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When you’re suppose to be making Rosegarden canon

Borrowing @littlemisssquiggles‘s lovely Rose Fox for this crack piece. I remember her writing something about Rose about she’s meant to help bring Ruby and Oscar together ... I went wild to say the least XD

“You gotta be confident,” Rose tells him. Her hand is a welcome warmth on Oscar’s shoulder. “Ladies love confidence. It lets them know that you’re a capable person.”

Oscar nods accordingly. His eyes shone with determination, eagerly eating up whatever advice whatever Rose had to offer him. Oscar had very little knowledge in courting ladies other than the (recently come to acknowledged) old fashioned advice his uncle had to give him which was walk to your lover’s parents and ask for their blessing for marriage. Oscar’s dearly departed uncle meant well but Oscar was seeking to hold Ruby’s hand at the gala, not in marriage. He figured Rose would know what to do. Who knew women better than women themselves?

Rose comes to a stop, Oscar following in suit. Every fibre of her being possessed a confidence and forthrightness Oscar could only dream of possessing. “All you gotta say is: Ruby Rose, will you be my date to the Schnee Gala?

“I would love to!”

The declaration sounds wide and clear. Rose freezes, her mouth hanging agape. Oscar peeks over Rose’s shoulder to see Ruby standing, smiling brightly, her eyes shining with excitement as she happily strides over to Rose. Rose turns slowly, with that deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression still on her face. 

Ruby takes Rose’s hand, beaming warmly at the shorter girl. “I’d love to be your date to the gala!”

Oscar stares. Rose stares. Every plant in their vicinity had to be staring. The pigeons infesting the rooftops had to have their gaze on the three of them. Hell, even the obscured sun had to be peeking through to clouds just to witness this train wreck unfolding. It was only Ruby who was unfazed, chirping on about “Yes! Finally got a date!” and “Continuing to pursue my sweet Beacon dreams”.

Oscar manages to snap out of his (shocked) daze to ask, “How long were you there?”

“Oh, just a few seconds,” Ruby answers cheerily. “Oh!” Shock and horror takes Ruby, the colour draining from her face. Ruby jumps back, bowing deeply to Rose. “I’m so sorry! I took your confession from you! You were probably hyping yourself up to say that.”

“Um,” Rose says eloquently. 

“I’ll make it up to you. We’ll get dinner before then with a few of my friends.”

“What?”

“Great! I’ll pick you up at six!” With that, Ruby places a sweet kiss on Rose’s cheek and happily skips away, humming an airy tune. 

Rose turns back to Oscar, still in shock. For a few seconds, she said nothing, digesting what had just happened. Oscar’s mind was running through complex mathematical equations to figure out how this happened.

“I think I just stole your girl, Oscar,” Rose finally says. 

Oscar claps his hands over his face. “Oh my gods, ROSE!”

Presenting Miss ‘Steal Yo Girl’ Rose Fox

One Thing

Ianthe sits on the main couch of the Rose Bouquet’s dorm, relaxed and comfortable. She watches Rose scramble about in rage, pulling open cabinets hard enough to rip them off their hinges and throw defenceless chairs over. Even poor Lindy was bothered, covering her sensitive ears. Not that Ianthe particularly cared as she cooly sipped her warm coffee. Hoody seemed to take it the worst, curled up on the ground, begging for death to take her swiftly. 

The music was rapturous for Ianthe, blaring loudly at 1 AM in the morning. She had finally found it. A piece of music that resonated with her. Ianthe let her grin grow sinisterly wider as Rose’s frustration grew. 

“I don’t get no sleep cuz of y’all! Y’all not gonna sleep cuz a me!” The speakers blared. From where, only Ianthe knew, and she wasn’t particularly interested in sharing. 

Truly, Ianthe had never felt connected or even inspired as she had to this music. All those nights of Rose, Hoody and Lindy blasting unwanted 90′s music on nights Ianthe was meant to be sleeping for their private slumber parties ... Last night had been the last straw. Ianthe had an important test today, a test she valued very much, and those three foxes in a fit of intoxicated carelessness, played music ...

And didn’t stop playing until 3 am in the morning. Ianthe felt vindicated by their subsequent hangover but it was nothing compared to the sleepless nights and the sheer stress she went through. 

