Hi, y’all.

I know it’s been a long time since I’ve done anything with this blog, and I’m sorry for just up and disappearing like that.  I guess I came back for a bit to give a wave and make official what everyone probably already knew–this blog on hiatus and I’m not sure when I’ll be back.

The trouble is, when I started RPing here, RWBY was my huge hyperfixation.  Unfortunately, it no longer is.  I still love it and I still have some writing ideas, but right now, my attention’s been turned to other interests (namely, Final Fantasy XIV) and trying to get my own original writing off the ground.  This has left me with very little bandwidth for RPing RWBY on the regular, which sucks for everyone I’ve left hanging high and dry.  For all of that, I apologize profusely.

However, I’ve made some adjustments for if/when I return.  After some deliberation, I’ve made the decision to permanently drop Sienna as a muse.  I hope we all understand that the White Fang, as was written in the first two volumes, had started out analogous to the Black Panther Party in the United States during a very turbulent time that many would say never really ended.  Sienna herself shares many philosophical similarities with Malcolm X.  Given these ideas, I don’t feel that it’s appropriate, especially in light of recent events, for me, a pasty-white lesbian, to tell her story.  I empathize, sympathize, and stand in support of Black people and agree that Black Lives Matter–but ultimately, I do not and cannot share in that experience or tell any kind of story like that.  It’s not my story to tell.

As far as Blake and Ilia go… Blake was the basis of my roleplaying here in the RWBY RP community and Ilia is, perhaps, more of an analogy of LGBTQ+ rights (after all, the Stonewall Rebellion happened for similar reasons as what’s happening now) which is a story I can tell.  Blake has moved past her time in the White Fang, as has Ilia.  I will be as respectful as I can regarding the White Fang where it comes up for them, but it will still be from the limited perspective of a privileged white woman, and I apologize for that.

At any rate, TL;DR: I’m sorry for vanishing, but at this time, it looks like that’s the norm for me now.  I’ll still check in from time to time and will still reblog muse art when I see something I like, but for now RP is on hold indefinitely.

If you play FFXIV, I’m on Mateus, part of the Crystal datacenter.  You can DM for character names (I have a few, lol).  If you just wanna talk, hit me up on Discord: Zhanael#5939 (though please let me know who you are).  And in the meantime, please take care, and stay safe.

“Blake Belladonna.”

100 rwby characters day 9- sienna khan

unpopular opinion; she’s very very cool-looking but wasn’t underutilized in the slightest; we knew everything we /needed/ to know about her and extra details wouldn’ve derailed the plot…a side book or something would be cool though

Stand your ground

Just a few of my favorite smiling Blakes

The flurry of movement in the periphery of Mercury’s vision caught his attention but briefly. Papers were stowed away, replaced instead by the textbook he had not yet cracked. He couldn’t see what the papers were, nor had he any interest before they were inadvertently marked as sensitive by her actions. Curiosity was not permitted to wander far, however. Instead he rummaged through the chaos within his bag, dislodging rumpled papers and various detritus until he could tug a scuffed but otherwise untouched notebook free. Might as well pretend to take notes.

A network of small drawings already decorated the top of the first page when Professor Hornbeam rose from behind her desk. Mercury remembered her name from the class schedule stuffed somewhere in his bag, probably crumpled at the bottom. With a round face covered in freckles, large brown eyes, and a mousy head of short curly hair, she called to mind some kind of small forest animal–the twitchy chipmunk tail lending credence to the image.

“All righty then! As you’ve surely noticed, our guests have joined us for class. Since they’ll be with us for the next few weeks, I think a little ice breaker is in order. Why don’t we go around the room and we can each say our name and something interesting about us?”

Oh fuck.

Professor Hornbeam started. Mercury heard not a word of what she said, preoccupied instead by the unease contorting his stomach. This may be par for the course in formal education, but Mercury hadn’t known to expect it, nor did he know how to handle it. The end of his pen tapped rapidly against the paper as he struggled to compose what he would say. His name, he guessed, if he couldn’t get out of it. But something interesting about him? What even was there? Suddenly, Mercury felt as though he had never done anything in his entire life.

