting once Adam broke Blake’s Aura, it was when Yang saw Blake was still alive, still struggling, trying to get back into the fight, that she was inspired to fight harder and more intelligently. This is also an important point: Yang won not because she was stronger but because she refused to strike Adam with her full power until she had Adam right where she wanted him - his blade in her fist (the fist he forced her to have) and his stomach exposed to her return strike.

Adam had to die. If he hadn’t, then he would have returned at some point. And let’s face it. If Blake and Yang had sent him to prison fans would be insisting he break out at some point. If Mistral had him put to death for his crimes, seeing him hang would have been called anti-climactic. No, he had to die by Blake and Yang’s hands, using the two halves of Blake’s shattered weapon, so we could not only see him die... but also see Blake break down in tears afterward because she just took a man’s life with her own two hands... and this was someone she knew, cared for, and feared tremendously.

There is an old saying: those who live by the sword die by the sword. Thus died Adam Taurus. He could not be allowed to live, or sent to prison. You cannot cage Death. And Adam Taurus ultimately was an avatar of Death in RWBY.

Correction: I’d gotten timing wrong with Volume 4 and 5. @plcyersandpieces​ was kind enough to point this out, and I’ve gone back and edited the post to fix the error. :) 

[grailacademy]

Welcome To Grail Academy - Chapter Fourteen: Too Young To Die

For an abandoned taffy factory, the beastly structure sure was animated. The tall smokestacks obscured the light of the sun, like grey obelisks marking an apocalyptic shrine. Groups of men and women in beige jumpsuits and caps rolled large crates out on trolleys, loading the packages onto the backs of taffy delivery trucks. A man with a thick beard and baggy eyes barked directions from the catwalk above, his potbelly bouncing as he yelled. It was systematic chaos, ants gathering food, bees building a hive, cockroaches scattering under light. The floor manager saw the line of children file into the factory through a garage door, nodded and pointed to a hallway that funneled out of the worker’s space. Queenie leading the pack, she directed everyone to follow.

Rettah held onto Yorick’s sweaty hand, pulling him along like a puppy on a leash. She was rambling about something, it could have been about a comic book she was reading, or maybe she was explaining their cover at the factory, but he wasn’t paying attention. He was still in sensory overload. Her hand on his was like holding an alligator’s tail, he felt every pore and ring of her fingerprints, every drop of sweat. The shouting and mechanical whirring of the machines sounded like standing in the middle of a bomb range. His heart was a flamenco dancer twirling and leaping in his chest, his legs were shaking, the images of Buck were stained on the insides of his eyelids every time he blinked. Scarlet swayed behind him, hands on his head.

The noise, noise, noise of the factory rattled in the distance as a new sound overtook Yorick’s ears. An argument, behind a closed door of what looked to be a freezer, presumably the place where this taffy company once stored product preservatives.

“The shipments are ahead of schedule, but the border keeps stopping our deliveries before they can leave Calicem.” A man’s voice, deep and gravely.

“We certainly can’t go after city government. It’s still an independent settlement.” A woman’s voice, stern.

“That’s exactly why we SHOULD. There won’t be any assistance from Mistral military.”

“Yes, but you forget their connections to Haven. The alliances between academies could prove to be bothersome, at the least.”

“Those toddlers are only a small inconvenience. If we move fast, we can collapse the communications tower and prevent any distress signals.”

Another woman’s voice, gentle and soft, cut through the bickering and hummed “Goodness, you call the hunters children while I sit here with a couple of infants! Play nice, you two”, the voice tittered.

The door to the locker was pushed open and the meeting came into full view. A circular wooden dining table sat in the center, a series of eight mismatched cushioned lounge chairs sitting around it. A tray with a silver tea pot and bowls of sugar cubes and biscuits was adjusted directly in the center. Those sitting at the table were all holding a cup of their own, although some did not drink the warm beverage. The room was cold, frigid, not quite to the point of frost or needing a jacket, but enough to send a chill down Yorick’s back. A man in a heavy orange and gold coat had his fist clenched on the table, his clean shaven head glistening in the reflection of his tea cup. A short woman sat across from him, the locks of her chestnut hair curling over her shoulder as she sipped her tea delicately, with her pinkie out. A boy with ragged black hair, shaved short in some parts and left long in others, sat on a crate in the corner, arms folded over his chest. “Be patient.” the gentle voice continued, echoing from somewhere in the far back of the room, dripping from the darkness like molasses. “There is no need to cause such a disturbance over a few delivery trucks. Let our people do their jobs, they have families to feed.”