As the song went: kill for kill, eye for eye, blood for blood, it’s time to die. 

“TURN DOWN THE MUSIC!!!!!” Rose shrieks, fully prepared to murder Ianthe if needed. “WE HAVE A TEST FREAKING TODAY!”

“Then perish,” Ianthe said maliciously. 

---

Sorry @littlemisssquiggles, @che1sea-xiao-long, @lythecreatorart, @lookyeekiti your OC’s suffered for their transgressions against @miki-13‘s Ianthe. 

Sometimes you have trash roommates and you reach of so done with them that you don’t care anymore. Ianthe has reached that state. She has stopped caring. Everybody, run. 

The music Ianthe has on loop for 6 hours is this

Oscar and Ruby have to come in later like exhausted parents and sort everything out

When Oscar served the casserole

Oscar: Here you go, Qrow. Here's your portion.

Qrow: Oh, thanks, kid.

**Five seconds later**

Qrow: It burns! It burns! IT BURNS! MY THROAT IS ON FIRE! What did you put in it, kid?!!!

Oscar: Oh, it's an old Pine family recipe. There's beef, vegetables, *ghost peppers* ...

Qrow: Milk! I need milk!

Oscar: Oh, shoot. While I was out buying groceries, I forgot to buy milk. I'm so sorry about that.

Jaune: (rolling on the floor, pracrtically dying)

Ruby: (somehow hasn't gotten the portions with ghost peppers) ... (looks to Yang) Remind me not to make Oscar angry.

Surprise

Summary: Penny has a surprising revelation for Whitley.

Their affair had been a quick, passing thing. Just one night, really, between his silken sheets on his bed. Though if Whitley were to linger, he’d would remember the starburst of freckles on her skin, the taste of apples on her lips and how her body perfectly moulded against his. In the morning, when Penny scrambled out of his sheets to rush to her flight, Whitley simply bid her adieu.

And in two months time, it led to where they were now. Penny sitting in front of him in Oscar’s excuse of an apartment, the owner and his fiancée having excused themselves to allow privacy for the two remaining occupants.

“I’m pregnant,” Penny said. There was no question in her voice. She was resolute. But Whitley could see the whites of her knuckles as her hands were clenched on her lap and the slight tremor in her voice.

Whitley stared, absorbing her words. Then he carefully placed his tea cup back on the coffee table. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“I went to the hospital and they confirmed it for me.”

“And it’s mine?”

“Yes.”

Whitley regarded her carefully. He knew a liar when he saw one. Growing up a Schnee will do that to you. Penny was not the first woman to claim that he had gotten her with child. She wouldn’t be the last, if Whitley were to bet. However, all her body language spoke only of anxiety and nervousness, not that of concealed deceit. And if Whitley were to allow himself to be a bit … foolish, Penny did not seem like the type to lie about something as major as this.

“Would you …” Whitley scrambled to find words. What was he to say? He took in a slight breath. “What would you have me do then?”

“I—um—I just need child support. I’m not in the most secure of job positions at the moment. And the child …” Penny bit her lip, placing a hand over her stomach. Whitley knew. A child meant more than a new life. It also meant time and energy, a countless amount of money, making room in your life for this one person. “If you want to have a DNA test after the child is born, I fully understand and consent to it.”

“Right.” Whitley wringed his hands. Giving money would be nothing major on his part. In fact, all he needed to do was give money. Penny said she just needed financial support, not paternal. Whitley was sure he wouldn’t be even to give that. Not with his ‘sparkling’ role model of a father and his personality, which was an acquired taste as he came to understand.

But Penny would be the one solely responsible for his child. Not that Whitley didn’t believe that she could be a fine mother. He remembers the conversation they had before Whitley let his inebriated state control his mouth for him and stuck his tongue down Penny’s throat. Penny had only recently started at a new tech firm. Low level grunt work. Add that in with the fact Penny was a woman and with child, she would probably be let go.

Whitley had a vague idea of how parenting worked for those less wealthy than him. You couldn’t just throw your child at servants. No, they were a responsibility, something you constantly watched over.

And Penny would do all of that on her own …

“Penny, what if I were to say I could more than just child support?”

Mercury: Will you be the Sakura to my Sasuke?

Emerald: No.

Mercury: What?