Inevitably, it was soon his turn. He swore he could feel every set of eyes in the room on him. Was his face red? It felt red. Fuck, why did he take a class away from Emerald and Cinder.

“My name’s Mercury, and…”

I’m here to shatter your lives.

I’d kill you without a second thought.

I know just where to cut to bleed you dry in minutes.

I can’t fucking talk in class.

“…I experimented with art, some, before starting school.”

Murder was an art, right?

Blake could hear the crinkling of wadded papers inside her new neighbor's bag. She chanced a glance over in time to see him pull out his notebook. As he opened it to the first page, her first reaction was an inward eyeroll; of course she was stuck behind a slacker who never took notes. But something else caught her eye, and she turned her head slightly to see, clearly, the doodles that decorated the paper. Her heart skipped a beat.

There was something awfully familiar about that art style.

She didn't have time to dwell on it when the professor began the class. Her eyes scanned the rest of the room, making note of the unfamiliar faces and uniforms; there were mostly Beacon students, but some were from Haven and others from Vacuo. There was only one Atlesian, however, and Blake sneered inwardly. Of course.

As Professor Hornbeam began the introductions, Blake leaned forward over her book, trying to keep herself mostly out of sight until it was her turn. Of course the Vacuans seemed to be the most enthusiastic; that seemed to be a theme, if Sun was anything to go by. She supposed that made sense, though. Vacuo and Beacon weren't too far off from each other, in terms of ideals.  The Altesian was, predictably, as stiff and formal as could be.

The exercise in embarrassment unfortunately left Blake and her neighbor as the last two to take their turn.  Unbeknownst to her, she was struggling just as much to come up with something “interesting.”  Yet when her neighbor finally spoke, she froze entirely, golden eyes widening while her ears stood at the alert under her bow.  Slowly, she turned to look at him, and sure enough, it was him.

Her Mercury.  Her SteelWings.

Soon enough, it was her turn, and she quickly looked away so she could at least stutter out something. “I-I’m Blake.  Blake Belladonna.  And I... I do a lot of reading.  Sci-fi and fantasy, mostly.”  And romance, but she wasn’t about to admit that aloud.

With her part over with, Blake immediately turned to Mercury, her heart pounding.  Would he recognize her, too?  Neither had changed that much, though he looked much better off than she remembered.  But she had her bow, now, and she knew she looked something of a mess from her lack of sleep.  Her eyes sought his, while one hand strayed to her scroll in her pocket, gripping it tightly.

Humans didn’t do this. 

We did this. 

Faunus.

Could you please reblog this if it is okay to ask you straight up if you want to ship?

@plcyersandpieces​

Tyrian took a leaping strike at the Beowolf that was making mindless wide swings in his direction, the impact of his blow dissipating it to dust. A weak creature, and hardly a challenge. He would have greatly preferred more powerful Grimm to practice his skills on, or better yet, a huntsman. But alas, the larger Grimm are needed for Her Grace’s purposes, and Tyrian wouldn’t dare invoke her wrath for such petty whims.

With how frequently he trained, though, he was beginning to be able to predict the creatures’ movements before they even began to telegraph them. They were hardly better than immobile training dummies. He vented his frustrations onto the monstrosities, slaying them by the droves. It had been too long since he’d had a challenging fight, even longer since a satisfying kill. With Tock out on her mission, there was nobody in the castle that was willing to sate his thirst for blood. He was almost bitter he wasn’t assigned to accompany her, but that would have made it too easy, and he would still be dissatisfied.

It frustrated him to no end. He was an instrument of Her will, and the repetitive, stagnant training regiment he committed to wasn’t honing his skills well enough. He was a weapon, after all; and a dulled blade is worthless to its Wielder.