“Pardon the interruption, but we have a new recruit” Queenie stated, gaining the abrupt attention of everyone’s eyes on her. She and Rettah stepped out of the way, and Scarlet shoved Yorick into the room. The boy on the crate shook his head and stood up, leaving the room. His arms unfolding as he trudged out made plain the dark marks on his back underneath his tank top, which Yorick stared at for a brief moment. He tripped over his feet and slipped into the room, not knowing what to do with his hands. He patted his legs and puffed out his cheeks, before that gentle voice hummed again. “You….”

suddenly, the darkness shrunk and a streak of black whooshed past the table. Now he was being embraced in a tight hug, by a pale woman who held his head to her naked breast. She was as cold as death, but somehow had the nurturing touch of a mother. She released him after an uncomfortably long five seconds, smiling excitedly and inspecting him. “Oh, he’s perfect! Just as I had imagined him. A magnificent specimen! Yes!” She poked the flesh of his forearms, prodded at his stomach, lifted the ends of his hair and counted a few strands, pulled one of his shoes off and felt around to make sure he had all his toes, stretched the goggles on his head as far as they could go, letting them snap onto his forehead when she let go. The process had Yorick giggling nonstop, since he had neglected to mention that he was extremely ticklish.

“What—Who are you? Where am I, what is this?” He asked, noticing the long trail of black hair winding behind the woman. She tittered again, petting his head and calming down.

“You must be very confused, I’m sure. My name is Sable Zil Alhaqiqa Trinity. But you may call me Sable. And this,” she held her arms out and gestured to the space around her, “is my temple.”

The man sitting at the table cleared his throat, and Sable turned to explain, “These are some of my disciples. Lolanthe Aylin, a scholar and the head of our production department, and Aurum Fitzroy, the leader of our field scouts.” She leaned over and whispered, “he also makes a wonderful raspberry biscuit.” Yorick looked back and saw that the man was angrily chewing on a biscuit with speckles of red berry in it.

A black tendril of hair draped itself over Yorick’s shoulder like an arm, Sable’s signal for him to turn around. “Walk with me, Yorick.” He glanced back to the rest of RSQ as the pair strolled down the hallway, and caught Rettah waving goodbye before the locker door shut behind them. “How do you know my name?”

“I know lots of things.”

Wow, that’s totally not creepy, he thought. Sable’s hair slid along the floor behind her, as if she wore a dramatically long veil to a wedding gown. They travelled through the factory, each assembly line and packing room adding to its daunting size. “Are you afraid of me, Yorick?”

“A bit, yeah.”

“That is understandable, haha.” She chuckled. He laughed as well, until Sable’s hair lifted off his shoulder and fell into place on her back. “I’m a strange person. We are strange people!” She was right about that.

“Do you know about the Hedge Witches?”

“We….learned about them in class, I think.” He scratched the back of his hand. The little he knew about them wasn’t exactly in a good light.

“Then you know what we do here.”

“You’re anarchists. Terrorists.”

Sable snorted, “Oh, nothing that dramatic.” They reached a room with ceiling-to-floor windows that hung above the work floor, but the windows were almost entirely covered with sheets of scribblings and notes. “My disciples are not mindless brutes. They are scientists, artists, teachers, chefs, lawyers, those who have been wronged by Calicem government. The ones who run this city, they are oppressors. They profit from marginalized people’s misery.” As she spoke, Yorick strolled around the room and read some of the notes. They seemed to be a combination of diary entries and experiment logs. “....The world has been cruel to us. We were born out of hate and fear, not love. That is why I do this, Yorick. I want to create a new world. A better one.” The branches of hair slithered up the walls of the room like spilt ink, and when Yorick turned around, Sable was reclining in a hammock of her own hair. He could sympathize with her reasons. But Yorick questioned her, “Why do you need me, then?”

“Because,” Sable plucked a piece of paper off of one of the walls and handed it to Yorick. ”This power is your destiny.” Yorick clutched the newsprint photo in his hand, recognizing the face of his grandmother on the paper.

“Who. The hell. Is Sable.” Esmerelda slammed her hands down on the headmaster’s desk, grinding her teeth. Her team and herself were all looking worse for wear, Bernard blinking in and out of consciousness on the couch in the corner, Nico sitting beside him with his partner’s head in his lap, wincing with every breath he took. The school nurse peeled Bernard’s eyes open and shone a small light to see if his pupils dilated (which they didn’t), and applied a salve to the many purple and red marks across Nico’s chest and stomach. “It’s a miracle you don’t have any broken bones. Just a couple of bruised ribs.” The nurse remarked while she wrapped gauze around Nico’s torso to hold him together. Esmerelda herself had bandages wrapped around her forearms where the wires cut her, and around her neck where Queenie had attempted to slit her throat.

“I understand that you’re upset-” Madehold tried to calm down her students, but to no avail. “-UPSET!? My team and I could have died out there. Upset doesn’t even begin to describe it. For gods sake, they took Yorick and killed one of their teammates! How could you let those monsters into the academy? And why did they know so much about you and the school? And WHO IN THE GODS NAMES IS SABLE!?”

Madehold let out a long sigh, lacing her fingers together and holding them up to her lips as she sat there. It was one thing to have to deal with these kids screaming at her so late at night, but it was another thing to do so while she was inebriated. After a moment, she turned in her office chair and stood, making her way to the window. “I guess I have some explaining to do, don’t I?”