Emerald: Sakura can do better than Sasuke and should have left his ass on the curb to live as the strong, independent woman she is instead of living in radio silence from her husband and raising their kid mostly by herself.

Mercury: ...

Emerald: But I'm willing to be the Emerald to your Mercury.

Mercury: Nice.

Romeo and Juliet

For @silveriaphoenix who prompted ‘Romeo and Juliet’ for broken machines. T/W for Whitley the |S|hitley, ableism and bullying. 

Damn them. Damn them all.  

 Whitley can hear them laughing, their classmates, in the background. Oh, this must be oh-so-funny to them. They forget how powerful he is. How he controls them all. He has everything they want, he is everything they want to be, and he can do anything to them.

 But, for now, he is simply Romeo and Penny is his Juliet.

 Penny is …

 Odd.

 Penny is truthful with no need for lies, simple compared to Whitley’s many complexities, and kind-hearted in a way that makes his heart hurt. And right now, the only other person in this godsforsaken class that actually gives a damn about this farce of a class play they’re forced to put on. It helps that her naivety hides the real intention of this play.

 Make the rich asshole kiss the retard.

 Once upon a time, Whitley would made jokes with them about Penny. About the way she talked, about her autism, even to the way she dressed. She was so different. An alien amongst humans. She and Whitley were in completely different orbits.

 But now, after having to spend time with Penny, Whitley has come to realise that Penny is the only person in this school that’s worth anything. He isn’t sure why he started to silence those who opened their mouths to insult her or why his blood boils despite his cool nature when he sees those mocking gazes following Penny. It happens regardless and it’s up to Whitley if he wants wallow like his mother in the garden, a flask in her hand, or do something about it like his father taught him to do. Those … Those were harsh lessons Whitley learned.

 [Romeo and Juliet kiss.]

 They’ve danced around the lines, avoided them, but they actually need to figure out how to actually deal with it.

 Thankfully, the blissfully ignorant Penny steps in. “We don’t have to kiss!” she chirps. Her cheeks are red, regardless. She taps her finger on the skin besides her mouth. “You can kiss here. Or we could position ourselves in a way that would look like we were kissing!”

 “That’s …” Whitley breaths out, scratching the back of his head. “That’s a good idea.”

 “Shall we take it from the start?” Penny asks.

 “Sure.”

 Penny puts in the effort for sure. Because of her earnest nature, lying and, in turn acting, was challenging to her. However, Penny is nothing if not hardworking. She’s watched other plays, practices in her free time with Ruby, she cares. And even if this play is nothing but a joke, Whitley feels obligated to reciprocate her enthusiasm in turn.

 [Romeo and Juliet kiss.]

 Whitley leans in, aiming for the side of her chin. Penny has to stand up on the tips of her toes, something that makes Whitley’s insides melt for some reason, to meet him.

 “HEY, PENNY!”

 Penny turns her head at the last second. Her lips graze Whitley’s. For a spilt second, the taste of apples and juice bloom on his tongue. Penny jolts, stepping away, holding her mouth in surprise. Their classmates laugh, loud guffaws and squawks.

 Oh, yes, Whitley is definitely dealing with them later.

 “I’m s—sorry, Whitley!”

 “No, don’t—” Whitley waves his hands. His cheeks burn. Dammit. “—it’s fine. I just—let’s just move on.”

 Penny meekly curls into herself. “If you say so.”

 Whitley ignores the cat-call that sounds after that. 

Mercury and Emerald in Salem's castle

Mercury: This place is a f*cking nightmare. Stuck out here, in the middle of nowhere, with a witch in control of everyone.

Emerald: Hey, keep it down. The walls have ears here.

Mercury: ... Sorry, this place is just reminding me of some bad memories.

Emerald: I ... Mercury, close your eyes.

Mercury: What, why?

Emerald: Just do it, okay?

Mercury: Fine. But no funny business. (Closes his eyes)

Emerald: Okay, now open them.

Mercury: (opens his eyes and finds himself on the streets of Vale. The sun is shining, people are walking down the street, Mercury can even smell street food) What the ...?

Emerald: I figured you needed a change of scenery.