He heard footsteps approaching, but didn’t care to stop his onslaught as another Grimm crawled out of whatever dark depth it spawned from. He could tell from the sound is was not his Queen, and if someone else wanted his attention, they would address him. He plunged his blade into the chest of the beast, trying to find satisfaction in the sensation rather than aggravation at the ease of it all.

Tock loved it when a plan went awry.

Plans were good and all, but if they went off without a hitch, it was boring. When a plan was ruined, that meant she could improvise, and to Tock, improvisation often took the form of a bloodbath. A good, old-fashioned, game of cat and mouse... or, more accurately, croc and deer.

Today's hit had been just such a romp, and Tock still hadn't washed off all the blood when she heard Tyrian with the Grimm, back in the palace. She was in such a great mood--but she had no doubt that poor Tyrian, still without a new mission, certainly wasn't. She knew the scorpion, knew that he was just as anxious to hunt as she was. For a different reason, of course--he was far more devoted to Salem than Tock would ever be--but she still sympathized with him.

So why not try to cheer him up a bit?  Fortunately, she knew just how.

Tock didn’t say anything, but she wound her clock and took in a breath as she drew her blade.  In a heartbeat, her aura rippled and the familiar rush of power flooded her muscles.  At precisely the same moment, she started the clock, its ticking painfully loud in the echoing stone chamber.  There would be no stealth, not here--but she wasn’t looking for it.

Instead, with the next heartbeat, Tock launched herself at Tyrian, her blade and hook at the ready. As soon as she was in range, she swung with her blade; she didn't aim for anything vital, not yet, only testing his quick reflexes. Her wide grin bared her steel teeth, showing her eagerness to match with the scorpion... and, hopefully, help to burn off some of his restlessness.

after 7 weeks and 4 days

countless days of drawing

and a number of layers i don’t even know

the screenshot redraw of the last frame in rwby’s volume 7 opening is DONE

holy shit am i tired

i’ve wanted to draw a ‘big thing’ like this for a very, very long time now, but my lack of motivation and feeling that i hadn’t honed my skills enough prevented me. but rwby finally pushed that drive into action, my love for it enough to spend longer on this piece than anything i’ve ever done before, beating out the four-hour record i previously had by a long shot.

it’ll be a while before i ever spend so long on a piece again, but i do hope to do it another time someday!

You never fail until you stop trying

@plcyersandpieces | closed

Adjusting to a new way of life was more difficult than Mercury expected. Under no circumstances could the education he’d received growing up be described as formal, rudimentary skills ingrained through a combination of brute force and negative reinforcement. Making use of himself in the dark underbelly of society was prioritized over math and science and history; there had been no structured classes and an entirely different set of rules than Beacon Academy enforced. When it came to blending in with the student body, the only strategy he could implement was sit down and shut up–and that, Marcus had taught him well.

Were it possible to participate in the Vytal Festival without integrating into Beacon classes, he would gladly have made himself scarce save for the intermittent little missions Cinder required of him. Instead he was doomed to weave through congested hallways, neatly stuffed bag slung over a shoulder and uniform pressed. Cinder’s orders were simple. As long as he kept his focus, he’d be fine.

Keep your head down.

Watch for anything interesting.

This, he kept at the back of his mind as he filed into one of the smaller classrooms. Mercury had chosen to take Faunus Studies as an elective during his time at Beacon, and while he told Cinder he thought it was a good place to scope out the local faunus population and perhaps incite some unrest, he had a different motivator he did not share. With a defensive glance over the room he identified all of the doors and windows, and his attention settled on the back of a girl’s head. Most of the students sat in clusters, but she was alone and nestled against the wall, giving off signals that clearly said she wasn’t interested in socializing.

Looked like the perfect deskmate to him.

Mercury picked his way down the terrace-style rows. He kept his eyes to himself as he sat next to her, ample desk space between the two of them. With any luck–and Mercury firmly believed he made his own luck–he would stand out less if he didn’t make an effort to sit alone.