Older RG Headcanon

Everybody has a bad coping mechanism. Oscar’s, when he becomes older, is smoking. Needless to say, Ruby hates it. Their occupation is already dangerous enough. Why is he endangering his life with those cancer sticks? Ruby makes it her mission to throw out every packet she finds and to put out every lit cigarette. 

But sometimes she doesn’t. Sometimes, she sees Oscar standing in the distance, back turned to her as smoke wisps in the air. His back is too straight, shoulders too tense, every fibre of his being screams stress and anxiety. It’s at these moments that Ruby sees that Oscar wants time to himself. 

Oscar knows it’s a filthy habit. He’s read the pamphlets Ruby shoves in his face, seen the ads on the cartoons, heard all the remarks made. There’s something about the process of mechanically lighting the cigarette and the hot smoke in his smoke that puts him at ease, watching the end turn to ash. There’s something about a Hero of Remnant and the Director of Mistrali Huntsmen Operations, a pillar of morality, smoking that made himself feel more ... grounded. Like he was just like everybody else. Human. 

Oscar makes sure to smoke only when he’s at his limit. He doesn’t want this to be a habit. Ruby deserves better than an addict for a husband. 

When the kids come around, Oscar puts the packets away. Swears himself off it. Sometimes his mind wanders back to the cigarette, sometimes his fingers twitch, his throat aches for that sweet drag. But no, he tries and keeps himself off of that. 

But when Ruby hasn’t been home from a mission in one week, two ... Oscar’s mind starts to race. She’s supposed to be back by now. Where is she? That familiar craving comes back. 

Perhaps one cigarette wouldn’t be too bad. 

How Oscar manages to get Ozpin back

Oscar, standing in front of a mirror: Desparate times calls for desparate measures.

Oscar: (lights cigarette)

Ozpin and the rest of the Ozma Collective: OSCAR NO!

Bayonetta!Salem AU

Ozpin stares in pure incredulity at the display before him. He wasn’t sure of what to make of it. It was certainly something to be sure. 

The woman, a woman that once belonged to Ozma and otherwise until things soured so brutally, literally danced on the battlefield of grimm. Her hips gyrated, her legs shooting out with bullets and her hair literally whipping enemies, left, right and centre. 

There was something anti-climatic in how this woman, this terror that kept him up at night and haunted his mind, behave in a manner so flamboyant ridiculous. And all with a joyous smile on her face as shots rang out from her hands and feet. 

Oscar hadn’t quite believed it when he heard the reports from Leo. Of a woman wandering the tiers of Mistral brandishing the name of Salem and attracting all sorts of trouble. But the detail of the woman surviving a shot to the head point blank caught his attention and, well, Ozpin had been meaning to visit the city for some time. 

The woman--Salem, Ozpin is sure, he knows that magic anywhere--throws her hands up, the weaves of her dark skin-tight unravelling to form a gigantic demonic fist, leaving her exposed for all to see. With a triumphant cry, she took out the final grimm, a gargantuan beringel, with one blow of the fist, the creature dissolving into dust on impact. 

Salem’s bodysuit reforms, the woman flipping her impossibly long hair. She took last look at the battlefield around her, lips curling with satisfaction. No more creatures plagued the little, ramshackle neighbourhood hanging on the fringes of Mistral’s capital on its lowest plate. But the smile drops when she sees the smashed in houses, the debris lying on the ground, the damage. 

The monster Ozma’s love had turned into would never do that. She would see it as a necessary sacrifice, a casualty of war. 

Salem sees him, blue eyes, not red, connecting with his. Ozpin freezes in place, the grip around his cane tightening. She walks to him, hips swaying, one sharp heel in front of the other. It became harder to breathe the closer she neared. Details became more noticeable with her approach. Her hair was flaxen blonde, not white; blue lined her black catsuit, not red; and there was no malice or callous superiority in her gaze, only wary curiosity. 

It wasn’t her.

It wasn’t the witch. 

“My, my,” Salem says loftily, bending over to take a closer look, hands on her hips. “You’re quite the puzzle, aren’t you? Except all your jjig-saw pieces are auras. Curious. I’ve never seen something like this before.”

Air fills Ozpin’s lung in stilted halts. “I’d appreciate if you didn’t go around, solving them.” She didn’t recognise him. She didn’t recognise him. 

“Very well.” Salem stands upright. “You’re looking rather pale there. Would a cup of tea ease your poor nerves?”

“No, no.” Ozpin hates how shaky his words come out. “I’m just--You’ll have to forgive me. I’m at a loss for words here.”

“Don’t worry. It’s common that I render men speechless.”

And Ozpin laughs. It’s a wretched laugh, one filled with hysteria and desperation, that has him bending over, clinging to his cane for support. This woman, this witch, this demon, all of that dread and anxiety and pain and, oh gods, all those lives lost because of her--what for?

For this moment?

For this woman to be talking to him with hair for a weapon and guns attached to every limb all wrapped up in a skintight suit that left nothing to the imagination to ruin all of that? All his plans, all his fear, all his--

“Here, sit down, dear,” Salem says, placing gentle hands on him and easing him down to a piece of debris that functioned as his temporary chair. She kneels, meeting him eye-level. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Sorry, I just ...” Ozpin trails off, weaving his hand through his ashen hair. 

“I’ll go fetch you some water. Surely, there should be a convenience store that got ruined in all this mess. Wait here, okay?”

Ozpin watches her leave, though. He could see what Ozma saw long ago. Compassion, a certain joie de vivre and paired with an air of confidence that drew you in like a moth to a flame. 

Ozpin wanders how long it will take until the side that made Ozma curl in fear and terror shows its ugly head. 

Team SSSBN headcanons from Twitter

RWBY Chibi Skit involving Gentleman!Thief!Whitley

It’s in the dark of night when the light-footed Gentleman Thief pads around in the distinguished halls of the Great Vale Museum, in search of their treasured loot, only to encounter the original gentleman thief, Roman Torchwick! And his beloved sidekick, Neo Politan.  Whitley: Who the fu#k are you? Roman: Who the fu#k are you? Whitley: I asked you first. Roman: I asked you second. Neo: ... Roman: Well, clearly, one of us has to leave. Whitley: Not me. I was here first. Roman: Weren't you taught to respect your elders? Whitley: Of course. Age before beauty. (bows mockingly) Roman: exCUSE ME? Are you calling me old?!!!!! Neo, holding up a sign: Ooooohhhhhh!!!!!

Dimitri: I'm a bear! I'm a bear!

Edelgard: You wish you were a bear, you stupid twink!

Byleth: When I'm with you, my heart beats fast for some reason.

Dimitri: ...

Dimitri: WE NEED TO SEE MANUELA AT ONCE! WE CANNOT RISK ANYTHING! YOUR HEALTH IS AT RISK HERE! I APOLOGISE FOR ENDANGERING YOU, PROFESSOR!

Felix: (stares into the camera like he's in the office)

Whitley: It's over, Oscar! I have the high ground!

Oscar: You underestimate my power!

Cinder: Ruby Rose is an insolent little girl who tries way too hard to play hero.

Oscar, princess carrying Ruby: Hold my flower. (*hands over Ruby to Yang*)

Yang: Yes! Get 'er, farm boi!

Fae!Whitley Drabble

The invitation

“Take my hand,” the fae, (Whitley, he told her, in a quiet hushed whisper against her ear) said. He held out a pale, slender hand towards Penny. He seemed utterly warm in the cold around them, wearing fine silks and a chiffon scarf despite the biting chill of the wind and the wetness of the ground which didn’t muddy his shining boots. 

“Sorry but I have to go to back to my Papa,” Penny says, pointing back to the small cottage, always littered with gears and blueprints, on the edge of a simple, provincial town. 

Whitley takes a single step forwards but it sends him gliding through the air, hovering to a stop in front of her. “It will only be for a while, Penny,” Whitley promises. 

And Penny hesitates, her hand coming up to her chest, and almost, almost, reaching out. 

Penny was an inventor’s daughter, a daughter raised on rule and fact. And Whitley was a fae, a strange creature she found tangled in a stranger trap, a creature born of magic and nature and all things unexplainable. 

The sheer impossibility of Whitley made Penny’s gear turn in confusion. Instead of denial and suspicion, wonder and curiosity filled her. She wanted to know why, how. Whitley told her all  manners of things, like the bone of his cutlery, the stories of his ancestors in a song and dance or the magic that ran through his veins, for a price, which Penny paid with tales of her own life. 

Their friendship should have been an impossible one. But here they were.