There really wasn't any real need for Blake to be here. She knew this. After all, she'd been at the heart of her species's recent history, and was a faunus besides. She knew their history better than most, especially of the White Fang and its origins. Ghira and Kali hadn't failed in their education, nor had Sienna and her followers. Blake Belladonna should not have been present.

But, as it turned out, the rest of her team already had the credits from their previous schooling--even Ruby, elevated two years as she was. It wasn't a required credit, of course, but it was a chance to escape their chaos, even for just an hour. Of late, that was an even more precious commodity--they seemed to be making more of an effort to include her, when all she wanted was to be left to her own devices.

Devices which happened to include researching Torchwick and the White Fang.

A record of the recent robberies, printed from the school library, sat on the desk in front of her. They went back several months, even long before she left the White Fang. Somewhere in there, she would find where Torchwick had begun to work with the faunus. She just hoped she hadn't unwittingly aided them before she left.

The sound of movement to her right caught her attention. Her bow shifted almost imperceptibly as her right ear turned toward it. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her new neighbor sit, and, with a flash of annoyance, she quickly shuffled the printed papers away, back into their binder.

In their place, Blake pulled out the class textbook, opening it to a random page and pretending to read it. With luck, he hadn't noticed; he was far enough away that he likely couldn't have seen the words, especially if he was human, but Blake wasn't about to take the chance. She said nothing, either; no need to call more attention to herself.

Something new

[requested starter for @plcyersandpieces]

Of course it was all over the news, of course it was. Libra keeps her hands tucked away into her pockets as she walks, the collar of her coat turned up to keep her neck warm and her head down. Fucking Tock- what had that woman gone and done now? The mine wasn’t supposed to have killed anyone, now the whole twin cities were on alert. The raven grinds her teeth- her foolhardy partner was going to get an earful when she found her.

Though a sound catches her ear as she passes an alley, something unexpected despite the tragedy that had occurred, someone crying. Listening closer she can hear the distinct hiccups and sobs of a child crying in the darkness. Down the street she hears a security officer shouting to ‘find that Faunus brat!’ followed by the tell-tell little gasp and attempt to stifle noises. Ah ha, so that’s what it was?

Easily she turns down the alleyway, white tail covered by her long coat and ambles slowly towards the sound of the muffled attempts at hiding, taking her time to let the officers run past the mouth of the alley before looking down at the girl tucked and hiding away with a gentle look of concern.

“Having some trouble with the cops today?”

None of this should have happened.

They shouldn't have been that deep in the mine. Someone else had been injured the day before, and both of the Amitolas were made to take their place. They shouldn't have been there, but they were, and now... Ilia hadn't even gotten to say goodbye.

Nor should those girls have been laughing. Ilia had known of their prejudice, of course; they dismissed anything to do with faunus during their courses, even made cruel jabs that Ilia had to swallow and take. But she hadn't thought they would be so cruel as to make light of the deaths of hundreds, her own parents included.

And Ilia shouldn't have lost her temper. But when those girls laughed, she saw red--and turned red, to boot. One moment, she was blue, and the next, a furious crimson. When she regained her senses, two of the girls were bloodied and unconscious; the others had fled and there were instructors--and security--running toward her.

Knowing that she was otherwise doomed, Ilia fled. She'd always been among the top athletes, and so the small wall around the school grounds was no obstacle; she was up and over before any of her pursuers could catch up to her. She ran as quickly as she could, tears streaming from deep blue eyes.

Word had spread to the greater authorities and Ilia knew the time was to hide. So once she spotted a pair of policemen searching for her, she ducked down a nearby alley and dove between a dumpster and a stack of boxes covered with a tarp. The latter, she pulled over herself, and she willed herself to turn the same color--though her uniform only stood out.

She also shouldn't have been found.

As soon as the woman's voice addressed her, she sucked in a breath through clenched teeth and another wave of blue rippled over her skin. "Go away," she finally snapped, her voice cracking. "Leave me alone!"