Penny’s hands close around Whitley’s finger delicately, fixing her eyes on his bright, blue eyes. 

“I have to be back before dark,” Penny says. “I need to make Papa’s dinner.”

“Of course,” Whitley replies, still holding her hand and leading Penny away. 

Thief Whitley Musings

Basically, in the volume 4 commentary, it was said that Whitley was loosely based off of Artemis Fowl. Now to catch you up (and spoil the ending of the first book) Artemis was an extremely intelligent boy who hatched a plan to steal a lot of gold to give funds to his family’s crippling fortune.

Add this in and me stanning Persona 5 Joker, my mind went places and it came to this point.–Whitley becoming the masked phantom thief Midnight(edited)-Basically, Whitley is something of a prodigy tech-head. Given that his family runs the SDC, I guess it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to say Whitley may have possibly spent some time around the family + company’s security and SDC machinery to learn how the business work

Naturally, Atlesian society eats up this masked thief. They’re p bored w their lavish lifestyle and need something to talk about and what better than some roguish thief in the night dramatically named Midnight. It’d be a case ‘lock up yo wives, lock up yo daughters’ cuz this boi be stealing hearts

It’s all about duality. Nobody would except the well-groomed and behaved son to be this wild rogue. Whitley feels more free as his alternate persona than he does in real life. People romanticise this wild rogue, saying that he steals from the rich and gives to the poor when really he’s a bored and irritated teenager doing this just to flex about how smart he is and how dumb everybody else is

I really love the Schnees not connecting Whitley at all with his alternate identity. At all. It will be obvious, as plain as day, but yet they will not connect the dots. They will make comical mistakes, saying that the clues must be something else, it can’t be whitley, whitley isn’t cool enough to be Midnight

An interesting concept would be Whitley being able to use his semblance as Midnight, but not as Whitley, linking back to the idea that Semblances are a reflection of people’s souls. Whitley is free as Midnight, unshackled by his father’s rule and is free, but when the mask comes, he’s bound down by abuse and neglect and expectations.

Although I will admit that I do get a kick out of Whitley paying the price for his hubris. This boy is so cocky and arrogant that he inevitably gets caught or is close to it. 

 If he is caught, I would like for either for Ironwood or Winter to step in, striking up a deal with Jacques (who is #NotHappy) and Whitley. In exchange for Whitley walking free, he has to not only attend Atlas Academy but to also help in taking down grimm approaching Atlas.

If Whitley, however, isn’t caught, I’d like it to be a time of serious introspection for him and starting to question the things around him.

That’s all I got for now but I’m happy to field questions.

Just two guys being dudes

Jaune: No homo?

Neptune: No homo.

Jaune: Bi tho?

Neptune: Big time.

Jaune and Neptune: (starts making out)

The Shenanigans of the Evil Queen and the Black Sheep being in love

Weiss takes the realisation that they’re in love like any other depressed millennial meme lord: “Guess I’ll die.” Weiss distances themself from Vil, running from their true feelings for the Evil Queen of Pomefiore. 

Vil? Vil takes to it like a chicken that has lose its head. Vil? In love? With a dirty little racoon? That’s impossible. It’s impossible. ... Oh, gods, no, it’s possible. Vil cannot go to sleep at night. He is infatuated with the little black sheep! This can’t be happening! HE NEEDS HIS BEAUTY SLEEP. 

But if Vil cannot go to sleep at night, then neither can Weiss. 

Just as Weiss finds themself going to sleep, they hear a rendition of ‘I Won’t Fall in Love’ from Vil’s room. Which happens to be next to theirs. And nobody messes with the jealous and vindictive queen of Pomefiore. Well, none except Weiss. 

Weiss throws open the door to Vil’s room, screaming at Vil to stop and go the hell to sleep. But Vil throws back if he can’t go to sleep then neither can Weiss, nor anybody in the dorm. They all need to suffer with him. Weiss points out that a good sucker punch should do the trick and throws themself at the drama king. 

A bout of no sucker punches but much wrestling and struggling, the two are entangled in each other’s embraces, having fought each other to sleep, slumbering peacefully. Vil and Weiss refuse to acknowledge any and all canoodling. 

Unfortunately for them, Epel took pictures. And shared it with everyone.